there, even before Jordan had.
If only he could have managed a more productive first encounter with Nicole. He’d driven over to make a casual contact, to get reacquainted...and lay the groundwork for the articles he was writing for PostModern magazine. He wasn’t sure how Nicole was going to react since Sydnie Winslow had arranged the interviews with Nicole before asking him to do them.
Jordan cursed mentally.
As editor in chief, Syd had turned PostModern into one of the trendiest publications on the market. They were old friends and she’d begged him to do the articles, saying it was ideal since he also lived in Seattle. She’d figured he would have an “in” with Nicole because they’d grown up on the same block in Southern California. Syd was wrong, but after everything they’d been through together in the early days of his career, he hadn’t tried too hard to get out of it.
But that didn’t stop him from wishing he could forget the whole thing and head down to his boat. A sail on Lake Washington would be wonderful. Having the boat was a luxury, but his columns were syndicated in over twelve hundred publications around the world, so he could afford it. Other than traveling and his condo in Hawaii, it was his only serious indulgence.
His notebook was full of subjects he wanted to write about. He commented on everything from food to politics, religion, relationships and animals. Nothing was out-of-bounds. He’d worked his way up through various newspapers and magazines to become a columnist, but he still felt fortunate to have reached the level where he had the freedom to write about what interested him.
Jordan stared at his computer as if it was the source of his problems. He didn’t care if a supermodel dropped out of the fashion scene for a while. Nicole had done it before, whether as a ploy for more money or a publicity stunt, he didn’t know. Either way, he hadn’t paid attention—in fact, he wouldn’t have been aware of her absence or reappearance at all if his mother hadn’t gone on and on about how you couldn’t expect anything better from Paula George’s daughter.
His mouth tightened.
Too bad Mom hadn’t decided she disliked the George family when he was a small kid, instead of later. Then he wouldn’t have gotten hog-tied into doing stuff for “precious” Nicole so often. Lord, everyone had been expected to pamper the little princess as if she was made of spun glass. When she was home, that is. Luckily she’d been gone half the time on modeling assignments.
Still, the past was the past.
Restless, Jordan dropped to the floor and did a dozen pushups, unable to stop thinking about Nicole now that his past was colliding with his present.
After a lazy month in Fiji he was sporting a beard, and they hadn’t seen each other since they were teens, so it wasn’t any wonder she hadn’t recognized him. Syd had suggested he refrain from shaving and see how Nicole responded to a stranger in a casual encounter—would she be pleasant or off-putting? He’d been curious as well, which had kept him from introducing himself immediately, though he hadn’t planned to take it very far.
His cell phone rang again and he pulled it out, hoping it was from his sister, Chelsea. She’d been in her boyfriend’s car when it got broadsided. Her injuries weren’t severe, but he was still concerned.
The number on the display belonged to his editor. He answered, figuring he’d get off quickly if another call came in.
“Hey, Syd,” he said in a dry tone. “What a surprise, you’re checking on my progress.”
“Don’t be a paranoid drama queen.”
Jordan chuckled. Syd was a beautiful woman who’d stormed her way to the top of the magazine publishing world. She was tough as nails and more than one man had mentioned being hot for her in one breath and wishing he “had her balls” with the next.
“All right, but don’t try to micromanage me. It won’t work,” he advised. “What do you want?”
“Have you seen Nicole George yet?”
“Yes, briefly. She was screaming, so I rushed in to see if there was an emergency.”
And practically got knocked on my ass by how gorgeous she is, he added silently. It didn’t make sense that he’d reacted to Nicole that way. She’d been a thorn in his side when they were kids, and he had rarely thought about her since, even when seeing her photo on various advertisements.
“Screaming?” Syd repeated.
Jordan shook himself. “At her living room wall. She didn’t know that primer is necessary to keep paint colors from coming through. What kind of person doesn’t know about using a primer?”
“The kind you’re talking to right now,” Syd returned crisply. “Apparently my husband doesn’t know, either, which must be why we can’t get rid of the spectral purple in our bedroom. He’s on a DIY kick that’s driving me crazy. Listen, you promised to do this with an open mind, Jordan.”
Clearly his diplomatic skills were rusty. “Of course I’ll be open-minded.”
She snorted. “Maybe I should have listened when you told me you might not be the best choice, but having you in the area was too great an opportunity. Did Nicole recognize you?”
“Uh, no. But even without the beard, it’s been almost fourteen years since the last time we met,” he said. “Until I shave, my own sisters could probably pass me on the street without realizing I’m their brother, and Nicole sure didn’t expect to see me at her front door.”
“Okay. What did Ms. George say when you explained who you are beneath the Grizzly Adams impersonation?”
“I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself,” Jordan admitted. “I got a phone call and she hurried out, presumably to get more paint. I’ll shave before my appointment with her on Monday. It was great to let it go in Fiji, but not here.”
“Actually, I think it’s an improvement. Sexy, in a beach bum sort of way. Be sure to have fun with your childhood pal.”
“Hardly a pal,” Jordan growled. “And, by the way, don’t keep calling me. It messes with my tempo.” “You don’t have a tempo. Sometimes I’m not even sure you have a pulse. But don’t worry, I’ve got better things to do than yank your chain.”
Typically, Syd hung up without a goodbye.
Jordan picked up his laptop and tried to focus on his writing. But his mind kept returning to the rush of attraction he’d felt when seeing Nicole that afternoon... something he was determined to ignore.
* * *
NICOLE’S CONVERSATION WITH Ashley Vanders finally ended. Ashley always wanted to talk longer, but Nicole was trying to wean the young woman from needing to be coddled by the agency. That had been how Kevin McClaskey had treated his clients when he’d owned Moonlight Ventures.
Rachel had warned them about Kevin’s management style before they bought the agency. She’d loved him and his wife dearly, but had wondered if their constant handholding kept her from being as independent as she should have been.
With a sigh, Nicole started her car again and drove on, reminding herself that every job had its drawbacks. And while Ashley was a challenge, she’d just gotten a contract as the “face” of a huge car dealership
