Nicole, you seem excited.”
She grinned. “I just learned that a new TV movie is going to be shot here in the Seattle area. They’re hoping the network will like it enough to turn it into a series. The casting director saw Doria Atchison in the clip we posted online and was impressed enough that he’s emailing a list of what they’re looking for. Auditions won’t be for a little while, but it sounds promising.”
“Excellent.”
When he and his friends had bought the Moonlight Ventures talent agency, one of their concerns had been that Seattle wasn’t at the heart of the fashion or entertainment industry. Local business was fine, but they also wanted broader exposure for their clients.
Their concerns had proved unfounded, though. Several of their models had already gotten television ads for national campaigns and they’d placed actors with two movies being filmed locally, as well as guest and extras spots with a network series based in the region.
“I’ll forward the list as soon as I get it,” Nicole assured. She was an exceptionally beautiful woman, but ever since she’d gotten engaged, her face possessed a special glow. If she hadn’t quit modeling, it would be easy to pick up the phone and get her a dozen top contracts.
Adam almost chuckled at the thought; after just a few weeks on the job, he was already thinking more like an agent than a model. Nicole had run Moonlight Ventures by herself for months, though he and their other partners, Logan Kensington and Rachel Clarion, had flown in regularly and teleconferenced with her. Now that his own modeling contracts had been satisfied, he’d started working at the agency full time.
“How is the writing going?” he asked. The previous owner of the agency had put out a quarterly trade newsletter, but they were working toward converting it to a general circulation publication. For the launch issue Adam wanted a feature piece by Nicole about “lessons learned” from her years as a supermodel.
She scrunched her nose at him. “Slowly.”
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“You can tell me you’ve changed your mind about having me write it.”
“Afraid I can’t.”
Actually, Adam felt bad that they’d asked her to be “the story” again, as Nicole put it. Ironically, it was when PostModern magazine had asked to do a series of articles about her transition from supermodel to agent that she’d met her fiancé.
Technically she’d simply met Jordan again, having known him as a kid. Jordan had still written the articles, telling readers that while he was now engaged to the subject of his interviews, he’d tried to be unbiased—but might have failed. In response, the articles had been well received, which had been good for the agency.
In turn, Nicole had penned a piece for the agency’s blog about Jordan and the process of being interviewed. The popularity of the blog site had convinced them it was worth giving their own magazine a shot.
“I had to try,” she said. With another grin and a flip of her hand, she rushed out again.
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about the years he’d known Nicole. He’d watched her go from being hopeful about falling in love to being convinced it could never happen for her. Now she’d come full circle, deeply in love and full of plans for a future with Jordan.
He was glad she was happy.
He’d like to find that kind of happiness himself again, but it wasn’t easy. He’d been engaged for a brief, wonderful time to a woman he’d met while still at UCLA and wouldn’t settle for second best.
Isabelle had charged at life with enthusiasm and laughter, unconcerned by his growing success as a model. He’d always known where he was with her—first when they were just friends, and later when they were falling in love and deciding to get married. But a brain aneurism had changed everything in the blink of an eye.
Renewed grief went through Adam at the memory. One minute Isabelle had been there, the next she was gone.
It had taken a long time to be ready for another serious relationship, and then the frequent travel and the less-than-kind scrutiny of the press had played havoc with his dating life—lots of first and second dates, few beyond that. Maybe it would be different now. He’d like to find someone confident and outgoing, who shared his interests and could be a real partner.
Not like his parents.
Adam sighed, knowing he was being unfair. His parents had a good marriage, but it had always seemed as if his mother’s needs came second, at least until her heart problems developed. As for shared interests? Hardly. Dad was interested in construction, period. Mom was a science fiction and fantasy buff. She loved to write and had wanted to earn a place among authors like Arthur C. Clarke and J.R.R. Tolkien. Instead she’d slogged away at a dull teleservice job because it was secure and helped earn money for her children’s educations.
Adam got up and moved restlessly around his office, pausing to look out the window at the trees that softened his view of the street.
He felt bad that his parents hadn’t pursued their own dreams instead of ones for their children. It wasn’t just his mother—his father’s plan to become a contractor had been deemed too great a risk to the family’s financial security, so Dermott had done construction for someone else and taken jobs as a handyman in his spare hours.
Just then Adam’s personal line rang, breaking into his musings. The caller ID displayed his sister’s number.
“Hey, Sophie.” He could hear his nephew and niece in the background, shrieking and giggling. Bobby and Lila were great, but like most kids they could be loud. “What’s up?”
“The twins had friends over this weekend and now I want to speak with someone closer to my own age.”
He grinned. “How bad was it?”
“We had a serious outbreak of video games, Star Wars battles and The Lone Ranger.”
“The Lone Ranger?”
“I made the mistake of bringing out my classic TV DVDs and the next thing I knew they were all running around with pretend six-shooters, trying to catch pretend bank robbers and cattle rustlers. Mom retreated to my bedroom along with the cat.”
Adam sat back in his chair. He was proud of his kid sister for making a tough situation work. She’d gotten pregnant at seventeen and married her boyfriend, only to have him leave before the twins were born.
Now Sophie had a brisk mail-order business selling New Mexico–themed Christmas ornaments and decorations she made herself. That way she’d avoided childcare costs for the twins—which would have outstripped any income from a minimum-wage job—and was still able to make a decent living using her artistic talents. To Adam’s frustration, she’d even insisted on repaying the checks he’d sent after her brief marriage fell apart, though they’d been a gift.
“How is Mom adjusting to them both being retired?” he asked.
“Pretty good. But I should warn you, I think the folks are planning a trip to Seattle this summer to see you.”
Gripping the phone, Adam counted to ten. “Any special
