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“It’s nice to know you respect photographers.”
He’d have to think about her inference that he didn’t respect models.
“Are you and Logan involved?” he asked.
Nicole laughed and Jordan couldn’t deny it was the kind of sound that could make a man lose his head, though he was determined not to be one of them.
“Logan and I are friends,” she said. “We’ve been friends for years and intend to stay friends for the rest of our lives. The same with Adam. Rachel isn’t involved with them, either. It’s amazing to me how many people struggle with the idea of men and women just liking each other without romance or sex being a part of it.”
“Then there’s no ‘friends with benefits’ going on?”
“Never.” She let out a small laugh. “And I’ve been authorized to tell you that, despite your status as a journalist.”
The humor made her face glow and Jordan had to remind himself that he was a journalist, not a randy teenager. The mystery was why he hadn’t panted after Nicole all those years ago. Except maybe he had; now that he looked back, he had to admit it wasn’t only irritation he’d experienced—beneath it had been a whole lot of old-fashioned lust.
The important thing to remember now was that he was capable of restraining himself.
* * *
“I’LL TAKE YOUR name and your son’s portfolio, but I can’t make an appointment,” Chelsea told the determined woman in front of her. “If the agency is interested, someone will call.”
Inside she was quaking, but was glad her voice sounded steady.
“I know they’ll want to represent my son.”
The woman grabbed the kid up hard next to her and Chelsea saw how unhappy he looked. She winked at the boy, just slightly, and saw his shy smile.
“Thank you for bringing his photograph by for consideration,” she said, deliberately putting the folder into a wire basket. “That’s all I can do for you today.”
“I… I’ll find a way to report you to the owners for being obstructive.”
Chelsea eyed the woman and realized she was one of the bullying stage mothers Nicole and Adam had warned her about. Well, she was tired of being pushed around.
“That’s fine,” she answered evenly. “Feel free to make any report you like. As I said, I’ll pass the portfolio to one of the agents.”
Snorting, the woman stomped out of the reception area with her child in tow. The boy turned his head and gave Chelsea a wave his mother couldn’t see. Chelsea waved back; he was truly adorable. What a shame his mom was a nightmare.
As the front door shut behind her, Adam emerged from the back area. Chelsea couldn’t stop the grab in her stomach, wondering if he was unhappy about the way she’d handled the situation.
“Good job,” he told her instead. “Stage parents can be a royal pain. I’ve encountered them numerous times in my career and Nicole already has her own collection of horror stories to tell from here in Seattle.”
“I guess I might have handled it better,” Chelsea answered.
Adam looked reflective. “There’s no way to know—each person is different. I only heard the last part as I came down the hall, but you did exactly what we told you to do. It’s too bad you had to face a Gorgon on your first day.”
“Uh, inside I’m just…melting gelatin salad right now.”
“That’s okay. A lot of us only pretend to be tough. But I like the image of melting gelatin salad.”
Chelsea didn’t know if he was just being nice because Nicole had known her before, but maybe it didn’t matter. Nice was nice.
“It’s past five, so let’s lock the doors and go home,” Adam was saying. “Can I give you a lift to Nicole’s house?”
“That’s awful considerate of you, but I want to practice with the buses. Luckily I’ll have my car on Monday.”
“Nothing like having your own transportation.”
Later, as Chelsea approached the apartment stairs, an SUV pulled into the neighbor’s driveway. A tall, studious-looking man got out and grinned at her. He had an armload of books and papers that started sliding, so she dashed to help catch everything.
