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They were nearing a small shopping area with a gourmet coffee shop and Jordan waved in that direction.
“I’d like a hot drink. How about you?”
“I suppose.” She figured this was how it was going to work with him, lots of “casual” conversations, rather than formal interviews, which meant it would be awfully easy to let down her guard. Despite her partners’ reassurances, she didn’t want to relax too much with Jordan.
He pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car. They went inside and he ordered a tall black decaf, while she got peppermint tea.
Nicole noted how Jordan added a precise amount of sugar at the condiment bar and cleaned up after himself. Not unusual, but it went along with other things she’d observed. Jordan’s car was spotless, inside and out. He made meticulous notes in his notebook, rather than hasty scribbles.
When he’d first appeared in his Harvard Guy getup, she wouldn’t have expected it. But now, by his own admission, it was clear he liked everything to be under control. Yet he didn’t seem neurotic, but appeared more like a man determined to have his life run the way he wanted. A wife, children, pets…they’d turn his orderly life into a circus.
“Are you planning to sign some of the kids from tonight?” he asked.
“I’ll investigate the possibilities, but signing a client is also up to them. And for any kid under eighteen, their parents have to agree. Some might be opposed to the idea.”
“That sure wasn’t a problem with your mother and father,” he said in a dry voice.
Nicole stiffened. She’d known Jordan a long time ago, but the kid—and later the teenager—she had sparred with wasn’t the same person as the sometimes enigmatic man she was now encountering. And this was such an artificial situation with him interviewing her. Maybe it was inevitable that he’d bring up her parents since they’d had so much to do with her career, but she didn’t find it easy to talk about them.
“They were astute about managing my career as a minor,” she said. “It’s interesting that you had such an odd tone when you mentioned them. Any particular reason?”
“Of course not.” But Jordan had answered too quickly for her to believe his denial, and he may have recognized it because he sat back with a set jaw. “Okay,” he continued, “it always seemed as if they were doing a rave review, as if they were saying ‘Look how fabulous our daughter is doing, look how successful she is…isn’t it a shame your kids aren’t so pretty and in such demand?’”
“Unfortunately, you’re probably right.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d agree.”
Nicole drew a deep breath. “I’m going to level with you, but it isn’t for publication. While my folks are good people, they were stage parents. I don’t believe they ever tried to sabotage another child model’s career, but they did everything possible to push mine.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I was a kid, Jordan, and to be honest I was a wimpy kid. I did what I was told because it was easier than facing the massive guilt trip about how I didn’t understand how much they were doing for my future.”
“You sound as if you resent them.”
“I don’t. Since they were high-end fashion buyers, they knew the movers and shakers in the fashion world, so when they saw opportunities, they pursued them for me. And like I said, you’d better not put anything about this in your articles. It’s supposed to be about me changing careers as an adult, not my childhood.”
“Granted, but I’m curious. You were such a little princess back then.”
Nicole let out an exasperated breath. “Maybe, or maybe you just believed what everyone else said. I don’t know how many times Terri’s friends said I should try to get her a job as a model and that I didn’t do it because I was a spoiled brat who didn’t want the competition.”
Jordan seemed to choke on a gulp of his coffee. “Terri? I can’t picture her prancing down a runway.”
“Your prejudices are showing. Prancing is a pejorative term.”
