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Why couldn’t she have met a nicer guy three years ago, instead of Ron? If it had been someone like Barton Smith, her life might be entirely different today. Then she reminded herself that she didn’t actually know Barton was nicer and that in the beginning, she’d thought Ron was great, too.
* * *
AFTER AN HOUR of cautious discussion with Nicole, Jordan knew he wasn’t close to getting the kind of insights needed for the PostModern articles. His frustration was pointless and unrealistic. It took patience to get through to some people. Syd must have expected this to be a challenge. She always said complex people were the ones their readers wanted to hear about; otherwise, they could get three paragraphs to skim on the internet.
He was the one who’d assumed Nicole wasn’t multidimensional…a stupid notion based on his old ideas about her. It was becoming uncomfortably obvious that he wasn’t putting aside his biases nearly as well as he wanted.
Nicole glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost noon and I need to check in at a photo shoot that starts at one thirty. So we’d better finish for now. Do you want to go with me this afternoon?”
Jordan couldn’t imagine anything duller, but Nicole’s blue eyes held a distinct challenge.
“Sure,” he agreed. “Can I take you to lunch first?”
“I’ve got a call to make, so I’m going to eat something at my desk. We’ll have time to get to the shoot if you’re back by one.”
He excused himself and went to the reception area where his sister was studying something in a file.
“Hey, how about taking pity on your brother and going out to lunch with me?”
“Uh, I’d love to. Just a minute.” She put the file in a drawer, jumped up and collected her purse. She carefully locked the front door and followed him to his car.
“I need to be back in an hour,” she said.
“No problem, so do I. There’s a deli nearby that makes great sandwiches. We can eat them down by the lake. It’s a warm day for late April, so sitting outside will be perfect.”
“That’s nice.” Chelsea smiled, but still seemed pale and tense.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I mean, well… Ron called the agency looking for me. I didn’t look at the caller ID, and…he recognized my voice right away.”
“What the dev—” Jordan cut his exclamation short. “How did he know where you were?”
“Probably from my neighbor in Los Angeles. I talked to her a few days ago and I must have…um…forgotten to say everything was confidential.”
“What did he want?”
Chelsea sighed. “The usual. I told him to leave me alone.”
“I’ll call and reinforce the message.”
“No,” she said sharply. “I took care of it. Ron is my mistake. No one else should have to deal with him.”
“I’m your brother. I know we haven’t had much chance to know each other as adults, but I want to help.”
She was silent a long moment. “Then let’s be adults. Let me take care of this and if I need help, I’ll ask.”
“Okay.”
Too late he recalled his resolution of the past weekend, that rushing to help her without permission wasn’t a good idea. He wanted to respect Chelsea as an adult. But he wasn’t sure what his role should be. He’d never been the protective big brother of novels and family TV programs and the Masters clan had never fit an idealized image. He’d gotten closer to Terri the past couple of years, partly because Terri had called often to discuss what was going on with Chelsea. She’d been really worried about their baby sister. It had brought into focus that while Terri had sharp edges and a tough exterior, underneath she truly cared.
“I think I’m going to like my new job,” Chelsea said, breaking into his thoughts.
“That’s terrific.” He answered, remembering she’d already emphasized that she wouldn’t say anything about the agency or Nicole. “I’d love to hear about it, but while I’m doing the articles, perhaps it would be easiest if we avoid talking about Moonlight Ventures.”
“Yeah.” Chelsea settled back into a more relaxed position. “You know, I’d like to get a cat after I find a permanent apartment.”
