Moonlight Over Seattle

by Callie Endicott

  “Sure.” Jordan took deep breaths, willing his body to calm as they got back in the car. He started the engine and programmed the GPS for Nicole’s address.

  Back at the house she got out quickly. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  Scrambling from the car himself, he hurried to the porch with her.

  “You aren’t invited in,” she told him.

  “I didn’t think I was, but it’s only right to walk you to your door.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  Her faintly mocking retort was annoying. Besides, Jordan didn’t feel like a gentleman. He felt like a caveman—or a skunk for letting Nicole defuse the situation with that excuse about a hug. Perhaps the kiss had been partly prompted by her spontaneous act, but he wasn’t innocent in the situation.

  Nicole opened the door and he heard the beeping of a security system. The latch clicked behind her and he strode back to his car. No point in bemoaning his lack of restraint. The kiss had happened and he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t. But it didn’t have to happen again.

  He grinned at himself and thought of how Syd would chide him if she knew. He’d love to back out of doing the article, but he couldn’t. The two of them had been through hell together more than once in his early days as a reporter. She’d been the veteran and taught him a lot. Once, when they’d been faced with a drug dealer, she had talked them out of a dangerous standoff, possibly saving his life. The least he could do was hit the off switch on his hormones and write the articles she needed for PostModern.

  * * *

  NICOLE TURNED OFF the security system and reset it. The first thing she’d done after escrow closed was hire a company to wire the doors and windows. While she didn’t want to be paranoid, she’d had a security system ever since dealing with an obsessed fan years earlier.

  With a yelp, Toby sped through the house and she leaned over to receive his frantic welcome. It helped her resist the urge to peek through the curtains and watch Jordan drive away.

  “Hey, it’s all right,” she soothed the dog.

  This was the first time she’d been out so late since adopting the little guy. No wonder he was relieved to know he hadn’t been abandoned again.

  “Maybe I should get you a friend,” she said. She’d heard of taking a dog to the shelter and letting it pick out a feline companion. At the very least, it would tell her whether Toby was okay with cats. On the other hand, adopting another animal might be too much to handle at the moment.

  Toby stuck with her as she got her computer out to check emails. She’d kept her phone turned off; it felt rude to constantly check an electronic gadget while viewing a performance or spending time with someone.

  There was a message from Rachel, inviting her to call and talk if she needed to vent about Jordan. Nicole might have phoned...if it hadn’t been for the kiss. She needed time to deal with her thoughts.

  It was partly her fault. She should have simply ignored the signs of the northern lights. Going to a quiet park had prompted an intimacy that wasn’t real, even if it had been charged with sexual tension. As a reporter doing a story on her, Jordan shouldn’t have succumbed, but Nicole knew she should have been smarter as well.

  Upstairs she ran a bath in the jetted tub, undressed and sank into the deep warm water.

  Since it was big enough for two people, the tub was another reminder that she was alone. The Realtor had almost cooled the deal when she’d raved about the amorous possibilities. Nicole had brushed it off, joking that she preferred thinking of the bathroom as a fortress of solitude.

  Turning on the jets, she tried to lose herself in the sound of the water and the warmth of its swirling currents.

  Jordan had definitely improved in the kissing department. But while she’d been tempted to let it go further, she had pulled herself under fierce control. He might question her motives for helping Chelsea, but she questioned why he’d kissed her. There didn’t have to be anything ulterior in it, but she couldn’t take a chance. For the sake of her friends as well as herself, she had to keep her head.

  The truth was, she had a naturally romantic nature...which put her at a disadvantage. As a model, her image had often been used to promote the romantic possibilities of certain products. But roses and candlelight, kisses in the rain, sexy lingerie...nobody lived that way twenty-four hours a day. To keep from getting sucked into what other people seemed to expect, she had been forced to keep her romanticism in check.

  A cold nose nudged her elbow. Toby was on his hind legs, looking into the tub. She fondled his ears and he didn’t seem to mind her damp fingers. What a sweetheart.

  Being alone and heartache-free, having fun with her dog and her friends...that was the right choice for her. Discovering that physical needs weren’t easily ignored didn’t change her mind on the issue. Maybe someday she’d consider other possibilities if she was sure the guy in question was grounded in reality and could see past her bustline and polished photographs. She needed a man who could deal with life being messy and sometimes out of control.

  That hypothetical man definitely wasn’t Jordan, no matter how good his lips had felt against hers.

  As she pulled up old memories, Nicole recalled how defiantly he’d pretended his family was happy and normal as a kid. Since their parents had been friends in the early years, she’d picked up on some of the pain and ugliness. She had known he was putting on a show. Old habits died hard, and even from the little she had seen, it looked as if he enjoyed being a bachelor, with everything in his life organized and controlled. Definitely not the guy for her.

  So the thing to do was treat the kiss as an aberration. He surely recognized it as such, and there was no need to discuss the matter; it had nothing to do with the magazine articles.

  She relaxed into the swirling bath water and told herself once again that she was better off single.

  Chapter Six

  LATE SATURDAY AFTERNOON Barton came home from a day of hiking with his brother, who’d once again harangued him about getting back in the dating game. Peter was a fiend on the subject and had been for nearly a year.

  “So things went bad with Ellyn,” Pete kept saying. “It happens. There are plenty of other women out there.”

  Barton hadn’t told him that he’d tried asking his neighbor out for a date, though maybe he should—at least it might shut Peter up.

  The doorbell rang a few minutes after he returned. It was Nicole George.

  “Hi. Is everything okay at your place?” He’d told her to feel free to ask for his help at any time. Being a good neighbor was important to him and he’d learned a great deal about repairs after fixing up his property.

  “It’s fine. I came by earlier, but you weren’t home. I’m having a few folks over for dinner tonight and hope you’ll come also.”

  “I don’t like horning in on a group of friends.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re more acquaintances than friends. One is Chelsea Masters, the woman staying in my guest house.”

  A surge of anticipation went through him. “I met Chelsea the other day.”

  “Good. Another guest will be her sister, Terri, who just arrived after driving Chelsea’s car up from Los Angeles. Their brother is also coming. I knew the Masters family when I was a kid, but hadn’t seen them until recently when Jordan was assigned to do some articles on the agency. You’d actually be doing me a favor to come over and add to the mix.”

  Barton didn’t know if Nicole was simply being gracious, but could see how the gathering might be an awkward combination. Besides, the best thing he had to eat in the house was four-day-old pizza in the fridge. Even Spike turned his nose up at four-day-old pizza.

  “That would be nice,” Barton said. “Can I get something at the store to contribute?”

  “Nope, just bring yourself. Say in an hour?”

  Once she was gone, he ran upstairs to shower.
This would be an opportunity to learn more about Chelsea without making it a big deal. Peter was right that he needed to come out of his shell and get back to normal; he just hadn’t felt like it until meeting her.

  Spike sat on the bed as he dressed, seeming grumpy at the sign his human companion was getting ready to go out again.

  “Bad luck, pal,” Barton told him when the cat glared. “I got a better offer for the evening.”

  At six he rang his neighbor’s doorbell and Chelsea answered. The bruises on her face were still visible beneath her makeup, but he could tell they were starting to heal.

  “Hi,” she greeted him. “Nicole is in the kitchen. Come out to the deck.”

  “I understand your sister drove your car to Seattle.”

  “Yes. I flew north to visit my brother and ended up getting a job my first day. Terri offered to bring my car and some of my stuff.”

  “You must be the impulsive type.”

  She looked charmingly pretty with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing a pair of trim black shorts and a blue T-shirt. Her figure was appealing, but he especially liked her deep brown eyes. They were soft and warm and vulnerable.

  Chelsea shook her head. “As a rule I’m not the least bit impulsive. But... I don’t know what happened. It seemed like a good idea and I think it’s going to work out well.”

  “There’s an exception to every rule, right?”

  “Yes.” She brightened. “That’s probably it.”

  Barton had been cured of his own impulsiveness. He and his wife had married after a short courtship. They should have made sure they were committed to each other through thick and thin, and most of all, that they shared the same values and vision for the future. It was a mistake that had cost him dearly.

  Now he believed in slow and deliberate decision-making.

  Another brunette was sitting on the deck. Although she was attractive and shared a resemblance to Chelsea, she had an almost mocking hardness in her features. Chelsea’s face was much gentler.

  “This is Barton Smith,” Chelsea introduced him. “Barton, my sister, Terri Masters.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Terri.”

  Nicole’s beagle dashed up the steps from the yard and Barton bent to pet the eager little animal.

  “He seems to like you,” Chelsea said.

  “We’ve met before and he probably smells my cat, Spike.”

  “You’re a cat person?”

  “Spike decided I was going to be,” he replied, “whether I wanted to be or not.”

  She laughed.

  The large deck was a pleasant spot for a gathering. There was even a well-equipped cooking area at one end, with a chimney to vent the smoke from the built-in barbecue.

  Nicole hurried out and started the flame on the gas grill, then came over and greeted him.

  “I’ll be back and forth for a while. Help yourself to something to drink,” she invited, gesturing to the refrigerator in the outdoor kitchen.

  She disappeared inside again while he collected a bottle of sparkling cider and sat next to Chelsea.

  “How did grading the tests and papers go?” Chelsea asked.

  “Terrific. I’m pleased with how far my students have progressed this year.”

  “Nice to know you didn’t waste all that time on the little beasts, right?” Terri interjected with a sardonic note.

  Chelsea cast an uncertain glance at her sister before turning back to him. “I think teaching must be a satisfying job.”

  “It is for me.”

  The doorbell rang again in the house and Chelsea ran to answer it. A minute later she returned with a tall, imposing man who had the same watchful hardness in his face as Terri. It had to be the brother that Nicole had mentioned.

  “This is my neighbor, Barton Smith,” Nicole said, coming out of the kitchen door again. “Barton, this is Jordan Masters. And I’m sure Chelsea has introduced her sister. As you can see, you’re here to help provide balance against the Masters of the Universe.”

  Barton grinned at the superhero reference along with Chelsea, though Jordan and Terri barely cracked a smile.

  “Don’t mind them, Barton,” Nicole told him, “these two can be too serious for their own good.”

  “Are you implying that I don’t have a sense of humor?” Terri demanded.

  “Not at all,” Nicole answered. “I just think it struggles to escape at times—at least it did when we were kids.”

  Both Terri and Jordan appeared surprised by Nicole’s comment, but she’d said they hadn’t seen each other since childhood and Barton suspected it hadn’t always been a comfortable relationship.

  Chelsea sat down once more and Barton thought again about how nice she seemed. Nicole had said he was doing her a favor by coming to dinner, but he was the one who felt as if he’d been given something.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Jordan looked at the gathering around the patio table and felt a headache developing, even though the conversation had remained relaxed. Nicole seemed to have things well organized as she set out bowls of food and a platter of shish kebabs fresh off the grill.

  He did wonder if she had invited her neighbor with matchmaking in mind, but his sister was unlikely to jump into another romantic entanglement right away. Besides, Nicole might be interested in Barton herself. An unpleasant sensation surged through him at the idea and he was stunned by the desire to tell her neighbor to back off.

  Jordan swallowed the feeling even as he stifled a yawn. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep—cold showers could do that to a guy. Then that morning he’d gotten a text from Chelsea saying that Nicole had invited them all to dinner and she’d see him then. It was the last thing he’d needed.

  After reliving the previous evening’s kiss, he wasn’t sure what to think. Nicole had responded—not enthusiastically, but she’d definitely returned the kiss. And she’d kept her cool better than he had, cutting it short and not overreacting.

  He ought to be grateful.

  Barton Smith leaned toward him. “Nicole says you’re doing a series of magazine articles about the talent agency. I’ve always heard about the importance of being objective in journalism. So what do you do when you’re assigned to cover someone you knew as a kid and you can’t be totally objective?”

  With a wickedly amused expression, Nicole turned to him. “Yes, Jordan, tell us how that works.”

  Hmmm. She was enjoying his discomfort far too much.

  “I’ll be up-front about us knowing each other,” he explained. “PostModern isn’t a typical publication, and they’re always looking for new approaches to a story.”

  “Maybe the editor wants you to explore a new style,” Nicole suggested.

  “It’s possible,” he admitted.

  Actually, it was not only possible, but likely. Nicole’s remark had reminded him of Syd’s prodding over the past few years, saying she wanted him to stretch more often beyond the short, pithy commentary he did for his columns. She liked his longer work and believed he should do more of it, lest he grow hidebound in one style. Now that he thought of the trial paragraphs he’d written so far on the article, he knew they weren’t what Syd wanted.

  He straightened, a sense of determination filling him. He could do this.

  Nicole served salad onto her plate. “I suppose it’s impossible to ever be completely objective. We look at life through the lens of our culture and our experiences.”

  “That’s what I want my students to understand,” Barton said. “Some of them originally came from other parts of the world, and I think it’s wise for everyone to find out that there isn’t just one way of doing things or of thinking about them.”

  “You want to teach them tolerance,” Terri remarked.

  “Maybe more than that,” Chelsea suggested.

  “Definitely more,�
�� Barton agreed. “I don’t think tolerance is a high enough standard.”

  “Me, either,” Nicole said. “It’s better than nothing, but surely we’re ready to go beyond it.”

  “Like respect and appreciation,” Chelsea added.

  It wasn’t the discussion Jordan had expected over dinner on Nicole’s deck. So...what had he anticipated? Something light and fluffy? A review of fashion or the latest blockbuster film? Or maybe Nicole was just trying to prove she could be a serious thinker.

  His head began pounding in earnest as he forked up a chunk of beef from his shish kebab. It was delicious, he thought absently, marinated just right and grilled to perfection. Nicole might not have had much time to cook over the years, but it appeared she knew what she was doing.

  “Did you?” Terri asked, poking his shoulder, and Jordan realized that he’d lost track of the conversation.

  “Sorry, I was miles away. Did I what?”

  “See the latest Star Wars film. Nicole says it was good.”

  Irony struck him at the much more casual subject. How had they gone from a discussion of social and educational policies to movies?

  “No, I missed seeing it.” He listened more carefully as the conversation shifted to baseball.

  Barton was proving to be a good addition to the dinner party, helping make the evening more comfortable, or perhaps more casual. There was too much history between the Masterses and the Georges, not that anyone except him knew the full story. But even without that, Terri could make things awkward and all the events of the past week added to the potential for tension.

  Jordan glanced at Barton, still wondering if Nicole was hoping to fix him up with Chelsea or had a personal interest in the guy. Or was Nicole’s joke about having an ally against the “Masters of the Universe” the real explanation?

  Funny. No one had used that line on him before, though Jordan had heard other jokes about his supposed arrogance. But then, he wasn’t entirely sure whether the Masters of the Universe were the good guys or the villains.

  Nicole was sharp and he was confronting her intelligence in a way he never had in the past. It wasn’t that he’d believed she was dumb, it was more that deep down he’d assumed she hadn’t needed her brains.