“Hi, Chelsea. There’s a great walking trail at the park. If you’re interested, we could go together.”
He liked the quick, shy smile she gave him.
“Okay.”
“Do you want to ride back to the house with me?”
“No, I’ll meet you there.”
Once home, he hurriedly changed into casual clothing and was ready when she came up the driveway. He knew he might be rushing things with Chelsea, but he wasn’t thinking completely straight around her, despite the voice of caution in his head.
“How was your day?” she asked as they headed for the park.
“Mostly right now it’s riding herd on kids who can’t wait for summer break to get here. The unseasonable weather is making them stir-crazy.”
“I remember how it felt to be anxious for summer, though I could also be sad if I really liked my teacher.”
“Did you enjoy school?”
“Um...sometimes. When I didn’t, it wasn’t because of school. My home life was messed up.”
Barton saw a fleeting sadness on her face. “That’s too bad.”
“It’s just the way it was. My folks had problems. I think we were all relieved when they finally got a divorce.”
He winced.
“Did I say something wrong?” Chelsea asked.
“No, I was thinking. I got divorced two years ago and I was grateful that we didn’t have kids to be hurt by our failure. Odd, because I’d really love to have children.”
“I’ve heard that teachers sometimes change their minds about having a family.”
He shook his head. “Not me. There are days when I pray I won’t make the blunders that produced a few of the students in my class, but I’ve never stopped wanting kids of my own.”
“I know what you mean. I swear that I won’t make my parents’ mistakes, then humility forces me to admit that I’ll probably screw up my own way.”
Barton glanced at Chelsea. Essentially she’d told him she hoped to have family someday, which was nice. Looking back he couldn’t honestly say that his ex-wife had ever expected them to have children. Maybe if he’d listened closely enough when he and Ellyn were dating, he would have realized they were in completely different places about what they wanted.
“Reality knocks us all down to size,” he murmured. “But we have to hope that love will make up for some of the inevitable errors.”
“Yeah, and that they’ll forgive us for the rest.”
He grinned. “You bet.”
They reached the park and Barton veered toward the hiking trail. “Runners are discouraged from using this one,” he explained, “and bicycles aren’t allowed.”
“That’s good. I’m uncomfortable sharing a trail with bikes. One knocked me down a while back and just kept going.”
“That’s awful. At least they’re reasonably courteous in this neighborhood.”
Chelsea nodded, but despite his reassurance, she seemed uncertain and Barton wondered what made her so tentative at times. During the excitement of the game, she’d come out of herself; now she was more guarded. Perhaps that was to be expected, especially when making a new acquaintance.
Something Terri had said in passing made him think Chelsea had recently gone through a bad breakup. Maybe she was still picking up the pieces. He could definitely sympathize.
In the meantime, he would to do his best to get to know her better. He was sure she was worth the effort.
* * *
NICOLE ENJOYED THE perfectly prepared shrimp scampi she’d ordered, trying to ignore the raw tension inside of her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Jordan about that long-ago kiss, but it had seemed silly not to mention it. The same with the time Jordan had knocked her down when she was trying to skate. The events had been meaningless kid stuff, yet his eyes had flared in a very un-kidlike way when she’d explained about them kissing.
It didn’t help that the restaurant’s atmosphere made the meal feel like part of a romantic tryst...low lights, flowers and candles on the linen-covered table topped by fine china and crystal. But she and Jordan didn’t want anything together, despite whatever physical attraction existed between them.
“Would you care for dessert?” he asked as the waiter cleared their dishes.
“Not for me, but go ahead.”
“I’m fine. With luck, the traffic has eased up by now.”
“I hope your meal was adequate, Ms. George,” the maître d’ said in calm understatement as they neared the door.
“Everything was delicious,” Nicole assured him.
“As always,” Jordan added.
She breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped outside and the aura of romance vanished. As they walked toward the car she drew a calming breath and glanced around, appreciating the evening light. “Seattle is a beautiful city. I’m looking forward to the long days during summer.”
“Short winter days are the downside.”
“True,” she conceded. “But while it may not be your idea of a great evening, I love curling up with a good book by the fire. And this year I’ll have Toby lying near the hearth. I suppose you pop off to Hawaii or the southern hemisphere when the worst of winter approaches.”
“I spend a fair amount of time away,” he conceded. “As I’ve mentioned, I can work from anywhere, even in a hammock under a palm tree.”
“A rare and pleasant circumstance.”
“But you chose a second career that keeps you tied to the same place most of the time. I know we’ve talked about this a little already, but weren’t you tempted to retire and enjoy a leisurely life style?”
Nicole shrugged. If they were two other people, someone might think they were innocently chatting, getting to know one another as friends or potential lovers. Instead, anything she said would have a good chance of finding its way into a PostModern article.
“I was tempted,” she acknowledged, “but it didn’t seem like much of a life goal. I wanted to accomplish something.”
“So you don’t anticipate any regrets?”
“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice to fly off to Paris or Rome whenever the urge strikes, but I’m putting something else first. And as I’ve indicated, once my partners are all here, I’ll have more time for other things.”
Jordan inclined his head and she could practically see the wheels turning in his journalistic brain. “Aside from reading, what other hobbies do you enjoy?” he asked.
“I’m still figuring that out. I’m curious about many things and would love a pastime that I could be excited about.” She grinned. “You know that movie, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? I love the diary Indy’s father kept for years, filled with arcane details and lore about the Grail. It might be fun to get totally absorbed by something. Does that sound silly to you?”
They’d gotten into the car while talking and there was a funny smile playing on Jordan’s lips.
“I have to confess,” he finally said, “I have a book like that. Actually, more than one. I’ve collected every single bit of information and speculation about Sasquatch that I can find. Go ahead and poke fun at me.”
“Not at you,” she assured. “You live in the Northwest and Bigfoot is a big thing here...if you’ll forgive the sort-of pun.”
“In my case I’m fascinated that modern people still persist in believing without real scientific evidence.”
“So you don’t actually believe in Sasquatch yourself, it’s more about his followers?”
“I’m keeping an open mind. They discover new species every day, so anything is possible.”
Like Nicole’s earlier suspicion that Jordan had latent knightly impulses, his interest in Sasquatch gave her an unusual glimpse into his psyche. On the other hand, she wasn’t entirely certain he was telling the truth; he might be teasing her.
“Do you include the yeti
in your research?” she inquired.
He started the car. “I’ve concentrated on local legends.”
“But the yeti could be Bigfoot’s cousin. You might be ignoring a branch of the family.”
“There’s a thought. If the Bigfoot info runs dry, perhaps I’ll head to the Himalayas and check on yeti references. Or maybe you could do that for me.”
“Hey, I’m not your leg man. I’ll find my own obsession.”
“I’m not obsessed,” he complained in a light tone. “I just enjoy being well-informed on the subject.”
“Do you have a Bigfoot lamp hidden in your closet?” she inquired, hoping to keep up the relaxed conversation until they ended the evening. Anything was better than the yearning to invite him home to spend the night.
“Nope, I’m an information man. But I confess to having Harry and the Hendersons on Blu-ray.”
His embarrassed smile convinced her he was telling the truth about his hobby. The film, however sweet, was hardly in the top ten best-known flicks.
“I like that movie, too, especially Harry’s distress when he sees the husband helping his wife into a hot tub.”
“Be careful,” Jordan warned, “it’s only a small leap from where you are to tracking down old folk tales and newspapers on microfilm.”
Nicole turned toward him. “That sounds cool.”
“It’s amazing to tread through the old reports, quite apart from anything related to Sasquatch.”
The skeptical mask that Jordan habitually wore seemed absent, but it dropped back into place as he parked next to her sedan in the agency parking lot.
“Thank you. This was an informative afternoon for the PostModern article,” he said politely.
“How so?”
“I shouldn’t say. I’m still putting my impressions together.”
He was definitely back to his normal, closed-in self. Illogically, she was annoyed.
“The afternoon was quite informative for me, as well,” she told him crisply.
“In what way?”
“I’m still putting my impressions together.”
“How amusing, to throw my words back at me.”
“Turnabout is fair play. In a nanosecond you went from pleasantly discussing hobbies to being an aloof interviewer.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want to answer interview questions while we were driving. This wasn’t a date.”
Nicole stared in astonishment. “Thank you so much for the information. Just think, if you hadn’t said anything I would have gone home to my little diary with the heart-shaped lock and written about the journalist who wined and dined me this evening. A journalist who claims he isn’t cynical or biased, but keeps going out of his way to show that he is.”
Jordan had the grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t in the mood to be forgiving. “I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone. I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to romance and if I ever change my mind, I certainly won’t want a guy who’s pursuing a tidy, controlled bachelor life. So, whatever is going on inside your suspicious brain, it’s your problem, not mine.”
Getting out, she slammed the door and got into her own car, fuming. Apparently Jordan was the sort of person who only recognized a line that shouldn’t be crossed when he was looking back at it. Everyone made mistakes and she wasn’t immune to them herself, but he’d leaped over boundaries more than once, including the other night when he’d kissed her. She might have given him a friendly hug, but it hadn’t been an invitation for more. And she was quite certain he knew that.
The challenge, of course, was wondering if her hug really had been as innocent as it could have been. There was no question she had felt attraction from the start. It had only grown in the days since, so she felt as if she was walking on shaky ground when trying to evaluate Jordan’s actions. But what she was feeling was only physical...wasn’t it?
Chapter Eleven
CHELSEA WAS A little scared. She liked Barton far more than she should after such a short acquaintance. It wasn’t as if she wanted to get involved with anyone. For months she’d gathered the courage to get Ron out of her life, so leaping into a relationship right away wasn’t smart. She reminded herself, once again, that Barton didn’t necessarily want to do that, either. He had been divorced for two years, but everyone moved on at a different pace. Maybe he wanted to play the field for a while...though that didn’t seem his style.
“This is a nice park,” she said. “I mostly see families here.”
“That’s one of the things that sold me on the neighborhood. It didn’t hurt that the house was in my price range since it was basically a wreck.”
“You’re kidding, your place looks terrific. On the outside, at least,” she added.
“Now it does. I poured myself into restoring both the interior and exterior for the last year and a half. It helped to focus on a specific task instead of on my life, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ve never been divorced, but I can imagine. Was it bad, what happened with you and your wife?”
“Yes. She wanted money and success and simply couldn’t adjust to being married to a teacher who was never going to set the world on fire. I guess I was too selfish to compromise.”
Chelsea wanted to ask what he could have done, given up the work he loved? “It’s nice that you don’t lambaste her,” she said hesitantly.
“What would be the point? I screwed up. When we got married, I was a stockbroker. But more and more it just seemed meaningless, so I decided to become a teacher. Now I’m never bored. But Ellyn thought she was marrying a guy who’d make a splash in the world and be able to provide a certain lifestyle. There’s no denying teachers don’t make a lot of money.”
“You just developed different priorities after you got married. That happens. It isn’t as if you set out to hurt her.”
“I suppose. She hung in for a while, but couldn’t adjust.”
“I’m sure your students are glad you became a teacher.”
He grinned. “Some of the time. Tests and homework are rarely popular.”
“I guess no teacher is loved all of the time, but I had several who made a difference in my life. And I wish I’d applied more of what one of them used to say.”
“What was that?” Barton asked.
“She would quote Eleanor Roosevelt about no one being able to make you feel inferior without your consent. I didn’t really get it at the time, but I do now.” If she’d remembered that bit of wisdom when Ron had been picking her confidence apart, she might not have wasted so much time being miserable.
“That’s one of Eleanor’s best. From what I’ve read, she learned that after experiencing a lot of pain.”
“But doesn’t it also mean that some things are partly our own fault?”
“In a way, I suppose,” Barton said. “I don’t think it’s something to beat ourselves up about, though. The trick is to learn and move on.”
“Right.” That was what she needed to remember—not to let it happen again. “So, is it okay for someone to make us feel better without our consent?” she asked.
Barton winked. “That’s a serious problem, but it might be forgivable, as long as we don’t let it happen too often. Say, no more than several times a day.”
“Sounds about right.” She was glad that he’d taken the cue on lightening the conversation.
They were passing behind the dugouts at the baseball field and the players inside started waving.
“Hey, Barton,” one kid called, “you wanna play?”
“Sorry, not tonight,” Barton told him.
Another boy rolled his eyes. “I told you he wouldn’t, not when he’s with a girl.”
“She might be his sister.”
“Sisters aren’t pretty.”
“Hah,” said a girl
stomping out to the plate with a bat in her hands. “And brothers are, like, total jerks.”
Barton’s shoulders were shaking and Chelsea was afraid to catch his eye for fear he’d lose it. Out of sight of the kids, though, they shared a laugh.
“Were they your students?” she finally asked.
“Nah, this isn’t my school district. But they play here several nights a week. Kitty is the girl. She can pitch the stitches off a ball. As she says, that just slays her brother.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
“But Cory was right, you know.”
“About what?”
“When he implied that you’re pretty.”
Chelsea felt the warmth rising in her cheeks at the compliment. Being with Barton made her feel good. Maybe she shouldn’t worry so much and just enjoy it without taking everything seriously.
* * *
JORDAN DIDN’T SLEEP again that night. At six in the morning, he gave up trying, showered and dressed. At his desk, he loaded the pictures from his SD card into the computer and clicked through the shots he’d gotten the day before.
There were over a hundred, a few of the models as they worked, but mostly of Nicole. He’d told himself that she was, after all, the subject of the article, but he had mostly been fascinated with how the camera seemed to love her face. No wonder she’d hit the top echelon as a model. It almost seemed as if a bad picture couldn’t be taken of Nicole George.
Years ago he’d toyed with the idea of photojournalism, before deciding he preferred writing. That was another aspect Syd had liked about him doing the article; she wouldn’t have to send a photographer since he could handle it.
His body grew tight and hard as he viewed the picture of Nicole showing Jackie how to perch on the climbing wall. Her muscles were contracted and her lithe curves were more than evident under her classy business attire.
He understood why the photographer had wanted Nicole, rather than Jackie; she had the name and an allure that would help sell the product. But the guy was an idiot to use those sorts of tactics; she’d seen through him as if he were an empty aquarium. Come to think of it, she had done something similar to him in the car afterward. While someone might occasionally find a stealthy way around her, she was too bright for it to happen often. The problem was, he liked intelligent women. It only increased their appeal.
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