Читать книгу Moonlight Over Seattle - Callie Endicott - Страница 9

Prologue

NICOLE GEORGE TURNED and lifted her arms, pushing up against the beach ball hanging from the boom. She tried to project the same energy she would have if she was actually playing a game in the sand rather than modeling a swimsuit.

A sense of déjà vu came over her.

How often had she done this? How often had a photographer’s camera captured her image for a magazine or billboard? A pang hit her at the thought that this was one of her last days as a model. After all, she’d been modeling for thirty years. It was what she knew best.

Although there were a few tedious moments, inevitable in any career, she enjoyed her work. All the same, for the past six months she’d been turning down contracts and only had a few more commitments left. It was time to get started on the other things she wanted to do in her life. Besides, sooner or later, modeling jobs would become less plentiful and she liked the thought of leaving the business while she was at the top.

“Rachel, there’s a shine on her collarbone,” Logan called, and Nicole’s friend, Rachel Clarion, stepped forward with a powder puff to dab it away.

Because she put so much energy into her job, Nicole always perspired when working, even when it was cold. Logan winked and she grinned at him. Another close friend, Logan Kensington was a great fashion photographer—one of the best in the business—and had his own way of keeping things light on the set.

“So,” he said, “why did the chicken cross the road? Because she wanted to show the possum it could be done,” he answered before Nicole could open her mouth. “Why did the punk rocker cross the road? Because he was stapled to a chicken.”

Nicole groaned. “Those jokes weren’t funny the first time someone told them, at least two generations ago.”

“There you go again, suggesting I’m using dated material.”

“Suggesting? I’m saying it outright.”

Unfazed, Logan continued shooting. They hoped to finish photographing the summer clothing line that afternoon.

“It’s time for you, Adam,” Logan called finally. “I want to finish with the romantic shots.”

Adam Wilding came over, dressed in what the designer hoped would be the hottest men’s swimsuit of the coming year. With dark wavy hair, blue eyes and a firm chin, he looked like a dashing Irish buccaneer...or he would have if not for the swimsuit.

Trying to hurry, but not look as if they were hurrying, she and Adam posed together in different positions. Rain was predicted and summer wear didn’t advertise well with storm clouds in the background.

“Okay,” Logan finally called. “That ought to do it.”

A family had stopped to watch and their adolescent son was staring at Nicole with wide eyes. His sister, on the other hand, seemed entranced by Adam, though she ran over to Nicole after he’d headed for the dressing trailer on the parking lot.

“Aren’t you Nicole George?” the girl asked.

Nicole smiled and put on a terry robe. “Yes.”

“Jeez. I’ve seen your picture, like, a gazillion times. Can I have your autograph?”

“I’d be happy to sign something for you.” Nicole took the pen and postcard being held out. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Tamara.”

To Tamara, Nicole wrote on the back. Hope you have an amazing life! Nicole George.

The teenager stared at the message in delight. “Awesome. Uh, I was, uh, wondering, is it hard to become a model?”

It was a common question from kids Tamara’s age.

In the past two years, Nicole and three of her friends had grown interested in becoming talent agents. So she studied Tamara the way she would a prospective client. The girl was pretty, had nice bone structure and her face was surrounded by a cloud of shiny brown hair.

“Some of being a model happens through persistence, but I’d say quite a bit of it is luck and timing,” she said honestly.

Being an agent wasn’t going to be easy—there were plenty of pretty girls with good bone structure and high hopes. You had to have the right look, at the right time, with the right people to make it happen. The question was whether she would be the right person to aid clients in reaching their potential. Sometimes she felt nervous about it; she took influencing people’s lives seriously.

Tamara bit her lip. “How did you start?”

“I had parents in the fashion industry, which helped. I’ve been modeling since before I can remember.”

“But do I have a chance? I could diet and color my hair. I could even get my nose fixed or do anything else that’s needed.”

This was an area in which Nicole had particularly strong opinions, something she planned to act on as an agent.

“You’re healthy and attractive the way you are,” she answered firmly, but she had a feeling the kid wasn’t listening.

“I’d do anything to look like you,” Tamara breathed.

“Don’t turn into a clone of someone else. Be yourself. There’s nothing better than that.”

“But I bet guys just look at you and fall in love.”

Sure, Nicole thought to herself, they look at me and fall in love, but they just want the surface. Through bitter experience she’d learned that too many men saw only the image on the magazine cover...the fantasy. Either that, or they couldn’t handle the notoriety that came from being involved with a supermodel. She’d believed her ex-fiancé, Paulo, was different. Instead, he’d wanted perfection—the ultimate trophy wife. Paulo was a nice person and had loved her in his own way, but that hadn’t been enough for her.

Adam’s voice intruded. “Nicole, are you coming?”

“On my way,” she called back. “Bye, Tamara. I hope this helps. Sorry I have to go now, but I’m freezing. Good luck with whatever career you choose.” Turning, she swiftly walked to the dressing trailer.

She was shivering harder now, despite the terry robe, and it was a relief to put on jeans, a T-shirt and jacket.

“See you later,” she called to Rachel as she ran to her car. They were all having dinner together and she wanted a hot shower first.

The warm water felt wonderful after a cold day in skimpy swimsuits and shorts, yet a part of her mind was preoccupied with what Tamara had said, I bet guys just look at you and fall in love. Nicole hadn’t wanted to get into a discussion about the difference between love and lust with a teenager, but it was something she’d learned the hard way.

It might be different if she’d ever gotten involved with Logan or Adam—they were terrific guys—but they’d remained friends, not lovers. And after multiple broken hearts and betrayals from men more interested in hitching a ride with a well-known face than genuine love, she’d decided friendship was far more satisfying.

Nicole dressed quickly and in less than an hour, rang Rachel’s bell.

“Hey,” Rachel greeted her at the door. “Adam and Logan are already here. Hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m starved. I know you said not to bring anything, but I ordered a super-sized pizza to be delivered.”

Rachel staggered backward and clasped a hand over her heart. “Pizza? That’s treason.” She laughed.

“Just call me Benedict Pepperoni.”

“You never gain weight, anyhow. But what about the healthy glow that fruits and vegetables are supposed to provide? ‘The camera can tell you eat crap,’” she said haughtily, quoting one of the fussier photographers they’d worked with.

Nicole shook her head. “I’ve only got a few more jobs left, so I’m not worried about it.”

“Then you’re serious about quitting.”

“If I’m going to make a change, I have to actually do it.”

Rachel whistled. “The press will claim it’s a play for more money.”

“They’ll print whatever they want, no matter what I tell them.” Nicole knew she sounded cynical, but didn’t care. She’d run out of patience with reporters a long time ago. When they didn’t get the story they wanted, some of them just invented one they liked better.

“Don’t I know it,” Rachel muttered.

Nicole squeezed her arm in sympathy. Rachel had started in the modeling business in her early teens and become a star, only to have her career end after a terrible accident on a modeling set. The scars left from it weren’t disfiguring, but they were enough to put her out of demand by advertisers who generally preferred their own version of flawless. Now she handled makeup on shoots and seemed happy enough, but once in a while the so-called journalists dug the story out again, usually when there was a scandal surrounding her ex-husband.

“How do your parents feel about your plans?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I haven’t told them. They think I’m taking a vacation to find a husband.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I tried to soften the news by saying I wanted a normal life. But I made a mistake in talking about it at my older sister Emily’s wedding in Montana.”

“At least you enjoyed meeting Emily’s husband and his family.”

“Very much. Trent is a good guy and the whole thing was beautiful and romantic. Em positively glowed. Anyhow, Mom and Dad assumed that’s what I wanted when I talked about having a more normal life. I didn’t tell them I’d been turning down contracts before that. They feel if I must get married, it’s easier to find someone suitable while I’m working. And by ‘suitable,’ they mean a husband who won’t interfere with my career.”

“I suppose you could have chosen a better moment than the wedding to make your announcement. Especially since you’d just broken things off with Paulo.”

“That’s for sure.” With a not-so-humorous laugh, Nicole followed Rachel out to the balcony where Logan and Adam were kicking back in chaises.

“Nicole just confirmed she’s taking an extremely long vacation from modeling,” Rachel announced.

“I have only two more contracts left to fulfill.”

Logan sat forward, his eyes intent. “That makes my announcement even more interesting.” There was a pause while he waited for everyone to focus on him. “I’ve been putting out feelers and got a call yesterday—Moonlight Ventures in the Seattle area is going up for sale. Kevin McClaskey will give us first crack at buying the agency.”

Nicole caught her breath. They’d talked about finding a small talent agency to purchase and develop. All of them had benefited from people who’d helped them and they wanted to do the same for others.

And Moonlight Ventures? The agency had a great reputation. They were especially familiar with it because Kevin had once managed Rachel’s career, and Logan had worked with the McClaskeys several times while arranging photo shoots. Moonlight Ventures was small since Kevin and his late wife had wanted to keep it that way, but with four of them, they could expand.

“Is it in the same building?” Rachel asked.

“Yep and the building goes with the purchase. There are solid renters in the space the agency doesn’t use, so that will provide some maintenance income.”

“But increases the price.”

“Not outrageously, and I think it’s worth the investment. But there’s a wrinkle,” Logan said. “With the loss of his wife last year, Kevin has decided he wants to sell almost immediately and retire.” He looked at Nicole intently. “You’re the only one who’d be free to run it until the rest of us can join you.”

Nerves sent Nicole’s stomach roiling. It was one thing to talk of buying a talent agency and working on it together, and another to know everything would depend on her, at least temporarily. Sure, she’d researched and knew the job in theory, but there was a gap between knowledge and reality.

“What do you think?” Adam asked. “Could you grab the ball and run with it until we can get up there?”

Nicole took a deep breath and nodded. She’d always thought she loved a challenge; now she would find out if she’d been lying to herself.