“It’s a good thing we didn’t dress up,” Ralph joked.
“I thought Seattle was known for its seafood,” Kacee said. It was nice to see that they remembered to pick up Cameron’s assistant from wherever it was she was staying at. “Maybe we should have gone to a seafood place instead.”
“I’ll bet they have some fried shrimp here,” Logan told her.
Kacee rolled her eyes and walked away from him. Logan had been flirting with Cameron’s assistant for months now. Kacee wanted someone with a lot more money, for starters. Logan found her obsession with Wall Street frat rats in suits hilarious. Cameron needed to spend some time impressing on Kacee that money wasn’t everything, but she knew she didn’t have a lot of credibility in that area. Her co-workers all knew where she spent her summers, for instance, and it wasn’t in stifling hot New York City.
A woman with two-tone hair, wearing a polo shirt with the pub’s logo and an inadvisable number of colorful tattoos on both arms waved one arm toward the seating area. “Sit anywhere,” she told them. She did a double-take when she saw Kevin. “Hey, I know you,” she said. “You’re on PSN.”
He gave her a nod.
There weren’t a lot of other customers. The lunch crowd had gone back to work, and it was too early for happy hour. Cameron grabbed one of the slightly sticky laminated menus from the center of the long table and pretended to study it. She wasn’t hungry, but not ordering really wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to be accused of “not being a team player” on top of whatever else it was she was going to be upbraided for after this morning’s confrontation with the coach.
“What are you getting?” Kacee whispered to her.
“Chef’s salad with chopped egg and dressing on the side,” Cameron whispered back.
“Want to split some fries?”
“Sure.” She wouldn’t eat them, but it would make Kacee feel better. If Cameron didn’t stay ten pounds underweight at all times, she got nasty e-mails from viewers. As a result, French fries weren’t something she indulged in typically.
While the server took their drink and food orders, Ben, executive program director of PSN, took a sip of the iced tea the server ran to get for him. Her speed probably had something to do with the twenty he’d handed her before he even arrived at their table. He got up from his chair and addressed the group.
“I thought it might be nice to take a few minutes to talk about what’s going to be happening over the next few days. First of all, we’re already seeing a ratings spike with the advertising we’ve done on Cameron’s coverage of training camp. The most surprising contacts we’ve had were from women’s magazines, female-oriented cable channels, and female bloggers who’d like to interview Cameron about what it’s like to room with eighty guys for a month.” He beamed like he’d thought it up all by himself, and glanced over at her. “We’ll set up a conference call with the media who’d like to interview you later this week.”
She smiled and toyed with the straw in her glass of iced tea. Kevin glared at her from across the table.
“As far as the training camp coverage, I got a phone call from the Sharks’ GM an hour ago.” He stopped talking while the server delivered plates and silverware to the table. She put a huge cheeseburger and fries down in front of Cameron.
“Excuse me. I didn’t order this,” Cameron said. “I asked for a chef’s salad with chopped egg and dressing on the side.”
“We’re out of salad,” the woman told her. “Plus, your collar bone is going to injure somebody. Eat up.” She put a large container of ketchup down in front of Kacee along with another cheeseburger and fries. “You, too. You can diet when you go back to New York City.”
Her comments were met with uproarious laughter from every male at the table, and a look of horror from Kacee.
“I don’t eat red meat,” Kacee told her.
“You do now. Take a bite. Maybe you’ll get through the afternoon without passing out.” She swished further down the table, and put a grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables down in front of Ralph. “I am not giving you a bacon cheeseburger, so you can get that thought out of your head right now. Does your wife know you eat this badly?”
“I don’t have a wife.”
“Well, then, it’s my job, isn’t it? Does anyone need anything else—napkins, a refill? Okay then.” She walked away without waiting to see if anyone at the table made a further request.
“I thought they were more polite in Seattle,” Ralph said.
Ben was still laughing. “Maybe not.” The two customers at the bar had left, but Ben glanced around before leaning toward the others at his table. “Okay. PSN has been given an exclusive, and Cameron will conduct the interview. We’d hoped to save any contact with this player until later in the season, but we believe her interview with Zach Anderson will break ratings records.”
Cameron hadn’t been able to resist the siren song of golden brown, perfectly done fries after all. She choked on a French fry. Logan slapped her on the back until she stopped coughing.
“Easy,” Logan told her. Ben waited until Cameron seemed like she’d live.
“We’ll tape the interview as quickly as possible, either late tonight or tomorrow morning. The Sharks have breaking news, and we’d like to scoop everyone else as a result.”
“So, what’s the breaking news?” someone else asked.
“The Sharks’ head coach is suspended indefinitely as of about an hour ago. The assistant coach is now the acting head coach. I was also told that the suspension is a formality. Unless he agrees to diversity training and formally apologizes to Cameron and Ms. Larsen, he’s fired. The Sharks are trying to distract from the upheaval by offering the interview. They asked for pre-submitted questions, and I told them that would not be a problem. We’ll formulate those this afternoon.”
Cameron stopped in the midst of cutting the cheeseburger in half so she could eat a few bites. It actually smelled pretty good. Flinging the uneaten half at Ben wouldn’t be a great idea, but it would be nice if she could actually do the job she was hired for. When she wasn’t pissed off about that, she was breathing deeply to stave off a full-scale panic attack. She was going to have to face Zach again on her own. She didn’t want to. Her colleague Kevin was smirking at her from across the table. He’d take the interview in a heartbeat. If only that was an option.
“Were there guidelines for those pre-submitted questions?”
“No. There were no guidelines.” Ben took another bite of his chicken breast and chewed for a few minutes. “Maybe we shouldn’t ask Zach Anderson about his sex life this time, hmm?”
A few hours later, Cameron was back in her dorm room with carefully formulated and pre-negotiated notecards full of questions. According to the phone call she’d just gotten, Zach was making rapid enough progress with the media trainer that the team felt comfortable taping the interview this evening. Cameron had an hour to figure out what to wear, get makeup and hair done, and go over the questions one more time. She laid the notecards down on the computer desk in her dorm room and rifled through her suitcase to find something suitable for a formal on-air interview.
“Too pink. Too red. Too low-cut. Too high-necked. Too last season,” she muttered to herself. She yanked a slightly wrinkled, above-knee length, cobalt blue sleeveless sheath dress out of her suitcase, and pulled out the portable steamer she always traveled with. She rifled through her jewelry roll for the dangly bronze-pearl-and-brown-gold earrings she’d bought last week. She tossed a pair of nude pumps with slender heels on the bed. Truthfully, how she looked on-air was the least of her problems at the moment. Her stomach was churning. She could feel cold sweat trickling down her back. She was shaking.
She could hear the guys shouting at each other and laughing out in the hallway. If she got her ass in gear, she could step out there, spend a few minutes observing, and maybe write a little later about what happens when grown men are forced to live like college students for a month. The network would post what
ever she came up with on their NFL blog. Her bosses would be happy about coverage that would thrill the average football fan.
She couldn’t figure out why she was so freaked out about seeing Zach again. They had been married for three days, ten years ago. Her father and his attorneys told her Zach was more interested in her money than he was in her. They offered him a financial settlement for his agreeing to an annulment, and according to them Zach didn’t need five minutes to think about it. He’d signed where they told him to, her father handed him a check, and he’d walked away. He’d never tried to contact her again.
She sank down on the dorm room bed. Her chin was shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself. Why was she still so hurt over something that meant nothing?
ZACH WALKED INTO a quiet, dimly lit room inside the Sharks headquarters. One of the laundry guys had been tasked with ironing the long-sleeved team polo and warm-up pants he was now wearing. The makeup artist and hair person for PSN had spent the past twenty minutes brushing, spraying, and spackling him to a high sheen.
He stepped over the power cords on the floor and into the false daylight afforded by the multiple TV lights illuminating two chairs that sat face-to-face and less than three feet away from each other.
The speakers over his head crackled. “Want some water before we start, Zach? Cameron’s a bit delayed.”
He nodded. Of course she wasn’t on time. A production assistant hurried out from behind the stationary camera and extended an ice-cold bottle of water to him. He took a swig and put the half-empty bottle on the table next to his chair.
“I’m sure you’ve glanced over the questions by now. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss prior to the interview?”
“I’m good,” he assured them. He really wasn’t. He wanted to jump out of his skin. He walked out of the circle of light, took a deep breath, and heard the door open. The light from the hallway backlit Cameron’s hair as she darted into the room.
“I’m so sorry I’m—Oh!” In the split second before she landed against his chest, he realized she must have tripped on the power cords. His arms shot out to wrap around her before she hit the floor. She felt so small against him. His fingertips moved over the soft fabric of her dress, while the top of her head brushed his chin. She must have been as shocked as he was. She rested against his chest for a few seconds. He smelled the same subtle, exotic perfume she’d been wearing ten years ago. He’d smelled a lot of perfumes since then, but he’d never forgotten hers—the clean scent of lilies and musk. He’d never forgotten what it was like to hold her in his arms, either.
He felt her fingers wrap around his biceps as she tried to right herself. His arms slid away from her, and he braced her forearms with both hands.
“That’s quite an entrance, Cameron,” he said. He took another deep breath. “Are you okay?”
She sounded flustered. “I’m fine. I think I just fell over the cord.” She hauled in some breath. “It was dark.” She took a cautious step back from him. He saw her swallow hard in the dimness. “Are you okay?”
Actually, he wasn’t. The memories were flooding his brain now. He’d smelled her before he saw her that morning in the Vegas hotel room; her perfume mixed with the scent of brain-melting sex. He had the worst hangover of his life, but he forced his eyes open. It was worth the effort. Her hair was rumpled. Her skin was flushed. She beamed at him as she clutched the sheet closer. She was nude and still felt shy about it, evidently. His modest darling.
He’d reached out and pulled the sheet away from her. “Don’t ever cover them up again,” he’d said to her that morning.
Right now, though, he said, “I’m fine.”
“Thanks for catching me.”
She stood still. He didn’t move, either. He knew there were other people in the room that might want to get this show on the road. He didn’t want to let go of her soft skin. He forced himself to drop her arms, and held out his hand. “Come on.”
CAMERON SETTLED INTO the chair opposite Zach and tried to concentrate on the notecards in her lap. The production group was waiting for her cue. They would start counting when she indicated she was ready to start. She took another sip of water and tried to compose herself. She’d memorized the questions. She had cue cards for the introduction. This was no different than a thousand other interviews she’d ever done in her life, but she couldn’t seem to signal the production group. She licked her lips again.
Zach locked eyes with her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He leaned forward in his chair, reached across, and took her hands in his much bigger ones. The notecards she’d been holding dropped into her lap. He stroked his thumbs across her skin.
“What happened to us, Cameron?” His voice was raspy. He held her hands in his, scooting onto the edge of his chair, surrounding her.
“I—I,” she stammered. He waited. The laughing, carefree Zach wasn’t there anymore. His typical smile faded as pain etched his face. The makeshift TV studio was silent as they fought for words.
Cameron hauled breath into her lungs. Her lips quivered as tears rose in her eyes. The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
“Why did you leave me?” she said.
Chapter Seven
* * *
A FEW SECONDS later, Zach heard some shuffling and gasps from the group standing behind the camera and TV lights. He knew the production staff had skin in the game on the successful taping of this interview, too. Their bosses would expect something worth a ratings bonanza. He also noticed the red light over the lens was on. He realized that maybe he should ask how long they’d been filming, but right now, he was too busy getting frozen out by his ex-wife. He’d spent every day of the past ten years trying to forget her.
She’d dropped her guard for approximately five seconds, and he watched the wall of ice in her eyes re-form in milliseconds. She let go of his hands. She didn’t answer his question, but he didn’t answer hers, either.
“I might need a touch-up,” she called out to the group behind the camera. Sure enough, a slender brunette attired in black and sporting an eyebrow piercing advanced on Cameron with brushes, makeup, and a clear tube that looked like Visine. She hip-checked Zach back into his chair.
“What the hell was that?” he snapped. Cameron didn’t even glance at him. “Talk to me, Cameron.”
The makeup person ignored him and bent over Cameron. “We can fix this,” she soothed. She bent to administer eye drops, dabbed carefully around Cameron’s eyes with a tissue, and repaired her makeup. “Okay. You’re all set. Do you need more water?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. Are you all ready?” Cameron said. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She straightened the cards in her lap, sat up in her chair, and turned toward the camera. “Let’s do this.” She nodded at the production group.
“Starting in five, four,” and the woman holding the cue cards counted off “three, two, one” with fingers instead of aloud.
“I’m Cameron Ondine, and this is a special edition of NFL Confidential. My guest this evening is defensive tackle Zach Anderson of the Seattle Sharks. Zach was drafted in the first round by the Sharks in 2002 and has played his entire career with them. He was selected to the Pro Bowl five times. He is a three-time All-Pro. He is considered one of the preeminent DT’s in the league. We’re happy to have him with us today. Welcome, Zach.”
She turned toward him. Her smile was completely insincere.
“Well, thanks, Ms. Ondine.” He gave her a grin to equal hers. “It’s an honor.”
He saw her nostrils flare a little. He caught a lightning-fast glimpse of hurt and anger lurking in her dark-chocolate eyes.
“Zach, let’s talk a little about this season’s training camp. How do you feel about the changes the Sharks defensive line coach made through the draft and free agency over the offseason?”
It was all Zach could do not to roll his eyes. So, she wanted to be all professional and shit? He’d see about that.
“There ar
e a few new guys, but we’re mostly sticking with the same guys that brought us to the championships we’ve enjoyed. It’s important to reward loyalty, Cameron.” He paused for a moment and gave her an especially toothy smile. “I hope you don’t mind my calling you by your first name, by the way.” She gave him a stiff nod. “I feel confident when I’m playing next to guys who would walk through fire for the team. These guys don’t cut and run when there’s a problem. They work together toward a common goal.” He paused again. “I’m sure you know what that’s like.”
He watched her expectantly. She’d narrowed those gorgeous eyes at him. If looks could kill he’d be dead, and she swallowed hard. She glanced down at the notes in her lap again. It was so quiet in the studio he could hear someone talking through her earpiece. She gave whoever was talking a slight nod.
“The Sharks had some struggles last season. Did you make any personal adjustments on the offseason to prepare for a different outcome?”
“I spend the offseason preparing as a rule, but I’m also a firm believer in adjusting to the situation I might find myself in. I’ll do whatever I have to do to win, Cameron.”
“That’s great to hear, Zach. You signed a huge contract extension in the offseason as well. Talk to me about the fact you’ll spend the rest of your NFL career in a Sharks jersey.”
“Funny you should mention that. I’m a pretty big believer in dancing with the one that brung you, Cameron. The Sharks have treated me well over the years. It’s an honor to stay with those that do.” He leaned forward. His words were weapons, and she was about to find out how sharp his weapons were. “Plus, the money’s great, but it really doesn’t mean that much to me. It’s all about the people I love. My needs are taken care of, and I have a few of the things I want, too. Ultimately, it’s about what’s important in life.” He gave her another big, smarmy grin. Her face flooded with color. She looked like she was about to erupt off her chair. “Money’s not a lot when you don’t have someone to go home to at night.”
Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel Page 6
