Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel

by Julie Brannagh

  She gave him an equally forced smile. “That’s an interesting perspective, Zach.”

  “Oh, it is,” he said. “I knew you’d agree with me.”

  CAMERON HAD AN entire notecard of questions left to ask, but she was tired of playing cat-and-mouse with Zach. She also wondered if the fact she was afraid he was going to bust out on-camera with additional information about their history together showed on her face. She’d had to cover or conceal her true feelings many times on the air before, but thank God she’d insisted this be taped, not live. Maybe they could piece together enough of an interview that she wouldn’t have to re-tape before broadcast. Right now, she was torn between running away from him, or taking off her shoe and smacking him with it.

  “Money means little to me”? This was the same guy who took a five million dollar check from her dad to annul a seventy-two-hour marriage. He was lying through his teeth, and another wave of hurt and embarrassment engulfed her. She took a deep, centering breath and faced the camera again.

  “It looks like Zach might be on the hunt for a special lady. We wish him luck with that—”

  “One special lady, Cameron. Let’s make sure those watching don’t forget that.” He lifted one eyebrow. “I’m a one-woman man.”

  She ignored the comment; it made her want to scream. He might want to inform the four women he’d been at the Gramercy Tavern’s bar with a few days ago, too. “In the meantime, there’s breaking news from the Sharks. Maybe you’d like to share that with our viewers.”

  “Absolutely.” He had a notecard of his own in his lap, she noticed. A prepared statement: lovely.

  “It’s only the first day of training camp, ladies and gentlemen, and it’s already quite a ride.” He gave the camera a you-can’t-resist-me grin. “The Sharks’ head coach allegedly made some objectionable comments to Ms. Ondine and a local female sports reporter, Ms. Larsen, this morning. Coach Phillips has been suspended indefinitely by the team as a result. The Sharks organization apologizes to Ms. Ondine and Ms. Larsen for the alleged comments, and promises it won’t happen again. As a result of this morning’s incident, Sharks assistant coach Ryan Stewart has been named the team’s interim head coach.” He gave the camera another nod. “I’m sure I speak for everyone on the team when I say we’re looking forward to working with him.”

  “We’ll also look forward to an interview with the Sharks’ new head coach at his earliest convenience, then. And I’d like to thank my guest, Zach Anderson, for visiting with us tonight. I’ll see you next week. As always, keep it on PSN for breaking news from the NFL. From this special edition of NFL Confidential, good night.” She waited for the usual signal from the production staff that they’d gotten it all on tape, and glanced through her mostly unused notecard questions.

  Zach’s voice was quiet. “So, that’s it?”

  Her head jerked up. “Yes. That’s it. Thanks for the interview.”

  “You didn’t ask me very many questions, Cameron.” They were sitting close enough to each other that a whisper would suffice. Even more interesting, the production staff had gone silent, too. Of course they were eavesdropping.

  She closed her eyes briefly, and fought to control the tone and volume of her voice. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t want another sermonette about how money is just not that important to you, and how much you prize loyalty.” She looked into his eyes. “You didn’t seem to care about “loyalty” or sticking by me ten years ago in Vegas. The only thing you cared about was seeing how quickly you could get away.”

  “That’s not true. I meant what I said when I married you. I would have stayed with you until the end of time. You can’t tell me you had nothing to do with what happened.”

  She could hear the gasping and “Oh my Gods” through her earpiece from the production booth.

  “What happened? You walked out, you never came back, and I had to deal with my family,” she said.

  He leaned toward her again. “You didn’t want me back.” He got to his feet, pulled the microphone off the neck of his polo shirt, grabbed the battery pack out of his waistband, yanked it all loose, and dropped it onto the chair across from him. She heard the door open seconds later.

  CAMERON HEARD THE producer’s voice in her ear as she jumped out of her chair. “It might have been nice to know that you had prior history with Anderson.”

  She heard another voice responding to him. “We’ll cut the personal stuff and figure out how long we still have to fill.” She didn’t need her earpiece to hear multiple people arguing over what to do now, and oh-em-gee, how did no one in the world not know that Zach and Cameron were married before?

  If the previous interview was a disaster, this was the complete and total collapse of her career and her privacy. It reminded her of the Vegas hotel implosions she’d seen on videotape. A few seconds later, all that was left was rubble. She resisted the impulse to blurt out a word that was definitely not permissible by FCC standards.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. Nobody seemed to care.

  Despite the fact her eyes were re-adjusting to the dimness of the surrounding room as she negotiated the electrical cords on the floor, she managed to make it into the hallway. Zach was lounging against the wall, which was a surprise.

  “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  His mouth curved into a slight smile. “Hey, darlin’.”

  “Don’t call me that. What the hell? All we had to come up with was a twenty-minute interview, I ask you about your new head coach, and everyone is happy with both of us.” She was just getting warmed up, and he was looking at her like the whole thing was hilarious. “Does it occur to you that I don’t want everyone in the world to know we were married? I don’t talk about my personal life on the air or in the media. That’s private. I—”

  She could feel emotion surging through her, wild and uncontrolled. She didn’t like lack of control, and she really didn’t like messy and ridiculous displays of feelings—hers or anyone else’s. The accompanying adrenaline swamped any remaining restraint. The tears she’d held in by sheer will earlier were threatening another appearance. She shoved them down one more time. She still had things to say to him, and she’d be damned if she’d act like one of those women who cry over stuff at the drop of a hat.

  His voice was quiet and annoyingly calm.

  “You don’t want anyone to know we were married, huh? Too late for that.” He tried to look regretful, she thought. “I’m in a truth-telling mood, too. Confession’s good for the soul.”

  “No, it’s not.” The tears were rising again, threatening to wipe out everything in their path with sheer force. “If you’ll come back in there and sit down—” She blinked as hard as she could, raised her face to the ceiling, and fought for control. “We can start over. We’ll get something on tape, and I’ll spend the next month pretending like you’re not even here. I promise.”

  He shoved himself off the wall, and reached out for her hand. It felt so small in his. She couldn’t quite make herself yank it away, either. She was flooded with the knowledge of how it felt to be close to him. She breathed in the scent of his recently-showered skin, his freshly washed and ironed clothes, and a faint smell of liniment. He was twice her size. She concentrated on staring at the middle of his chest. If she looked up, he’d be giving her the half-indulgent smile she’d seen on his face a hundred times in seventy-two hours ten years ago.

  “Is that so?” He bent over her. His voice was soft and sensual in her ear. “That’s not going to work for me.” She felt the warmth of his breath brush her skin. “You’ll pretend like I’m not here. Well, I’m going to make sure you can’t forget me, or the fact I’m here, twenty-four hours a day. I want you to remember me the way I’ve remembered you.” He let that sink in for a minute. “Your daddy’s not here to rescue you this time around.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “He didn’t ‘rescue me’ the first time around! I—” It was hard to make air quotes with only one hand. “That’s not wh
at happened.”

  He slid his fingertips over her mouth. “I have twenty-nine days to make sure you’ll never forget me again. It starts now, Cameron.”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  CAMERON COULDN’T SPEAK. Even worse, she couldn’t think. He was too close. The memories of him were too intense. Mostly, she needed to get away and pull herself together before she did something really stupid, like tell him she’d never forgotten what it was like to kiss him. She pulled her hand out of his, turned on one heel, and hurried down the hallway away from him.

  He didn’t call out to her or try to stop her. She didn’t hear anyone following her, but she’d forgotten about the portable mic and battery pack.

  “Cameron, where the hell are you? Get back in here,” her producer said into her ear.

  She smacked the bar that opened the facility door leading to the practice field with one hand. Maybe a few breaths of fresh air would help. She could walk around outside for a few minutes and calm down a little.

  “Cam,” the producer said. “What is going on?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Dusk was falling, and the practice field was deserted. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. She glanced across the empty expanse of grass that looked out over the lake, which beckoned to anyone who wanted quiet and solitude. She noted there weren’t even boaters on the lake tonight. She wrapped both arms around herself, and resisted the impulse to keep walking until she found a way out of here.

  “Cameron.” She didn’t miss the warning note in his voice. “We still need some voiceovers, and we’ll have to piece this together. We’re not done yet.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right there.” She turned to go back into the building, and reached out for the doorknob. She pulled hard. It didn’t open. She pulled again, rattling the door in its frame. It still didn’t budge. “I’m locked out,” she said into the mic still pinned to her dress.

  The producer swore extravagantly into her earpiece. A few minutes later, Kacee appeared in the hallway and held the door open for her. She didn’t look happy, either. Cameron reached up, yanked off the portable microphone and earpiece, and faced her assistant.

  Kacee didn’t even wait until the door slammed shut behind Cameron.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you guys were married. Married! Are you kidding? You were going to introduce me to him! Why? I saw the way he looked at you. Are you crazy?” Kacee was waving her arms around. “When did you get married? Why didn’t you give him a chance?”

  The sheer number of Kacee’s questions made her head pound. Cameron started walking away from her, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Her stomach was churning. Maybe she should have eaten more at dinner, but she wasn’t all that hungry these days. Kacee tried to grab her elbow. Cameron pulled away from her.

  “I’m not discussing this right now. I have to get back to work.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve kept this a secret for how long now? Why? He’s really cute, and I—what’s wrong with him? Was he bad in bed? What?”

  Kacee was still following her, still chattering, and Cameron wanted to put both hands over her ears. “I can’t believe you won’t talk to me about this. I thought you trusted me. Why won’t you discuss it?”

  Cameron let out a groan. She didn’t want to consider what would happen when this all got out.

  ZACH VAULTED OFF the bench in the Sharks’ weight room and mopped his dripping face with a towel. Maybe he should go for a run next. He needed to work off the adrenaline and nerves still surging through his body. One thing was for sure: He was an idiot. He’d just told Cameron he would do whatever he had to do over the next twenty-nine days to get her back. He’d meant every word, but he’d lost the element of surprise. Talk about showing one’s hand in a high-stakes poker game. He was stuck in a dorm with seventy-nine other guys who wouldn’t object to a date with her.

  It wasn’t as if the usual items for wooing a female were at his fingertips. Champagne and candlelight dinners for two were pretty thin on the ground at an NFL training camp facility. He should be concentrating on keeping his damn job instead of chasing a woman who’d made it clear she didn’t love him, didn’t want him, and had other things and people occupying her time. Then again, he loved a challenge.

  He couldn’t get her off his mind before, and now it was worse than ever. She’d grown even more beautiful in the past ten years. He remembered how she’d felt when she’d fallen into his arms earlier, the unguarded, slightly embarrassed smile on her lips when she looked up at him. The fifteen seconds or so before she’d glanced away from him with remembered pain and pulled herself free.

  He wanted her back. He wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish this, or what he could say to make her understand how much he regretted that he hadn’t fought harder for her.

  There had to be something that would turn her to putty in his hands. He wasn’t unimaginative in the romance department, but he hadn’t had to chase a woman for a long time now. They chased him. To admit that to another person would make him sound like an egomaniac, but it was true. He sat down on the bench again and mentally sifted through the crap he remembered other guys had done to try to get one of his sisters to go out with him over the years. He wasn’t as whipped as those guys were. He’d like to keep a shred of his dignity. Then again, he was whipped enough to be pursuing a woman millions of other guys wanted, too. He’d bet she’d seen it all over the years, so he’d have to come up with something she found irresistible. He’d also better keep things on the down-low. He was surrounded by other guys who really didn’t have to chase to get a woman’s attention, either, and he didn’t care to be the laughing stock of the locker room.

  Most of the other guys were too busy Skyping with their wives and kids or screwing around in the game room upstairs tonight to care what he was doing, which was always a bonus when one was formulating a plan.

  Flowers weren’t his best bet. He knew she probably got flowers on a daily basis from other guys who were trying to make an impression. He’d have to find out what her favorite flower was; if he sent those it might score him some points. She probably liked candy, but the only type he had at his disposal right now were the Skittles in the vending machine. It was a little early for jewelry.

  He had to woo her. The only way he could earn her love was to show her that he’d never forgotten her. He never would, and this time he was all in.

  An idea popped into his head: Maybe the simplest way to his destination was a straight line. He dropped his face into his hands in response. Taking her for a walk in the moonlight on the practice field was really ridiculous, but they’d have a chance to be alone.

  “Fuck, no. Too corny,” he said to himself.

  The more he considered it, though, the more he liked it. Plus, if he was going to catch Cameron, he’d better go big or go home. Climbing a mountain started with a single step. He could chant clichés all he wanted, but they all led to the same thing: Get off his ass, and go get her.

  ONE HOUR LATER, Zach stood in front of Cameron’s dorm room door. He’d showered, dressed, and styled his hair. He wore a clean pair of warm-ups, a hoodie, and running shoes. In other words, he’d made an effort, but he didn’t try too hard. He’d spent the entire time in the shower planning out what he had to say, too. It was good to be prepared.

  Who was he kidding?

  His hands were shaking. He forced himself to take a deep breath because his heart was pounding. She wasn’t the first woman he’d ever asked out, but he was sure feeling like it. He reached out to tap one knuckle on the door. Seconds later, he heard Cameron’s light footsteps approaching and her soft voice. “Kacee, can we do this tomorrow? I’m really tired—”

  “It’s not Kacee,” he said through the door.

  The doorknob turned, and the door opened about an inch. Judging by the view, she’d ditched the pretty dress and heels she wore for her interview with him. She wore glasses, some type of knit outfit with lit
tle cupcakes all over it, and—to his amazement—bunny slippers. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She was still sniffling. The skin on her cheeks was blotchy and the tip of her nose was a bit red.

  He’d wanted to jerk her chain a little during that interview, but he’d laid it on pretty thick. Instead of offering answers that would let her use the pre-negotiated questions, he’d made his points, and now he was the last guy she wanted to see, if the expression on her face was any indicator. He’d screwed up again.

  “Have you been crying? What’s wrong?” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted. “How did you know where my room is?”

  “Mine’s at the other end of the hall,” he said. He jammed his foot in the door before she had a chance to slam it shut. “Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

  She ignored that. “Please go away.”

  “I’d like to go for a walk with you, Cameron.”

  She was shaking her head before the words emerged, and she didn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t. Kacee is on her way up here to go over some stuff for tomorrow. Plus, I’m not dressed.”

  “So, go put some clothes on. I’ll wait.”

  “Kacee—”

  “You were in the midst of blowing Kacee off when I knocked at your door. You don’t want to see her, either,” he said.

  He pushed a little on the door. She moved in front of the gap his foot made in the doorway to push the door closed. He had a few seconds to take a better look at her. Her face was scrubbed clean. Her hair was in a ponytail. She looked like she was about to make popcorn in the microwave, cuddle with a stuffed animal on her bed, and go over her notes for tomorrow’s Psych exam. She looked at him like he’d kicked her puppy, though.