Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel (2 page)

“The ice queen,” Zach muttered. Some of the other guys on the team would give their left nut to spend time talking with her. He wasn’t interested.

Jason glanced up from his smart phone with a grin. “It’ll be an easy interview. Try not to stay out too late tonight, big guy.”

He was going to have to learn to keep his voice down when other people were around, even somebody who was always on his side. “I’m going straight to bed. No clubbing for me,” Zach said.

Sure he was. He was having dinner with a New York Mammoths cheerleader (and three of her best girlfriends). He would be in bed later, and he wouldn’t be alone. The cheerleader had already made it clear she’d be accompanying him back to his hotel room later. He looked forward to it. If he didn’t move his ass, though, he’d be late to the restaurant.

“You might try that one on someone who believes it,” Jason said.

Zach just laughed. Being young, handsome, single and wealthy was a bitch, but someone had to live the life. It might as well be him.

Jason got up from the couch, shook Zach’s hand, and walked out the door. “I’m out of here. See you tomorrow, old man.”

Zach shoved his wallet into his back pocket, picked up his jacket, and jammed his feet into shoes. He yanked the dressing room door open and strode down a seemingly-endless hallway to the exit. Blowing through the front door, he ignored shouts of “Zach! Zach!” He saw people with Sharks paraphernalia out of the corner of his eye and felt vaguely guilty. Already late, he threw one of his arms into the air as he approached the curb and gave a piercing whistle. He needed a damn cab. The limo was nice, but he’d prefer to be somewhat anonymous.

The rush hour traffic of New York City didn’t immediately yield a cab. He moved closer to the curb as a car stopped for him. A flash of hot pink and black appeared in his vision, just before a woman with luxuriant, long blonde hair, great legs, and a nice ass whipped the door open and hurled herself onto the seat inside.

She stole his damn cab!

“Hey,” he shouted. “That’s mine. Get out of my cab!” He reached out to grab the door.

“Too late.” She didn’t look up at him. “Gramercy Tavern, please.”

“No. This is my cab!” He was now running alongside as the guy tried to pull into traffic. The woman in question glanced up, looked shocked for a split-second, and rearranged her features into a glare.

Jesus. It was Cameron Ondine. She’d been avoiding him for ten years now, but she was about to have another encounter with him if she didn’t get the hell out of his cab. He knew he would see her tomorrow morning. He thought he’d have hours to pretend like she didn’t matter. Her suddenly materializing in front of him felt like a punch to the heart.

She was trying to shut the car door. He pulled it open, shoved her over on the seat with his hipbone, and threw himself inside with one smooth motion. He slammed the door behind himself, and turned to look at her.

“What the hell are you doing? Get out!” she said. She clenched her hands together as she stared at him. He watched a flush spread on her chest, up her neck, and over her cheekbones. She tried to push herself further into the opposite corner of the cab seat.

“Scared?” he said.

“N-No!”

Her pupils expanded. Her dark-chocolate brown eyes were blazing. Their color didn’t appear in nature. It must have been contacts. She was even more beautiful after losing the heavy TV makeup, too. It was ten years later, and she still made him wish he could pull her into his arms and kiss her.

“We can share the ride. Cabbie? Orsay, please.”

“It’s in the opposite direction from where I’m going. This will never work. I am already late,” she said. Maybe he imagined the panic he saw on her face. She’d edged away from him, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of him, either.

“So am I. You stole my cab. You’ll have to live with the consequences.” He settled onto the seat, and slung one arm over the back. She shrank away. He pulled a money clip out of his front pocket and shoved a fifty into the little slot in the Plexiglas separator. “Orsay,” he repeated for good measure.

She unzipped her purse, produced a few folded bills, and shoved them into the little slot as well. “Gramercy Tavern, please.”

The cab driver finally spoke up, in heavily-accented English. “I cannot drive while people are fighting in my cab.” He glanced over his shoulder at them. “Work it out between yourselves, or I will pull over and kick you both out.”

They spoke in unison.

“He can wait.”

“She stole my cab.”

“Okay. That’s it.” The cab driver crossed three lanes of traffic, came to a screeching halt at the curb, and braked. “Get out. And don’t think I’m giving your money back.”

“You can’t do this,” Zach insisted.

“Yes. I can. Get out, or I’m calling the police,” the cabbie said.

“I’m noting your cab number,” Cameron said to the cabbie, and snapped a picture of it with her cell phone.

“I do not care,” the cabbie snapped. “Get out.”

Zach and Cameron scrambled out of the back seat. The cab screeched away the moment her feet hit the pavement. She gave Zach a look of barely contained disgust, but he noticed she didn’t try to move away from him this time. She bit her lower lip and shuffled her feet a bit as she twisted her hands into the soft-looking wrap she held.

He remembered how it felt to rest his chin against the top of her head and how she felt in his arms. He moved a bit closer to her, just to see if she’d move away from him. She didn’t.

“It’s five-fifteen on a Friday night in New York City. What do you think the chances are of obtaining another cab?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Maybe you should show them some leg. I’m sure they’ll pull right over, blondie.”

Cameron whirled on him, and he saw a lightning-quick flash of hurt in her eyes. “You. You haven’t changed at all. I thought I could be professional and give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the people I was hearing it from were wrong. But ohhh, noo.” She stuck one arm in the air, shouted, “Taxi!” and scanned the traffic in front of her as she continued her tirade. Her voice shook. He wondered if she realized it. “You are the biggest ass I have ever met, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Is that so?” Zach said, giving her a completely insincere smile. People were stopping in the middle of the sidewalk by now to stare. Celebrities walked the streets of Manhattan every day, but to watch a prominent, nationally-known sportscaster and a pro football player engage in a loud public argument—if he wasn’t careful, he’d wind up on TMZ.com. With his luck, cell phone video would be showing up on Twitter and elsewhere online in minutes, too, which he needed like a hole in the head. He wanted to stand and stare at her, but “You’re the coldest, most unpleasant woman I’ve ever met” came out of his mouth instead. He took a breath. “You haven’t changed at all, either.”

She turned her back on him.

Cameron should call herself the Cab Whisperer; another car screeched to the curb. She opened the door, threw herself inside, called out, “Gramercy Tavern, please,” and slammed the door in his face.

He’d rather miss his date entirely than spend one more minute with Cameron Ondine.

A
N HOUR LATER
Cameron sipped her second sidecar and pretended she was listening to her sister Paige’s recitation of everything that had gone wrong that day. She was still trying to regroup from her unexpected encounter with Zach, so she wasn’t exactly giving her sister undivided attention.

Paige had a wedding coordinator, and their mother was taking an active role in making sure the wedding came off without a hitch. What on earth did Paige have to complain about, anyway? Cameron shoved down her impatience with brute force and acted like she was riveted.

Paige broke off mid-sentence and tapped her finger on the back of Cameron’s hand. “Hey. Where are you, anyway?”

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the past twenty minutes. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Nothing but the fact she’d traded insults with a man who still made her heart pound. She hoped he didn’t notice she’d been drinking in his closeness and his deep voice in her ear, or the fact she still felt protected standing next to him.

“Try that with someone who believes you. Maybe you should tell me what happened.”

Cameron took another sip of her drink. “I just had to deal with a guy who makes Deion Sanders look reasonable.”

Her sister’s expression was blank. Of course Paige didn’t know who Deion Sanders was. Cameron sometimes wished she didn’t, either. “Football commentator,” she explained.

“Cameron, why do you put up with these guys? Is the job really that good? Why don’t you try to get on one of those entertainment magazine shows or maybe get a talk show? You wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.”

Cameron almost rolled her eyes. “Oh, no.
Nobody
in the entertainment industry has an ego.” She took a breath to calm herself. “Paige, I know you don’t understand why I do this. I love sports. I love the job. I don’t love some of the guys I have to deal with, but that comes with any job, and I’m fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Well, I don’t understand. Mom would give you a job in the design firm any day if you asked for it. You can’t love the traveling, either. Wait until I have kids. I don’t want them watching Aunt Cameron on TV as they grow up instead of spending time with her. How do you expect to see them at all when you’re constantly gone? I just think—”

Cameron smiled and nodded when Paige slowed down to take a breath, but she’d heard all of this before. Her job was an imposition on the family. After all, those from “old money” families were supposed to live quietly and get married after they graduated from college to someone who also wanted to live quietly. They certainly were not supposed to show up on nationally-televised broadcasts of sporting events. Cameron wanted something more from her life than appearing at whatever social or charitable function was the most pressing, according to her mom and dad. She loved Paige, but some days, she felt like they hardly knew each other. Her mother regarded Paige with an adoring smile from across the room. After all, Paige did everything her parents wanted.

“I need to excuse myself for a moment,” she finally said, breaking into her sister’s tirade. “I’ll be back.” Cameron put her nearly-full glass down on a waiter’s passing tray and hurried out into the hallway. Maybe a few minutes in the ladies’ room would help her collect herself. She was so tired of being reminded that no matter what she achieved in her career, her parents still believed the best use of her time was settling down, marrying well, and giving them an acceptable number of grandchildren.

The bathroom proved to be a poor decision. Cameron ran cold water over her wrists after refreshing her lipstick. A rail-thin, dark-haired, early-twenties woman in a spray-paint-tight teal satin mini dress approached.

“Hi. Aren’t you Cameron Ondine?”

Cameron forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Yes, I am.” She quickly dried her hands on a paper towel, and extended one to the woman. “Nice to meet you.”

The woman took her hand. “My boyfriend would be pissing himself if he was here right now.” She smacked her gum. “You’re the wallpaper on his phone. He wore out the issue of
Maxim
you were in.”

Cameron wasn’t sure what to say to this, but there probably wasn’t a great comeback. The other woman extended a dry paper towel in her direction. “Would you sign this for him? His name’s Marty.” She gave Cameron an ingratiating smile. “Write something dirty, okay? He’ll get a big kick out of it.”

“I don’t have a pen right now. I’m sorry,” Cameron told her. “If you’ll visit the PSN website and send me an e-mail, though, I’ll make sure he gets an autographed photo.” Signed with just her name: She wasn’t about to “write something dirty” that would end up on an online auction site or scanned and uploaded to a sports fan site in moments. She picked up her evening bag, and edged toward the bathroom door. “Thanks for your interest and tell him I said hi.”

“Just sign it in lipstick!” the woman shouted after her, but Cameron darted into the hallway. The best thing would have been to walk out the front door of the restaurant, hail a cab, and go home, but dinner hadn’t even been served yet. As the maid of honor, she was expected to make a toast. She was heading toward the private room once more, when a burst of loud feminine laughter brought her up short.

Zach Anderson was lounging against the Gramercy’s bar, surrounded by four women who looked like they’d just crawled out of his bed. He must have decided he wasn’t interested in Orsay after all. He caught Cameron’s eye, winked, and turned back to his companions.

What an ass. He’d
followed
her here? She turned on her heel and walked away.

A
T TEN O’CLOCK
the next morning, Cameron clipped her microphone on, sat down in the plush on-set chair she used for interviews, and referred to the questions for Zach she’d printed onto index cards one last time. She was thankful to lose herself in work before Paige’s wedding, which would be held over the coming weekend. She’d escaped the rehearsal dinner by sprinting out the back door of the restaurant ten minutes after the dessert course.

She glanced up at movement across the set. Zach strolled toward her as if he had all the time in the world. The hair and makeup people had worked their magic with him, too. One would think he spent last night reading a book and turning in early instead of tearing it up with four women at a New York City landmark. His buzz-cut dark honey blond hair was a testament to the artistic use of hair products, and he’d obviously been overdosing on the Visine. There wasn’t a wrinkle or stray thread in sight. He treated her to a smile so dazzling it should come with eye protection.

Her palms were instantly sweaty. Her heart rate sped up. It didn’t matter if they’d stood on the sidewalk squabbling with each other last night; she still wanted him, dammit. She did her best to freeze her features into a politely disinterested expression and told herself not to fidget.

“Good morning, Ms. Ondine.” Zach lowered himself into the chair across from her, crossed his legs, and slung one arm around the back. He eyed her with a smirk. “Did you enjoy your evening?”