Running Interference (19 page)

“Nope. Everything in Boston is great.” Here was his window of opportunity. “Speaking of Boston, I want you to give some more thought to moving.”

She threw up her hands. “How many times do I have to tell you I like where I am?”

“Yeah, well this place is only going to get worse with places like Coffee Bean moving in.”

Her face twisted with confusion. “That's what I always say, while you say I'm overreacting.”

“Let's just say I changed my mind, and I think you should move. You'll like it in Boston, too. I promise. I talked to a real estate agent about the perfect house, one with an ocean view. I know how much you love the water. I saw how your face lit up in Hawaii. Why wouldn't you want to look at something that awesome all the time?”

She looked around the kitchen, and tears formed in her eyes. “Baby, the ocean is wonderful to visit, but this is my home. I bought it with the money I earned.” She tapped her chest. “There's pride in that. And the memories! They're all around me.” She pointed behind her. “I can't open that door without thinking back to the day I opened it to take you to your first day of school.”

Ha!
He remembered that too. Not the door-opening part, but bits and pieces from the day. Walking down the sidewalk acting cool in new sneakers, feeling sick when he hugged her goodbye at the edge of the school playground, and then coming home to chocolate cake. He smiled.

“The company I work for might not be as flashy as your companies in Boston, but it also hasn't sold out to a bigger hospital system. For crying out loud, Cameron, the CEO knows me by name.”

“Ma, everybody knows you by name.” She'd been interviewed numerous times over the course of his career by people who wanted the story of the little woman behind the big man.

“Helen Eckert isn't a football fan.
I
had to tell her who you were, and that was long after she knew who I was.” She grinned. “My point is sometimes it's better to have heart and soul than it is to be flashy and carry a fat wallet.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It sounded like their conversation at the mall, and a little like Tanya's comment that he couldn't solve the world's problems with a magic checkbook and the Lombardi Trophy. He got that now. Big time. Money only took you so far.

Still, the fact that his mother lived in this house with minimal updating seemed crazy.

“Eventually, you are going to have to do something to this house,” he said. “Replace the wallpaper at least. Toss the yellow toilet. Fix the roof.”

“When I have the time and the money to hire someone I trust.”

“Let me do it for you.”

“No.”

There was stubborn and then there was
stubborn
. Why didn't she want things to change? “I don't understand you,” he said.

“I don't expect you to—not until you have kids of your own.”

“So you're saying this has something to do with me.”

Her lips formed a straight line.

“What?” he asked. “Tell me. I want to know.”

She shook her head. “It's not important.”

“It is to me. And maybe it will help me get off your back.”

A small smile curved her lips, but then her brows bunched above her nose. Silence. Enough that he thought he'd lost the battle, but then she sighed and said, “He came once. Looking for you.”

Cam's heart lodged in his throat. He didn't need to ask who “he” was. He knew.

“You were already in Florida,” she said. “I'd moved you into the dorm a couple weeks before he showed up on the front porch. He said a lot of things I'd waited a lot of years to hear, and for a little while I thought, ‘Praise Jesus, my baby is going to have the father he deserves.' But then he said something I couldn't get outta my ears. Still can't. He said, ‘How much did they give ‘em to play?' And I knew right there, he wasn't here for you. He was here for the money you would make. I told him you didn't make anything playing college football, and he said he should've figured that out by looking at the hell hole I was living in. My ship would come in one day, he said. And then the sorry son of a bitch left. Never saw him again. But all these years, I've expected to. I figured he'd want me to lead him to you.” His mother placed a hand on his cheek. “And that ain't gonna happen.”

Stunned. Like he'd been blindsided in the middle of a catch. All these years. All the ideas he'd had about where his father was and why he stayed away. Slowly the confusion cleared. “You think moving to Boston, where I am, will lead him to me?” he asked.

“Maybe. But it's more than that. Cameron, as long as you are my son, showering me with gifts, I've got to be careful trusting a man. Is it me he wants or is it the mother of a professional football player?”

Damn.
He collapsed back in the chair and tipped his face to the ceiling. “I'm sorry. I had no idea this would be so hard on you.”

“It's not,” she said. “Don't say that. Seeing you succeed has been a blessing. I just don't like when you push me to be someone I'm not, but I know you mean well.” She covered his hands with hers. “I love you with every fiber of my being, but I hope now you can see that following you to Boston would be a mistake. That's your life, baby, not mine.”

He nodded. “You're right.” And if it weren't for this bachelor auction, he'd leave tonight. Reclaim his life. Let everyone get on with theirs.

“I usually am.” She smiled. “I'm glad we finally had this talk.”

He couldn't say the same. Not yet. Right now, he was sad, angry, and a little confused. Where was his father now that it was obvious Cam had money? Not that he wanted to be played and used.

Shit.
He was a mess. He didn't know what he wanted beyond the football season to start again—and Tanya. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

“You know what else I'm glad about? Even though your life is in Boston, you're finally making room for Cleveland. What you're doing for Pop Martin is wonderful. And I overheard your telephone conversation about turfing the high school field. That's the stuff that shows what you're really made of. The true measure of a man. It's how much you give, not how much you earn.”

She was making more out of it than it was. He had money. He spent it. Occasionally he did something good with it. But he was no Pop Martin. That guy gave practically everything he had, and he didn't have anywhere near a magic checkbook. He had heart and soul though, and that seemed to be enough.

Tanya was a chip off the old block. She had heart and soul like her dad. And now she had Cam's heart too. Because he loved her. He knew it the minute he saw her in the gym.

That's why he hurt so bad.

“Thanks for the chat,” he said. “It … helped.”

“Good.” She stood up, pushed in her chair, and kissed him on the head.

He watched her lock up and turn the back light off. “I'm going to be heading back to Boston a little early,” he said. There was really no reason for him to stick around. “After the auction.” The winner would be bidding on a trip to Boston, so he wouldn't have to wait here to fulfill the date.

She nodded.

Damn guilt. After everything that had happened, he didn't understand why it was still plaguing him. “I'm starting to feel … anxious about the season,” he said.

“I'm sure you are.” She patted his back on her way to the living room. “Sleep tight, my boy. I need to get some rest too. Double shift tomorrow.”

He lingered in the kitchen after she'd gone. In the stillness, he stared at the back door and let the memories rush in. Maybe it wasn't popular or practical, but he was glad she hadn't changed much. This was his home. The only other place he'd ever felt this comfortable was on the football field. His house in Boston and his condo at the beach were impressive, but lacking somehow.
No heart and soul.
But no connection to Tanya Martin either. And right now, that was what he needed.

He looked at the same wall calendar he'd stared at when he'd arrived in town. Just a few days until the bachelor auction. Then he could put everything else behind him.

• • •

The night of the auction turned cold with lake effect snow threatening to keep people home. If the three feet they were predicting fell, it would certainly keep Cam in Cleveland another day.
Hell yeah. Why don't we prolong the torture?
He slammed his locker, pulled on the silly satin boxing robe, and collapsed on a nearby wooden bench. He looked like a freak and felt like a fraud. Then it dawned on him. The last time he'd sat on a bench like this it was in the women's locker room … while Tanya sat on him.

Cam hung his head. His SUV was a four-wheel-drive. Three feet of snow wasn't going to stop him.

The door opened, and he looked up. For a split second he wished to see Tanya. Maybe she'd been obsessing over him the way he'd been obsessing over her.

But it was Mitchell. Of course it was Mitchell. Tanya couldn't even look at him. She was damned determined to take whatever she was feeling to the grave. What a joke! What did that prove? The no feelings rule was supposed to preserve their friendship. Look how that went.
Hypocrite!

Anger straightened his spine until he was standing. She shouldn't get away with that. If their friendship was done, then what did he have to lose by telling her how much he really felt?

How much time did he have before the auction started?

The door swung open again. “Press,” said a familiar voice. “I hope everyone is decent.” Even if he hadn't recognized the voice, he would've recognized the laugh.

Katerina.

Ugh.
He wished there was an escape hatch.

She took one look at him and said, “Be still my beating heart.” Her trusty camera crew tagged along.

He rushed a smile, and then ducked behind a locker door.

She tugged on the belt wrapped loosely around his waist. “These outfits are so cute. Whose idea were they?”

He leaned into the locker and pretended to search for something. “Jillian Bell's.” His voice echoed against the metal walls.

“For the camera, silly.”

There had to be some way out of this. He didn't want to be interviewed. He wanted to find Tanya.

“Toss me that sneaker,” Mitchell said in the distance.

Mitchell!
Cam looked at Katerina. “Can you give me a few minutes? Go interview Mitchell first. You know Officer Mitchell Grant, right?”

Katerina's eyes widened, and then she glanced over her shoulder. “Yes! We did a three-part series on him and the canine unit last year.” She gestured to the camera crew. “This will be a great follow-up. We'll be right back.”

Excellent. By then he wouldn't be here.

When her back was turned, he slipped into the hall and saw Terrell. “Have you seen Tanya?”

Terrell shook his head. “Nah, man. I haven't been up front. I'm making sure the lighting guys have everything they need.”

So she was upfront. He made his way to the partitioned section behind the ring-turned-stage.

Pop smiled at him. “Looking dapper.”

Cam glanced down at the ridiculous outfit and laughed. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you.” Pop smacked him on the back. “These people are here because of you. If this works, I'm going to have to rename the gym.”

Cam hesitated. He didn't want to be given that much credit. “These people are here for you.” Hell, this whole damn section of town should be named after this man. Getting the people in power to agree to that might be a stretch but … what about the new high school football field? Cam warmed at the thought.

“I don't think that pretty anchorwoman would be carrying around a cashier's check for ten grand if she had to bid on me,” Pop said.

The warmth vanished. Katerina brought ten thousand dollars to buy a date with him. It had to be another publicity stunt, but holy hell! This one was huge. How was he going to get out of it?

He had to find Tanya now. If Katerina won the bidding, he knew exactly how that would look.

“Have you seen your daughter?”

“Last time I saw her she was helping MJ behind the bar.”

Cam thanked the man and rushed to the split in the curtain.

“Whoa, cowboy. You can't go out there dressed like that.” Some woman he didn't recognize blocked his exit. “No glimpses of the merchandise before the auction.”

“There's someone I have to talk to. It's important.”

“Call her.”

“There you are!” Katerina latched onto his arm.

“Well look at that,” the exit-blocker said. “You found her.”

“You were looking for me? Why were you looking for me out there?” She laughed. “Come on. You owe me an interview.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.
Maybe he could talk her out of bidding.

“We're going to raise big money for your gym, Mr. Martin.” Katerina shot Pop a smile and a thumbs up. “I promise.”

Great. Now, he felt like an ass. What if he talked her out of bidding and nobody else's bid came close. Ten grand? With six bachelors, hearty ticket sales and an open bar, that would surely put them over the goal mark.

“Right here.” She maneuvered him so his back was to the cinder block wall in the hallway. “Now, smile. You look scared to death. Where's my million-dollar media baby?”

He grew up. Finally. It was about damn time he figured out what was important, and it wasn't attention like this.

The red light on the camera glowed. “Whose idea was it for the participants to wear traditional boxing attire?”

“Jillian Bell's.”

Katerina raised a hand and the red light went off. “Cam, you know how this works. Smile. And for heaven's sake give me more than two words.”

“I can't do this right now.”

What would it prove? Who would it serve? By the time it aired the auction would be over.