Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel (3 page)

Cameron resisted the impulse to grind her teeth. Despite the fact she couldn’t tear her eyes off of him, he was just plain annoying. She couldn’t understand why women like her assistant, who was currently regarding Zach with an expression which should be reserved for infallible religious figures or Ryan Gosling, found him so alluring. He was one more entitled, egomaniacal pro athlete, and she wasn’t buying into his crap ever again. She smiled innocently.

“Yes, I did. Would you like to get started?”

One side of his mouth twitched. “Let’s do this.”

Cameron heard the floor director counting, saw the cameraman move for a tighter close-up, and gazed into Zach’s hazel eyes. Oh, they were definitely doing this. He lifted a brow. Of course he thought she was flirting with him. She recrossed her legs, shifting the four-by-six notecards in her lap.

“We’re happy to have a few minutes with the Seattle Sharks’ All-Pro defensive tackle Zach Anderson today. Welcome to
NFL Confidential
, Zach.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder and leaned forward a bit. “You’ve been in the league ten years now. What are you looking forward to this season?”

“I’m looking forward to the same thing I do every season. Winning.”

She saw something lurking behind the careless smile he gave her: smugness. He thought this was going to be just another softball interview, like so many others he’d had before. She ignored the carefully researched and previously agreed on questions on the cards in her lap. She had a few questions of her own.

Less than a minute later, she saw the happy-go-lucky smile melt off of Zach’s lips.

“How do you respond to those who say you’re ‘slow,’ ‘too old,’ and ‘overpaid’? The Sharks retain your services to plug the center of their defensive line. You weren’t able to do it last season. Do you think you can turn that around this year?”

Zach’s mouth opened and shut repeatedly, like a salmon that found itself impaled on the end of a long, shiny fisherman’s hook. She swung one leg, just a little, and resisted the impulse to smile. “You’ve had injury problems. Why should the team believe that’s going to improve? As an aging member of the Sharks’ defensive line—”

Zach interrupted her. “I’m not ‘aging.’”

“You’re older than many of the players in the league, especially those who play your position—”

“They’re full of shit.” He took a rapid breath.

Cameron heard her producer through the earpiece she wore. “Careful,” Ralph said. “Don’t piss him off.”

“The injury rate in the NFL is one hundred percent. I’m not any different than anyone else,” Zach said.

“Wouldn’t you agree that the Sharks should expect more?”

“What the hell?” Zach’s eyes widened. He sat up in his chair. “Listen, you don’t have the first idea what it’s like to play in the NFL. I give everything I have, every play. It’s obvious to anyone who’s actually watching—”

“Are you suggesting that the Sharks and their fans don’t deserve an answer?”

Zach ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath in exasperation. “I’m bringing it this season.”

“Maybe you should try something other than clichés, Zach.”

His eyes narrowed, and he didn’t respond. She saw the corner of his mouth move into a smirk. He didn’t take her questions—or her—seriously, and she saw red. She took a deep breath, took another, and tried to calm herself. It didn’t help.

She glanced down at the cards on her lap. She pretended to read for a moment. Seconds later, she brushed them off her lap. They hit the floor next to her chair with a soft
splat
. She knew she’d spent the past ten years concentrating on professionalism, but right now she was teaching him a lesson.

She lowered her voice and concentrated on appearing calm. “Do you think your well-publicized and turbulent love life is contributing to your woes on the field?”

The color drained out of his face, replaced by a flush that climbed up from his neck and over his cheekbones, and Cameron watched his fists clench on the chair’s arm rests. Both of his feet hit the floor. He abandoned the relaxed pose he had when the interview started, leaning forward to shove his face inches from hers. His king-of-the-world, trouble-free demeanor had given way to obvious wrath. He shook his head, once, sharply.

“I’m not going to answer that. That question is beneath you, don’t you think?”

Her voice dripped insincere concern. “Maybe I need to jog your memory.”

They stared at each other. She leaned forward a bit more in her chair, too.

“I thought we were talking about football today, Ms. Ondine.”

“Oh, we are, Mr. Anderson,” she assured him. “Your personal life is affecting your on-field performance.”

Her producer was talking through the earpiece. “Cameron, have you lost your mind? What the hell’s going on here?”

She continued, ticking the bullet points off on her fingernails. “You’ve been linked with multiple actresses, models, and other high-profile women throughout your career. You went to Hawaii on the bye week last year with three of them instead of staying in Seattle with the team. The question is, Zach, why don’t you take your career seriously?” She concentrated on forming the perfect concerned expression, despite the fact she knew the camera was on him. “How do you think that affects your teammates?”

His eyes flew wide open in shock. His lips were a solid, bloodless line. His voice was barely above a whisper as he bit out the words. “This interview is over.” He jerked the microphone off, pulled the power pack out of the back of his pants, and got to his feet.

“You don’t want to answer a few questions?”

He didn’t speak. He was momentarily yanked backward by one wire; he ripped it out of the equipment, and walked away. She saw movement behind the camera. Several people followed Zach out of the studio. In the meantime, Cameron’s producer was shouting into her earpiece.

“For God’s sake, Cameron. What was that?”

Chapter Two

Z
ACH STORMED INTO
the dressing room the show had provided for him, picked up his jacket, and shoved both arms into it. His agent Jason was talking. Zach heard the words, but they weren’t processing.

“Listen. We’ll take a breath, get you some water and a bite to eat, and we’ll try this again with somebody else. I don’t know what happened out there, but this interview has been teased all week. We don’t want to be the ones pulling out of it.” Jason took a few steps toward Zach. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

No, he wasn’t okay. He’d sent the cheerleader and her three girlfriends he had drinks with last night home in a cab after seeing Cameron in the restaurant he deliberately followed her to. He didn’t have the heart to close the deal with anyone else, because he couldn’t forget how he felt when he saw her again. He was torn between frustration and fury. Lust played a part, too. Despite the fact she jumped up and down on his last nerve a few minutes ago, he still wanted her more than he’d wanted any other woman he’d ever met.

“Everyone else on her damn show gets the softball interviews, the hair tossing, the endless leg crossing-and-recrossing, and the ‘take me home tonight’ lip licking.” He was pacing by now. “She’s attacking
me
? What did I ever do to her, anyway?” He knew damn well what he did to her, but he wasn’t going to admit it, even to Jason. He was wearing a hole in the carpet. Right now, he was beyond caring. “She’s never played the game. What could she possibly know about it?” Zach crossed the room to the window that looked out over Times Square, but he wasn’t interested in the view. He jammed both hands into his pockets.

“For someone who never played the game, she had your number,” Jason said.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” Jason reassured him. “We need to figure out how to contain the damage, buddy.”

“
Damage
? What are you talking about?”

“You need an interview. We promised Under Armour that their launch was going to get maximum publicity, and PSN is a major contributor toward that effort.” He frowned at the screen on his phone. Not coincidentally, it rang. “Edwards,” he told the person calling.

Zach continued to pretend he was staring out the window. His mind whirled. She couldn’t still be mad over the cab thing. She wouldn’t put him on blast for something that happened ten years ago, would she? Last season was tough for everyone in Seattle’s locker room. It wasn’t just him. A team that had expected to win the division handily had finished six and ten. If she still had a personal thing with him, it might have been nice if she’d mentioned it beforehand. One thing’s for sure. He’d rather be dragged buck naked over broken glass than spend any more time with her at all at the moment.

Then again, who was he kidding? If she walked through the door right now, it would be all he could do to not pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless.

Jason’s voice broke into his reverie. “They
what
? This happened half an hour ago. What the hell! Let me talk to him. I’ll call you back.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the stocked mini-fridge. “Zach, we’ve got a problem.”

C
AMERON’S PHONE HAD
been ringing for the past fifteen minutes as she sat in her producer Ralph’s office with the door shut. He’d spent the first ten minutes alternately shouting at and scolding her over the disastrous interview. He’d finally exhausted himself somewhat, and now he was perched on the corner of his desk with arms folded across his abdomen as she read off the identities of those texting or calling to inquire about what had just happened. She wasn’t calling anyone back until she figured out what to do next.

Zach Anderson’s agent had called. Her agent had called. Cameron’s assistant texted one line: “Do I still have a job?”

She couldn’t believe she’d lost it like she had. It was the smirk. He smirked at her, and she couldn’t control what came out of her mouth. She should have ended the interview, gotten herself under control, and tried again. He was the only man she’d ever met that could get under her skin like he had.

Ralph heaved a long sigh. “Well, Cam, when you screw up, you really screw up. What was all that?”

She shook her head. Her phone rang again. It was one of the guys she regularly talked with at NFL Network. News traveled fast.

“Ralph, I wish I had a better explanation than the fact I let him get to me.” She did. She was keeping the information to herself as long as she possibly could.

“What happened to the interview questions we discussed earlier in the week?”

“They didn’t work.” She took another breath. “He stole my cab yesterday. Did I mention that?”

Ralph raised an eyebrow and recrossed his arms. “So, you two have met before.”

“I wouldn’t call it a meeting.”

He moved to the chair next to hers, sat down, and stared into her eyes. “Listen, Cameron. You’re a professional. We need to fix this. What do you suggest?”

“Maybe Mark should interview him.”

“Mark’s on paternity leave.”

She might have remembered that on her own, if she’d thought about it. Mostly, she wished she were anywhere else in the world but right here, right now. Today’s festivities exhibited the most unprofessional behavior in her ten-year career. She’d love to blame it on the stress of Paige’s wedding, PMS, the fact that Chanel was discontinuing her favorite shade of lip gloss . . . No. Truthfully, she’d love to blame it on his behavior in the cab, or the way he showed up at a restaurant with four women in tow and taunted her as a result.

To say she disliked Zach Anderson would be an understatement. She loathed him. But she still desired him, and that fact horrified her. There wasn’t a woman on the planet who would blame her, either. She guarded the secret of why she detested Zach like her own personal Fort Knox, a fortress she would protect with all weapons at her disposal. A breach would be catastrophic.

She rubbed her forehead to banish the beginnings of what she imagined would be a major-league headache.

“Fine. I’ll handle it.” Her phone rang once more. It was her agent. She’d better pick up. “Laurie.”

“Cameron, we have a huge problem. Are you in your office? I’ll be over there in ten minutes.”

She felt an icy fist grip her stomach. “I understand I lost my temper, but we can fix—”

“The video of your interview with Zach Anderson is already up on YouTube,” Laurie interrupted.

“It can’t be.”

“Oh, it is. You’re nationwide. It’s on YouTube, it’s on TMZ.com, and it’s trending on Twitter. There’s a banner headline on Deadspin.com. ESPN just called to verify the story. I’m in a cab. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” Laurie disconnected.

Cameron closed her eyes and tried to breathe. She was going to have a full-scale panic attack, right here, right now.

She took a chunk out of the man—she’d been dying to for the past ten years—but it was at a horrific personal price. If things weren’t bad enough already, her career was over.

T
HE STORY OF
Cameron Ondine’s going after a NFL player during an interview spread faster than anyone involved could have imagined, especially Zach. He was a bit dumbfounded by it all, too. Twenty-four hours and one million YouTube views later, it was all anyone could talk to him about. After all, men (and more than a few women) spent their spare time online looking for photos of Cameron. She was nicknamed “Cameron Online” for a reason. This was something else they couldn’t stop looking at.

Public reaction was fueled by the fact that Zach was known to be a bit full of himself at times, and probably needed to be taken down a peg or two. Who the hell knew, he mused. The sports world was split between admiring Cameron’s guts, and wondering if she should be allowed within a city block of a football broadcasting facility. He’d talked with more than a few guys over the past few days who asked him what he did to piss her off so much. Cameron brought to mind the icily perfect, blonde movie stars of days gone by, and obviously he’d failed to score.

Zach’s representation sent flowers and an apology to Cameron. He couldn’t figure out why he was apologizing—he hadn’t gone after
her
like a starving dog would pursue a big, juicy steak, had he?—but a large delivery was dispatched to the PSN studios the next morning. The text of the card was composed by a public relations consultant Jason commissioned to do so. The same PR consultant authored an apologetic statement from Zach that was released to the media. The phone was still ringing. At least Zach could sit on the couch in his house while he did the fifteenth interview this afternoon on whatever sports radio station wanted to talk to him now.