Caught on Camera (2 page)

Vega smiled up at JP, wondering why he seemed so large when she knew he had only a few inches on her five-ten frame. Man, he was good-looking. “Seems you have to go.” Her voice came out more light and teasing than she liked. “May I have a few minutes of your time later?”

His square jaw broadened into a quick half grin, and her heart once again went stupid. “Without a doubt.”

Later that afternoon, JP stood at the back of the crowd, searching for the woman who’d distracted him the entire day. Every time his teammates had relied on his shot, he’d either caught sight of her—her camera aimed directly at him—or noticed her talking quietly, heads together, with one of the other male players.

And he’d promptly choked.

Clearly, he wasn’t the only one captivated by her, but what he had yet to figure out was why. With the way she was dressed, she should more easily fade into the fairways than attract the interest of every man there.

Baggy clothes, bland colors, no makeup. Not to mention the hair pulled back in a ponytail so tight the only distinguishing characteristic he could make out was its long length.

But she did have that smooth, honey-colored skin. And the way she carried herself. Somewhat proud and elegant, yet at the same time, as if she couldn’t care less what others thought of her. Sort of like she was intentionally flashing a
stay back
sign with one hand, while opening the door and beckoning people in with the other.

One thing was for certain. She must draw men to her all the time. And he was no exception.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, frustration and excitement warring inside him. Vega was the epitome of what he didn’t go for in a woman—downplaying her looks, few overt gestures for his attention—yet he’d not only been unable to ignore her presence all day, their conversation that morning had left him feeling like a foolish teen. She’d ignored every opening he’d lobbed, only to return them with an attempted discussion about work. Yet with the way she’d watched him throughout the day, there was no doubt she was the same as every other woman. It was merely her game to act as if she wasn’t.

Yanking his sunglasses from where they were hooked into the front of his shirt, he shoved them over his eyes. Time for round two.

He gritted his teeth when he remembered where he was at the moment. He needed a swift kick in the head. Right now he stood in the middle of businessmen and politicians, all there for either the family foundation or to push him to enter politics, and he was thinking about the do-me shape of a near-stranger’s mouth and what it could do to him. What he should be doing was talking up the cause or pretending he gave a shit about politics.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, picturing the roses along the walkway as their heady scent filled his senses. Thinking of something other than Vega would get his focus back under control.

“Tough luck out there today.”

JP opened his eyes to find Evan Martens beside him, hands clasped behind his back as he scoured the area, obviously looking for someone in particular.

“Very unlike you,” Martens said.

Tell me about it
. JP fought the urge to punch the man in the face, instead digging around inside himself until he found the perfunctory smile a gracious loser might wear. “Can’t win them all, I guess.”

He couldn’t stand Martens.

“You seen that camerawoman around?” Martens cut his eyes to JP for a couple seconds. “Sure is a looker. I wouldn’t mind getting some of that action.”

And what a total tool the man was. No matter how many deep breaths JP took, words would not make their way past his windpipe. At least any words suitable of being spoken in public by someone about to become a politician.

“Of course, she could use some spicing up if you intended to use her as an accessory, but there’re some
fine
raw materials there to work with.” Martens trained his gaze back on JP and lifted one eyebrow.

“Come on, Martens.” JP growled the words. He worried that his hands would act of their own volition and strangle the man where he stood. “Women deserve better than that.”

“Yeah? To their face at least, right? Least that’s what I hear from the women you discard.”

It was clear now he was simply trying to get a rise out of him. Like the women JP played games with—women who knew the rules and didn’t object—he had some weird, ongoing match with Evan as well. The man antagonized, JP fought the urge to punch his lights out, then Martens went away until something else came up he felt the need to poke at.

What he was really after, JP had yet to figure out, but he suspected it was along the lines of getting him to lose his cool in public so the governor might reconsider his choice to fill the seat left by JP’s late cousin. It was no secret Martens had always wanted a political career himself. Getting the governor to slide him into the Senate would be a great start.

Setting his jaw so as not to rise to the bait, JP spoke tight and short. “The women I date know the score, so shut the hell up.”

Laughter rang out beside him before the man clapped him on the back. “Always pretending to be the good guy, aren’t you?”

Before he could figure out the best way to extricate himself, Martens let out a low whistle and headed off with the guttural words, “Ah, yes, come to Papa.”

Husky laughter hit JP’s ears, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle with tension. Uncurling his fingers, he slid his gaze around behind the dark lenses until he found Vega laughing with a man who’d recently folded and sold his company to JP. The man was nothing. However, Martens was making a beeline straight for her, and like him or not, he did have a way with the ladies.

JP left his clubs where they stood and stalked along an identical path, ignoring everyone who tried to stop him, his goal 100 percent focused on getting to the prize.

“JP, wait up,” this time the voice came from his sister, and he made the mistake of glancing down at her. The pause allowed the man at his sister’s side to snag his attention.

“Great game today.” Mayor Doty thumped him on the shoulder, clearly either a bald-faced liar or too uneducated to know what made a great game of golf. “I understand Governor Chandler intends to make his announcement next Saturday.” He nodded, as if his support in the subject mattered. “He couldn’t do better than you, son. Your father would be proud.”

Frustration ate at JP. He didn’t want to talk politics. It had been the nonstop center of conversation for the last three weeks, practically since the moment his cousin’s plane had gone down. And he certainly didn’t want to discuss it with another person simply hoping to ride the Davenport coattails.

JP slipped on his politician’s smile. “Thank you, sir. But I haven’t yet actually been asked.”

The mayor’s eyes widened a fraction, then he smiled and nodded as if they were both in on a secret together. Though nothing had officially been stated, it was common knowledge the rumor of the upcoming announcement had come straight from the governor’s office. The entire city had already heard about it.

“That’s right.” Doty pulled a straight face. “It’s merely speculation at this point.”

JP eyed his sister, attending dotingly to the mayor, and knew it was an act. As director of the foundation, Cat had to play to the egos of those with money, but he didn’t appreciate her attempt to bring him in on the action just to relieve her own boredom.

As the mayor continued to drone on, JP studied the area around them, seeking out the dark-haired beauty he so desperately wanted to corner. She was currently heading to the lake in front of the clubhouse. Alone.

When he returned his attention to the conversation at hand, the corners of Cat’s mouth twitched. Her eyes shifted to the lake, and just as quickly back to him. She knew exactly what he had on his mind, and had likely stopped him for the sole purpose of making him wait. The conniving little—

Then he realized he was witnessing something he hadn’t in years. Cat being playful.

He’d begun to worry he wouldn’t see that side of her again after her husband had been killed in Afghanistan. Seeing it now made it almost worth having to put up with Doty’s ramblings.

Almost.

He peered at his sister over his Oakleys, silently informing her she would have to pay, then fought the urge to cut the mayor off midsentence. It didn’t seem to matter that JP had never once expressed interest in being a congressman, senator, or even a local magistrate. He was a Davenport, and that made it simple. Davenports possessed the ambition to aim for the top. Only he didn’t. Not in politics.

He lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his neck and used the movement as an excuse to glance, once again, toward the lake. Dark eyes were focused in his direction.

She looked down the instant he locked onto her.

He smiled. It was time to head to the lake.

Taking pity on him, Cat finally turned the mayor’s attention to someone else, allowing JP the chance to escape, and he headed straight for nirvana.

As he approached Vega, now with her back to him, she was in the middle of stretching out her neck. She twisted her head from side to side, her eyelashes resting against her velvety cheeks, while her thick hair swished back and forth with her movements. Loose curls teased but never lingered against the smooth skin of her neck.

He studied her, understanding that she pulled at him in a way he didn’t get, but he had no problem going with it for the moment. The fact was, he didn’t know if he could do anything
but
go with it. He took one final, silent step forward, all the while fighting a very basic, primal urge. The one that made him want to dip forward and taste her right then and there.

“C
AN
I
HELP
you out with that?”

Vega froze, the deep rumble coming from directly behind her. He was back.

Her mind quickly replayed their earlier conversation, reminding her he had his own agenda, and she couldn’t help wondering if he was there to hear her proposition or suggest one of his own.

Resisting the compulsion to smooth her hair and wipe away the day’s grime, she pulled a deep breath in through her nose and forced herself to focus on the job, not a potential romp between the sheets. Plus, he was a politician. Fake. Always out for himself.

And she would not relive past mistakes.

When she had herself under control, she faced him.

And just like the first time, she was literally weakened by the power emanating from the man.

Life lessons be damned, she was a sucker for powerful men.

He stood close enough this time that the hairs on her arms reached out for him, and against her will, she swayed in his direction. Catching herself before harm was done, she took a quick step back and shot him a questioning look. What had he asked? “Help with what?”

He motioned to her neck. “Looked like you had a tight neck. Thought you might need some help.”

Her eyes rounded.
Oh, Lord no
. She did not need him touching her on the neck or anywhere else. No matter how much she might want him to.

She managed a small smile. “No. Thanks.”

He gave a single nod. “You let me know if you change your mind.” He wiggled his fingers in the air between them, his eyebrows bopping up and down at the same time. “I’ve been told I can do wonders with my fingers.”

Surprised laughter burst from her at the over-the-top flirting, the sexual tension easing, but not disappearing. She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re quite the flirt, aren’t you?”

“I do my best.” His lips curved into a smile. Not the half smile or even the slight twitch of one side of his mouth she’d seen earlier that morning. This one lifted his cheeks, showcasing his dimples and strong jaw, and showing off his perfect teeth. Oh geez, she even thought his teeth were awesome.

She had to get over this fascination.

As her laughter died down, they ended up standing there grinning at each other like goons until she made herself look away. She glanced around, wondering if there was a way to get out of this conversation, to regroup before pitching her idea, and as she concentrated on looking at anything but at him, she was mortified to discover that more than a handful of people were turned toward them, openly staring.