Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel

 

Catching Cameron

A L
OVE
AND
F
OOTBALL
N
OVEL

JULIE BRANNAGH

 

Dedication

To Susan Mallery, who wouldn’t accept anything but my very best.

Thank you for everything.

 

Acknowledgments

A
S ALWAYS,
I have lots of thank you’s for all of those who gave advice and encouragement while I was writing
Catching Cameron
.

I wish I had the words to express how grateful I am to Sarah E. Younger of Nancy Yost Literary Agency and to Amanda Bergeron of Avon Impulse for all of their help and their hard work on my behalf. Thank you for being such a great team, too.

I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the following: the Avon Books art department; Amanda’s assistant, Carly Bornstein; Dianna Garcia of the Avon Books publicity department; and Jonathan Baker, my copyeditor, who should get some kind of national award for saving the world from my crimes against grammar and punctuation.

Thank you to Jenn Mueller, amazing sports reporter, for helping me with the research for this book by granting me an interview. I am in awe of what she does every time she steps in front of a TV camera for the Seattle Mariners and the Super Bowl Champion Seattle Seahawks. She’s the greatest. If you’d like to learn more about Jenn, please go to www.talksportytome.com!

Jessi Gage and Amy Raby of the Cupcake Crew, Friday is still my favorite day of the week. Thank you for your critiques, your friendship, and all the cupcakes.

Thank you (as always) to my husband, Eric. I could never do this without him. I love you, honey.

The incomparable Mary Buckham helped me write the query letters that got me the gig. She’s amazing. If you write, it’s worth whatever it takes to get to one of her craft classes, or buy her books.

Once upon a time I met Cherry Adair, and she told me to get my butt in the chair and Write the Damn Book. I’ve sold four of them, thanks to her. And yes, I am still more afraid of disappointing her than I am of my editor and agent. Thank you!

I’d like to thank current and former Seattle Seahawks for interviews they’ve given in various forms of media that were a huge help in my research. I’d also like to thank the Legion of Boom for reminding me that it really doesn’t matter where you start, it’s all about where you finish.

I’d also like to thank Lisa Olson and female sports reporters everywhere. Obviously, my light-hearted book doesn’t explore the barriers women still face in reporting on sporting events that the guys in the profession will never have to deal with in their careers. I admire your courage and dedication. Thank you for being role models for an entire generation of little girls who are now being told “you can” instead of “you can’t.”

Thank YOU for buying my book. I hope you will enjoy it! As always, I’m at juliebrannagh.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter as @julieinduvall. I love to hear from readers!

Go Sharks!

 

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

About the Author

By Julie Brannagh

An Excerpt from
Falling for Owen
by Jennifer Ryan

An Excerpt from
Good Girls Don’t Date Rock Stars
by Codi Gary

Copyright

About the Publisher

 

Chapter One

Z
ACH
A
NDERSON WAS
in New York City again, and he wasn’t happy about it. He wasn’t big on crowds as a rule, except for the ones that spent Sunday afternoons six months a year cheering for him as he flattened yet another offensive lineman on his way to taking out the guy’s quarterback. He also wasn’t big on having four people fussing over his hair, spraying him down with simulated sweat, and trying to convince him that nobody would ever know he was wearing bronzer in the resulting photos.

Then again, he was making eight figures for a national Under Armour campaign for two days’ work; maybe he shouldn’t bitch. The worst injury he might sustain here would be a muscle pull running away from the multiple women hanging out at the photo shoot who had already made it clear they’d be interested in spending more time with him.

He was all dolled up in UA’s latest. Of course, he typically didn’t wear workout clothes that were tailored and/or ironed before he pulled them on. The photo shoot was now in its second hour, and he was wondering how many damn pictures of him they actually needed. There were worse things than being a pro football player who looked like the cover model on a workout magazine, being followed around by large numbers of hot young women, and getting paid for it all.

“Gorgeous,” the photographer shouted to him. “Okay, Zach. I need pensive. Thoughtful. Sensitive.”

Zach shook his head briefly. “You’re shitting me.”

Zach’s agent, Jason, shoved himself off the back wall of the room and moved into Zach’s line of vision. Jason had been with him since Zach signed his first NFL contract. He was also a few years older than Zach, which came in handy. He took the long view in his professional and personal life and encouraged Zach to do so as well.

“Come on, man. Think about the poor polar bears starving to death because they can’t find enough food at the North Pole. How about the NFL going to eighteen games in the regular season? If that’s not enough,
Sports Illustrated
discontinuing the swimsuit issue could make a grown man cry.” Even the photographer snorted at that last one. “You can do it.”

Eighteen games a season would piss Zach off more than anything else, but he gazed in the direction the photographer’s assistant indicated, thought about how long it would take him to get across town to his appointment when this was over, and listened to the camera’s rapid clicking once more.

“Are you sure you want to keep playing football?” the photographer called out. “The camera loves you.”

“Thanks,” Zach muttered. Shit. How embarrassing. If any of his four younger sisters were here right now, they’d be in hysterics.

C
AMERON SMILED INTO
the camera for the last time today. “Thanks for watching. I’m Cameron Ondine, and I’ll see you next week on
NFL Confidential
.” She waited until the floor director gave her the signal the camera was off, and stood up to stretch. Today’s guest had been a twenty-five year old quarterback who’d just signed a five-year contract with Baltimore for seventy-five million dollars. Fifty million of it was guaranteed. His agent hovered off-camera, but not close enough to prevent the guy in question from asking Cameron to accompany him to his hotel suite to “hook up.”

Cameron wished she were surprised about such invitations, but they happened with depressing frequency. The network wanted her to play up what she had to offer—fresh-faced, wholesome beauty, a body she worked ninety minutes a day to maintain, and a personality that proved she wasn’t just another dumb blonde. She loved her job, but she didn’t love the fact some of these guys thought sleeping with her was part of the deal her employers offered when she interviewed them.

The sound techs unclipped her lavalier microphone and the power pack in the waistband of her skirt. She waited till they walked away and gave Jake Eisen a brisk pat on his upper arm.

“I’m really flattered, but I have several appointments later today. I’m not going to be able to make it.” She didn’t add that she was a few years older than he was, she’d been married before, and above all, she wasn’t interested. “Thank you, though. I hope you’re enjoying the visit to New York.”

“I’d like it a lot more if we could get together, Cameron. How about tomorrow? I don’t go back to Baltimore till Saturday morning.” He gave her what she was sure he thought was a seductive grin. “I’ve had it bad for you since you signed with PSN. Make my dreams come true.”

She resisted the impulse to barf all over his prototype Reebok shoes. “That’s quite an offer, but no,” she said.

She reached out, briefly clasped his hand, shook once, and walked away. She heard the name he called her under his breath. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy called her that, and it sure wouldn’t be the last.

Cameron rushed down the hallway to her dressing room, peeled off the loaner clothes she wore for a taping, and washed the TV makeup off in record time. She applied makeup with a much lighter hand, added swingy silver chandelier earrings, and bent from the waist to run her fingers through the long, blonde, highlighted hair that cost a fortune to maintain. She flipped it back into the just-out-of-bed tousle the show’s hair person had spent forty-five minutes working on this morning. She stepped into black, strappy stilettos, a knee-length fuchsia floral sheath with a bow at the waist, and threw the items she needed into an evening bag: Cash, credit card, house keys, lip gloss, breath mints, and smart phone. She pulled a lightweight silk wrap around her shoulders.

A knock at the door announced her assistant, Kacee.

“Cameron, you need to be here at eight am tomorrow morning for hair and makeup. It’s the Zach Anderson interview.”

“Got it.”
God give her strength.
She could think of a thousand things she’d rather be doing than spending an hour with Zach Anderson tomorrow, or any other day. She gave Kacee a quick nod. “Thanks for your help today.”

“So, have you seen him yet? He’s in the building this afternoon at a photo shoot.”

“Seen whom?”

“Zach Anderson.” Kacee gave her a look as if she’d grown another head.

“No.” Cameron frowned at the noise and vibration coming from her bag. Her phone was going nuts. If she stopped to figure out what it was she’d be late, and she couldn’t be late.

“Every woman in the building must have been in the studio during his photo shoot.” Kacee let out a sigh. “He’s beautiful. Have you met him before?”

“Yes.” Oh, they’d met before. She’d spent the past ten years avoiding him. She had no interest in dating a professional athlete, especially in her line of work. Female sportscasters had a difficult time with some male colleagues in professional sports as it was; she wasn’t going to add to the existing problem.

Cameron glanced up from her still-buzzing handbag to catch Kacee’s eye as she hurried toward the door.

“If you’re interested in talking with him, I’ll make sure you get introduced tomorrow,” she said.

“Oh, God. I’d
love
that. Thanks, Cameron!”

“You’re welcome. Listen. I’ve got my phone if something happens, but it’s Paige’s rehearsal dinner—”

“And Paige will have a fit if you leave in the middle of it,” Kacee finished. “Hopefully, nobody in the NFL gets arrested or traded over the next four hours or so.”

Z
ACH SHOWERED OFF
everything he’d been coated with over the past several hours, ran his fingers through the hair he kept short enough that it wouldn’t curl, and pulled on jeans and a sports shirt. Jason made himself at home on the dressing room couch. Zach was used to having people in the locker room while he was showering and getting dressed, so it wasn’t a shocking occurrence.

“You have an interview tomorrow with Cameron Ondine of PSN. The car’s picking you up at nine am for makeup and prep. It should be fairly quick. We’ll drop you back at the hotel, and you’ll be picked up again to fly home at six pm,” Jason said.

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