Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel by Julie Brannagh Page A

up with was a twenty-minute interview, I ask you about your new head coach, and everyone is happy with both of us.” She was just getting warmed up, and he was looking at her like the whole thing was hilarious. “Does it occur to you that I don’t want everyone in the world to know we were married? I don’t talk about my personal life on the air or in the media. That’s private. I—”
    She could feel emotion surging through her, wild and uncontrolled. She didn’t like lack of control, and she really didn’t like messy and ridiculous displays of feelings—hers or anyone else’s. The accompanying adrenaline swamped any remaining restraint. The tears she’d held in by sheer will earlier were threatening another appearance. She shoved them down one more time. She still had things to say to him, and she’d be damned if she’d act like one of those women who cry over stuff at the drop of a hat.
    His voice was quiet and annoyingly calm.
    “You don’t want anyone to know we were married, huh? Too late for that.” He tried to look regretful, she thought. “I’m in a truth-telling mood, too. Confession’s good for the soul.”
    “No, it’s not.” The tears were rising again, threatening to wipe out everything in their path with sheer force. “If you’ll come back in there and sit down—” She blinked as hard as she could, raised her face to the ceiling, and fought for control. “We can start over. We’ll get something on tape, and I’ll spend the next month pretending like you’re not even here. I promise.”
    He shoved himself off the wall, and reached out for her hand. It felt so small in his. She couldn’t quite make herself yank it away, either. She was flooded with the knowledge of how it felt to be close to him. She breathed in the scent of his recently-showered skin, his freshly washed and ironed clothes, and a faint smell of liniment. He was twice her size. She concentrated on staring at the middle of his chest. If she looked up, he’d be giving her the half-indulgent smile she’d seen on his face a hundred times in seventy-two hours ten years ago.
    “Is that so?” He bent over her. His voice was soft and sensual in her ear. “That’s not going to work for me.” She felt the warmth of his breath brush her skin. “You’ll pretend like I’m not here. Well, I’m going to make sure you can’t forget me, or the fact I’m here, twenty-four hours a day. I want you to remember me the way I’ve remembered you.” He let that sink in for a minute. “Your daddy’s not here to rescue you this time around.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut. “He didn’t ‘rescue me’ the first time around! I—” It was hard to make air quotes with only one hand. “That’s not what happened.”
    He slid his fingertips over her mouth. “I have twenty-nine days to make sure you’ll never forget me again. It starts now, Cameron.”

 
    Chapter Eight
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    C AMERON COULDN’T SPEAK. Even worse, she couldn’t think. He was too close. The memories of him were too intense. Mostly, she needed to get away and pull herself together before she did something really stupid, like tell him she’d never forgotten what it was like to kiss him. She pulled her hand out of his, turned on one heel, and hurried down the hallway away from him.
    He didn’t call out to her or try to stop her. She didn’t hear anyone following her, but she’d forgotten about the portable mic and battery pack.
    “Cameron, where the hell are you? Get back in here,” her producer said into her ear.
    She smacked the bar that opened the facility door leading to the practice field with one hand. Maybe a few breaths of fresh air would help. She could walk around outside for a few minutes and calm down a little.
    “Cam,” the producer said. “What is going on?”
    “Nothing. I’ll be there in a minute.”
    Dusk was falling, and the practice field was deserted. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. She glanced across the empty expanse of grass