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

figure out why she was so freaked out about seeing Zach again. They had been married for three days, ten years ago. Her father and his attorneys told her Zach was more interested in her money than he was in her. They offered him a financial settlement for his agreeing to an annulment, and according to them Zach didn’t need five minutes to think about it. He’d signed where they told him to, her father handed him a check, and he’d walked away. He’d never tried to contact her again.
    She sank down on the dorm room bed. Her chin was shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself. Why was she still so hurt over something that meant nothing?
    Z ACH WALKED INTO a quiet, dimly lit room inside the Sharks headquarters. One of the laundry guys had been tasked with ironing the long-sleeved team polo and warm-up pants he was now wearing. The makeup artist and hair person for PSN had spent the past twenty minutes brushing, spraying, and spackling him to a high sheen.
    He stepped over the power cords on the floor and into the false daylight afforded by the multiple TV lights illuminating two chairs that sat face-to-face and less than three feet away from each other.
    The speakers over his head crackled. “Want some water before we start, Zach? Cameron’s a bit delayed.”
    He nodded. Of course she wasn’t on time. A production assistant hurried out from behind the stationary camera and extended an ice-cold bottle of water to him. He took a swig and put the half-empty bottle on the table next to his chair.
    “I’m sure you’ve glanced over the questions by now. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss prior to the interview?”
    “I’m good,” he assured them. He really wasn’t. He wanted to jump out of his skin. He walked out of the circle of light, took a deep breath, and heard the door open. The light from the hallway backlit Cameron’s hair as she darted into the room.
    “I’m so sorry I’m—Oh!” In the split second before she landed against his chest, he realized she must have tripped on the power cords. His arms shot out to wrap around her before she hit the floor. She felt so small against him. His fingertips moved over the soft fabric of her dress, while the top of her head brushed his chin. She must have been as shocked as he was. She rested against his chest for a few seconds. He smelled the same subtle, exotic perfume she’d been wearing ten years ago. He’d smelled a lot of perfumes since then, but he’d never forgotten hers—the clean scent of lilies and musk. He’d never forgotten what it was like to hold her in his arms, either.
    He felt her fingers wrap around his biceps as she tried to right herself. His arms slid away from her, and he braced her forearms with both hands.
    “That’s quite an entrance, Cameron,” he said. He took another deep breath. “Are you okay?”
    She sounded flustered. “I’m fine. I think I just fell over the cord.” She hauled in some breath. “It was dark.” She took a cautious step back from him. He saw her swallow hard in the dimness. “Are you okay?”
    Actually, he wasn’t. The memories were flooding his brain now. He’d smelled her before he saw her that morning in the Vegas hotel room; her perfume mixed with the scent of brain-melting sex. He had the worst hangover of his life, but he forced his eyes open. It was worth the effort. Her hair was rumpled. Her skin was flushed. She beamed at him as she clutched the sheet closer. She was nude and still felt shy about it, evidently. His modest darling.
    He’d reached out and pulled the sheet away from her. “Don’t ever cover them up again,” he’d said to her that morning.
    Right now, though, he said, “I’m fine.”
    “Thanks for catching me.”
    She stood still. He didn’t move, either. He knew there were other people in the room that might want to get this show on the road. He didn’t want to let go of her soft skin. He forced himself to drop her arms, and held out his hand. “Come