Caught on Camera

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Authors: Kim Law

BOOK: Caught on Camera
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

 

Text copyright © 2012 Kim Law

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

 

Published by Montlake Romance

P.O. Box 400818

Las Vegas, NV 89140

 

ISBN-13: 9781612185965

ISBN-10: 1612185967

Dedication

 

This book is dedicated to my husband, Doug. I wouldn’t want to do this without you. Thanks for the continuous love and support, and for always being my muse!

 

Also to my parents, Barry and Faye, the two people who believe in me the most. I love you. I hope I’ve made you proud.

CONTENTS

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

I
T WAS A
darn shame someone with that much raw sex appeal was a politician.

Vega Zaragoza readjusted the camera on her shoulder and zoomed in tight.

Yep. Disgustingly sexy.

Jackson Parker “JP” Davenport Jr., the governor’s rumored choice to fill Georgia’s empty senatorial seat, stood one hundred feet away, mixed among his expansive family and the elite of Atlanta, but Vega’s body tingled as if he were breathing her same air.

She licked her lips.

“Hey.” Fingers snapping in quick succession set her nerves on edge. The “request” for attention was directed at her.

Forcing a politeness she didn’t come close to feeling, Vega lowered the camera and eyed the station reporter on assignment with her. Darrin Davis—overly slick and too in love with himself—was not her idea of a teammate. He was more a thorn in her side. And clearly, he thought of her simply as his subordinate. She was over it.

“You know my name, Darrin,” she snapped. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

She rolled her eyes at the perplexed look on his face. The jerk didn’t even realize he spent more time referring to her as “hey” instead of by a legitimate name. He was likely equally shocked by her abrupt reply. She normally took everything he dished out, without comment, but she didn’t have the patience for it today. Her job was riding on talking the man she’d just been ogling into giving her an in-depth interview, and she had no idea how to accomplish it.

She sighed. It was going to be a long weekend. “What is it?”

Confusion cleared from his eyes at the same time his usual smirk settled into place. “We’re done until later, so I’m going to the hotel for a while.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to the ten-year-old studmobile he’d driven to the golf course. They rarely got sent outside Savannah, but when they did, he always drove himself to location. He hated being tied to her schedule, and she hated leaving before securing enough footage to best showcase the event. The fact that they’d be in Atlanta for several days hadn’t changed his behavior.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see you back here this afternoon.” She’d rather finish the next few days without him, but since he was the “talent,” she couldn’t very well go it alone.

After he left, she scanned the surrounding area, taking in the scattered equipment tossed haphazardly around the bright-green grass. Each piece had been used throughout the morning as they’d interviewed both Cat and Emma Davenport, as well as a few of the muckety-mucks participating in the Davenport Foundation golf tournament.

The one interview she wanted—with JP Davenport himself—they’d yet to manage. Warmth bubbled in her lower belly at the thought of the man, and she didn’t fight the slight smile trying to take hold. She’d drooled from afar for years, probably had what some would consider way too many nighttime fantasies featuring him, but today was her first opportunity at an in-person sighting.

And wow. Wow, wow, wow.

Magazines and newspapers didn’t come close to doing him justice.

She mock-shivered at the thought of his broad, toned body and the power he exuded merely walking into the middle of a group of people, and got back to her task. The audio and video equipment wouldn’t put itself away.

Reaching down for a cable, she peeked up through her lashes for one last glance, but found only disappointment. While she’d been dealing with Darrin, the participants had loaded into their carts and disappeared. Dang. In all honesty, she’d wanted to capture a shot of everyone heading off to begin the first round. After all, the golf tournament was the official purpose for her being there today.

Her shoulders sagged as she straightened back to her full height, a cord dangling from her hand. And who was she kidding? She’d wanted one more glimpse at JP too.

“Looking for someone?”

A sharp ripple shot down her spine at the words. She clenched her fingers around the cord as she fought the urge to whirl around and giggle like a giddy teenager. Because the fact was, she was pretty darn sure she knew who owned that low, vibrating rumble. And just as certain that she had to get over her infatuation of him.

Reminding herself she had a job to do, she whipped out an innocent expression and slowly turned, admonishing herself the entire time to keep her overblown fascination from becoming evident, and finally faced him.

BAM!
Her heart stuttered as if exposed to a live wire, momentarily forgetting its sole purpose for existence.

He was even better close-up.

Expensive cologne cocooned her, bringing instantly to mind a lush, deep forest with hot sun streaming through the trees, begging her to lift her face to the “sunlight” and simply drink it in.

Instead, with a polite nod and a small smile, she greeted JP. She casually glanced around until she located a waiting golf cart, two bags strapped to the back, but no one else in sight, and lifted a shoulder in a half shrug as if she couldn’t care less who he was. “I was hoping to catch everyone as they drove off.”

He studied her, the sunlight hitting his eyes in a way that turned them a shade identical to the aqua-colored polo stretched across his wide shoulders. “Too bad,” he said, his words barely more than a murmur. “I was hoping you were turning your sight on me. Again.”

Humiliation rooted in her feet, then fired quickly up to her throat and threatened to stifle all oxygen to her brain. He had seen her watching him? Of course he had. She closed her eyes briefly, mentally kicking herself for being so obvious. But it wasn’t like she’d flagged him down and waved him over, for Christ’s sake. And anyway, a girl deserved to be given a break for staring the first time she saw him.

Plus, he should be used to that.

Then she realized what was going on. The man merely had to snap his fingers to get any woman he wanted, and for some reason, he’d decided to snap her way.

And
oh hell, yes
, she wanted to jump.

Instead, she ignored his words. She didn’t get to take such chances, so no need pretending even for a second that the two of them and a fun afternoon was an option. Might as well use the moment to pitch her idea and see if she could turn the little white lie she’d told her boss into a reality.

“I appreciate you stopping by, Mr. Davenport,” she began as if he’d come over at her request. “You’re about to head out to the course, so I won’t keep you, but I have a work proposition I’d hoped to discuss with you later today.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He tilted his head at an angle, roved his gaze up and down her less-than-flattering olive cargos and white pullover, then settled on her face. “I’m sure I can find time for you, Miss…?”

“Zaragoza.” It was her mother’s maiden name, but for the first time in eight years, she felt wrong using it. “Vega Zaragoza.”

His lips quirked. “Nice.”

Heat from his body seemed purer than the muggy late-summer morning, and begged her to lean into him. She fought the urge. “If you could give me a few minutes at the end of the day, I’d like to discuss an opportunity with you.”

It was more an opportunity for her, but she had no other way to sell it. She needed him to agree to a day-in-the-life exposé or she didn’t stand a chance of getting the promotion to the Atlanta office she was after. And, oh yeah…he’d spent his entire adult life making it clear he didn’t allow the media behind his personal wall.

He looked her up and down once more. “You do know I didn’t come over here to discuss work?”

Uh-huh. She knew that.

She nodded.

Then she jerked, realizing what she’d done. She shook her head, hoping that negated her previous agreement, and once again pulled her shoulders back. “I—”

“JP,” a man called out. “Time to head out.”

She peered around him to find the governor now seated in the passenger seat of the golf cart. Governor Chandler tossed her a wave, which she returned. She and Darrin had interviewed him that morning, trying to get the goods out of him, but he’d been noncommittal on whom he planned to put into office. All he’d wanted to discuss had been the Davenport Foundation and the weekend activities surrounding the fund-raiser, as well as Mrs. Emma Davenport herself. The governor was clearly Emma’s fan.

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