Caught on Camera Read online

  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

  IT 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.

  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, Ma
rtens 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—