Praise for Just a Summer Fling
Berkley Sensation titles by Cate Cameron
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Special Excerpt from Just a Summer Fling
One
“HE’S CALLED THREE times,” Bonita said. “I’m your roommate, not your secretary. Call him back, even if it’s just to tell him not to call anymore.”
Zara buried her head farther beneath the throw pillows on their comfortably ragged sofa. If she could just stay there in the soft darkness a little longer, maybe it would all go away.
But Bonita wasn’t giving up. She lifted Zara’s feet and slid onto the couch, then let Zara’s feet fall into her lap and started massaging, her strong hands working through the calluses and tension.
“Or if he really is stalking you,” Bonita said softly, once she had Zara nice and relaxed, “you should call Terry. The company has a security department for a reason.”
Zara pulled her feet away peevishly at the mention of the company’s CEO. He’d been a Mixed Martial Arts fighter back when the sport was just beginning, and he deserved a lot of the credit for bringing it to the mainstream. But he was driven, and expected his fighters to be the same. “I don’t want to talk to Terry. And Calvin Montgomery’s not a stalker,” she grumbled into the cushions.
“Good, then,” Bonita said. “So you can give him a call and deal with whatever it is.”
“We’ve always e-mailed before.” Zara pulled her head out from under the pillows and squinted through the late afternoon sunshine to see Bonita’s face. “That’s rude, right? If you set up a system of e-mailing, you shouldn’t just switch over to the phone because you feel like it. Right?”
“Really rude. You should call him up and tell him so.”
“I’m injured. When someone’s injured, they don’t have to talk on the phone.”
“Actually, you’re supposed to avoid looking at computer screens,” Bonita corrected. “So the phone would be better than e-mail. Maybe your friend knows that.”
“He’s not my friend. And since when are you an expert on concussions?”
“Since my darling roommate keeps getting them. And if he’s not your friend, what is he? He’s got a pretty sexy voice. Nice and low . . . I bet I could get him to moan real nice. . . .”
“Yuck. Stay away from him. He’s an asshole.”
“Really?”
Bonita sounded like she was asking for the truth, so Zara took a moment to try to provide it. “I don’t know. Probably. I mean, he definitely was an asshole. But he’s been good ever since then. You know, good to Zane.”
Bonita already knew that story, so Zara didn’t have to explain what she meant. Except maybe an elaboration on just how very good Calvin Montgomery had been to Zara’s brother. “He visits him more often than I do. He doesn’t travel as much as me, and he lives closer, so it’s easier for him. But still . . . he really stepped up. And Zane says he was good during the trial and everything, too.”
“So you’re not returning his calls because . . .”
Because Calvin was part of Zara’s old life in Lake Sullivan, and she needed to keep a bit of distance from that world. She’d moved on, she’d grown up, but it was still easier to deal with it through the remoteness of e-mail rather than the immediacy of a phone call. Besides, Zara had a pretty good idea of what Calvin wanted to talk about, and she didn’t think she was ready for that conversation. Zane’s impending release was exciting, of course, but also terrifying. What if he couldn’t cope? What if Zara couldn’t give him the help he needed?
But Bonita didn’t need to hear all that angst. So Zara shrugged and said, “I’ll call him. I just haven’t yet.”
And of course that was when Zara’s phone rang. She made a face. She could just let it go to the message system, but then she’d have to either listen to the message or erase it without listening, and both options seemed a bit overwhelming right then. “One more time?” she said pleadingly.
Bonita sighed dramatically. “Absolute last time, you baby.” She leaned over and pulled Zara’s cell phone off the coffee table. “Zara Hale’s phone.” She listened for a moment, then said, “Oh, hi, Andre, it’s Bonita. I think Zara’s around somewhere . . . let me just try to find her, okay?”
She held the phone out to Zara, who reluctantly took it. Andre was her manager and, at least in theory, was in her corner. Not someone she should be blowing off. “Hey, Andre,” she said, making sure she sounded chipper and bright. “You just caught me—I was on my way out for a run!” She ignored Bonita’s raised eyebrow.
“Did the doctors clear that?” Andre sounded skeptical.
“Yeah, of course.” They’d said she could start phasing in her normal routine again. She was pretty sure they’d meant, like, taking showers instead of baths, and getting dressed in real clothes instead of wearing sweats all day, but maybe they’d meant exercise. She couldn’t be sure.
“Well, okay,” Andre said reluctantly. “But you’re looking after yourself, right? You’re not pushing too hard?”
“Nope. I’m pushing just hard enough.”
“Okay, good. You need to come back strong and ready. You’re a major investment and you need to make sure you act that way.”
Funny, she’d thought she might be something that wasn’t purely financial. How naïve. “Yeah,” she said. “Strong and ready. Got it.”
“Okay. So in the meantime . . .” Andre paused, and Zara could totally picture him leaning back in his chair, stroking his goatee, ready to drop the next line as if he was some sort of master of manipulation. “We have a new opportunity.”
“Yeah? What? Not more modelling—that was a disaster.”
“No. Not in entertainment, exactly . . .”
“Oh my God, Andre, do they want me to be an astronaut? That’s so exciting! I mean, it’s a surprise, sure, but I really think I can handle it!”
He gave her his best long-suffering sigh. It was more effective in person, and even there, it had long since lost its power against Zara. “No. Not an astronaut. But something almost as inspiring, really.”
“Porn?” she guessed.
“No. You’ve made your feelings on that perfectly clear.”
She shouldn’t have had to make her feelings on doing porn clear to the manager of her Mixed Martial Arts career, but at least he’d finally gotten the message. “So . . . what?”
“You like kids, right? You’ve been looking for a chance to work with them more closely?”
“No, not really. Kids are pretty annoying, aren’t they? I mean, I don’t know that many, personally. But they don’t seem good.” She thought back over her very limited experience with people younger than herself. Loud, undisciplined, out of control. “Yeah, I think kids suck.”
“No,” he said with exaggerated patience. “You like them. You’ve been looking for an opportunity to give back to the community. You had a tough start and you still have some rough edges, but people have been understanding about that and given you chances, and now you want to help some other disadvantaged kids get a chance. Right?”
“Okay, first off, nobody gave me a damn thing. I earned my chances.”
“Fine. You earned them. And other kids should earn them too. But they shouldn’t have to fight quite as hard as you did. They should get a bit of help. A hand up, not a hand out. Right?”
“Maybe?”
“Work with me, Zara. You’re at a crucial juncture of your career here. Two concussions is not good. Your opponents know to go for the headshot now. I know you’re fast and you usually take them out before they can land a good hit, but obviously that’s not always the case, or you wouldn’t be injured right now. Right?”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, you need to take a break until your brain is solid in your head again. The company isn’t going to let you fight anytime soon, even if we push for it. Their insurers and the PR department do not want their headlining female fighter pulling a Million Dollar Baby.”
“She was a paraplegic, not brain damaged.”
“Whatever. The point is, you’re valuable healthy, and you’re a damn disaster if something goes permanently wrong. So they’re not going to let you back in the ring until their doctors say it’s safe. So unless you want to be looking at a layoff, we need to find ways to improve or at least maintain your value while you’re recovering. It can’t be physical. But it can be PR.”
“With kids?”
“Not just any kids. This guy hasn’t contacted you? This . . . Calvin Montgomery? He said he’d get in touch directly.”
Zara’s grip on the phone got a little tighter. “What the hell does Calvin Montgomery have to do with anything?”
“It’s his idea. And he’s got the company on his side, too. I thought Terry was going to pass out he was so excited about it all.”
“All what?”
“He really didn’t get in touch with you. Damn, he said he was going to.” Andre sounded a little disillusioned with Calvin Montgomery, but charged on anyway. “He wants you to help him start up a community center, back in your hometown. What’s it called? Lake Sullivan? Whatever. They’ve already got the place built and mostly staffed, but they’re looking for a few more people. He says there’s loads of disadvantaged kids there and they need some hope and someone to inspire them, and he wants you to be that person, and I swear, Terry just about came in his pants. Thinks it’s a good way to improve the MMA image. He’s throwing serious funding at the project. Some for you, some for the facility. It’s excellent.”
Andre paused for breath, and maybe Zara should have taken the opportunity to interrupt, but she was a bit too dazed by it all. “Montgomery wants your brother involved, which . . . I’m not so sure about. But whatever, we can negotiate on that. But seriously, making you into some sort of Ripley character, like from Aliens? You’re a fierce warrior woman with a soft spot for kids. It’s brilliant. Just couldn’t be any better. You work there for a while, you do whatever the hell people do when they start up community centers, none of it hurts your brain, you train enough to stay fit but don’t bring yourself right up to the peak . . . I honestly can’t think of a better way for you to be spending your time. Can you?”
The list of better things was so long Zara wasn’t sure where to start. Should she organize the options alphabetically or in order of preference? Best to keep it simple, probably. “Anything but that.” Anything but going back to rural Vermont and getting involved with the Montgomery family and dealing with a bunch of annoying children. “Maybe I could become a nun or something. They like kids, don’t they? Some of them?”
“Nuns can’t have sex, Zare. You still want to consider that option?”
“Maybe something else.” Her sex life might be a bit slow, but she wanted to at least keep the option open. “I mean, there’s plenty of messed-up kids in New York City! I can stay right here! And, you know, you can figure out photo ops or something, right? I don’t have to spend a lot of time with them, do I?”
“People aren’t as gullible as they used to be. It takes more than a few snapshots with some raggedy kids. We need testimonials from concerned locals, recorded tears from your protégés, poignant anecdotes about how much you’ve learned. We need more than a photo op, Zara.”
“This is bullshit. We don’t need any of that. I’m a fighter, not a humanitarian. I’m the MMA champion! I’ve got the damn belt—I’m looking at it right now. How is messing around with a bunch of kids going to make me fight better?”
“It’s going to make you look better,” Andre said, not entirely patiently. “You know how it goes. You get fights based on what the fans want to see, and right now . . . well, as long as you’re defending the title, you’re fine. But if you’re out for too long and lose the title, or if you come back and aren’t quite up to speed yet and lose it, you’re going to need the fans on your side. And it’ll do great things for your endorsements, too.”
“I’m so tired of that crap. The men are allowed to just fight. They don’t have to look pretty and flirt with reporters and work with damn kids!”
“Simple question, Zara. Because, I don’t know, maybe I missed something. So let me just check . . . are you a man?” Andre paused, just long enough to pretend he was waiting for an answer. “Oh, no, you’re not? Okay, next question. Do you live in a fantasy world of total equality, or do you live in this world?” Another pause for effect. “Oh, you live in this world? Then stop wasting my time with your whining and help me manage your career as a female fighter in the current universe. Okay?”
Zara was pretty sure she was out of arguments, but that didn’t mean she liked the idea. “By working at a community center? Seriously?” She paused. “Why the hell is Calvin Montgomery interested in making me work at a community center?” And the worst part, “In Lake Sullivan? They don’t want me in Lake Sullivan, Andre. They practically kicked me out.”
“They want you now. Being on the cover of both Sports Illustrated and Maxim will change a lot of minds.”
“This whole thing is stupid.”
“Give it some thought,” Andre said soothingly. “It’d be good for your career, and like I said, Terry’s willing to pay for it all.”
“What does that mean, exactly? How much money?”
“We’ll have to negotiate the details. But it’ll be a hell of a lot more than you’d make lying around on your couch feeling sorry for yourself. And I’ll talk to your sponsors, too, see if we can milk some extra out of them.” He waited for her next objection. When it didn’t come, he said, “Okay, then. Think about it. I’ll talk to Terry and figure out some of the details. And look after your brain, okay?”
“Okay,” Zara said grudgingly. She hung up, then looked at Bonita, who’d been listening to Zara’s half of the conversation with obvious interest. “Fine, you’re right. I need to phone Calvin Montgomery. Did you write his number down somewhere?”
* * *
“MR. Montgomery?” Allison’s voice stopped Cal on his way out the door. “Zara Hale is on line three for you.”
It was tempting to keep walking. He’d called the little brat three times and she’d ignored him until he’d gone ahead and talked to her boss? Now she wanted to talk to him, but maybe he was too busy to talk this time.
Yeah, tempting, but not appropriate. He was the responsible one, after all. “I’ll catch up,” he told the people he’d been walking with. They were on their way to The Pier for lunch, so it wasn’t like he was going to be missing a meeting or anything. “Order for me—whatever the special is.”
That taken care of, he turned back toward his office. “Line three?”
Allison nodded from her desk outside his door. He hadn’t liked the setup originally; Allison had been with the company since he’d been a toddler, and he was pretty sure she’d been assigned as his assistant largely to keep an eye on him. Having her stationed by his door made it feel even more like she was his sentry. His jailer. But he’d gotten used to her, just like he’d adjusted to the rest of it. And having her so intent on running his business life was actually a good excuse to delegate a lot of his work to her, so he’d started to think of her presence as a perk.
And there were other advantages to the job, he remembered as he sank back into his luxurious desk chair and swivelled around so he could look out the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the lake. Yeah, his work was boring and he had a babysitter assigned to him, but he made good money and worked in a pleasant environment. It could be worse.
He picked up the phone and said, “Zara? Thanks for calling back.” He didn’t bother to mention how long it had taken. No point in starting off with her on the defensive. “I guess you’ve probably been told about the plan by now?”
“Yeah, I’ve been told.” It had been a long time since he’d heard her voice, but she still sounded about the same. Totally pugnacious and looking for trouble. “What the hell are you up to?”
“Zane’s out in less than a month,” Cal replied calmly. “He’s going to need a job, and some stability.”
“What? I mean, yeah, okay, but what’s that got to do with me and a community center?”
“He can work there, too. He likes kids, and he told me he wants to find a way to start giving back.”
“He’s a convicted felon! You really think he’s going to be allowed to work with kids?”
“His crimes had nothing to do with children, and there was only peripheral violence. I don’t think there’s any reason we can’t trust him around young people. With adequate supervision, of course.”
“Adequate . . . you don’t expect me to supervise him, do you? He’s my big brother! He’s not going to listen to me. And it’s not like I know anything about any of this!”
“No, not you. We’ve got a professional manager in mind. Good experience, relevant education, the whole package. She’ll be in charge of supervising you and Zane.”
“Okay, well . . .” He could practically hear her recalculating. “Okay, if this is what Zane wants and you can find a way to make it work, then, great, it sounds like a good plan. For him. But why am I getting dragged into it?”
“Because I can’t find a way to make it work, not without some help.”
“I really don’t understand how I’d help anything.”
“Two ways.” Cal kicked his feet up onto the windowsill and leaned back in his chair. He was pretty pleased with himself on this one, but he tried not to let that come out in his voice. “One, you make the town more likely to accept Zane. You may not believe it, but you’re a golden girl up here now. A celebrity. Local girl made good. Pick the cliché, and you fit it. So people who might object to just Zane working at the center will be okay with it if you’re involved.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe it.”
“Well, if you ever came by, you’d know. As it is, you’ll have to trust me.”
There was no answer, not right away. Finally, Zara said, “That was one way. What’s two?”
“Two . . .” This one was going to take a bit more finesse. “You being involved makes it easier for Zane to accept the job. He’s a proud guy, Zara. You know that. He’s never wanted to take favors from me, not if they involved money. So he won’t want to take this job, not if he thinks it’s me giving him a handout.”
“You think he’s going to be more willing to accept help from me? His baby sister? You’re delusional.”
“Well, no, I’m not. As a matter of fact, once I explained how you’d be involved, Zane agreed to go along with it.”
“Bullshit.”
Cal grinned. He wished this meeting could have been in person so he’d have been able to see the expression on her face, but at least a phone call was better than e-mail. “It’s not bullshit at all. When I told him about his baby sister getting two concussions in one year and maybe facing permanent brain damage if she didn’t stay out of the ring for a while? When I told him how you were pushing to get back too early because you had nothing constructive to do with your time? When I said I’d love to get you involved in this project, but didn’t think I’d be able to persuade you if he wasn’t involved?” Yeah, this had been a good plan. Cal was proud of himself. “He knew what he had to do. He’s taking the job so that you’ll take the job.”
Damn, it would have been great if he’d been able to see her as she processed it all. Finally she said, “Okay, you don’t know shit about my career, or my health. So you’re lying, really. And you’re playing us off against each other, for each other? You’ve set it up so he’ll take the job to help me, and I’ll take the job to help him.”
“Exactly.”
“Why? Why is this any of your business?”
Interesting that she was the one asking that question, when her street-smart brother hadn’t. But Cal had the answer already figured out, ready for when he’d been talking to Zane, so it was easy to use it now. “Because I want the community center to succeed. I want it to target kids who need it. Sure, everyone’s welcome, but you know what I mean. The middle-class kids getting dropped off by their loving parents for an afternoon of basketball or crafts or something? They don’t need it. But there are kids who do. A lot of them. And I think you and Zane will be good at reaching those kids.”
“Why, because we’re poor, downtrodden trash? We can speak to our people?”
“You’re not trash. But, yeah, because you grew up without money and without strong parenting. Because you struggled with finding your places in the world. I think Zane should be involved because he can be a good lesson on what goes wrong if you don’t make the right decisions, and also a good lesson about it never being too late to change. And you? Obviously a success story. The kids need to see more of those. Probably the girls especially. You didn’t get knocked up and start a family way too young because you didn’t know what the hell else to do with your life. You broke free. The girls definitely need to see that.”
He let her ponder for a moment, then said, “It doesn’t have to be a long-term commitment. Just give it an honest try. See if it works for you. Okay?”
“I’ll think about it. And I’ll talk to Zane about it. This is my week to visit him.”
“Are you safe to drive? With the concussion?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they’d been a mistake.
“You don’t know shit about my health,” she growled. “Remember? And I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “Sorry. I’ve been talking to Zane too much—you know how protective he is.”
“How protective he wants to be, maybe. But he hasn’t been able to do much for me for the last decade, and I’ve been just fine. I don’t need him or you thinking you’re in charge of my safety. No way.”
“Absolutely,” Cal agreed. And he did agree, at least in theory. A bit harder to convince his instincts about it, but his brain was certainly aware that Zara Hale could take care of herself, and then some.
“Okay,” she said grumpily. “I’ll talk to Zane about it.”
“It’s not that terrible, Zara. We’ve got a good facility, and the town has changed. Seriously, they love you here now. There are posters of you all over the place, and they sold tickets and did a huge event at the bar for your last pay-per-view fight. It sold out fast.”
“That fight lasted twenty-three seconds.”
“And the cheering went on for hours. Every time they showed a replay, I thought the roof was going to lift off.”
“You were there?”
“Of course. Everyone who’s anyone was there. It was the social event of the season.”
“Yeah, I’m sure your whole family showed up, furs and pearls and all.”
Well, that was a good point. But he chose to ignore it. “You should come by,” he said. “I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”
“I’ll think about it. Maybe. After I talk to Zane. But if he’s not really into this, there’s no way I’m doing it.”
“Fair enough.”
They ended the call, and Cal sat and looked out his window. Zane and Zara Hale, back in Lake Sullivan. Back where they’d always belonged, before things had gone so wrong. He hadn’t been able to save either of them then, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help them out now. He’d been raised with every privilege, all the financial and the emotional support he could have ever wanted, and it had made him strong. It had also given him a pretty good dose of liberal guilt, and helping Hales and disadvantaged kids was a great way to soothe his conscience.
Yeah. He was doing the right thing. He pushed out of his chair and strode out of the office with the energy that always made Allison frown suspiciously. Things were coming together. It was about damn time.
Two
EVEN AFTER ALL these years, driving past the tall, windowless walls of the Clinton Correctional Facility still made Zara shudder. She’d first visited her brother here when she was sixteen, defying her aunt and hitchhiking all the way from the city in order to see him. He’d been furious, of course, frightened at the risk she’d taken; she’d been more intimidated by the prison than by the trip. Walking into the building with its cameras and protocols and armed guards felt like surrendering herself to the harsh authority she’d been fighting all her life. But she’d gone the first time and she’d kept going, every other week for the last decade. Once her career had picked up and she’d started getting bouts farther from home, she’d coordinated with Calvin, making sure he could fill in on the weeks she was travelling.
It had become routine, more or less. She’d gotten to know the system, figured out not to wear underwire bras or any jewelry that would set off the metal detectors, learned the names of some of the corrections officers, gotten friendly enough that they wouldn’t be too uptight if Zane and Zara got into a particularly good card game and ended up going a few minutes over their allotted hour. Yeah, it was all fine now—everything but the long drive past the twenty-foot-tall white wall.
The wall was too big, too oppressive. And it was too hard to think of her brother stuck on the other side of it for so long, not even able to look out a window and see the life that was passing him by.
But she toughed it out this time just like all the others, turned into the parking lot, made sure she left her phone and any other contraband
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