by Cate Cameron
PRAISE FOR
Just a Summer Fling
“A heartfelt story set in a warm and wonderful small town, where love and laughter are around every corner. Readers are sure to fall in love with Lake Sullivan!”
—Shirley Jump, New York Times bestselling author of When Somebody Loves You
“A quirky, feel-good romance. I loved this book!”
—Jennifer Lewis, USA Today bestselling author of the Desert Kings series
“A happy escape into a lovely, heartwarming story.”
—Alison Bliss, author of Rules of Protection
“A bright, warm, intelligent love story from a promising new voice in romance.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Cameron’s characters are complex and well crafted . . . [This is] a summer to remember.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A light-hearted, sexy romance that readers will not be able to put down . . . immensely enjoyable.”
—RT Book Reviews
Berkley Sensation titles by Cate Cameron
JUST A SUMMER FLING
HOMETOWN HERO
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
HOMETOWN HERO
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2016 by Cate Cameron.
Excerpt from Just a Summer Fling by Cate Cameron copyright © 2015 by Cate Cameron.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY SENSATION® and the “B” design are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19833-3
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / February 2016
Cover art by Jim Griffin.
Cover design by George Long.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Thanks to my editor, Julie Mianecki, for the painless editing, and my agent, Andrea Somberg, for the painless contract negotiations. Publishing is EASY (when you work with the right people)!
Also thanks to the many people who helped me gain a basic understanding of MMA—all mistakes are mine, and credit for everything I got right goes to them.
Contents
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 eithe
r 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, y
ou’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?”