Read Crossing the Line (The Baltimore Banners Book 1) Online
Authors: Lisa B. Kamps
Crossing the Line (The Baltimore Banners Book 1)
Copyright © 2015 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
The Baltimore Banners© is a fictional professional ice hockey team, created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of copyright.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.
Artwork by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art
Table of Contents
Your craziness, your support, and your brutal honestly made sure I kept the dream alive! For that, I can never repay you. Well, okay, I know a few lattes and some chicken tikka masala won't hurt...!
Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories
(anthology)
Silhouette Special Edition
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 1)
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 2)
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 3)
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 4)
Coming Soon:
Break Away
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 5)
Delay of Game
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 6)
"There's no way, AJ. Impossible."
Amber Johnson eyed her editor, Tim Norton, so confident and relaxed behind the littered desk, and suppressed the urge to slug him.
"Not impossible. I'm as qualified as anyone and you know it. You can at least give me a chance." Her words were rushed, not quite hiding the desperation she felt at his announcement. She
was
qualified, and Tim knew it.
"AJ, this isn't some human interest story or a piece of feel-good fluff that you're used to—"
"I'm capable of a lot more."
Tim tapped his pencil against a bare spot on his desk, the rapid tap-tap-tap threatening to launch one of her rare but lethal migraines. She clenched her back teeth but didn't say anything. Tim's pencil-tapping was a sign that he was contemplating. What, she didn't know, but she wanted this bad enough that she was willing to wait for whatever was going on inside his balding blonde head.
The annoying tapping finally stopped and he looked her over, starting at the bare toes peeking out from her leather sandals and working his way up her low-rise denim capris. His gaze stopped on the cut of her scoop neck shirt longer than necessary before his eyes finally met hers.
"AJ, you don't even look the part. Lord knows I have guys around here that are just as qualified and fit the image better than you."
She crossed her arms, hiding the neckline of her shirt and trying to reign in her anger. It bubbled beneath her breastbone, a heated sensation that burned all the way to her stomach. But before she could even open her mouth with a comeback—not that she had one—Tim stood up and walked over to his office door, closing it with a loud click.
"But..." He returned to his worn chair and lowered himself into it. "You have talent. I told you that a while ago. And I like your writing style. So..."
AJ relaxed the grip she had on her arms and held her breath, afraid to even blink in case she missed whatever Tim was about to say.
"I'll make you a deal. Do one story that blows me away, and you'll be in the running."
The brief glimmer she felt just a minute before quickly died. "In the running? That's it?"
"Don't get all indignant with me. The running isn't that broad."
Tim didn't elaborate. AJ slowly lowered her arms and studied him, not sure what to expect. Her guard went up just a bit. "How broad?"
A few seconds of silence went by before Tim let his breath out in a long weary sigh. "Counting you, two. Maybe three. No, probably just two."
Two, counting her. Excitement tingled along AJ's spine, warming her. Her chances were fifty-fifty of getting the job. Maybe even better than that, depending on who else Tim was considering. Some of her excitement died when she realized who Tim would consider the obvious choice.
"And don't say a word!" Tim wagged a finger in her direction and she snapped her mouth closed, biting back the comment she was going to make. "He's good at what he does and he pulls the readers in, which is good for our circulation."
AJ honestly didn't think the circulation would be hurt one bit if
he
disappeared off the face of the earth but she knew better than to say so. This time, anyway.
He
was Gerry Brown, the self-proclaimed god of sports journalism. As far as the female staff was concerned, he might as well be the god of athlete's foot. Tall and lean with a square face and dimples-on-demand, Gerry Brown thought of himself as Number One—an opinion he shared with others but that others rarely shared with him. The downside was that despite his shortcomings, he really could write. "The asshole."
"AJ..."
"Oops. Did I say that out loud?" She looked over at Tim with wide eyes and an innocent face. He snorted in a cross between amusement and exasperation then shook his head.
"AJ, if you're serious about this job, you need to stop stuff like that. Your writing is strong and your style is unique. It's your mouth that gets you in trouble. Why I'm even thinking about offering you a chance..."
"But you did." AJ straightened, serious now. Tim was right, her mouth
did
get her into trouble. "One story, right? So how do you want me to handle this? I go find someone then come up with something—"
"Not quite. I have a very specific assignment in mind." Tim pushed through the piles on his desk, his brow wrinkled as he pulled on a tattered post-it and studied it. "Here it is."
AJ didn't even bother to ask. Tim had these moments every once in awhile where he disappeared into his own mind, retrieving some important bit of information. How the man kept track of anything was beyond her. Personally if she didn't write it down herself, chances were it either didn't get done or else it got forgotten.
"They want to try something new around here, something a little different. I don't even bother to question anymore, just go with it. So here it is. Go see what you can come up with."
AJ took the tattered post-it from Tim's outstretched hand then glanced down at it. The bottom dropped from her stomach when she saw the name scrawled across the wrinkled surface. "You're joking, right? This is impossible."
"No joke, and not my idea. Come up with something."
"But he doesn't do interviews!"
"Be creative, but come up with something."
"Tim—"
"AJ, look at you." His hands motioned in her direction, wildly moving up and down. "He's a guy. I'm sure you can come up with something to get him to change his mind."
"Hey! Are you suggesting—"
"I'm not suggesting anything, just being realistic. Look at it this way: at least you have one advantage you can use over Gerry."
"He's doing the same assignment?"
"Yup."
AJ fell silent. There was no way this could work out. She glanced down at the name on the paper again and blew out a deep breath. Why him, of all people?
Alec Kolchak, super-star goalie of the Baltimore Banners. Probably the best goalie in the NHL. And quite possibly the most private athlete in the sports world. Alec Kolchak did not do interviews, period. Everyone knew that.
And even if he did, the chances of him ever talking to her were so low it was almost laughable. Almost.
AJ inhaled deeply then let her breath out in a rush. She wanted to slug something at the gross unfairness of it all. Her one shot, and it was impossible.
Maybe.
Then again, maybe not.
She muttered a hasty goodbye to Tim and walked out of his office, not even paying attention to his last words. Her mind was working already, coming up with ideas and tactics. Maybe Tim was right when he suggested being creative. Maybe she could come up with something...
It didn't matter if it worked or not. In fact, AJ was honest enough with herself to know it probably wouldn't. But she couldn't give it up without at least trying.
**
Alec paused a few feet from his truck and nearly dropped the gym bag in his hand at the sight in front of him.
It had been nearly two years, yet he felt the familiar irritation—and unwelcome attraction—flood him as if only a few days had gone by. He clenched his jaw and bit back the retort that sprang to mind, refusing to get drawn into the old battle. Determined to ignore her, he reached out for the door handle but stopped when she moved directly in front of him.
"Hey Alec. Long time, no see."
The hesitant greeting only made him roll his eyes and look behind him, to see if any of his teammates were nearby to run interference for him. The lot was inconveniently empty.
Sighing, Alec turned back toward his truck and looked down, then immediately wished he hadn't. His gaze shifted too far south and he found himself staring at a large expanse of smooth, round, tan skin.
"For crying out loud, AJ, why don't you go put on some decent clothes? There are kids around in case you hadn't noticed!" His outburst surprised him as much as it obviously did her, and he bit his tongue too late at the forlorn expression that spread across her face. He almost apologized until he noticed her stubborn chin lift a few inches in defiance.
"There's nothing wrong with this shirt! And if you have a problem with it then you should stop staring!"
Alec realized she was right, he
was
staring. Muttering under his breath, he reached around her and pulled open the door, ignoring the heat of her skin as his arm brushed across her shoulder. He chalked his body's reaction up to too much stress lately. It certainly did
not
have anything to do with the girl standing in front of him.
Amber "AJ" Johnson was nothing more than an annoyance, and always had been. It didn't matter that nearly two years had passed since he had seen her; she was still the same annoying girl who had always bugged everyone on the team under the pretense of writing one article or another for a local sports tabloid.
Except she didn't exactly look the same. Her hair was longer and straighter than he remembered, and not quite as dark. There were lighter streaks running through the strands framing her oval face, making her blue eyes appear wider.
Or maybe they looked wider because she was staring at him in frustration. Probably because he was still staring at her. Her faded jeans were tight, stopping just below her knees and clinging to curves he didn't remember her having. At least Alec knew why she seemed taller than before: she was wearing a pair of strappy sandals with a three-inch heel that showed off tanned feet and polished nails. And that shirt...the shirt, if you could even call it that, had to go. Alec guessed it was supposed to be some kind of tank shirt but the straps were barely wide enough to hold it up, and the front was cut so deep he wondered if she had it on backwards.
"What is your problem, Kolchak? You're acting like you've never seen a girl before!"
AJ's sarcastic comment was enough to snap him out of whatever mental fog he had lapsed into. His eyes narrowed and he expected her to move out of his way so he could climb into the truck. He wasn't surprised when she didn't, so he brushed by her, gently nudging her out of his way.
"Don't lean against my truck, you're going to scratch the paint." Alec jumped inside and slammed the door before she could make any other comment and quickly started the engine before throwing the truck in gear, needing to get home and away from the sudden madness that threatened him.
And it was madness. That was the only explanation he could think of for his startling reaction to seeing her again.
**
AJ wondered why she was even bothering.
The computer screen stared back at her, silently accusing. Or maybe that was blankly accusing, she thought, since that's exactly what she was looking at: a blank screen.
She had spent the entire day searching for information on Alec Kolchak but found absolutely nothing she didn't already know. In fact, AJ was beginning to realize that she actually knew more than what was actually floating around in cyberspace, just based on her casual association with him and other members of the team a few years ago. But none of it was stuff she could use.
Alec Kolchak was one of the best goalies in the NHL, and the only things she could find on him were his stats: where he was born, when he was drafted, his game stats. Most of that information came directly from the Banners' very own website.
Because Alec Kolchak did not do interviews. Period.
She was insane to think he would ever agree to do one with her.
AJ inhaled deeply then let her breath out in a rush. She wanted to slug something at the gross unfairness of it all. Her one shot, and it was impossible.
She blew the hair out of her eyes, minimized the word processor screen, then rolled her mouse over the desktop icons, double-clicking on the one for a card game. It was a waste of time but AJ started it anyway. It was better than staring at a blank screen, and required absolutely no thought whatsoever.
Guilt crept over her after five minutes of mindless playing and she quit the game, not able to get any enjoyment out of it. Not that she was enjoying the still-blank screen of the word processor, either.
With a grunt of frustration, AJ closed out the program and pushed away from her desk, muttering to herself. One of the reasons she was having such trouble writing anything was because she didn't have anything to write that people didn't already know. That didn't mean she was ready to give up, not if she was seriously considering going after this job.
And she
was
serious. Too bad for her that it was going to be almost impossible. The only bright side was that she had heard through the grapevine that Gerry Brown had an even worse experience when he first tried speaking to Kolchak. Rumor got back to her that he was asked to leave the rink and that one of the rookies had actually locked the door when Gerry tried to get back in.