John Scazzoli, chief scuzbag and middleman extraordinaire picked up before the phone even rang. “Anderson, talk to me.”
The edge in his voice sawed along Zach’s nerves like a serrated hunting knife. He hated having to deal with a guy like Scazzoli. But what choice did he have? He thought his career as a celebrity-chasing paparazzi was behind him until Scazzoli reached out with one last request.
“Hey, you’ve got to take me off the Campbell job.”
“No can do, hot shot.”
“You told me Senator Campbell would be traveling with his mistress. I’m at O’Hare and just bumped into his daughter, Reagan.”
Scazzoli clucked his tongue. “She’s on her way to Florida too?”
“Yeah. I think she’s on her way to her brother’s wedding in Miami.”
“Hmm. I knew the senator was spending the weekend in Florida, but maybe instead of a romantic rendezvous, it’s a family affair. The Campbell wedding’s on the hot list. Rumors have been flying around for weeks, but none of my sources have confirmed when or where. Can you stick with her?”
“No. That’s it. I can’t have anything to do with Reagan Campbell. We went to high school together. We’ve got a, uh, a history.” Scazzoli didn’t need to know the details—that Zach still harbored regret about the way he’d been forced to end things with Reagan. But he’d convinced himself it had been for the best. Her dad never would have let them have a future together.
Scazzoli cleared his throat. “You told me I could count on you for this job, Anderson. Screw me on this and you know what’s going to happen.”
Dammit. The last time Zach had gone into paparazzi mode, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t stoop to take any more of these low-life jobs. But when Scazzoli called and said Senator Campbell had been screwing around on his wife and he needed someone to get proof, Zach couldn’t say no. The job would pay more than enough to give him the last bit he needed to start up his own studio. Plus, Scazzoli threatened to expose him as the source behind a few shots he’d taken a few years ago that had some pretty powerful people pretty damn pissed. If word got out, Zach would have a hard time building a legitimate business. So he’d agreed to one final job.
Besides, he was already supposed to be in Florida for a catalog job. Wouldn’t take but a few hours to sneak over and catch the senator with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. And it would provide a way to settle an old score with Reagan’s dad. Scazzoli had even texted a picture of the senator lip locked with a woman with jet black hair. They just needed an image of her face to confirm her identity.
“Hey, I agreed to this before I knew Regan would be around.” Splashing her dad’s extra marital affair across the news would be bad enough, but if he took the pictures right in front of her it would kill Reagan. He’d managed to stay away from her since the night that had completely fucked up his life and ruined any chance of a future between them.
“Sounds like things have changed.” Scazzoli grunted. “If there really is a wedding going on, you come through with pictures of daddy dearest walking one of the grooms down the aisle and you can pretty much set your price.”
Low life bastard. A vision of Teddy standing at the altar flashed through his mind. Zach shook his head. It wasn’t about trying to get more cash.
The asshole continued, “Mid fives, maybe even up to six figures if you get the money shot. Hell, some of his opponents with deep pockets might be willing to pay big bucks for the chance to set up a smear campaign. Plus, you get me off your back for good.”
“I committed to taking pictures of the senator and his mistress, but I can’t ruin his son’s wedding. That’s sinking too low.”
“You sure about that?” Scazzoli paused. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to change your mind. After that I’ll be forced to give the job to someone else and leak that little tidbit about your involvement in the scandal surrounding that media mogul’s wife. What was his name again?”
“I’ve got to think about this. I’ll be in touch.” Zach disconnected and took a swallow of beer, drowning the almost imperceptible twinge of guilt that nipped against the lining of his gut. He couldn’t risk Scazzoli exposing him. Plus, the asshole wouldn’t hesitate to send someone else down instead. One of those sharks wouldn’t give a shit if they had to ruin Teddy’s wedding in order to get a shot. But no, he wouldn’t sell out Teddy and Reagan. He just couldn’t.
This wouldn’t be the first time Reagan Campbell had impacted his business. The picture he’d snapped of her leaning up against the railing of the Navy Pier on their senior year field trip had catapulted him into a career in photography. He’d entered the photo into a national contest and won second place. Her silhouette had been framed by the Lake Michigan sunset. No one even knew it was her. He’d clicked the shutter while she’d had her eyes closed, the lake breeze blowing long strands of hair across her face.
He pulled his mind out of the past as Reagan made her way through the crowded bar and back to the table. The teen he had the hots for in high school was long gone. She’d grown up and filled out nicely. The honey-blonde hair was the same, although the tousled, out-of-control waves had been tamed to fall in a straight curtain that spilled over her shoulders and down her back.
Her form-fitting black jacket dipped in at the waist, drawing his attention to full hips, the kind he’d be able to grab onto in the heat of the moment. As she took her seat, he caught a glimpse of a white shirt stretching tight across her chest. The soft roundness of her face had given way to chiseled cheekbones, and she exuded an undeniable combination of confidence and sex appeal.
Yeah, she’d changed since high school. He shifted in his seat, suddenly sorry he’d been so quick to succumb to her dad’s ultimatum back then. Reagan had been the best thing that ever happened to him. But starting things up with her again wasn’t an option. They’d had their chance at happily ever after, and he’d fucked it up. She was part of a job now. A job he hadn’t gone looking for and definitely didn’t want.
“Any updates on the flight?” she asked, resuming her perch on the stool.
“Not yet.”
“You didn’t get into the cupcakes, did you?” She cracked the lid to peek inside the bakery box.
A whiff of sugar and vanilla hit his nose; his stomach growled. “Your box is safe with me. How about splitting some nachos or something?”
“Sure.” Reagan took a small sip of her drink while he signaled the waitress over again and put in their food order.
“So tell me about this wedding. Where you headed?” Just because the flight was landing in Miami didn’t mean she wouldn’t have another connection somewhere else. Smart move to hold the wedding somewhere down in Florida. With the influx of spring breakers, the Campbell family could get lost among any one of the beach side towns down the coast.
She toyed with the paper napkin ring. “Can you forget I said anything? You know my dad. We’re trying to keep this on the down-low.”
His experience photographing people had made him somewhat of an expert at studying body language. The way Reagan cast nervous glances around the bar, the constant bounce of her knee and how she mindlessly twisted the paper wrapper around her finger over and over added up to a major case of nerves.