Body Shot (Last Shot) Read online

  Body Shot is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept Ebook Original

  Copyright © 2016 by Kelly Jamieson

  Excerpt from Hot Shot by Kelly Jamieson copyright © 2016 by Kelly Jamieson

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Hot Shot by Kelly Jamieson. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  Ebook ISBN 9780399594410

  Cover design: Okay Creations

  Cover photograph: Lorand Gelner/iStock

  randomhousebooks.com

  v4.1

  ep

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Conquistadors’ Drink Recipes

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Kelly Jamieson

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Hot Shot

  Chapter 1

  “We need to have more fun.”

  Hayden peered at her friend Carrie through bleary, work-tired eyes. Sun flooded in the big windows of the restaurant on Miramar Road in San Diego where they’d met for lunch, gleaming off stainless steel tables and chairs and dark wood floors, another gorgeous day in Southern California. “I have lots of fun.”

  “Phht.” Carrie eyed her. “You really look like it.”

  Hayden smoothed her ponytail back. “The last couple of weeks have been a little stressful.”

  “I know. But you work way too much.”

  “My work is fun.”

  Carrie snorted. “You spend half your life in a lab looking through a microscope and the other half in your office.” Her face softened. “I know you love your work, Hayden, and you’re amazing at what you do, but seriously, I’m worried about you.”

  “Ha. I knew this was really about me.” Hayden sighed and rubbed her eyes. “You sound just like Aunt Gina and Uncle Colin. They keep telling me I need to get out more. Before Aunt Gina had her fall, they were trying to fix me up with some guy—a friend’s son or grandson, or something.”

  “Do it! You do need to get out more.”

  “I’m not going on a date with a man I don’t even know.” Hayden shuddered. “Can you imagine anything more excruciating? Trying to make small talk and be on your best behavior to impress someone?”

  “That’s what a date is, yes,” Carrie said dryly. “I can imagine because I’ve done it occasionally.”

  Hayden grinned. “You go out all the time. Which proves my point—when you said we need to have more fun, you meant I need to have more fun.”

  “Okay, true.” Carrie shrugged. “Look, I know you better than anyone, and I like my quiet alone time too. But it’s not healthy for anyone to work so much.”

  “You work a lot too. And when you’re not working, you’re out taking pictures.”

  “That’s my passion, like you have yours. I have to be ‘on’ all the time when I’m in front of the camera, and it’s exhausting. So taking pictures is my relaxation. I just think you need some time away from the lab, some time just for yourself, to have fun.”

  “I’m too tired to argue with you.” Yes, fourteen-hour days, seven days a week were taking their toll. She’d been working so hard on the proposal for this large funding grant that would finance the important research they did. It was a lengthy process she’d been toiling on for some time. The granting agency wanted information not only about her background but also about the background of her research team, their facilities, the equipment they needed, the time involved, and the overall potential of their scientific outcome. Plus, she’d been looking after her aunt and uncle. “But I’m not going out on dates.” She was serious, introverted, passionate about science and health and her business, and most men in her experience weren’t interested in proteomics, metabolomics, and signaling pathways.

  “Fine, then at least come out with me a little more often. We can go out just the two of us and have some fun. Honestly, Hayden…I miss you.”

  Carrie batted her big gray-blue eyes at Hayden and smiled wistfully.

  “You’re good.” Hayden pursed her lips. “Although I know how well you can act, you’re tugging at my heartstrings.”

  “At least you admit you have a heart.”

  “Of course I have a heart.” Hayden frowned. There weren’t many people she let herself care about in her life, but Carrie was definitely one of them. She loved her aunt and uncle, who had looked after her when her parents died, and she cared about the people who worked for her—in a businesslike, practical kind of way—but she did love Carrie.

  They’d been best friends since middle school, the two misfits in their grade—Hayden, with her nose always buried in a book or busy trying to clone a cat, Carrie taller than everyone including the boys, skinny and gangly with heavy-duty braces on her teeth. They’d both been objects of ridicule and rejection—awkward, definitely not into sports, and smarter than most of their classmates. Neither of them had been interested in boys (actually, it would be more truthful to say they wouldn’t admit to being interested in boys, which made the boys’ utter lack of interest in them less humiliating), parties, gel manicures, the latest fashions, or complicated hairstyles. They’d bonded over thrift store clothes, Harry Potter, and volunteering at an animal shelter.

  Ironically, Carrie had been spotted by a scout for the Swank Modeling agency at age sixteen and now pretty much had to be interested in manicures and hairstyles and the latest fashions. Even so, when she wasn’t working, she dressed in her own eclectic style and seldom wore makeup.

  And Hayden had left the job she’d gotten right out of college to start her own business. She’d believed in what she was doing when others had been skeptical, and she was on the verge of huge success, but the hours she was putting into that meant she had no time for the latest fashions or makeup.

  So with their achievements, they could both thumb their noses at the kids who’d made fun of them and shunned them in school. But they didn’t, because who had time for that? Or maybe the truth was that deep down beneath all their successes remained two awkward, socially insecure misfits.

  “I miss you too,” she said sincerely to Carrie. “But you’re almost as busy as I am.”

  “Let’s go out Saturday night.”

  How could she say no? “Okay. Where?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find something fun for us to do.”

  Hayden smiled despite the feeling that she was being pulled away from what was really important. “Great.”

  After lunch, Hayden and Carrie parted on the sidewalk, heading to their respective cars. Hayden had parked farther down t
he street and she set out at a quick pace, nearly late for her one-thirty meeting with Richard, the treasurer of Vanguard Corp, and Kim, her secretary. After that, she had a three o’clock meeting with one of her research teams about a project, and then she needed to get some work done on the presentation she would be giving at an upcoming health-care conference. She checked emails on her cellphone as she strode along the sidewalk. She frowned at her phone, reading about a problem with the…wham!

  Hayden bounced off a signpost, dropped her phone, and, reeling, lost her balance. Pain shot through her shoulder and she started to fall backwards, anticipating the smack of concrete on her butt, when strong arms caught her.

  “Whoa, there.” A low, smoky voice spoke in her ear. She sagged against a big, hard body momentarily, her wits scattered. Then he carefully balanced her and held her upper arms to steady her. “You okay?”

  She blinked, dazed. “Um. I think so.”

  Another passerby handed her phone to her. She curled her fingers around it and shook her head.

  “You hit that post going at a good clip.”

  She sucked in a breath, heat washing over her, scorching her cheeks. “Oh my God. How embarrassing.”

  A low chuckle made her toes curl. She lifted her gaze to the man’s face. Her insides heated too as she stared into the eyes of a stranger…deep, molasses brown eyes. A short, dark beard and mustache covered his square jaw, revealing perfectly carved lips now quirked in a sexy smile. His brown hair was pulled back off his face, emphasizing high cheekbones.

  “I’m more worried that you’re hurt.” Concern etched a line between dark eyebrows.

  She tried to swallow and couldn’t, now aware of wide shoulders, a snug T-shirt that revealed rounded biceps with tattoos curving around one of them, lean forearms, and big hands holding her.

  Good Lord, he was gorgeous. Her tongue swelled up and went dry, and her heart accelerated into warp speed. Her eyes widened and she stared at him like a speechless cliché.

  “Are you okay?” he repeated.

  She nodded, blinking rapidly, afraid she might literally swoon at his feet. “Fine.”

  “You seem dazed. Did you hit your head?”

  “I have no idea.” Oh my God. She was an idiot.

  His forehead creased more. “That’s not good. Maybe you have a concussion. We should get you to a doctor.”

  “No! No, I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head.” She lifted a shaky hand to touch her forehead, then lowered it to rub her shoulder. “I think I hit the post with my shoulder. It just…startled me.”

  His gaze dropped to her shoulder, skimming over her breasts. He’d quickly averted his eyes from her chest but she knew he’d looked. And her nipples tingled in response.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Can you move it?”

  “Move what?” She stared up at him. Way up, since he was way tall.

  “Your shoulder.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. He must think she was the biggest idiot ever.

  She carefully circled her shoulder. “Yes. I can move it. I’m sure it’s just bruised.”

  Tingles slid over her skin as she became aware he was still holding her arms.

  “Okay.” He took a step back, releasing her.

  Hayden looked down at the phone in her hand. “My phone is cracked!” Dismay filled her. “Oh my God, my phone!” It was her lifeblood. She couldn’t live without her phone. “What time is it?”

  She didn’t even wear a watch, relying on her phone to know what time it was and alarms to remind her of meetings and appointments.

  The gorgeous stranger glanced at his watch, a chunky leather and chrome one that looked expensive. And out of place with the rolled-up T-shirt sleeves; ripped, faded jeans; and tattoos. “It’s twenty to two.”

  “Ack! I’m late for a meeting, dammit. I have to go.”

  He nodded and stepped back. “Sure. Maybe get some ice on your shoulder—”

  “Right. Thanks. And uh, thanks for, uh, catching me.”

  “No problem. Wouldn’t want a beautiful lady to end up lying on the sidewalk.”

  Her heart missed a beat when he called her beautiful. She gave herself a mental slap to focus. He was clearly a smooth talker, because she was okay-looking, but not beautiful. “Thank you again. I appreciate it.”

  She hurried away, aware of his gaze following her as she scurried down the sidewalk in her ballet flats.

  How was she going to get a new phone when the rest of her afternoon was booked with meetings? She was going to have to figure something out.

  Hayden drove the short distance to the Carroll Canyon facilities of Vanguard Corp, rushed to her office, grabbed her tablet, and hurried to the meeting room, where Kim and Richard were waiting for her.

  “Hi, sorry I’m late.” She took a seat at the round table. “Had a little accident on the way back from lunch.”

  “You took a lunch break?” Kim gaped at her.

  “Yeah.” Hayden grimaced and rubbed her shoulder. “I met my friend Carrie.”

  “Carrie Garner?” Richard perked up. “The model?”

  Hayden hid her smile and nodded. “Yes, Carrie the model.”

  Richard sighed. “She’s so hot.”

  “Yes. Yes she is.”

  “What kind of accident?” Kim asked, forehead creased with concern. “A car crash? Are you okay?”

  “It was nothing. I was checking emails on my phone as I was walking back to my car and I ran into a post.”

  Kim quickly covered her smile with her hand and asked again, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I think so. My pride is probably more bruised than my shoulder. Some guy kept me from falling, but I dropped my phone and it’s broken, dammit.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Let’s get to business,” Hayden said, pushing aside her embarrassment and frustration. “We need to review these materials for the grant proposal. I think we’ve got enough information to address their questions and concerns, but let’s make sure.”

  —

  Beck watched the woman bolt down the sidewalk. Kind of a mousy little thing, though she appeared to have a nice rack beneath that white button-down shirt. The blouse and skirt were pretty basic. Not something he’d usually take notice of. But her legs were ridiculous, from what he could see beneath the hem of a knee-length black skirt.

  He shrugged and turned to continue walking down Miramar toward the Speed Bowl. Hopefully she was being honest when she said she hadn’t hit her head, because she’d definitely looked dazed and confused.

  He dismissed her as he walked into the Speed Bowl, prepared for a couple of hours of racing go-karts on the track.

  “Hey, man, you’re here.” His buddy and business partner Marco Solis greeted him in the lobby. At the far end of it were a bunch of arcade games. A snack bar lined one long wall, and opposite that, windows overlooked the track.

  “Yeah, sorry. Traffic was nuts and then some chick just about knocked herself out by walking into a sign while texting. Or something.”

  Marco huffed. “Jesus.”

  “Where’s Cade?”

  “Boys’ room.”

  “Ah.” Beck rubbed his hands together. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

  Marco snorted. “As if. You can’t drive your way out of a paper bag.”

  “What does that even mean, dumbass?”

  Marco shrugged.

  Beck wasn’t worried about who would win their races. He was the one who’d excelled in Advanced Driving Skills in their SEAL training. Also, there was a reason Cade’s nickname/call sign was “Crash.” There was no question that Beck was the best driver.

  Not that he was competitive or anything.

  Every couple of weeks, they all got away from the bar and did something fun. Since they were adrenaline junkies who needed a fix now that they’d left their Navy SEAL days behind them, they’d found a variety of activities that satisfied their needs—rock climbing, hang gliding, go-kart racing, pain
tballing, mountain biking…well, not mountain biking lately. Not Cade, anyway. Cade hadn’t been back on a bike since his epic wipeout a few months ago, no matter how much they tried to use that horse-and-saddle analogy on him.

  Beck couldn’t blame Cade. He still winced with sympathetic pain at the injuries Cade had sustained to a sensitive area. In fact, it was such a sensitive area they couldn’t even talk about it.

  But at least they could do other things. It was good for them to have some downtime where they weren’t focused on profit-and-loss statements, accounts payable, and why nobody ordered food anymore when they came to Conquistadors.

  Cade appeared. “You made it,” he said to Beck. “Let’s do this.”

  They headed through to the track and were soon wearing helmets and roaring around hairpin turns and fast straightaways. The karts had timers that electronically recorded their lap times to the thousandths of a second, giving them detailed information for each lap completed. Which they would then compare, after. Loser bought the beers.

  A couple of hours later, they went to the Condor, a nearby microbrewery with a small pub. They sat at a high-top table. Beck rolled his shoulders around, feeling relaxed from the little adrenaline rush the racing had given him. “You’re buying,” he told Cade. “Slowest time.”

  “Fuck,” Cade muttered. “By two seconds.”

  “Don’t be a sore loser, now.” Beck grinned.

  “How was your date last night?” Marco asked Cade.

  “It wasn’t a date. Just a hookup.”

  “Right.” Marco nodded. “Do you even know her name?”

  Cade gave a sly grin. “Does it matter?”

  “Man, you need to slow down. You’re gonna end up with the clap or something.” Marco shook his head.

  “Hey, I practice safe sex. No glove, no love.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think what you’re doing is ‘love,’ ” Beck said, two hands curving around his cold glass of amber ale.