One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9) Read online

  ONE-TIMER

  The Baltimore Banners Book 9

  Lisa B. Kamps

  ONE-TIMER

  Copyright © 2016 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, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

  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

  http://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other titles by this author

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  PLAYING THE GAME

  ONCE BURNED preview

  About the Author

  Other titles by this author

  For Jay Aheer.

  The best damn graphic artist out there.

  Thank you for the beautiful covers…and more importantly, the friendship!

  Other titles by this author:

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach’s Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

  Once Burned, Book 1

  Playing With Fire, Book 2

  Breaking Protocol, Book 3

  Into the Flames, Book 4

  Second Alarm, Book 5

  Coming Soon

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

  Finding Dr. Right

  Time To Heal

  Dangerous Passion

  THE YORK BOMBERS

  (a brand new hockey series, hitting the ice in February, 2017)

  Playing The Game, Book 1

  Playing To Win, Book 2

  Playing For Keeps, Book 3

  Be sure to sign up for Lisa’s newsletter, Kamps’ Korner, for exciting news, sneak peeks, exclusive content, and fun, games, and giveaways! You don’t want to miss it!

  Can’t wait for the newsletter? Need to get your fix of hockey, firefighters, passion and news daily? Then please join Lisa and a great group of readers and fans at Kamps Korner on Facebook!

  Chapter One

  “Ohmygod. Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing.”

  Maggie Andersen didn’t bother to look up, just rolled her eyes and continued shoving things into her backpack. Two thick text books, a dog-eared notebook, a binder of loose-leaf paper. Pens, pencils, highlighters. She frowned, wondering what she was forgetting. She knew she was forgetting something, she usually did—

  Her best friend, Cindy Miller, reached for her arm, pulling her away from the desk and spinning her around. “Maggie! Please tell me you’re not wearing that.”

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “What—what—” Cindy sputtered, her green eyes going wide in her thin face. She waved a frantic hand toward Maggie, the motion taking in the frayed, oversized sweatshirt, the black leggings with the white and gray cats, and the furry brown boots. She sputtered one more time then threw both hands in the air.

  “What’s wrong with it?” The question ended in a desperate squeal that had Maggie rolling her eyes again. “Everything is wrong with it. You just totally cannot wear it.”

  Maggie shrugged into her worn leather bomber jacket, zipped it, then wrapped a scarf around her neck. She grabbed the backpack from the desk and slung it over her shoulder. Cindy grabbed it and pulled it off her arm. “No. You can’t. I’m not going to let you.”

  “Cindy, I’m going to be late. And there’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”

  “Are you serious? Do you know who you’re meeting?”

  This again? Maggie bit back a sigh. How many times was Cindy going to bring this up? And honestly, could she make any bigger of a deal out of this than it was? Silly question. Knowing her friend’s penchant for drama and over exaggeration, of course she could.

  “Yes, I know who I’m meeting. And no, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal? Not a big deal!” Cindy squealed, her voice notching up to a pitch that made Maggie wince. “Have you seen his picture? He’s like, ohmygod, so cute. And so single. And so—”

  “So stupid.”

  Cindy’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes went wide with astonishment. And maybe just a little censure. After all, Maggie had just insulted the object of Cindy’s latest obsession.

  “I can’t believe you just said that! He is not stupid. Would he be making millions if he was stupid?”

  “Somehow I doubt he’s ‘making millions’. Just like I doubt he’s as smart as you say he is, especially since he needs a tutor.”

  “He is. To both. I read this thing online about him and that’s what they said.”

  So of course, it must be true.

  Maggie didn’t say that out loud. Cindy wouldn’t pick up on the sarcasm. And then she’d just start defending him all over again, quoting statistics and one-liners from whatever gossip she had recently gathered online. Cindy meant well, and her heart was in the right place, but Maggie didn’t have time to get into it again. And she didn’t want to risk hurting her friend’s feelings.

  “Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. It doesn’t matter to me. The only thing that matters is that I get paid.” Maggie slung the heavy backpack over her shoulder then moved to the large wired cage. She opened the small door and held out her hand. “And I won’t get paid if I don’t show up.”

  “But this could be your chance!”

  “My chance for what?” Maggie snapped her fingers inside then cage then waited, not bothering to look at Cindy. She didn’t have to,
not when she knew exactly what Cindy was doing: watching her, hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

  “For true love! I can just see it: the famous hockey player and the studious chemist. Love at first sight.”

  Maggie snorted. “More like the arrogant jock and the broke geek. Don’t get your hopes up, Cindy, because that’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. And do you know why? Because jocks are arrogant, stupid, and only have one thing on their mind. And trust me, smart girls aren’t it.” She leaned closer to the cage and gave a little whistle. Slinky finally uncurled her long sleek body from her bed and scampered up the ramp toward Maggie’s hand. “About time, sleepyhead. Come on, time for a trip.”

  “He’s not arrogant.”

  Maggie slipped the small harness over Slinky’s head then let her climb to her shoulder. “And you know that how?”

  “Because I do.” Cindy reached out and stroked Slinky’s head then pulled her hand back with a frown. “Do you really think you should take her with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because maybe Slinky might scare him. I think you should leave her here so you can make a good impression. Right after you change.”

  “I’m not changing. And if the stupid jock is scared by Slinky, then it only proves what I was saying.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I always take Slinky with me. That’s not changing.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against Slinky’s short fur then narrowed her eyes at Cindy. “And neither am I.”

  “I still think—”

  “I know. And you know what I think. We’re at a stalemate.” Maggie glanced at her watch and stifled a groan. “And I need to go or I really will be late.”

  Cindy looked like she wanted to say more but Maggie waved her off and walked out of the small studio apartment. A chilly gust of damp wind hit her as soon as she turned the corner of the building and she paused to tighten the scarf around her neck. Slinky jumped from her shoulder and burrowed into the oversize pocket, curling into a ball before stretching her neck just enough for her pointy nose to peek out. Maggie smiled and reached into another pocket for a small treat. Their ritual finished, she lowered her head against the biting wind and headed up the block, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

  This wasn’t even a normal tutoring session. If it was, she’d be heading to the library instead of the small coffee shop. But the meeting place hadn’t been her idea. None of this had been her idea. If she had her say in it, she would have said no.

  A big, fat, unequivocal no.

  Yes, she tutored. Yes, she needed the money tutoring gave her. Yes, every little bit helped. That didn’t mean she was desperate enough to take just any tutoring job that came along.

  Except obviously she was, because she had taken this one—against her better judgment. Although she really hadn’t had a choice. Oh, Professor Haslup had made it seem like she did, but she didn’t. Not really.

  So now she was stuck with a client she knew she wouldn’t like. And her best friend was busy spinning a fantasy love story that would never happen.

  Not exactly what Maggie needed.

  Maybe she was worrying about nothing. Maybe the meeting wouldn’t go well and she wouldn’t be stuck after all. Well, she could certainly help that along. She didn’t like the idea of being interviewed, anyway. Whoever heard of such a ridiculous thing? The student interviewing the teacher to see if they connected? Really?

  Well, when you were famous in your own mind, you probably expected everyone to fawn all over themselves to impress you. Fine. She could use that to her advantage. All she had to do was make sure they didn’t connect and that would be that.

  Except she really needed the money.

  But did she need it that bad?

  Maggie pushed the question—and the depressing answer—right out of her mind as she opened the door of the small coffee shop with wind-numbed hands. Tiny bells tinkled overhead. Warm air, humid with the scent of fresh ground coffee and spicy cinnamon, wrapped over her. She paused inside the door and took a deep breath, feeling her nerves calm as warmth seeped into her chilled skin.

  The shop wasn’t very crowded, which suited her just fine. It was the first week of January and most people were still on break. It would be different in a few weeks but for now, this was perfect. She moved to the small seating area in the far corner and dropped her bag onto one of the overstuffed chairs then headed straight for the counter. A few minutes later, she was seated on the edge of the faux-suede chair, her bag between her feet and a chai tea latte in one hand. Now all she had to do was wait.

  And wait some more.

  Where was he? Not here, that much was obvious. At least, she didn’t think he was. One foot tapped a staccato rhythm against the tile floor as she looked around. No, there was nobody in the shop that looked like they were waiting. In fact, she was the only one in the shop who was sitting alone.

  Which was the way she liked it. She had always been more comfortable by herself. If only she had a book to read, or papers to study or review. But she hadn’t brought anything like that, not here, not today.

  Did she have the day wrong?

  A clear image of her appointment calendar flashed in her mind. Tuesday, circled in bright yellow, with 1:15 pm scrawled in purple ink, followed by an angry face. She didn’t need to pull her planner out to see, not when she could picture it so clearly.

  No, she didn’t have the day or the time wrong. What she had was a potential client who obviously had no concern for being punctual. Of course not. His concern probably revolved around himself.

  It was just like she told Cindy: he was nothing more than an arrogant jock. And she didn’t have time for this. It was better that he didn’t show. That way, she wouldn’t have to waste her time with a senseless interview to see if they connected. She knew she wouldn’t and this just proved it.

  Too bad she had just wasted a half hour that could have been spent working on her own projects.

  She pulled another treat from her pocket and gave it to Slinky, smiling when she grabbed it and disappeared back into her cozy space. If only her own life was so uncomplicated.

  She drained the last of her now-cold chai tea then reached for the backpack. Maggie stood, slung the heavy bag over her shoulder, and turned in one smooth motion. Or rather, it would have been smooth if she hadn’t turned face-first into an expansive chest harder than a brick wall.

  Air left her lungs in a loud whoosh and she stumbled back. Her free hand searched for something, anything, to grab for balance and latched onto a fistful of heavy denim. The room made a wild tilt and she felt herself lurch forward, only to slam into the same brick wall she had just encountered. Her mind registered three things simultaneously: the brick wall smelled faintly spicy; tentacles made of steel were wrapped around her, catching her before she could fall; and Slinky was being crushed between her body and the spicy brick wall.

  “What the—”

  “Slinky!” Maggie shrieked her name as the poor animal scurried from her pocket with a small squeak. Instead of scrambling up her shoulder, Slinky made a beeline for freedom—straight up the steel tentacle that was actually a man’s arm. Maggie tried to catch the trailing end of Slinky’s small leash but missed it. All she could do was watch in horror as the sinuous body stopped on the man’s shoulder long enough to nip his ear before scurrying down his back and jumping to the floor.

  “Ow! Holy shit. What the fuck was that?”

  Maggie ignored the man’s outburst and pushed past him. It was like shoving a tank. “You idiot! Look what you did!”

  She moved after Slinky, running in a crouch in a frantic effort to catch her. The brick wall-slash-tank was faster, stepping around her and scooping Slinky up with one large hand. He held her out at arm’s length, like she was some kind of contagious virus released from a top-secret lab. Dark brows, browner than the red-brown hair that curled past his neck, pulled low over
flashing hazel eyes. His lip curled like he had just stepped in a pile of something he couldn’t quite make out but didn’t like.

  Maggie ignored the small drop of blood on the lobe of his ear and the scowl on his face. All she could see was Slinky, her long body caught in the man’s grip as her back paws scratched and scrabbled for purchase.

  “Please don’t hurt her! You can’t hurt her!”

  “Hurt her? She just bit my ear off!”

  “That is such an exaggeration—”

  “And probably gave me rabies.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “What the hell is this thing?”

  Maggie ignored him, ignored the racing of her own pulse, and stepped forward. She held her hand out, hoping she looked intimidating instead of intimidated. “She’s not a thing. Slinky is a ferret. And smart. Now if you don’t mind—”

  She stepped even closer, wondering if he could see how much her hand was shaking. Yes, he probably could, if his sudden grin meant anything. And cripes, she wished he wouldn’t grin because it totally transformed his face, even if it did expose a chipped tooth. Actually, the chipped tooth was kind of cute. And so was that small scar at the corner of his mouth.

  What was she doing? She didn’t care about his face. Or the chipped tooth or cute scar. Or anything else, for that matter. What she cared about was getting Slinky back.

  Except he didn’t give her back. Instead of handing Slinky over, he did the most unexpected thing: his smile grew larger and he pulled Slinky closer to him, supporting her long body with his second hand as he lifted her to his face.

  “A ferret? Cool.” He brought her even closer, lowering his face to hers.

  Too close. And too fast.

  Maggie darted forward, ready to tell him that he shouldn’t do that, that Slinky didn’t like that and she might—