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“I saw you on TV breaking up that fight. You nearly took a left hook from that Ducks player. Getting soft?” He jabbed Mark’s abs, then smiled. “Okay, maybe not. Come home, hijo, and stay. You’ve got all the money you could need now, yes? Come settle down, find someone to love you.”
“Dad.”
“I’m getting old. I need nietos to spoil.”
Rick rolled his eyes and muttered, “Here we go. The bid for grandkids.”
“Someone to take care of you,” Ramon said, and smacked Rick on the back of the head.
“I take care of myself,” Mark said. And about a hundred others.
Ramon sighed. “I suppose it’s my fault. I harp on you about walking away from your humble beginnings and culture, and I divorced your mother when you were only five. Bad example.”
“I’ve never walked away from my beginnings, Dad. I just have a job that requires a lot of traveling. And Mom divorced you. You drove her batshit crazy.” His father was an incredibly hard worker, and incredibly old world in his sensibilities. He’d driven his ambitious, wannabe actress wife off years ago.
The living room was empty except for two beautiful potted plants. Same with the kitchen, though the cabinet doors were glass, revealing plates and cups on the shelves. “Where’s the furniture? I sent money, and you’ve been back in this house for what, a few weeks now?”
“I liked my old furniture.”
“I know, but it’s all gone. You got out with the clothes on your back.” Mark still shuddered to think how close he’d come to losing his dad.
“I’ll get furniture eventually, as I find what suits me. Let’s eat. You can tell me about your women.”
There was only one at the moment, the one with the flashing eyes, a smart-ass mouth, and heart of gold. The one who still showed her every thought as it came to her. That had terrified him once upon a time.
Now it intrigued him.
His father was at the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients. “We’ll have grilled quesadillas for dinner. It’s a warm night. We’ll sit on the patio.”
“I’ll take you out to dinner,” Mark said.
“No, I’m not spending any more of your money. What if you get fired over this fight mess? Then you’ll be broke. Save your money.”
“I won’t get fired, Dad. The players are working hard, making restitution.”
“So you won’t have to suspend them?”
“No, which is good since they’ve got more talent in their pinkie fingers than my entire line of offense, and I have a hot offense.”
Ramon nodded his agreement to this. “The press has been relentless on you.”
Rick nodded. “You were flashed on Entertainment Tonight with a woman from some reality show.”
“That was a promo event,” Mark said. “I told you, I don’t need someone else to take care of right now.”
“Love isn’t a burden, hijo. You really think it’ll soften you, make you that vulnerable?”
Mark sent his brother a feel-free-to-jump-in-here-and-redirect-the-conversation-at-any-time look, but Rick just smirked, enjoying himself. “What happened to cooking?” Mark asked desperately.
“Your brother has someone,” Ramon pointed out, not to be deterred.
Rick smiled smugly.
“You could at least have a home here in Santa Rey,” his dad said. “And then maybe a family.”
Mark sighed. “We’re not going to agree on this issue.”
“We would if you’d get over yourself. Chicken or carne quesadilla?”
No one in his world ever told Mark to get over himself. Instead they tripped over their feet to keep him happy. He supposed he should be thankful for the reminder to be humble. “Carne.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, both James and Casey were ready to roll right on time. They were dressed for construction work and had a coffee for Mark.
Nice to know they could still suck up with the best of them. He wondered if either of them had talked the other out of bailing, but he didn’t really give a shit. As long as they were still here, willing to put in the time and maybe even learn something, he was good.
They worked until afternoon, showered, then attended the rec center’s staff meeting, per Rick’s request. This was held in a conference room, aka pre-school room, aka makeshift dance studio. Everyone sat at a large table, including Rainey, who didn’t look directly at Mark. He knew that because he was looking directly at her.
Rick ran a surprisingly tight ship considering how laid-back he was. Assignments were passed out, the budget dealt with, and the sports schedule handled. When it came to that schedule and what was expected of Mark’s players, Rick once again made it perfectly clear that Rainey was in charge.
Mark looked across the table and locked eyes with Rainey. He arched a brow and she flushed, but she definitely stared at his mouth before turning back to Rick attentively.
She was thinking about the kiss.
That made two of them. This was Mark’s third time seeing her, and she was still a jolt on his system.
He realized that Rick and Rainey were speaking. Then Rainey stood up to reveal a poster that would be placed around town. It advertised the upcoming youth sports calendar and other events such as their biweekly car wash and the formal dinner and auction that would hopefully raise the desperately needed funds for a new rec building. She was looking around the room as she spoke, her eyes sharp and bright. She had an easy smile, an easy-to-listen-to voice, and who could forget that tight, toned yet curvy body.
She was in charge of her world.
Watching her, Mark felt something odd come over him. If he had to guess, he’d say it was a mix of warmth and pride and affection. He wasn’t sentimental, and he sure as hell wasn’t the most sensitive man on the planet. Or so he’d been told a time or a million….
But he’d missed her.
“The Mammoth players will be assisting me in this,” she said, and he nodded, even though he wasn’t listening so he had no idea what exactly they’d be assisting her with. He’d help her with whatever she wanted. He liked the jeans she was wearing today, which sat snug and low on her hips. Her top was a simple knit and shouldn’t have been sexy at all, but somehow was. Maybe because it brought out her blue eyes. Maybe because it clung to her breasts enough to reveal she was feeling a little bit chilly—
“If it works into your schedule, that is,” she said, and he realized with a jolt that she was looking right at him.
Everyone was looking right at him.
“That’s fine,” he said smoothly.
Casey and James both lifted their brows, but he ignored them. “We’re here to serve.”
James choked on the soda he was drinking.
Casey just continued staring at Mark like he’d lost his marbles.
His brother out-and-out grinned, which was his first clue.
“You just agreed to coach a girls’ softball team,” James whispered in his ear. “Me and Casey get the boys, but she gave you the girls.”
Ah, hell.
Rainey was watching him, waiting for him to balk and possibly leave, which was clearly what she’d been aiming for. Instead he nodded. “Great.”
“Great?”
“Great,” he repeated, refusing to let her beat him.
“The kids are going to love it,” Rick said. “Tell him your plans, Rainey.”
She was still looking a little shell-shocked that she hadn’t gotten rid of him. Guess their kiss had shaken her up good.
That made two of them.
“Well, if you’re really doing this…?” She stared at him, giving him another chance at a way out. But hell no. Diegos didn’t take the out…ever.
“We’re doing this,” he said firmly. “All the way.”
Color rose to her cheeks but she stayed professional. “Okay, well, the Mammoths are taking advantage of our needs in order to gain good publicity, so I figure it’s only fair for us to take advantage of your celebrity status.”
“Absolutely,” Mark said. “How do you want to do that?”
Rainey glanced at Rick, who gave her the go-ahead to voice her thoughts. “You could let us auction off dates with you three,” she said.
Mark was stunned. It was ingenious, but he should have expected no less. It was also just a little bit evil.
Seemed Rainey had grown some claws. He had no idea what it said about him that he liked it.
Casey grinned. “Sounds fun. And I’m sure the other guys would put their name on the ticket too.”
“I’m in,” James said agreeably, always up for something new, especially involving women. “As long as the ladies are single. No husbands with shotguns.”
The meeting ended shortly after that and Rainey gathered her things, vacating quickly, the little sneak. Making his excuses, Mark followed after her. She was already halfway down the hall, moving at a fast clip. Obviously she had things to do, places to go. And people to avoid. He smiled grimly, thinking her ass looked sweet in those jeans. So did her attitude, with that whistle around her neck, the clipboard in her hands. She was running her show like…well, like he ran his. He picked up his stride until he was right behind her, and realized she was on her cell phone.
“This is all your fault, Lena,” she hissed. “No. No, I’m most definitely not still crushing on him! That was a secret, by the way, and it was years ago—Yes, I’ve got eyes, I realize he’s hot, thank you very much, but it’s not all about looks. And anyway, I’m going out with Kyle Foster tonight, which is your fault too— Are you laughing? Stop laughing!” She paused, taking in whatever was being said to her. “You know what? Calling you was a bad idea. Listening to you in the first place was a bad bad idea. I have to go.” She shoved her phone into her pocket and stood there, hands on hips.
“Hey,” he said.
She jerked, swore, then started walking again, away from him, moving as if she hadn’t heard him. Good tactic. He could totally see why it might work on some people—she moved like smoke. He could also see why she’d want to ignore him, but they had things to discuss. Slipping his fingers around her upper arm, he pulled her back to face him.
“I’m really busy,” she said.
“Girls’ softball?” he asked softly. “Really?”
“Not here,” she said, and opened a door. Which she shut in his face.
Oh hell no, she didn’t just do that. He hauled open the door, expecting an office, but instead found a small storage room lined with shelves.
Rainey was consulting her clipboard and searching the shelves.
He shut the door behind him, closing them in, making her gasp in surprise. “What are you doing—”
“You said not out there,” he reminded her.
“I meant not out there, and not anywhere.”
He stepped toward her. Her sultry voice would have made him hard as a rock—except he already was. “Girls’ softball?” he repeated.
She took a step back and came up against the shelving unit. “You volunteered, remember? Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Already toe-to-toe, he put his hands on the shelf, bracketing her between his arms. He leaned in so that they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh…and everything in between. Her sweet little intake of air made him hard.
Or maybe that was just her. “Are you punishing me for what happened fourteen years ago?” he asked. “Or for kissing you yesterday?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, her hands coming up to fist his shirt, though it was unclear whether she planned to shove him away or hold him to her.
“Admit it,” he said. “You gave me the girls to make me suffer.”
“Maybe I gave you the girls because that’s what’s best for them. Not everything is about you, Mark.”
Direct hit.
“So we used to know each other,” she said. “So what. We’re nothing to each other now.” But her breathing was accelerated, and then there was the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat. He set his thumb to it, his other fingers spanning her throat and although he was tempted to give it a squeeze, he tilted her head up to his.
Her hands tightened on him. “I mean it,” she said. “We’re not doing this.”
“Define this.”
“We’re not going to be friends.”
“Deal,” he said.
“We’re not going to even like each other.”
“Obviously.”
She stared into his eyes, hers turbulent and heated. “And no more kissing—”
He swallowed her words with his mouth, delving deeply, groaning at the taste of her. He heard her answering moan, and then her arms wound tight around his neck.
And for the first time since his arrival back in Santa Rey, they were on the same page.
CHAPTER FOUR
RAINEY OPENED HER mouth to protest and Mark’s tongue slid right in, so hot, so erotic, she moaned instead. God, the man could kiss. How was it that he looked as good as he did, was that sexy, and could kiss like heaven on earth? Talk about an unfair distribution of goods!
Just don’t react, she told herself, but she might as well have tried to stop breathing, because this was Mark, big strong, badass Mark. The guy from her teenage fantasies. Her grown-up fantasies too, and resistance failed her.
Utterly.
So instead of resisting, she sank into him, and with a rough groan, he pressed her against the shelving unit, trapping her between the hard, cold steel at her back and the hard, hot body at her front. “Okay, wait,” she gasped.
Pulling back the tiniest fraction, he looked at her from melting chocolate eyes.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Guess.”
See, this was the problem with a guy like Mark. There was a good reason that his players responded to him the way they did. He didn’t make any excuses—about anything—and he knew how to get his way. Oh, how he knew, she thought as her hands slid into the silky dark hair at the nape of his neck. She pressed even closer, plastering herself to him, fighting the urge to wrap her legs around his waist as a low, very male sound rumbled in his throat. Her eyes drifted shut. He isn’t for you… He’ll never be for you.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she panted, not letting go. So he wasn’t for her. She would take what she could get from him. But only because here, with Mark, she felt alive, so damn alive. “You still drive me insane,” she said.
He let out a groaning laugh, murmured something that might have been a “right back at you” and kissed her some more.
And God help her, she kissed him back until they had to break apart or suffocate.
“God, Rainey,” he whispered hotly against her lips.
“I know—”
“Maybe you should throw your clipboard at me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She tightened her grip on his hair until he hissed out a breath, then it was her turn to do the same when he nipped at her throat, then worked his way up, along her jaw to her ear. She heard a low, desperate moan, and realized it was her own. She tried to keep the next one in but couldn’t.
Nor could she make herself let go of him. Nope, she was going to instantly combust, and he hadn’t even gotten into her pants. “I still don’t like you,” she gasped, sliding her hand beneath his shirt to run over his smooth, sleek back.
“I can work with that.” Turning her, he pinned her flat against the storage room door, working his way back to her mouth. Their tongues tangled hotly as his hands yanked her shirt from her jeans and snaked beneath, his palms hot on her belly, heading north. When her knees wobbled, he pushed a muscled thigh between hers, holding her up.
“Wait,” she managed to say.
His lips were trailing down the side of her face, along her jaw, dissolving her resolve as fast as she could build it up. “Wait…or stop?”
She had no idea.
He bit gently into her lower lip and tugged lightly, making her moan.
“Stop,” she decided.
“Okay but you first.”
She realized she was toying with the button of his jeans, the backs of her fingers brushing against the heat of his flat abs. Crap! Yanking her hands away, she drew a shaky breath. “Maybe we should go back to the not talking thing. That seems to work best for us.”
He ran a finger down the side of her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before pressing his mouth to her temple. “Good plan.” His lips shifted down to her jaw. “No talking. We’ll just—”
“Oh, no,” she choked out with a gasping laugh and slid out from between him and the door. “No talking and no anything else either.” Tugging the hem of her top down, she gave him one last pointed glare for emphasis and pulled open the door before she could change her mind. She rushed out and ran smack into James and Casey.
“Whoa there, killer,” Casey said, steadying her. “How are you on the ice? We could use you on the team.” He looked at the man behind her. “Isn’t that right, Coach?”
Rainey felt Mark’s hand skim up her spine and settle on the nape of her neck. “Absolutely.”
She shivered, then laughed to hide the reaction. “I’ll have my people call your people,” she quipped, then made her escape to the women’s bathroom.
Lena came in while Rainey was still splashing cold water on her face, desperately trying to cool down her overheated, still humming body.
“This is all your fault,” Rainey told her again. “Somehow.”
“Really.” Lena’s gaze narrowed on Rainey’s neck. “And how about the hickey on your neck. Whose fault is that?”
“Oh my God, I have a hickey?”
Lena was grinning wide. “Nah. I was just teasing.”
“Dammit!”
“So does the coach kiss as good as he looks?”
“Yes,” Rainey said miserably.
Lena laughed at her. “Maybe you found him.”
“Found who?”
“You know. Him. Your keeper.”
Rainey shook her head. “No way, not Mark. You know he’s only got endgame in hockey, not women.”
“But maybe…”
“No. No maybe.” Rainey left, then stuck her head back in. “No,” she said again, and shut the door on Lena’s knowing laugh.
* * *
HOURS LATER, RAINEY left work and headed home. Halfway there, she made a pit stop at the string of trailers that ran behind the railroad tracks dividing town. Sharee and her mother lived in one of them, towards the back.
No one answered Rainey’s knock. She was just about to leave when Mona, Sharee’s mother, appeared on the walk, still in her cocktail waitress uniform.
When she saw Rainey, she slowed to a stop and sighed. “You again.”
“Hi, Mona.”
“What now? Did Sharee get in another fight while I was at work?”
“No,” Rainey said. “She walked into a door.”
Mona’s lips tightened.
“The last time I came out here,” Rainey said quietly, “you told me that you and Martin were separated.”
“We’re working on things.” Mona’s gaze shifted away. “Look, I’m a single mom with a kid and a crap job, okay? Martin helps—he should help. He’s an okay guy, he’s just stressed, and Sharee’s mouthy.”
By all accounts, Martin wasn’t an okay guy. He was angry and aggressive, and he made Rainey as uncomfortable as hell. “I think he hits her, Mona. If I knew it for sure, I’d report it. And then you might lose her.”
Mona paled. “No.”
“You tell Martin that, okay? Tell him I’ll report him if he doesn’t keep his hands off her.”
Mona hugged herself and shook her head vehemently, and Rainey sighed. The authorities had been called out here no less than five times. But Sharee wouldn’t admit to the abuse, and worse, every time she and Mona were questioned, Martin only got more “stressed.”
“There are places you can go,” Rainey said softly. “Places you can take Sharee and be safe.”
Mona’s face tightened. “We’re fine.”
Rainey just looked at her for a long moment, but in the end there was nothing more she could do. “Will you allow Sharee to stay at my place on the nights you’re working?”
Without answering, Mona went inside.
Rainey went home. She made cookies because that’s what she did when she was stressed—she ate cookies. Then she showered for her date with Kyle. It would be fun, she decided. And she needed fun. She would keep an open mind and stop thinking about Mark. Who knows, maybe Kyle would be The One to finally make her forget Mark altogether.
She heard the knock at precisely six o’clock. She waited for a zing of nerves. It was a first date. There should be nerves. But she felt nothing. She opened her door and went still.
Mark.
Now nerves flooded her. “What are you doing here?”
“We left a few things unfinished,” he said.
“We always leave things unfinished!”
A car pulled up the street. Kyle. Inexplicably frantic, Rainey shoved at Mark’s chest. “You have to go.”
He didn’t budge. “Hmm.”
Hmm? What the hell did that mean? She looked around, considering shoving him into the bushes, but he leaned into her. “Don’t even think about it.” With his hands on her hips, he pushed her inside her town house and shut the door.
“You can’t be here,” she muttered. “I have a date.”
He let go of her to look out the small window alongside the front door, eyes focused on Kyle as he walked up the path. “I want to meet this guy.”
“What? No.”
The doorbell rang, and Mark turned his head to look at her, his eyes two pools of dark chocolate. “You still have shitty taste in men?”
“I—None of your business!”
The bell rang again, and in sheer panic, Rainey pushed Mark behind the door and out of sight, pointing at him to stay as she pasted a smile on her face and opened the door.
Kyle was medium height and build, with wind-tousled brown hair that curled over his collar and green eyes that had a light in them that suggested he might be thinking slightly NC-17 thoughts. Rainey stared at him in shock.
He smiled. “Surprised?”
Uh, yeah. He’d grown up and out, and had definitely lost the buck teeth. Plus he had a look of edge to him, a confidence, a blatant sexuality that shocked her. Kyle Foster had grown up to be a bad boy. “It’s nice to see you,” she said, surprised to find it true.
“Same goes.” He looked her over. “You look good enough to eat.”
From behind the door came a low growl.
Rainey didn’t dare glance over, but she could feel the weight of Mark’s stare. “Let me just grab my purse,” she said quickly.
“What smells so good?” Kyle asked, trying to see past her and inside her place.
“I made chocolate chip cookies earlier.”
“I love chocolate chip cookies,” Kyle said.
Was it her imagination, or did Mark growl again? Oh, God. “Burned them,” she said quickly. Liar, liar, pants on fire. She had a glorious tray of cookies on her counter, to-die-for cookies, cookies that were better than an orgasm, but if she let him in, she’d be forced to introduce him to Mark. “Sorry. If you could just give me a sec.” She shut the door on his face and winced. Then she glared at Mark.
“Let him in,” he said. “You can introduce us.” He said this in the tone the Big Bad Wolf had probably used on Little Red Riding Hood.
She pointed at him. “Shh!” She ran into the kitchen, grabbed her purse and strode past the six-foot-plus dark and annoyingly sexy man still standing in her entryway, throwing off enough attitude to light up a third world country.
“Your top’s too tight,” Mark said.
“No, it’s not.”
“Then your bra’s too thin.”
She stared down at herself. He was right—Nipple City. “Well, if you’d stop crowding me.”
He smiled, dark and dangerous. He had no plans to stop crowding her. “And your jeans,” he said.
“What’s wrong with my jeans?”
“You have a stain on the ass.”
She twisted around first one way, then the other, but saw nothing. “I can’t see it.”
“I can. Not exactly date pants, you know?”
“Fine! Don’t move.” She raced up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom, tore off the jeans, ripping through her dresser for another clean pair.