In these fan-favorite sports romance stories, winning is everything…

Time Out by Jill Shalvis

NHL coach Mark Diego is spending the off-season in his hometown coaching teenage girls. However, he didn’t expect to be working with Rainey Saunders, his childhood friend—and the woman he’s always had a thing for. Unfortunately, they don’t see eye to eye. And when their tempers flare, Mark and Rainey discover their fireworks don’t just burn angry—they burn very, very hot!

Body Check by Elle Kennedy

The moment hockey star Brody Croft first sees good girl Hayden Houston at the bar, he’s riveted. Brody’s ready to shed his bad-boy ways for the sexy brunette and settle down. And after a mind-blowing night in bed with Hayden, he knows she’s the one. Now all he has to do is convince her that he’s her one…

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis

“Hot, sweet, fun and romantic! Pure pleasure!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr

“Shalvis thoroughly engages readers.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Ms. Shalvis draws the reader into her stories immediately and creates a devastatingly tender love story… She knows how to deliver.”

—Rendezvous

“Romance does not get better than a Jill Shalvis story.”

—Romance Junkies

Praise for Elle Kennedy

“Each story I pick up by Kennedy has me falling further and further in love with her writing. She has quickly become one of my favorite go-to authors for a sexy good time!”

—Book Pushers

“Kennedy fans and newcomers will relish the well-crafted plot, witty dialogue, and engaging characters.”

—Publishers Weekly

“With her clear and distinctive voice, Elle Kennedy is definitely becoming an author I will watch out for!”

—Fresh Fiction

Time Out & Body Check

Time Out

Jill Shalvis

Body Check

Elle Kennedy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

TIME OUT

Jill Shalvis

BODY CHECK

Elle Kennedy

Time Out

Jill Shalvis

Thanks to both Mary and Melinda, two dear friends, without whom this book would have had a lot of mistakes. If there are still mistakes, blame them. :)

CONTENTS

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 ONE

AS ALWAYS, RAINEY’S brain was full, too full, but one thought kept rising to the top and wouldn’t leave her alone. “Tell me again,” she asked Lena. “Why do we like men?”

Her best friend and wingman—even though Lena was no longer technically single—laughed. “Oh, honey. We don’t have enough time.”

They both worked at the beleaguered North District Rec Center in Santa Rey, a small mid-California beach town. Lena handled the front desk. Rainey was the junior sports coordinator, and today she was running their biweekly car wash to raise funds for their desperate sports program. Sitting on a stool in the driveway of the rec building’s parking lot, Rainey directed cars in and accepted customers’ money, then sent them through to the teenagers who were doing the washing. She kept her laptop out for the slow times. In between cars she’d been working on the upcoming winter sports schedule while simultaneously discussing all things men. Rainey was nothing if not a most excellent multitasker.

And maybe the slightest bit of a control freak.

“I thought you were going to try that online dating service,” Lena said.

“I did. I got lots of offers for hookups.”

Lena laughed. “Well, what were you looking for?”

Coffee, a few laughs, a connection… A real connection, which Rainey was missing lately. Her last two boyfriends had been great but… not great enough. Lena thought she was picky. In truth, Rainey was looking for something that she’d felt only once before, a very long time ago, when she’d been sixteen and stupid. “Men suck.”

“Mmm,” Lena said. “If they’re very good, they do. Listen, you’ve had a dry spell, is all. Get back in the pool, the water’s warm.”

“I haven’t had a dry spell, I’ve just been busy.” Okay, so she’d had a little bit of a dry spell. She’d been spending a lot of time at work, trying to keep the teens in the North District—the forgotten district—out of trouble. That alone was a full-time job. She turned to the next car. Mrs. Foster had the highest beehive in all the land, and had been Rainey’s fourth grade teacher. “Thanks for supporting the rec center’s car wash,” Rainey said.

“You’re welcome.” Her beehive, bluer now than ever, still quivered. “I was going to go to South District since they’re giving away ten-minute back massages with each wash, but I’m glad I didn’t. I overheard about your dry spell, dear. Let me get you a date with my grandson, Kyle.”

Great. A pity date. “No, that’s—”

“He’s quite the catch, you know,” Mrs. Foster said. “I’ll have him call your mother for your number.”

“Really, it’s not necessary—”

But Mrs. Foster was already driving forward, where her car was immediately attended to by a group of Rainey’s well-behaved teens.

Okay, not all that well-behaved. Rainey had coerced them here on threat of death and dismemberment, but they desperately needed the money if they wanted a baseball and softball season.

“Score on Mrs. Foster’s grandson,” Lena said dryly. “Think Kyle still has buck teeth?”

“My mom won’t give him my number.” Probably. Okay, she totally would. Rainey had gone to school with Kyle, so her mother would think him safe enough. Plus, she’d turned thirty last week and now her mom was on a mission to get her married before it was “too late.” Hot and sweaty, Rainey swiped her forehead. It might be only June, but it was ninety degrees, and she’d been sitting out here for hours. Her Anaheim Ducks ball cap shaded her face for the most part but she could feel that she’d still managed to sunburn her nose, and her sunglasses kept slipping down her damp face.

They’d fed the teens pizza about an hour ago, and the kids were using the fuel to scrub cars and squirt each other every chance they got. They were down a few bodies since Rainey had kicked four of the guys out, the same four who always gave her trouble. They’d been trying to coerce one of the younger teen girls into the woods with them.

Even long before the fires had devastated Santa Rey the previous summer, the North District had been steadily deteriorating, and that core group of four were hell-bent on deteriorating right along with the area. Working at the rec center was far more than a job for Rainey. She genuinely cared about this community and the kids, but those boys had no interest in her help. She couldn’t allow them back, not after today, and given that they’d called her a raging bitch as they’d vacated the premises, the hard feelings were mutual.

“Rick promised to take me out to dinner tonight,” Lena said.

Rick was a lifelong friend of Rainey’s as well as her boss, and also Lena’s boyfriend. “Huh,” she said. “He promised me some summer league coaches.” Coaches who wouldn’t quit when the going got rough, like the volunteer coaches tended to do. “It’s three days before the start of the season.”

“He’s on it,” Lena said, just as the man himself walked by, all dark eyes, dark hair, and a dark smile that never failed to get him what he wanted.

He flashed it at Rainey now. “I promised,” Rick said. “And I’ll deliver.”

“Great,” Rainey said. “But when—”

But nothing. He’d given Lena a quick, soft smile and was already gone, back inside the building to wield his power there.

“I hate it when he does that,” Rainey grumbled.

Lena sighed dreamily. “If he hadn’t tasked me with a hundred things more than I have time to manage this morning, I’d totally want to have his babies.”

“Honey, you’re dating him. You’ve been dating him for a year now. Chances are decent that you will be having his babies.”

Lena beamed, ridiculously happy. Rainey wasn’t jealous. Yes, Rick was hot, but they were friends, and had been since high school. Because of it, they knew far too much about each other. For instance, Rainey knew Rick had lost his virginity behind the high school football stands with their substitute P.E. teacher. In turn, Rick knew that Rainey had tried to lose her virginity with his brother—the last guy she’d felt that elusive connection with—and been soundly rejected. At the humiliating years-old memory, she slumped in her seat. “What if my dry spell is like the Sahara Desert, never-ending?”

“All you have to do is take a man at face value. Don’t go into it thinking you can change them. Men aren’t fixer-uppers, not like a house or a car. You buy them as is.”

“Well I haven’t found one yet who’s not in need of a little fixing.”

Lena laughed. “No kidding, Ms. Control Freak.”

“Hey.”

“Face it, Rainey, you always have to have a plan with a start, a middle and an end. Definitely an end. You have to know everything before you even get into it. Dating doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, it should.” Rainey gestured the next car through, accepting the money and handing out more change. The teens were moving the cars along at a good pace, and she was proud of them. “Everyone could benefit from a well executed plan.”

“A love life doesn’t work that way,” Lena said. “And trust me, you need a love life.”

“You can get a love life in a specialty shop nowadays, complete with a couple of batteries.” Rainey took a moment to organize the cash box and quickly checked her work email on the laptop. “Thirty new emails,” she groaned. All timely and critical, and she’d have to deal with them before the end of the day. Goody.

“I could help you with some of that,” Lena offered.

“I’ve got it.”

“See? Control freak.”

Ignoring that painful truth, Rainey deleted a few emails and opened a few others. She loved her job, and was doing what she wanted. She’d gone to business school but she’d come back here to do this, to work with kids in need, and to give back. The work was crazy in the best of times. But these days, in the wake of the tragic California coast fires that had destroyed three out of four of their athletic fields last fall, not to mention both buildings where all their equipment had been housed, were not the best of times. Worse, the lease for the building they were in was up at the end of the year and they couldn’t afford renewal.

Problem was, she had a hundred kids, many of them displaced from their own burned-out homes. She wanted to give them something to do after school that didn’t involve loitering, shoplifting, drugs or sex. She’d just started to close her laptop when her gaze caught on the Yahoo news page. Hitting the volume key, she stared at a sports clip showing a seedy bar fight between some NHL players from the Anaheim Ducks and Sacramento Mammoths.

The clip had been playing all week, because…well, she hadn’t figured out why, other than people seemed to love a sports scandal. The video was little more than a pile of well-known professional athletes wrestling each other to the ground in some L.A. bar, fists flying, dust rising.

Rainey gestured another car through, then turned back to the screen, riveted by the million-dollar limbs and titillating show of testosterone. On the day the footage had been taken, the two teams had been in the Stanley Cup finals. The game had been decided on a controversial call in favor of the Ducks, killing the Mammoths’ dreams.

That night at the bar, the Mammoth players had instigated the fight, holding their own against four Ducks until their head coach strode up out of nowhere. At thirty-four, Mark Diego was the youngest, most popular NHL head coach in the country.

And possibly even more gorgeous than his brother Rick.

On the tape, Mark’s eyes narrowed in on the fight as he walked fearlessly into the fray, pulling his players out of the pile as though they weighed nothing. A fist flew near his face and he deflected it, leveling the sender of said fist a long, hard look.

The guy fell backwards trying to get away.

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lena murmured, watching the clip over Rainey’s shoulder.

Yeah. Yeah, it was. Rainey had seen Mark in action before, of course. He and Rick were close. And once upon a time, she’d been just as close, having grown up near the brothers. Back then, Mark had been tough, smart, and fiercely protective of those he cared about. He’d also had a wild streak a mile wide, and she’d seen him brawl plenty. It’d turned her on then, but it absolutely didn’t now. She was grown-up, mature.

Or so she told herself in the light of day.

On the screen, hands on hips, Mark said something, something quiet but that nevertheless had the heaving mass of aggression screeching to a halt.

“Oh, yeah. Come to momma,” Lena murmured. “Look at him, Rainey. Tall, dark, gorgeous. Fearless. I wouldn’t mind him exerting his authority on me.”

Rainey’s belly quivered, and not because she’d inhaled three pieces of pizza with the teens an hour ago. Mark was no longer a wild teenager, but a tightly controlled, complicated man. A stranger. How he “exerted his authority” was none of her business. “Lena, you’re dating his brother.” Just speaking about Mark had twisted open a wound in a small corner of her heart, a corner she didn’t visit very often.

“I’ve never gotten to see the glory that would be the Diego brothers in stereo.” Lena hadn’t grown up in Santa Rey. “Mark hasn’t come home since I’ve been with Rick. Being the youngest, baddest, sexiest head coach in all the NHL must be time-consuming.”

“Trust me, he’s not your type.”

“Because he’s rich and famous? Because he’s tough as hell and cool as ice?”

“Because he’s missing a vital organ.”

Lena gasped in horror. “He doesn’t have a d—”

“A heart! He’s missing a heart! Jeez, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Lena laughed. “How do you know he’s missing a heart?” Her eyes widened. “You have a past! Of course you have a past, you grew up here with Rick. Is it sordid? Tell me!”

Rainey sighed. “I was younger, so Mark always thought of me as a…”

“Forbidden fruit?” Lena asked hopefully.

“Pest,” Rainey corrected. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I do!”

Knowing Lena wouldn’t leave it alone, she caved. “Fine. I had a crush on him, and thought he was crushing back. Wrong. He didn’t even know how I felt about him, but before I figured that out, I managed to thoroughly humiliate myself. The end.”

“Oh, I’m going to need much more than that.”

Luckily Lena’s cell phone chose that very moment to ring. God bless AT&T. Lena glanced at the ID and grimaced. “I’ve got to go.” She pointed at Rainey. “This discussion is not over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Later.” Rainey waved her off. She purposely glanced away from her computer screen, but like a moth to a flame, she couldn’t fight the pull, and turned back.

Mark was shoving his players ahead of him, away from the run-down L.A. bar and towards a black SUV, single-handedly taking care of the situation.

That had been three days ago. The fight had been all over the news, and the commission was thinking about suspending the players involved. Supposedly the two head coaches had stepped in and offered a solution that would involve giving back to the fans who’d supported the two teams.

She looked into Mark’s implacable, uncompromising face on her laptop and the years fell away. She searched for the boy she’d once loved with all her sixteen-year-old heart, but couldn’t find a hint of him.

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER, they’d gone through a satisfying amount of cars, fattening the rec center’s empty coffers, and Rainey was ready to call it a day. She needed to help the teens clean up before the bus arrived. Many of them still had homework and other jobs to get to.

The parking lot was wet and soapy, with hoses crisscrossing the concrete, and buckets everywhere. With no more cars waiting, the teens were running around like wild banshees, feeling free to squirt and torture one another. Rainey blew her whistle to get their attention. “We’re done here,” she called out. “Thanks so much for all your help today. The faster we clean up, the faster we can—” She broke off as the county bus rolled up and opened its doors. Dammit. All but a handful of the kids needed to get on that bus. It was their only ride.

When the bus pulled away, Rainey stared at the messy lot and the two kids she had left.

“More pizza?” Todd asked her hopefully. He was a lanky sixteen-year-old who had either a tapeworm or a bottomless stomach.

Rainey turned and looked through the pizza boxes. Empty. She opened her bag and pulled out her forgotten lunch. “I’ve got a PB&J—”

“Sweet,” he said, and inhaled the sandwich in three bites. His gaze was locked on Sharee, a fellow high school junior, as she began rolling hoses. Sharee was all long, long mocha-colored limbs and grace. Another fire victim from the same neighborhood as Todd, she currently lived in a small trailer with her mother. When Sharee caught Todd staring, she leveled him with a haughty glare.

Todd merely grinned.

“Go help her,” Rainey told him. “She can’t do it all alone.”

“Sure, I’ll help her,” Todd said, and the next thing Rainey knew, he was stalking a screaming Sharee with a bucket full of soapy water.

Sharee grabbed a hose and wielded it at him like a gun. “Drop the bucket and no one gets hurts. And by no one, I mean you.”

Todd laughed at her and waved the bucket like a red flag in front of a bull.

“Okay, okay,” Rainey said, stepping between them. “It’s getting late.” She knew for a fact that Todd still had to go work at his family’s restaurant for several more hours. Sharee, on the cusp of not passing her classes, surely had a ton of homework. The girl also had a healing bruise high on one cheekbone and a set of matching bruises on both biceps, like someone had gripped her hard and shaken her.

Her father, Rainey guessed. Everyone knew Martin was a mean drunk but no one wanted to talk about it, least of all Sharee, who lived alone with her mother except for the nights her mother allowed the man into their trailer.

“He called me a scarecrow,” Sharee said, pointing at Todd. “Now his sorry ass is going to pay.”

“Language,” Rainey said.

“Okay, his sorry butt. His sorry butt is going to pay.”

“I said you have legs as long as a scarecrow,” Todd said from behind Rainey. “Not that you are a scarecrow.”

Sharee growled and lifted the hose.

“Stop!” Rainey said. “If you squirt him, you’re leaving yourself wide open for retaliation.”

“That’s right,” Todd said, nodding like a bobblehead. “Retaliation.”

Rainey turned to shut Todd up just as Sharee let it rip with the hose and nailed him.

Rainey gave up. They had worked their asses off and deserved to let off a little steam. She stepped aside to leave them to it, but stopped short as a big, shiny black truck pulled into the lot.

Which was when the entire contents of Todd’s bucket hit her. Sucking in a shocked gasp as the cold, soapy water rained over her, Rainey whipped around and stared at the sheepish teen, who was holding the offending empty bucket. “Oh, God,” he said. “I’m so sorry, but you stepped right in its path!”

“You’re in big trouble,” Sharee told him. “You got her hair wet. You know how long it must take her to get that hair right?”

Sharee was right about the hair. Rainey shoved it out of her face, readjusting the Ducks hat on her head. Her wavy brown hair frizzed whenever it rained, or if the air was humid, or if she so much as breathed wrong. She had no doubt it resembled a squirrel’s tail about now. “It’s okay. Just…clean up,” she said, watching as the black truck rolled to a stop.

“Look at that,” Todd said reverently, Rainey’s hair crisis forgotten. “That’s one sweet truck.”

Sneakers squishing, Rainy moved toward it. She could feel water running in rivulets down her body as the driver side window powered down. “I’m sorry,” she said politely, feeling like a drowned rat. “We’ve closed up shop. We—” She broke off. The driver was wearing a Mammoth hat and reflective Oakleys, rendering him all but unrecognizable to the general public. But she recognized him just fine, and her heart stopped on a dime.

The man she’d just been watching on the news.

Mark Diego.

He wore a white button-down that was striking against his dark skin and stretched across broad shoulders. The hand-painted sign behind her said: Car Wash—$10, but he pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket. She stared down at it, boggled.

“No worries on the wash,” he said in a low voice as smooth as aged whiskey, the same voice that had fueled her adolescent dreams.

He didn’t recognize her.

Of course he didn’t. She was wearing a ball cap, sunglasses, soap suds, and was drenched to the core, not to mention dressed like a complete slob. Unlike Mark, of course, who looked like sin-on-a-stick. Expensive sin-on-a-stick.

The bastard.

“I just need a place to park,” he said with the smile that she knew probably melted panties and temperamental athletes with equal aplomb. “I’m here to see Rick Diego.”

“You can park right where you are,” Rainey said.

He turned off the engine and got out of the truck, six feet two inches of tough, rugged, leanly muscled grace. Two other guys got out as well, and beside her, Todd nearly swallowed his tongue. “Casey Reynolds! James Vasquez! Oh man, you guys rock!”

Casey, the Mammoths’ right wing, was twenty-two and the youngest player on the team. He looked, walked and talked like the California surfer he was in his spare time. He wore loose basketball shorts, a T-shirt from some surf shop in the Caicos, and a backwards Mammoths’ hat.

James was the team’s left wing, and at twenty-four he was nearly as wild as Casey, but instead of looking like he belonged on a surfboard, James could have passed as a linebacker in the NFL. He was wearing baggy blue jeans and a snug silk shirt that emphasized and outlined his every muscle.

If she hadn’t known they were the two players who’d been in the big bar brawl, she could have guessed by Casey’s nasty black eye and the bruise and cut on James’s jaw. Still managing to look like million-dollar athletes, they smiled at Todd and shook his hand.

The kid looked like he might pass out.

Mark and his two players clearly had a longtime ease with each other, but just as clearly there was a hierarchy, with Mark at the top—and he hadn’t taken his carefully observant eyes off Rainey.

Crap.

She turned away, but he snagged her hand and pulled her very wet self back around. She thought about tugging free.

Or kicking him.

As if he could read her mind, his lips twitched. “Easy,” he murmured, and pulled off her sunglasses.

She narrowed her eyes against the sun and a wealth of unwelcome emotions as the very hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his sexy mouth.

“It’s a little hard to tell with the raccoon eyes,” he said. “But the bad ’tude’s a dead giveaway. Rainey Saunders. Look at you.”

The others were all still talking with a false sense of intimacy. Mark tapped the bill of Rainey’s Ducks hat, giving a slow shake of his head, like he couldn’t believe she’d be wearing anything other than the Mammoths’ colors.

And suddenly she felt like that silly, love-struck teenager all over again. Having four years on her, he’d been clueless about the crush. He might never have known at all if she hadn’t made a fool of herself and sneaked into his apartment to strip for him. It’d all gone straight to hell since he’d been on the receiving end of a blow job at the time. She’d compounded the error with several more that evening, which she didn’t want to think about. Ever. It’d all ended with her pride and confidence completely squashed.

Worse, the night had negated the years of friendship she and Mark had shared until then, all erased in one beat of stupidity.

Okay, several beats of stupidity.

She lifted her chin, which turned out to be a mistake because water had pooled on the bill and now dripped down her face. She blinked it away and tried to look cool—not easy under the best of circumstances, and this wasn’t anywhere close to best.

Mark pointed to her nose. “You have a smudge of dirt.”

Oh, good. Because she’d been under the illusion she was looking perfect. “Thought you liked dirty girls.” The minute she said it, she could have cut out her tongue. He’d been on GQ last month, artfully stretched out on some L.A. beach, draped in sand.

And four naked, gorgeous, equally sandy women.

She’d bought the damn issue, which really chapped her ass. Mark clearly knew it, and his smile broke free. She rubbed at her nose but apparently this only made things worse because his smile widened.

“Here,” he said, and ran a finger over the bridge of her nose himself.

Up this close and personal, it was hard to miss just how gorgeous he was.

Or how good he smelled.

Or how expensive he looked.

All of which was hugely irritating.

“Got it,” he said. “Not much I can do about the soap all over you. Let’s fix this too.” Then, before she could stop him, he tugged off her drenched hat, flashed an amused glance at what was surely some scary-ass hair, then replaced her hat with the one from his own head. The Mammoths, of course. He ran a hand over his own silky, dark hair, leaving it slightly tousled and perfectly sexy.

She snatched back her hat. “I like the Ducks. They’re my favorite team.”

At this, both of his players turned from Todd and stared at her. Rainey didn’t know if it was because of what she’d just said, or because no one dared sass their fearless leader. “No offense,” she said to them.

“None taken,” Casey said on a grin and held out his hand, introducing himself. James did the same.

Rainey instantly liked them both, and not just because they were famous, or cute as hell—which they were—but because they were quite harmless, as compared with their head coach. He wasn’t the least bit harmless. Rainey squirmed a little, probably due to the soapy water running down her body.

Or the way Mark was studying her with the same quiet intensity he used on the ice—which she knew because she watched his games. All of them.

“So how do you know Coach?” James asked her.

Rainey looked into Mark’s eyes. Well, not quite his eyes, since they were still behind the reflective Oakleys that probably cost more than her grocery bill for the month. “We go way back.”

Mark’s almost-smile made an appearance again. “Rainey went to school with my brother Rick.” He paused, clearly waiting for her to add something to the story.

No thank you, since the only thing she could add would be “and one time I threw myself at him and he turned me down flat.”

They’d seen each other since, of course, on the few occasions when he’d come back to town to visit his dad and brother. Once when she’d been twenty-one, at a local police ball that Mark had helped chair. He’d slow danced with her and the air had crackled between them. Chemistry had abounded, and she could read in his dark eyes that he’d felt it too, and she’d melted at his interest. But she hadn’t been able to swallow her mortification about the fiasco on her sixteenth birthday, so she’d made an excuse and bailed on him. She’d seen him again, several times, and each accidental run-in had been the same.

The laws of physics didn’t change. The sun would come up. The sun would go down. And she would always be insanely attracted to Mark Diego.

The last chance encounter had been only two years ago. They’d had yet another near miss at a town Christmas ball when they’d again slow danced. He expressed interest in every hard line of his body, some harder than others, but she’d let self-preservation rule once more.

“So are you friends?” James asked her and Mark now. “Or…?” He waggled a finger back and forth between them with a matching waggle of his brow.

Mark gave him a single look, nothing more, and James zipped his lips.

Impressive. “Neither,” she told James resolutely, trying to wring out the hem of her shirt while ignoring how close Mark was standing to her, invading her personal space bubble.

“It’s been a long time,” he said. “You look…”

“All wet?” she asked.

His eyes heated, and something deep inside her quivered. Damn, he still had the power. He smiled, and she narrowed her eyes, daring him to go there, but his momma hadn’t raised a fool.

“Different,” he finally said. “You look different.”

Yes, she imagined she looked quite different than the gorgeous women she’d seen hanging off his arm in magazines and blogs.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

She wanted to believe that was true, but realized with some horror that she’d actually leaned into him, drawn in by that stupid magnetic charisma. But she was nothing if not a pro at hiding embarrassment. Spreading her arms, she gave him a hug, as if that’d been her intention all along. Squeezing his big, warm, hard body close, she made sure to spread as much of the suds and water from her shirt to his as she could. “It’s good to see you as well,” she said, her mouth against his ear, her lips brushing the lobe.

He went still at the contact, then instead of trying to pull free, merely folded her into his arms, trapping her against him. And damn if her body didn’t burst to life, as if all this time it’d been just waiting for him to come back.

“Yeah, you’re different,” he murmured, doing as she had, pressing his mouth to her ear, giving her a shiver. “The little kitten grew up and got claws.”

When she choked out a laugh, he closed his teeth over her earlobe.

She gasped, but then he soothed the ache with a quick touch of his tongue, yanking another shocked response from her. “You said you were looking for Rick,” she managed to say, shoving free. “He’s in his office.” And then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she walked off, sneakers squishing, water dripping from her nose, and, she suspected, her shorts revealing a horrible, water-soaked wedgie.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER CHECKING IN with his brother, Mark and his players got back into his truck, not heading back to the coast, but further up into the rolling hills.

Rainey Saunders, holy shit. Talk about a blast from his past. Seeing her had been like a sucker punch; her smile, her shorts. Those legs…

Once upon a time she’d been a definite sweet spot in his life. A friend of his younger brother, who always had a smile for him. He’d been fond of her, as much as any teenage guy could be fond of something other than himself. She’d hung out on the fringes of his world throughout school, and he’d thought of her as one of the pack. Until she’d changed things up by going from a cute little kid to a hot teenager.

The night she’d shown up in his college apartment had been both a shock and a loss. A shock because he’d honestly had no idea that she’d had a crush on him, at least not before she’d dropped her clothes for him without warning. Until then, she’d never let on, not once. And a loss because everything had changed afterwards. He’d never forget how she’d broken into his place and found him in the throes with a coed. By the time he’d caught up with her, she’d run off with the first guy she’d found.

And that guy had been a real asshole who’d nearly given her a birthday moment she hadn’t counted on. Mark had managed to stop it, and somehow he’d ended up the bad guy.

Rainey had wanted Mark to notice her, to see her as a woman, and hello, mission accomplished. Hell, he could still picture her perfect body—but he’d been too old for her. Even at twenty, he’d been smart enough to know that. Too bad he hadn’t been smart enough to handle the situation correctly. Nope, he’d screwed it up badly enough to affect their relationship to the point that they’d no longer been friends.

It’d taken him a shamefully long time to figure that out, though, and by then he’d been on his path and gone from the area. Leaving Santa Rey had been his dream. To go do something big, something to lift him out of the poverty of his upbringing. He’d spent the next few years climbing his way up the coaching staff ladder, working in Toronto, New York, Boston…finally landing back on the west coast with a coveted head coaching position at the Mammoths.

He’d seen Rainey several times over the years since, and on each occasion she’d definitely sparked his interest. As a bonus, they’d both been age suitable. But though she’d flirted with him, nothing had ever come of it. He had no idea what being with her would be like, but he knew one thing. It would be interesting.

The Mammoths were officially off season now and on vacation. Except for Casey and James, who were damn lucky to still be a part of the team after their stupid bar fight.

He and the Ducks’ coach had agreed to teach their players a lesson in how to be a role model by making them contribute to a struggling local community. Both coaches had chosen their own home communities, areas hit hard by fires and needing to heal. The players would be volunteer laborers at charity construction sites for most of the day, then after work they’d coach summer league ball. At the end of the summer league, the two rec centers would have a big game, with all the proceeds going directly to their programs. The community would benefit, the players could get their acts together, and everyone would feel like they’d made a difference.

All that was left was to tell his idiot players that they wouldn’t be summering in style, but doing good old-fashioned hard work.

“Uh, Coach? Aren’t we going home?” Casey asked from the passenger seat of the truck.

“Nope.” Their asses were Mark’s. They just didn’t realize it yet. “We’re staying in town.”

“Where? At the Hard Rock Café?” This from James.

“We won’t be at the beach.” That was the South District, and they didn’t need nearly as much help as the North District did. “We’re heading to the very northern part of the county.”

His two players exchanged glances. Mark smiled grimly and kept driving. He had a lot to think about—recruiting and trading for next season, not to mention hundreds of emails and phone calls waiting to be returned—but his brain kept skipping back to Rainey.

She’d grown up nice. The wet T-shirt had proved that. But it’d been far more than just a physical jolt he’d gotten. One look into her fierce blue eyes and he’d felt…

Something. Not even in the finals had his heart taken such a hard leap as it had when he’d realized who she was. Or when she’d touched her mouth to his ear.

Or when he’d bitten hers and absorbed the sexy little startled gasp she’d made.

“Come on, Coach. We’re sorry about the fight. We’ve said it a million times. But it was the big game, and we were robbed.”

Just getting to the finals had been a sweet victory, considering the Mammoths were only a five-year-old franchise. It’d been a culmination of grit, determination, and hard work, and even thinking about the season had a surge of fierce pride going through him. But the bar fight—now viral on YouTube—had taken away from their amazing season, and was giving them nothing but bad press. Mark had been featured on Sixty Minutes and all the mornings shows, trying to put a positive spin on things. He’d been flown to New York in a helicopter to recite the Top Ten Things That Had Gone Through His Mind After Losing The Stanley Cup. He’d been on the Ellen DeGeneres Show and had plunged Ellen into the dunk tank for charity. And then there’d been the endless lower profile events filling his calendar: meet-and-greets, photo shoots and endless charity appearances.

And still all everyone wanted to talk about was the fight. It pissed him off. After working around the clock for seven months, he should be on vacation.

He’d seen the press of other players on Jay-Z’s yacht in the Caribbean with a bunch of scantily-clad women. Mark wouldn’t mind being on a sandy beach somewhere, a woman at his side, a drink in his hand. But no. Instead he was babysitting his two youngest players because apparently they thought with their fists instead of their brains.

That was going to change. It’d been handy having his brother as the director of the rec center. Casey and James would be working their asses off. Construction and coaching, and hopefully, if they were lucky, they’d manage to take in some positive publicity while they were at it. That would make the owners of the Mammoths happy, and Mark too.

As well as Rick.

Win-win, all around, and Mark was all about the win. Always.

James leaned forward from the backseat. “We stayed at the Santa Rey Resort last time, remember? Man, they have that great nightclub….” He sighed with fond memories.

Mark just kept driving. They weren’t staying at the resort. Or the Four Seasons. Or anywhere that any of them were accustomed to. “You both agreed to do whatever it took to not be suspended, correct?”

Another long glance between the two players.

“Yeah,” James said.

‘You’re going to work as volunteer construction crew on the fire rebuilds, then every afternoon you’ll coach at the rec center.”

“That sounds okay,” James said. “Especially if the coach gig involves that hot little counselor they had running the car wash. What’s her name… Rainey? Loved her wet T-shirt—you guys see that?”

Casey grinned. “I loved her whistle and clipboard, and the way she barked orders like a little tyrant. Sexiest tyrant I’ve ever seen.”

When James chuckled, Mark’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s off limits.” He ignored the third long look that James and Casey exchanged. But they had one thing right. Rainey was a tyrant, especially when she decided on something.

Or someone.

And once upon a time, she’d decided on him.

“So we’re not going to the Biltmore?” James asked. “Cuz there’s always plenty of hot babes there.”

“James,” Mark said. “What did I tell you about hot babes?”

James slumped in his seat. “That if I so much as look at one you’re going to kick my ass.”

“Do you doubt my ability to do so?”

James slouched even further. “No one in their right mind would doubt that, Coach.”

“And anyway, you’re not allowed back at the Biltmore,” Casey reminded James. “That’s where you got caught with that redhead by her husband. You had to jump out the window and sprained your knee and were out for three weeks.”

“Oh yeah,” James said on a fond sigh. “Madeline.”

Mark felt a brain bleed coming on. He exited the highway, a good twenty miles from the beach and any “hot babes.”

“Damn,” James murmured, taking in the fire ravaged hills on either side of the narrow two-lane highway, then repeated the “damn” when Mark pulled up to a small, run-down-looking motel.

“Home sweet home for the next month,” Mark told them grimly. “The Santa Rey Welcome Inn.”

Casey and James just stared at the single story motel. The stucco walls were pea-green, the windows lined with wrought-iron grates. The yard was dead grass.

“They’re on water restrictions,” Mark said, and clapped them both on the backs. “You’ll be reminded of that come shower time in the morning. There’s a three-minute shower requirement here. Let’s go,” he said to their groans.

The Welcome Inn sign blinked on and off in flashing white lights. The door to the office was thrown open, letting out the scent of stale coffee and air freshener. Inside the office was a desk, a small couch, and a floor fan on full blast aimed at the woman behind the desk. Celia Anderson was sixty-something, and glued to the soap opera on the TV mounted on the wall—until she saw Mark. With a warm smile, she came around and squeezed him tight. “Aw, you’re such a good boy,” she said. “Throwing us your fancy business.”

Boy? Casey mouthed to James.

“Sometimes homey is better than fancy,” Mark said to Celia.

She patted his cheek gently. “Your father raised you right. I’ve got the three rooms you requested. Cash or credit?”

“Cash,” he said, knowing how badly she needed the cash.

“I’ll give you a discount.”

“No,” he said gently, putting his hand over hers when she went to punch a discounted rate into her computer. “Full price.”

She beamed at him and handed over their room keys.

Which were actual keys. Casey looked at his like he didn’t know what to do with it. They walked down the outside hallway to their rooms. Each had a single bed, dresser and chair beneath the window. All of which had seen better days but were spotlessly clean.

“Coach, I think your assistant screwed up the reservations,” Casey said.

James’s head bobbled his agreement. “I don’t think they even have cable.”

“There’s been no mistake,” Mark said. “Unless you guys wanted to room together?”

They looked at the narrow bed and vehemently shook their heads, both wisely deciding to drop the subject.

Mark waited until he was alone to smile. Operation: Ego Check was in full swing.

For all of them.

* * *

RAINEY DIDN’T FALL asleep until past midnight, and dreamed badly.

Sweet Sixteen, and she stood outside Mark’s bedroom door, heart pounding inside her chest so loudly she was surprised she hadn’t woken the entire apartment complex.

Mark had no idea she was here. No one did. She’d stolen his key from Rick and lied to her friends that she was too tired to go out. Wearing a pretty lacy teddy beneath her sweats, carrying a borrowed pair of sexy heels in her hand, she grinned. Tonight was the night. She was finally going to tell him she loved him, that she always had. They’d live happily ever after, just like in all the good chick flicks.

Quietly she opened his bedroom door and dropped her sweats. She stepped into the heels and fluffed her hair. She was just checking her boobs to make sure they were even and perky when she heard it.

A rough moan.

Whirling around, she got the shock of her life.

Mark wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t even in his bed.

He was sprawled in the beanbag chair beneath the window, long legs spread for the woman on her knees between his, head bobbing—Oh, God.

Mark’s head was back, eyes closed, his perfect body taut and his hands fisted in his date’s hair as she…

Rainey must have made a sound, or maybe he’d heard the crack of her heart as it split wide, because Mark sat straight up so fast he nearly choked his date. “Christ. Rainey—”

“Hey,” his date complained, lifting her head with a pissed-off frown. “I’m Melody.”

Rainey turned to run away and ran smack into the door—which didn’t slow her down. Not that, or the sprained ankle from her stupid heels.

“Rainey!”

The pounding of bare feet told her he was coming after her. Not wanting to face him, she kicked her heels off and raced barefoot out into the night like Cinderella trying to beat the clock. Young and desperate, she’d run off looking for a way to prove herself as grown up as she imagined.

She’d been ripe for trouble, and unfortunately, she’d found it.

* * *

SITTING STRAIGHT UP in bed with a gasp, Rainey realized it was dawn, and she blinked the dream away. Fourteen years and she remembered every humiliating detail as if it’d been yesterday. Especially what had happened next. But she wasn’t going there, not now. Not ever.

By that afternoon, she’d nearly forgotten all about the dream and Mark. She was running laps with the group of teens who’d shown up after school, counting heads to make sure none had made off with each other into the bushes, when Sharee came up to her side.

Rainey’s welcoming smile faded as she locked her gaze on the new bruise on the teen’s jaw. “What happened?”

Sharee switched into her default expression—sullen. “Nothing.”

“Sharee—”

“Walked into a door, no big deal.”

“Where was your mother?”

Sharee lifted a shoulder. “Working.”

Rainey would like to get Martin alone and walk him into a door, but that was a stupid idea. The man scared Rainey. “You know where I live, right?”

“The Northside town houses.”

“Unit fifteen,” Rainey said. “Next time your mother’s working nights, come have a sleepover with me.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t walk into any more doors. We’ll watch a movie and eat crap food. It’ll be more fun than any date I’ve had in a while.”

“How often do you date?” Sharee asked.

The easy answer was not much. But that was also the embarrassing answer. “Occasionally.”

Sharee nodded, then went back to running laps. Rainey ran again too, until her cell phone buzzed an incoming text from Rick.

* * *

The help I promised you for the summer league is on their way. You’ve got two Mammoth players and their head coach, who I believe you’ve met. They work for you, Rainey. You’re in charge.

* * *

She’d have to kill Rick later. For now, she grabbed her clipboard and blew her whistle. “Two more laps before we scrimmage,” she called out, and began stretching to cool down. She’d figured Rick would get a few local college athletes. But nope, he’d gone all the way to the top.

And all she could think was that Mark would be around for three weeks.

Twenty-one days…

She lay on her back and stared at the puffy clouds floating lazily by, trying not to delve too deeply into how she felt about this. The first cloud looked sort of like a double-stuffed Oreo. She could really go for a handful of double-stuffed Oreos about now. The next cloud came into sight, resembling—“Mark?”

She blinked up at the cloud that wasn’t a cloud at all as Mark flashed her his million-dollar smile.

“Heard you need me,” he said. “Bad.”

* * *

AT TWENTY-ONE, Mark had been long and leanly muscled, not a spare inch on him. Rainey’s gaze ran down his thirty-four-year-old body and she had to admit he was even better now. In fact, the only way to improve on that body would be to dip it into chocolate.

He offered her a hand, his grip firm as he pulled her upright. She immediately brushed the dry grass from her behind and the backs of her legs, painfully aware of the fact that once again she was a complete mess and he…he was not. He had all that perfect Latino skin, and the most amazing dark eyes that held more secrets than some developing countries. He had strong cheekbones and a mouth that always brought sinful thoughts to her mind, especially when he flashed that rare smile of his. He’d broken his nose twice in his wild and crazy youth, not that it dared to be anything less than aristocrat straight. But even better than his arresting face was everything else—his fierce passion, his drive, his smarts. And now for the first time, she supposed she could also appreciate his coaching skills firsthand. “We’re running,” she said.

“Really? Because it looked like you were napping.”

Clearly he was in great shape. He could probably run a marathon without breaking a sweat. The thought of what else he might be able to do without breaking a sweat made her nipples hard.

Don’t go there....

Too late. She closed her eyes so she couldn’t stare at him, but as it turned out, he and his hot bod were imprinted on her brain. His world was about coaching million-dollar athletes, and he’d taken it upon himself to be as fit as they were. This meant he was six feet plus of hard sinew wrapped in testosterone, built to impress any guy and pretty much render any female a puddle of longing.

Except her.

Nope, there could be no melting, not for her. She was so over him. Completely. Over. Him.

Maybe.

Oh, God, she was in trouble. Because who was she kidding? She’d never gotten over him, never, and every single guy she’d ever dated had been mentally measured up to him and found lacking.

It made no sense. Yes, she’d known him years ago. Back then she’d been insanely attracted to the way he cared deeply about those around him, his utter lack of fear of anything, and his truck. Apparently some things never changed.

He stepped closer, blocking the sun with his broad shoulders so that all she could see was him, and she forgot to breathe.

His fingertips brushed lightly over a cheek and something deep in her belly quivered. “You’re getting sunburned,” he said. “Where’s your hat?”

The one he’d given her yesterday? She’d tried to toss it into her trash can last night. Twice.

It was sitting on her pillow at home.

But only because it would have been rude to let a gift go out with the week’s trash. And that was the only reason she’d worn it to bed. “I’m wearing sunscreen.”

He was just looking at her. His phone had vibrated no less than five times from the depths of his pockets, but he was ignoring it. She tried to imagine all he was responsible for on any given day, and couldn’t.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Good. And you? Congratulations on your season, by the way.”

“Thanks. It really is good to see you, Rainey.”

She laughed and spread her hands, indicating her state of dishevelment. “Yeah, well it gets better than this, I swear.”

He smiled and looked past her to the girls. “Rick said to let you know the players and I are to report to you for coaching the kids. That’s how both the Ducks and the Mammoths are handling the fallout from the fight. We’re trying to show that players can be role models and help our local communities at the same time. At the end of summer league, we’ll have a big charity fundraising game between the two rec centers and show that it doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

“Hmm.” The idea was fantastic, and in truth, she really needed help. There’d been a time when she’d needed him too, not that she’d ever managed to get him.

And Rick had just given him to her on a silver platter. Oh, the irony. “That’s great.”

“Will the parents have a problem with us stepping in? Don’t they usually coach for summer leagues?”

“Not in this part of town, they don’t. They’re all working, or not interested.”

He eyed the teens on the field, specifically the boys, his sharp gaze already assessing. “How about you let us handle the entire boys’ program?” He turned that gaze on her, and smiled. “It’s been what, a few years?”

“Two.” She clamped her lips shut when that slipped out, giving away the fact that she’d kept count.

His smile widened, and she arched a brow.

“I’ll hug you hello again,” she warned. “And this time I’m all sweaty.”

He immediately stepped into her.

“No,” she gasped. “I’ll ruin your expensive shirt—”

Not listening, he wrapped his arms around her. “You can’t ignore me this time, Rainey, though it’s going to be fun watching you try. And you know what? I think I like you all hot and sweaty.” He ran a hand down her back, smiling when she shivered. Stepping away, he gestured to the boys on the field. “Bring them in,” he said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

While she blew the whistle, he eyed the two baseball diamonds. There were weeds growing in the lanes, no bases, and the lines had long ago been washed away.

“Why are they dressed like that?” he asked.

The boys were in a variety of baggy, saggy shorts and big T-shirts. Some of the girls wore just sports bras and oversize basketball shorts. Others wore tight T-shirts, or shirts so loose they were in danger of falling off. “We don’t have practice jerseys.”

He pulled out his cell phone and walked a few steps away, either to make or take a call, and Rainey absolutely did not watch his ass as he moved.

Much.

When he came back, she’d divided the teens up into boys and girls, and sent the boys to the further diamond to scrimmage because they were much better at self-regulating than the girls.

She’d split the girls into two bedraggled, short teams and Sharee was at bat. She hit a hard line drive up the first base line. Pepper, their pitcher, squeaked in fear and dropped to the mound.

“Nice hit,” Mark said. “But why is the pitcher lying flat on the ground like there’s been a fire drill?”

“Pepper’s terrified of the ball.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got your hands full with the girls, huh?”

First base grabbed the ball but Sharee was already rounding second.

First base threw, and…second base missed the catch.

Mark groaned.

“They’ll get there,” Rainey said. “I’ve been working with them while waiting on coaches.”

At her defensive tone, he took a longer look at her. “You didn’t know we were coming in to help you.”

“No.”

He grimaced. “Rick’s an idiot.”

“That idiot is my friend and boss.”

“So you’re okay with this? Working with me, even though you’ve done your best to ignore me all these years?”

“You’re right,” she decided. “Rick is an idiot.”

He grinned.

And oh, God, that grin. He flashed white, straight teeth and a light of pure trouble in his eyes, and she helplessly responded.

Damn hormones.

“We’re grown-ups,” she said. “We can handle this—you working for me. Right? We can do it for all these kids.”

Mark moved into her, a small movement that set her heart pounding. She refused to take a step back because she knew it would amuse him, and she’d done enough of that for a lifetime.

“Working for you?” he murmured in that bedroom voice.

“I’m the athletic director, so yeah. You coaching is you working for me. You’re working under me and my command.” She gave him a look. “You have a problem with that?”

“No problem at all.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Though I’d much rather have you under me.”

CHAPTER THREE

RAINEY DID HER best to ignore all the parts of her body that were quivering and sending conflicting signals to her brain and drew a deep breath. “This is inappropriate,” she finally said.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Only if someone overhears us.”

She drew another deep breath. That one didn’t work any better than the first, so she turned to the field, watching the girls silently for a few minutes. After three outs, the teams switched on the field.

“Uneven teams,” Mark noted. “I’m going to go get a closer look at the boys.”

She grabbed his hand to halt his progress. “This is rec league, Mark. It’s not really about the competition.”

“It’s always about the competition.”

“It’s about having fun,” she said.

His eyes met hers and held. The sun was beating down on them and Rainey resented that she was sweating and he was not.

“Winning is fun,” he said.

Another little quiver where she had no business quivering.

Lila hit next and got a piece of the ball and screamed in surprise. Sharee sighted the ball and yelled “mine!”, diving for it, colliding hard with Kendra at second. Sharee managed to make the catch and the out.

Kendra rubbed her arm and glared at Sharee, who ignored her.

“Nice,” Mark said. “She’s got potential.”

“This isn’t hockey, Mark.” But Rainey was talking to air because he’d walked onto the diamond like the superstar coach he was.

Sharee had her back to him, barking out orders at the other girls on the field like a drill sergeant. When she turned to face home plate, her eyes widened at the sight of Mark.

He held out his hand for the ball.

Sharee popped it into her mitt twice out of defiance, and only when Mark raised a single brow did she finally toss it to him, hard.

He caught it with seemingly no effort. “Name?”

“Sharee.”

“What was that, Sharee?”

“A great pitch,” she said, and popped her gum.

“After the pitch.”

“A great play.”

He nodded. “You’re fast.”

“The fastest.”

He nodded again. “But you took yourself out of position and it wasn’t your ball to go after. You could have let your team down.”

Sharee stopped chewing her gum and frowned. She wasn’t used to being told what to do, and she wasn’t much fond of men. “Kendra would have missed the out,” she finally said.

“Then center field would have gotten it.”

Sharee eyed the center fielder, who was busy braiding her hair, and snorted.

Mark just looked at Sharee for a long beat. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah. Head coach of the Mammoths.”

“Do you know if I’m any good?” he asked.

“You’re the best,” Sharee said simply but grudgingly. “At hockey.”

Mark smiled. “I played hockey and baseball in college, before I started coaching. My players listen to me, Sharee, and they listen because I get them results. But when they don’t listen, they do push-ups. Lots of them.”

Sharee blinked. “You make grown guys do push-ups?”

“I teach them to play hard or not at all. You’re practicing for, what, maybe an hour a day? The least you can do is play hard for that entire time. As hard as you can, always.”

“Or push-ups.”

“That’s right.”

Sharee considered this. “I don’t like push-ups.”

“Then I’d listen real good. One hundred percent,” he said to everyone. “I am asking for one hundred percent. It’s effort. You don’t have to have talent for effort. You,” Mark said to the girl in center field, who was no longer braiding her hair but doing her best to be invisible. “What’s your name?”

She opened her mouth but the only thing that came out was a squeak.

“It’s Tina,” Sharee said for her. “And she never catches the ball.”

“Why not?”

Everyone looked at Tina, who squeaked again.

“Because she can’t,” Sharee said.

“So you make all the outs?” Mark asked.

“Most of ’em.”

“That’s what we call a ball hog.” He tossed the ball back to her. “Let’s see who else besides you can play.”

“But—”

Again he arched a brow and she shut her mouth.

Rainey stared, mesmerized, as he coached the uncoachable Sharee through an inning, getting everyone involved.

Even Tina and Pepper.

When it was over, Rainey sent the kids back to the rec center building so that they wouldn’t miss their buses home.

“Didn’t mean to step on your toes,” he said.

“I’m happy for the help. Nice job with them.”

“Then why are you frowning?” he asked.

Because she was dripping sweat and he looked cool as ice. Because standing next to him brought back memories and yearnings she didn’t want. Pick one. She grabbed her clipboard and started across the field, but Mark caught her by the back of her shirt and pulled her to him.

And there went her body again, quivering with all sorts of misfired signals to her brain. Her nipples went hard, her thighs tingled, and most importantly, her irritation level skyrocketed.

“What’s your hurry?” Mark asked, snaking an arm around her to hold her in place. The kids were all gone. She and Mark were hidden from view of the building by the dugout. Knowing no one could see her, she closed her eyes, absorbing the feeling of being this close to him. Unattainable, she reminded herself. He was completely unattainable. “I just…” Her brain wasn’t running on all cylinders.

“You just…” he repeated helpfully, his lips accidentally brushing her earlobe. Or at least she assumed it was accidental. However it happened, her knees wobbled.

“I…” His hand was low on her belly, holding her in place against him. “Wait—what are you doing?”

“We never really got to say hello in private.” He tightened his grip. “Hello, Rainey.”

If his voice got any lower on the register, she’d probably orgasm on the spot.

“It’s been too long,” he murmured against her jaw.

Telling herself that no one could see them, she pressed back against him just a little. “I don’t know about too long.”

A soft chuckle gave her goose bumps, and then he was gone so fast she nearly fell on her ass. When she spun around, she got a good look at that gorgeous face—the square jaw, the almost arrogant cheekbones, the eyes that could be ice-cold or scorching-hot depending on his mood. And no matter what his mood was, there was always the slight suggestion that maybe…maybe he belonged on the dark side.

It was impossibly, annoyingly intriguing. He was impossibly, annoyingly intriguing, and yet he called to the secret part of her that had never stopped craving him. She headed toward the building, and he easily kept pace. Between the field and the building was a full basketball court, with a ball sitting on the center line.

Mark nudged it with his foot in a way that had it leaping right into his hands. He tossed it to her, a light of challenge in his eyes. “One on one.”

“Basketball’s not your sport, Coach.”

“And it’s yours?”

“Maybe.”

“Then play me,” he dared.

“We’re wearing the same color shirt. Someone’s going to have to be skins.” She had no idea why she said it, but he smiled.

“I guess that would be me.”

She shrugged as if she could care less, while her inner slut said “yes please.” “I guess—”

The words backed up in her throat when he reached over his head and yanked his shirt off in one economical movement, tossing it aside with no regard for the fact that it probably cost more than all her shirts added together.

Her eyes went directly to his chest. His skin was the color of the perfect mocha latte, and rippled with the strength just beneath it. She let her gaze drift down over his eight-pack, and—

“Keep looking at me like that,” he said, “and we’re going to have a problem.”

She jerked her gaze away. “I wasn’t looking at you like anything.”

“Liar.”

Yeah. She was a liar. She dribbled the ball, then barreled past him to race down the court. She could hear his quick feet and knew he was right behind her, but then suddenly he was at her side, reaching in with a long arm to grab the ball away.

She shoved him, her hands sliding over his heated skin. Catching herself, she snatched the ball back, then executed a very poor shot that went in by sheer luck. Grinning, she turned to face him and plowed smack into his chest.

“Foul,” he said.

“What are you, a girl?”

That made him smile. “Gee, wonder where Sharee gets her attitude from?”

“Actually, she gets that from her abusive alcoholic father.”

Mark lost his smile and dribbled as he studied her. “It’s a good thing…what you’re doing here.”

Feeling oddly uncomfortable with the compliment and the way his praise washed over her, she snatched the ball and went for another shot. Competitive to the bone, Mark shouldered his way into her space, grabbed the ball and sank a basket far more gracefully than she’d done. Dammit. She took the ball back and elbowed him when he crowded her.

He grinned, a very naughty grin that did things to her insides. “Is that how you want to play?” he asked. “Dirty?”

“Playing” with him at all was a very bad idea. But as always with Mark, her best judgment went out the window. Or in this case, down the court where she took the ball. Her feet were in the air for the layup when he grabbed her and spun her away from the basket.

Oh, no. Hell, no. She struggled, and they both fell to the ground. He landed with a rough “oomph.” Lying on top of him, she looked down into his face, extremely aware of how he felt sprawled beneath her.

His eyes were heat and raw power. “Foul number two. You play panicked, Rainey. Am I making you nervous?”

“Of course not.” Face hot, fingers even hotter after bracing herself on his bare chest, she scrambled off him. She walked along the side of the rec building to the storage shed to put the ball away.

Mark had picked up his shirt and followed her, pulling it on as he did. Then he backed her to the shed.

“You really don’t make me nervous,” she said.

“You sure about that?”

Before she could answer, he kissed her, slipping a hand beneath her shirt at the base of her spine, trailing his fingers up her back. The kiss was long and slow and deep, and her hand came up to his chest for balance.

And absolutely not to explore the tight muscles there.

By the time he broke it off, she realized she’d let one of his legs thrust between hers, and she had both hands fisted in his shirt. Clearly she was sex-deprived. That was the only way to explain how she was riding his leg, breathing like a lunatic, still gripping him for all she was worth. She stared up at him, unable to access the correct brain synapses to make her mouth work. By the time she managed to speak, he’d smirked and begun walking away.

Dammit! “I’m not nervous,” she called after him. “I’m annoyed, and I won our game!”

“You cheated.” He shot her a look over his shoulder. “And payback is a bitch.”

* * *

AFTER LEAVING THE field, Mark attempted to put both Rainey and their kiss out of his head, which turned out to be surprisingly difficult.

Rainey had always had a way of worming beneath his skin and destroying his defenses, and apparently that hadn’t changed. He’d missed her in his life—her sweet smile, her big heart, that way she’d had of making him want to be a better person than he was.

He picked up pizza and beer, and took it to the Welcome Inn.

As per their agreement, Casey and James had been at the construction site all day, just as their Duck counterparts were doing in their chosen community a couple hours south of them, just outside of Santa Barbara.

The two Mammoth players had been brought back to the inn by one of the workers. Mark had purposely stranded them in Santa Rey without a car, wanting them to be at his mercy—and out of trouble, with no chance of finding it. He located them in Casey’s room, hunched over the yellow pages of the phone book arguing over food choices.

James looked up. “Did you know that there’s no room service here?”

Mark lifted the three pizzas and twelve-pack. “I’m your room service tonight.”

“Sweet.” Casey looked very relieved as he tossed aside the phone book. He stretched and winced. “There’s no whirlpool. No hot tub. No spa—”

“Nope.” Mark took the sole chair in the room, turning it around to straddle it. “There’s no amenities at all.”

“Then why are we—”

“Because you two screwed up and are lucky to still have jobs.”

They sighed in unison.

“And,” Mark went on, “because the couple who owns this place lost their home in the fire last year. Business is down, way down.”

“Shock,” James muttered.

“You both agreed to this. The alternative is available to you—suspension.” Mark stood. “So if this isn’t something you can handle, don’t be here when I come to pick you up in the morning.”

He turned to the door, and just as he went through it, he heard James say, “Dude, sometimes it’s okay to just shut the hell up.”

* * *

AFTER DROPPING OFF the pizza and ultimatum, Mark picked up his brother and drove the two of them up the highway another couple of miles, until the neighborhood deteriorated considerably.

“He’s been looking forward to this for a long time,” Rick said.

“I know.” Last summer’s fire had ravaged the area, and half the houses were destroyed. Of those, a good percentage had been cleared away and were in various stages of being rebuilt. The house Mark and Rick had grown up in was nearly finished now. Still small, still right on top of the neighbor’s, but at least it was new. They got out of the truck and headed up the paved walk. The yard was landscaped and clearly well cared for. Before they could knock, the door opened.

“So the prodigal son finally returns,” Ramon Diego said, a mirror image of Rick and Mark, plus two decades and some gray.

“I told you I was coming,” Mark said. “I texted you.”

Ramon made an annoyed sound. “Texting is for idiots on the hamster wheel.”

Rick snorted.

Mark sighed, and his father’s face softened. “Ah, hijo, it’s good to see you.” He pulled Mark in for a hard hug and a slap on the back.

“You too,” Mark said, returning the hug. “The house looks good.”

“Thanks to you.” Ramon had migrated here from Mexico with his gardener father when he was seven years old. He’d grown up and become a gardener as well, and had lived here ever since. Forty-eight years and he still spoke with an accent. “Don’t even try to tell me my insurance covered all the upgrades you had put in.”

“Do you like it?” Mark asked.

“Yes, but you shouldn’t waste your money on me. If you have that much money to spare, give up the job and come back to your home, your roots.”

Mark’s “roots” had been a tiny house crowded with his dad and brother, living hand to mouth. A one-way road for Mark as he grew up. A road to trouble.

Ramon gestured to the shiny truck in the driveway. “New?”

“You know damn well it is,” Mark said. “It’s the truck I bought for you for your birthday, and you had it sent back to me.”

“Hmm,” Ramon said noncommittally, possibly the most stubborn man on the planet. Mark knew his dad was proud of him, but he’d have been even more proud if Mark had stuck around and become a gardener too. Ramon had never understood Mark not living here in Santa Rey, using it as a home base.

“You should come home more often,” Ramon said.

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to come during the season.”

“Bah. What kind of a job keeps a son from his home and family.”

“The kind that makes him big bucks,” Rick said.

They moved through the small living room and into the kitchen. “If you’d use the season tickets I bought you,” Mark told his dad. “You could see me whenever you wanted.”

“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.

Nada.

Dammit! She yanked open her closet and settled on a short denim skirt, which meant she had to change shoes, which also meant she had to redo her hair. Running back down the stairs, she came to a skidding halt at the bottom.

The front door was opened but Kyle was nowhere to be seen, and neither was his car. Eyes narrowed, she followed a faint sound into her kitchen, where she found Mark leaning back against her counter, Zen-calm, every muscle relaxed…eating her cookies.

* * *

“NICE SKIRT YOU’RE almost wearing,” Mark said, and swallowed the last of his cookie. He brushed his fingers off, ignoring the death glare coming at him from the doorway. Rainey had changed out of the sexy jeans and into an even sexier short denim skirt, revealing perfectly toned legs that he wanted to nibble. He wanted to start at her toes and work his way up, up, up past her knees, past her thighs…to the heaven between them.

Something she most definitely wasn’t ready to hear. “You’re good at cookies,” he said. “What else can you cook?”

She crossed her arms, which plumped up her breasts, and he revisited his thought. He wanted to nibble her all over.

Every single inch.

“Where’s my date, Mark?”

He popped another cookie. “Funny thing about that.”

Her eyes darkened, and she leaned against the doorway, arms still crossed as if maybe she didn’t trust herself to come any further into the kitchen. He didn’t know if that was because she wanted to kill him, or kiss him again.

He thought it was probably a good bet that it was the former. When he reached for yet another cookie, she let out a sound of sheer temper and stalked across the room to snatch the plate away from him. “Those are mine.”

Mark was aware that he was known for always being in control, for having a long fuse and rarely losing it, for being notoriously tight with his emotions. Rarely did he find himself in a situation where he wasn’t perfectly at ease and didn’t know exactly what he wanted the outcome to be.

But he was right now. He had no idea what the hell he was doing here.

None.

“Your date had to leave,” he said. “Unexpectedly.”

“Uh-huh. What did you do to him?”

In his world, people never questioned him. And it was a good place to be, his world. Apparently she hadn’t gotten the memo. “Nothing.”

Earlier, in the storage closet at the rec center, he’d stalked her, pressed her against the door. She did the same to him now, but this time her grip on his shirt wasn’t passion. “Tell me, Mark.”

The sound of his name on her tongue did something to him, something it shouldn’t. “He waxes.”

“What?”

“He waxes his body hair,” he said.

She blinked. Paused. “And how did you get close enough to notice that?”

“I wasn’t that close, I have excellent vision. He didn’t have any hair on his arms.”

“He’s a swimmer. So he waxes, so what?”

Yeah, genius, so what? “He had a look in his eye. He was up to no good.”

She gaped at him. “Tell me, was it like staring in a mirror?”

Well, maybe a little. But Mark had taken one look at the guy and seen a player. He’d asked the asshole what his plans were. Kyle had seemed amused by the question but had answered readily enough—candlelit dinner, dancing, capped off with a canyon drive to stargaze….

Bullshit the guy wanted to stargaze. No guy wanted to stargaze. Kyle wanted to get laid. In fact, Mark would bet his million-dollar bonus that the guy had a string of condoms at the ready. “I didn’t like him.”

“You didn’t like him,” Rainey repeated. “And I should care, why?”

“I’m an excellent judge of character.”

She made a sound of disgust. “The last time you scared one of my dates off, I told you to never interfere in my life again.”

He grabbed her as she went to pass by him. “The last time I scared off your date, it was because you were about six inches away from being raped.”

She jerked as if he’d hit her, reminding him of one fact—they’d never talked about that night, about what had happened when he’d finally caught up with her.

Never.

And apparently they weren’t going to do it now either, because she shoved at him hard and he let her go. She turned to her kitchen window, not moving, not speaking, just staring out at the backyard, her eyes clouded with bad memories.

Feeling lower than pond scum, he sighed. “Rainey—”

“Why are you here, Mark?”

“I…” He had no idea.

She turned to face him. “I agreed to go out with Kyle tonight because I’m looking for something. Someone. Or at least I think I am. I’m…not lonely, that’s not the right word. I love my life. But I want someone in it. It’s been a while for me and I’m ready. I want to be in a relationship.”

His gut hurt, and he had no idea why.

Her mouth curved, though the smile didn’t meet her lips. “And I’m guessing by the panic on your face that a relationship is the last thing you’re looking for.”

He wasn’t showing panic. He never showed panic.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I made up the panic. God forbid you show an emotion.”

“You think I don’t have emotions?”

“I think you’re miserly with them.” She gave a faint smile. “But I do sense the slightest elevation in your blood pressure.”

Now he rolled his eyes and she let out a low laugh. “Listen, I can’t be like you, Mark, that’s all. I’m not tough and cool as ice in any situation. That’s not me. I want someone to care about me, someone who wants to be with me. Now I’m all dressed up with none of that in sight at the moment, so unless you want to be witness to something as messy as an uncontrolled emotion, you need to go.”

“I would,” he said quietly. “But—”

“But what?”

“I don’t want to.”

At that, she dropped her head between her shoulders and let out a sound that was either another laugh or something far too close to tears for his own comfort. “Mark, you know what broke up our friendship.”

“Yes, you kicked me out of your life.”

She sighed. “I didn’t kick you out of my life. You left to go coach in Ontario, and I…”

“Stopped talking to me.”

“It was temporary—I was mad,” she said. “You remember why.”

He let out a long breath. “Something about me being an interfering asshole.”

“First, you rejected me. Then—”

“You were sixteen!”

“Then,” she went on stubbornly. “You followed me on a date and beat the guy up.”

“It wasn’t a date. He picked you up after you ran out of my place. And in the ten minutes it took me to find you, he had you pinned in his backseat and was pulling off your clothes!”

Remembered humiliation flickered in her eyes. “Okay, so I acted stupid and immature, but I was hurting.”

He blew out a breath and shoved his fingers in his hair. “It wasn’t your fault. What he did to you wasn’t your fault.”

“What he was doing was consensual.”

“You didn’t know what you wanted.”

“I wanted a friend and you turned into a Neanderthal.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Well, what the hell did you want me to do, let him take you? You were a virgin!”

She flushed. “I wanted you to stop interfering as if I couldn’t handle my own problems. I wanted you to listen to me. I wanted sympathy.”

He must have given her a what-the-fuck look because she shook her head.

“I wanted a hug, Mark. I wanted you to hold my hand and tell me I’d find someone else, someone better. I wanted understanding.”

He just continued to stare at her, dumbstruck. Not a single one of those things had ever occurred to him.

The sound that escaped her told him she was just realizing that very fact. Brushing past him, she moved to the front door and held it open. A clear invite for him to get the hell out.

“Rainey—”

“I want to be alone.”

Too damn bad. He slammed the door shut, hauled her up against him, closing his arms around her in a hug.

“It doesn’t count now,” she said stiffly, even as her body relaxed into his and she pressed her face into his shoulder. “Dammit, do you always smell good? That just really pisses me off.”

“You know what pisses me off?” he asked. “That all I want to do is this.” And then he pushed her up against the door and kissed her.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE SECOND MARK leaned into her, his hard body coming into contact with her own, Rainey knew she was in trouble. Her nipples immediately tightened into two beads against her soft top. But that was before his leg slid between hers, spreading her wide, his thigh rubbing against her core.

She wanted him.

She’d always wanted him.

Not yours, she told herself even as she clung to him. He’s not yours and doesn’t want to be. He’s unattainable, unavailable… But he was clearly as aroused as she was, and that felt good. She turned him on, and being with him like this was the closest she’d get to what she might really want from him.

He shifted his thigh, rubbed it against her, and she let out a shockingly needy whimper. His lips grazed her earlobe, his breath hot along her skin, and a rush of heat shot through her. “Mark,” she choked out as his fingers slid beneath her skirt to palm her bottom. It was all she could do not to wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to get inside her now, now, now, and she mindlessly thrust her hips against his. “Please,” she gasped.

“Anything.” He held her against the door, his mouth sliding down her throat and over her collarbone, tugging her shirt aside to make room for himself. “Whatever you want, Rainey. Just tell me, it’s yours.” His hand slid beneath her top and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple until she quivered. “Do you want me to touch you like this? Do you want my mouth on you? What?”

“Yes.” To all of it.

He tugged her shirt and her bra aside and drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking until she cried out. Lifting his head, he blew a soft breath over her wet flesh and she shivered in anticipation.

“What else, Rainey. What else do you want?”

“Everything,” she gasped. “I want everything.”

“Here? Now?”

“Here. Now. Right now.”

He yanked her skirt up to her waist and her panties down to her knees. In complete contrast, his hand slid slowly up her inner thigh, taking its sweet time so that she was mindlessly rocking her hips, anticipating the touch long before his finger traced her folds. “Mmm, wet,” he murmured, his mouth moving along her shoulder back to her collarbone, which he grazed with his teeth.

“Mark.” She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth to hers, her entire world anchored on his finger. When it slid inside her, she thunked her head back against the door and panted. Then his thumb brushed her in a slow circle.

She cried out against his lips, arching into him, yanking his hair. She couldn’t help it. She was going up in flames. He merely pressed her hard to the door, locking her in place. Continuing the torture, he added another finger. She came hard and fast, the power of it sweeping over her like a tidal wave. And because he kept stroking, the aftershocks didn’t fade away, but had her shuddering over and over….

“Christ, Rainey.” He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, tangled his tongue with hers. “You are so gorgeous when you come.”

All she could think about was him filling her, stretching her, making her come again. Her eyes flickered open and their gazes met. “In me,” she demanded. “Now, God, now.”

His eyes dilated black, filled with a staggering hunger…for her. She nearly stopped breathing. Instead she moved her hips against his, reveling in the feel of his muscles rippling beneath her touch. He’d pulled a condom from somewhere.

Thank God one of them could think.

After that, it was a blur of frenzied movements. She ripped his shirt off, he unzipped, and together they freed the essentials.

And oh God, the essentials…

It wasn’t enough for him. “Everything off,” he said, then lent his hands to the cause until she stood naked against the door. His gaze swept over her, hot and approving, as he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me—There. God, yeah, like that—” His voice was a low command, caressing her as much as his hands. “Hold on to me.” Then his mouth crushed her own as he pushed her back against the door.

She threaded her hands into his hair as he thrust deep inside of her. He made a rough sound of sheer male pleasure, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as she rocked into him. Again he thrust, slowly at first, teasing until she was begging. It was glorious torment, hot and demanding, just like the man kissing her.

They moved together, her breasts brushing his chest, tightening her nipples. She could feel his muscles bunching and flexing with each thrust, sending shock waves of pleasure straight to her core. When she came again, it was with his name on her lips as she pulsed hard around him, over and over again, taking him with her.

Still holding her, still buried deep inside, Mark sank to his knees. He looked as stunned as she felt and something deep inside her constricted. She pulled free. He grimaced but let her go without a word.

She pulled on her panties and his shirt, then leaned back against the door, knees still weak.

Mark got to his feet and handled the necessities of condom disposal and readjustment of clothing.

She had a hard time looking away from him. His pants were riding low on his hips, and he looked dangerous and primed for another round. No, she told herself firmly. You may not have him again. Not without a discussion about what this was, and what this wasn’t, so that she didn’t get hurt. Her terms, or no terms.

“I think we need some ground rules, Mark.”

* * *

NO SHIT, MARK THOUGHT, still dazed.

“Rule number one. This—” She waggled her finger back and forth between them. “Happens only when and if I instigate it. If you do it, I might mistake it for something deeper and more emotional than it is. It’ll mess with my head, Mark.”

His gut hurt again. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her.

“Look,” she said, more softly. “I get that we’re stuck working together for the next month. We’re grown-ups, we’ll handle it. Right?”

He’d never in his life done less than handle anything that came his way. And he’d also never lost his ability to speak either, but he was having trouble now, so he nodded.

“Good,” she said, looking relieved that he’d agreed to her terms. Damn, Rainey, don’t give me yourself on a silver platter and ask for nothing in return....

“You should go now,” she said.

She was making things easy, giving him the exit strategy. He should be ecstatic. Instead, he stepped toward her to… Hell, he didn’t know. Hold her? Yeah, he wanted to hold her until the world stopped spinning.

But she gave a sharp jerk of her head and backed away.

Right. The rules. She was in charge of physical contact. Pretending that his legs weren’t still wobbling, he did as she wanted and walked out.

He’d walked away plenty of times before. It should have been a no-brainer. Hell, he should have been running, far and fast, with relief filling his veins. Except it wasn’t easy, and he felt no relief at all.

Plus, it was damn cold outside and she was still wearing his shirt.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY at lunch, Rainey and Lena sat in the small café across the street from the rec center, each inhaling a triple scoop ice cream sundae. Officially, it was a meeting about the upcoming charity auction. Unofficially, it was a discussion on their favorite topic. Men.

Specifically Mark.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make me share a sundae with you,” Lena said around a huge bite. “Usually you only allow yourself a single scoop.”

“It’s an entire sundae sort of day.” Rainey ate one of the two cherries from the top. “It’s got cherries on it so it’s practically a fruit salad.”

Lena grinned. “You know what I don’t get? Why you aren’t singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ I mean, you got lucky last night. Damn lucky by the looks of you.”

Yeah, she had. It’d been everything she thought it would be, too.

And more. “I can’t believe I slept with him. He chased off my date and I still got naked with him.”

“Look, you can’t blame yourself. The guy’s got serious charisma. He’s a walking fantasy. And you were past due.” Lena paused. “Rick says you two have been past due for fourteen years.”

“Rick? You talked to Rick about us?”

“Everyone’s talking about you two.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Rainey, maybe because yesterday afternoon after the staff meeting you pulled Mark into the storage closet in the main hallway. And then today you come into work with that glow.”

Rainey ate the other cherry and slumped in her seat.

Lena grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

“No. Not fun. He’s not my type.”

“Right. Because he’s not a fixer-upper,” Lena said. “You like the fixer-uppers so you can eventually let go of them for not being The One.”

“Are you saying that Mark is perfect as is?”

“Mark is oh-boy-howdy perfect,” Lena said.

“No, he’s not. He’s bossy and domineering, and way too alpha.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Lena said dreamily. “I bet he likes to be in charge. Especially in bed, right?”

Rainey felt her cheeks go hot. They hadn’t made it to a bed.... “You’re as impossible as he is.”

Lena laughed and scooped up a big bite of ice cream, moaning in pleasure. “Some things just need to be appreciated for what they are, even the imperfect things. Like men. Hell, Rain. You accept the kids at the center every single day, just as is. Why not a man?”

Rainey stopped in the act of stuffing her face with a huge spoonful of ice cream and stared at Lena. Most of the time Lena’s comments were sarcastic, but once in a while she said something so perfect it was shocking. “How did you get so wise?”

“Practice,” Lena said. “And lots of kissing frogs before I found my prince. And you know what else? I think you found yours.”

“I’m not going for Mark, Lena.” It was a terrible idea.

Terribly appealing…

She’d once read an article about him that said his talent in coaching came from the fact that he didn’t so much inspire awe as he discouraged comfort.

She knew that to be true. Her comfort level was definitely at risk when he was around.

* * *

THAT AFTERNOON AFTER working on the construction site, Mark gathered his team on the bleachers and looked them over. Twelve teenage girls, with more attitude than his million-dollar players combined.

Casey and James had their team on the far field. Boys. Boys who could really play, by the looks of them. How the hell his in-the-doghouse players had ended up with the easier task was beyond him.

Okay, he knew what had happened.

Rainey had happened.

And he knew no matter what the girls dished out, last night had been worth every minute.

His team wore a variety of outfits from short shorts that were better suited to pole dancing to basketball shorts so big they couldn’t possibly stay up while the girls were running bases. Shirts ranged from oversized T-shirts that hung past the shorts to teeny tiny tank tops or snug tees. “First up,” he said. “Everyone back to the locker room to change into appropriate gear.”

No one moved.

“Ladies, I just gave you a direct order. Not obeying a direct order will get you personally acquainted with push-ups.”

“We’re already dressed out,” one of them said, and when he gave her a long look, she added, “Coach, sir.”

“Just Coach,” he said, and went to the large duffle bag he’d brought with him. It was the warm-up T-shirts, shorts, and practice jerseys he’d had over-nighted. He had new equipment as well; bats, batting helmets, gloves… He handed the clothing out, then waited for them to run back to the building. Instead, they all stripped and dressed right there. “Jesus,” he muttered, slamming his eyes shut. “Some warning!”

“Hey, we’re covered,” Sharee called out. “We’re all in sports bras and spandex.”

“From now on,” he grated out, “you change inside. Always.”

“Prude,” someone muttered, probably Sharee.

Prude his ass, but swallowing the irony, he risked a peek and found them all suitably dressed. “Ground rules,” he said. Now he sounded as anal as Rainey. “No ripping or cutting the sleeves off, no tying the shirts up high, no bras showing, and all shirts need to be neatly tucked in. And no sagging. There will be no asses on my field.”

“We’re not allowed to say asses.” The timid voice belonged to the same girl who called him sir. “We’re not supposed to swear.”

Mark slid her a look. “Pepper, right?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

“Well, Pepper. No swearing is a good rule. Tuck your shirts in.”

More grumbling, but there was a flurry of movement as they obeyed. So far so good. “I want to see how you hit,” Mark said. “Later, I’ll get someone out here to videotape you so we can analyze your swing. We’ll get stats both on you and also on the teams we’re going to be playing so we can strategize, not just for your season but for the big fundraising game between us and Santa Barbara.”

They were all just staring at him, mouths agape. Pepper raised her hand.

“Yes, Pepper.”

“We don’t have a video camera. Or stats.”

“You have them now,” Mark said.

“We’re going to play Santa Barbara?” someone asked.

“We’re going to beat Santa Barbara,” he said. “The boys’ teams too.” He pulled a clipboard from his duffle bag. “Come on, move your asses—” Shit. “Butts. Move your butts in close so you can see.”

“You need a swear jar,” one of the girls said to him. “By the end of the season, you could probably take us all out to dinner.”

There were some giggles at this, and he looked at the amused faces. “How about this,” he said. “I’ll put a buck into a swear jar every time I swear, and you ladies have to put in a quarter every time you don’t give me your all. Deal?”

“Deal,” they said.

Mark spent the next twenty minutes outlining what he wanted to see, and then lined them up for drills. He started with them quick-catching the pop flies he sent out. Or theoretically quick-catching, because he didn’t have much “quick” on his team. Three of the twelve could catch. Well, four if you counted Pepper, who tended to catch the balls with her shins, which made him doubly glad he’d brought shin guards. He had five or six who could hit, and a bunch more who tended to keep their eyes closed.

And then there was Sharee, who’d already dropped and given him push-ups for being rude and obnoxious to her teammates.

Twice.

He put them out in the field for field practice next. “Wait for your pitch,” he told the first girl up. “Take two, then hit to the right.”

“Huh?”

“Sharee’s pitching, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“So she gives it her best from the beginning, but she’s only got two good ones in her.”

“Hey,” Sharee said from the mound. “I can hear you.”

“Good. Learn from it.” Mark turned back to the batter. “Take the third pitch and hit to the right.”

“Why the right?”

He gestured to their first baseman and right fielder, both engaged in a discussion on what their plans were for the night. “They’re not even looking at you. If you get any ball at all, you’ll get all the way to second.”

Which was exactly what happened.

Sharee threw down her glove in disgust.

“There’s no temper tantrums in the big leagues,” Mark told her. Which was a lie. There were plenty of tantrums in the big leagues, all of them, and you only had to watch ESPN to see them. “Here’s a strategy for you, too. Watch the signs from your catcher instead of winging it. She’ll be getting a signal from me on which pitch to throw. If you listen,” he added as she opened her mouth to object, “you’ll be a great pitcher. I can promise you that.”

“And if I don’t listen?”

“Then I’ll bench you and put in Pepper.”

Pepper squeaked, and he smiled at her. “You have an arm and you know it. You start practicing more, and you’ll be ready to pitch at the game this weekend.”

“I’m pitching at the game,” Sharee said.

“Maybe. If you listen.”

“Hmph.”

At the end of practice, Mark gathered the girls in and looked them over. Bedraggled and hot and sweaty. “Decent effort,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They all made their way toward the building. He turned to gather his gear and found Rainey sitting on the bleachers, watching him.

CHAPTER SIX

MARK HADN’T SEEN her since the night before when he’d left her looking dewy and sated and pissed off at the both of them.

Today she was wearing a sweat suit, beat-up sneakers, and a ball cap.

The Ducks again.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the bleachers and sat. Stretching out his legs, he leaned back on the bench behind him and stared up at the sky.

“Long day?” she asked dryly.

“Hmm.”

He slid her an assessing look. She was laughing at him, which should have ticked him off, but for one thing, he was too tired. And for another, she looked pretty when she was amused, even if it was at his expense.

“Should I drop and give you twenty?” she asked in a smart-ass tone.

Rainey humor. But he’d rather she drop and give him something else entirely. No doubt that, along with everything else he was thinking about doing to her, wasn’t on the agenda for the day.

A tall blond guy wearing a suit poked his head out of the building and waved at Rainey. She smiled and got up, walking over to meet him halfway, where he handed her what looked like a stack of tickets. Rainey gave him a quick hug, which was returned with enthusiasm and an expression that Mark recognized all too well.

The guy wanted a lot more than the hug.

“Keep the top one for yourself,” Mark heard him tell her. “That’s the seat right next to mine.”

A date. She had another damn date. His eye twitched. Probably due to the new brain bleed.

Rainey came back to the bleachers. “Lena’s neighbor,” she said. “Jacob works at the district office and brought tickets to the ballet tonight at the San Luis Obispo Theater for everyone here who wants to go.”

He held out his hand.

She stared at him. “You want to go to the ballet.”

Okay, true, he’d rather be dragged naked through town, but hell if he’d admit it. “Yes.” And if he had to go, so did James and Casey. “I’ll take three, unless this is a private date.”

She slapped three tickets into his palm, and it did not escape his notice that she took them from the bottom of the pile. “It’s not a date date,” she said defensively. “And he’s a nice guy. A non-fixer-upper, you know?”

No. He had no idea.

“And I told you,” she said. “I’m looking for someone. Someone who wants me as is.”

Hell, she killed him, he thought as she averted her face and let out a long, almost defeated breath. Not friends, he reminded himself, even as something in his chest rolled over. “You’re perfect as is, Rainey.”

“Says the man who dates big-boobed blonde women from stupid reality shows.”

He laughed. “That was a photo op, that’s all.”

“Every time?”

“Well, maybe not every time.” He reached into her sweatshirt pocket and pulled out her phone, absolutely taking note that doing so caused her to suck in a breath when his fingers brushed her skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Programming myself in as your number one speed dial. In case you need another date rescue.”

“I didn’t need last night’s rescue.”

“You going to try to tell me last night didn’t work out for you?”

Their gazes met, and she inhaled deeply. “Why are you doing this?”

No clue.

She looked at him for a long moment. “Are you jealous?”

Fuck, no.

Okay, yes. Yes, he was. “How can I be jealous of someone that’s not a ‘date date’ to a ballet?”

She crossed her arms. “Okay, I’m sure I’m going to regret asking, but what’s your idea of a good date?”

“Depends on the woman. With you it’d be a repeat of last night.”

Color bloomed on her cheeks. “We’re not going to discuss last night. Make that rule number two.”

“Ah, yes. The rules of Rainey Saunders.” He shook his head. “And people think I’m a control freak.”

“Because you are.”

“Hello, Mrs. Pot.”

She made a sound of exasperation, and still seated, she leaned forward, stretching her fingers to her toes. Her sweatshirt rose up a little in the back, revealing a strip of smooth, creamy skin and a hint of twin dimples just above her ass, and the vague outline of a thong.

He didn’t know which he wanted more, to trace that outline with his tongue or dip into the dimples. Before he could decide, she straightened, rolled her neck, and winced. “I have a kink.”

“Yeah? Tell me all about it, slowly and in great detail.”

She snorted. “Pervert.”

Smiling, he slid over, behind her now, and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve got a rock quarry in here.” He dug his fingers in, rubbing at her knots.

“I’m fine.” But her head dropped forward, giving him better access. When he found a huge tension knot with his thumbs and began to work it out, she let out a soft moan that went straight through him. “Rainey.”

“What?”

He pressed his face into her hair. Go out with me instead of what’s-his-name. Before he could bare his pathetic soul, Rick came outside and saved him.

“She’s home,” Rick called out to Rainey. “I’m sending you over there with our famous backup.” He waved Casey and James over. The guys had come from the gym, where they’d had their teams at the weights.

“Field trip,” Rick said. “Rainey’s in charge.” He sent a grin in Mark’s direction. “Need me to repeat?”

Mark flipped him off, and Rick’s grin widened.

“Where are we going?” Casey asked.

“You’ll see,” Rick said.

Mark hated that answer.

“Shotgun.” James leapt into the front seat of Rainey’s car.

Casey got into the back.

Mark walked up to the passenger front door and gave James one long look.

James sighed, got out and slid into the back.

Rainey looked over her sunglasses at Mark. “Seriously?”

“No,” he said, putting on his seat belt. “If I was serious, I’d have made you let me drive.”

* * *

RAINEY’S CAR WAS full of more good-looking, great-smelling men than she had dollars in her wallet. Lena would be having an orgasm at just the thought. James and Casey were talking, keeping up a running dialogue about their day. But as she headed into the heart of the burned-out neighborhood, their chatter faded away.

From the shotgun position, Mark didn’t say a word. He seemed to be in some sort of zone, with his game face on to boot. She wished she had a zone.

Or a game face.

Turning his head from where he’d been looking out the window, he met her gaze.

God, he had a set of eyes. Richly dark and deep, she got caught staring, and forced herself to look away before she drowned in him.

He slid on his cool sunglasses. She did the same. Good. With two layers between them now, she felt marginally better. “I don’t know if any of you have seen the extent of the destruction,” she said. “But it covers nearly 100,000 acres.”

“I’ve been through it,” Mark said. “My dad’s new house isn’t far from here.”

Rainey glanced over at him again. “Your dad lost his house?”

“Yes. It’s just been rebuilt.”

“That was fast.”

Mark nodded, and she understood that he’d expedited the building process. He’d pulled strings, spent his own money, done whatever he’d had to do to get his dad back into a place, and the knowledge had something quivering low in her belly.

And other parts, too, the parts that he’d had screaming for him last night. Don’t go there, she told herself. There’s no need to go there. Not with a man who was only here for one month at the most, a known player, and…and possessing the absolute power to embed himself deep inside her, and not just physically. He didn’t want her hurt by a guy? Well the joke was on him because there was no one who could hurt her more.

When they got to the heart of the worst of the fire devastation, it was painful to see the blackened dead growth and destroyed homes where once the hills had been so green and alive.

“Damn,” James said. “Damn.”

“Besides doing the sports,” Rainey said quietly, “I run the rec center’s charity projects. We’ve been raising money all year to fund one of the rebuilds, the one you guys have been working on. There was a lotto drawing from the victims, and one lucky family won the place free and clear. We’re going to go notify the winner.”

“Mark has contacts you wouldn’t believe,” James said. “He can snap his fingers and make people drop money out their ass. You should have seen how much money he raised for the Mammoths’ charities over our last break. Maybe he could get another house funded for you.”

Rainey glanced at Mark, surprised to find him looking a little bit uncomfortable, though he met her gaze and held it. “You good at raising money?” she asked. He was good at raising holy hell, or at least he had been. Probably Mark was good at raising whatever he wanted.

Casey grinned. “Yeah, he’s good. He rented out our favorite club and he had a mud wrestling pit set up right in the center of the place, then invited a bunch of supermodels.”

Rainey could imagine all the wild debauchery that must have gone on in that mud pit, each player getting a model for the night.

Or two…

Just thinking about it made her eye twitch, and she carefully put a finger to the lid to hold it still. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, he raked in some big bucks that night,” Casey said. “Our charities were real happy.”

“Does all your fundraising involve mud pits and centerfolds?”

“Models,” James corrected. “Though centerfolds would have been great too. Hey, Coach, you’ve got a bunch of centerfolds on auto-dial, right? Maybe—”

He trailed off when Casey drew an imaginary line across his throat for the universal “shut it.” “Ix-nay on the enterfolds-say.” Casey jerked his head in Mark’s direction. “He’s trying to impress.”

“No worries,” Rainey said dryly. “I’ve already got my impression. It’s burned in my brain.” She pulled into a trailer park and drove down a narrow street to the end, where she parked in front of a very old, run-down trailer.

“Wow, that’s the smallest trailer I’ve ever seen,” Casey said. “Someone lives here?”

“Six someones,” Rainey said. “We’re here to tell them the good news, that they’ll have a place by late summer.” She smiled. “They’re big hockey fans. Plus,” she said, turning to Mark, “you’ve been coaching their daughter, Pepper.”

The guys unfolded themselves out of her car and she looked them over, realizing that they were dripping with their usual air of privilege. “Do any of you ever look like anything less than a couple of million bucks?” she asked Mark.

James snickered, then choked on it when Mark glared at him. “I’m wearing sweats,” he said calmly. “Same as you.”

“Yes, but mine aren’t flashy,” she said. “Yours are from your corporate sponsor.”

“Rainey, we’re both wearing Nike.”

“Yes, but yours probably cost more than I made last month.”

James grinned. “Actually, you can’t even buy what he’s wearing. They made it just for him.”

Mark let out a breath. “Should I strip?”

“No!” But as they walked through the muddy yard the size of a postage stamp to a tiny metal trailer that had seen better days in the last century, she slid him a look. “What if I’d said yes?” she whispered. “What would you have done?”

“You didn’t say yes.”

“But—”

Mark stopped and stepped into her personal space bubble, bumping up against her as he put his mouth to her ear. “The next time we’re alone,” he said softly, “if you still want me to strip, all you have to do is…instigate. Or, as you so hotly did last night, demand. Careful, you’re going to step on those geraniums.”

She stared down at the flowers in the small pot near her feet, the only thing growing in the yard. They were beautiful, and at any other time it might have amused her that Mark Diego had known the name of the flower when she hadn’t, but she was stuck on the stripping thing. She’d ask him to strip never.

Or later…

And great, now her nipples were hard. She slid him a gaze and found him watching her.

Eyes hot. Ignoring him, she moved to the door. “This trailer’s just a loaner. They lost everything and have been borrowing this place from friends.”

Karen Scott opened the door. She was in her mid-thirties but appeared older thanks to the pinched, worried look on her face, one that no doubt came from losing everything and having no control over an uncertain future.

“Karen,” Rainey said gently. “I have a surprise for you—”

Karen took one look at Casey and James, and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! Oh my God! You’re—” She pointed at James. “And you! You’re—”

James offered his hand. “James Vasquez.”

“I know!” She bypassed his hand and threw herself at him, giving him a bear hug made all the more amusing because she was about a quarter of James’s size.

Casey was treated to the next hug. “This is unbelievable! We’d heard you were in town and Pepper’s told us about you, Mr. Diego, but I never in a million years thought you’d be visiting us. The kids and John are all still at work—they’re not going to believe this!” She moved back, revealing the interior of the trailer, which was maybe 125 square feet total, a hovel that had been put together in the seventies, and not well. Formica and steel and rusted parts, scrubbed to a desperate cleanliness.

Karen insisted they sit and let her serve them iced tea. Mark, James and Casey sat on the small built-in, fold-out couch, their big, muscled bodies squished into each other. Rainey watched James and Casey look around with horror as they realized that six people lived here. Mark didn’t look surprised or horrified, but there was an empathy and a new gentleness she’d never seen from him before as he watched Karen bustle around the tiny three-by-three kitchenette. She was in perpetual motion, excited about the lovely surprise visit, and finally Rainey made her sit.

“Karen,” she said. “The guys aren’t the surprise. At least not the main one. You remember the housing project. Your name was drawn in the lottery for a new home.”

Karen went utterly still. “What?”

“You and your family should be able to move in by the end of summer.”

Karen gaped at her for a solid ten seconds, before letting out an ear-splitting whoop and throwing herself at Rainey.

They both hit the floor, laughing like loons.

Later, when Karen’s family came home, there were more hugs and even tears. The guys spent some time autographing everything the kids had and then Casey stripped off his hat and sweatshirt and gave them to an ecstatic Pepper, which prompted James to do the same for her brother.

The kids’ sheer joy choked Rainey up. They’d had everything taken from them, everything, and yet they were so resilient. She turned away to give herself a minute, then found her gaze caught and held by Mark’s. She had no idea how it was that he managed to catch her at her weakest every single time, but he did.

He didn’t smirk, didn’t even smile. Instead his eyes were steady and warm and somehow…somehow they made her feel the same.

* * *

MARK WAITED UNTIL Casey and James had gotten into the back of Rainey’s car before he took her hand and turned her to face him. “You’re amazing,” he said softly.

“I didn’t do this.”

“You do plenty. For everyone.” He paused. “What do you do for yourself?”

“Tonight I’m going to the ballet.”

Shit. He’d nearly forgotten about her date that wasn’t a date date.

After refusing to let him drive, Rainey dropped him and the guys off at the rec center and promptly vanished. Mark took James and Casey back to the motel, and for the first time since they’d arrived, neither had a word of complaint about where they were staying. Compared with Pepper and her family’s trailer, they had a palace, and James and Casey seemed very aware of it. The three of them ordered Thai takeout, and afterwards, Casey and James wanted to go out.

“Is there a club around here?” James asked. “We need some fun, man.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Mark said, and drove them to the town’s community theater.

James eyed the marquee and groaned. “No. No way. The last time a chick dragged me to the ballet, I fell asleep and she wouldn’t put out after because she said I was snoring louder than the music. I’m not going in there and you can’t make me.”

“Consider it cultural education,” Mark said, and gave him a shove towards the entry.

“This is about him getting laid,” James whispered to Casey. “And how is that fair?”

“Dude, life’s never fair.”

* * *

AT THE BALLET, Rainey sat with Jacob on one side, Lena on the other, surrounded by coworkers and friends. As the lights went down and the music began and the dancers took the stage, she could feel the tension within her slowly loosening its grip.

Mark wasn’t going to show. Good, she thought. A huge relief hit her.

And the oddest, tiniest, most ridiculous bit of disappointment…

The lights dimmed even further, and Jacob slid his arm over the back of her chair, like he was stretching. But then his fingers settled on her shoulder. She waited for a zing, a thrill. But nothing happened. Relax, she ordered herself. He was cute. Nice. Normal.

His face nuzzled in her hair as he pulled her a little closer, but though she wished with all her might, she felt no zing, and definitely no thrill. When Mark so much as looked at her, her nipples hardened.

“You smell fantastic,” Jacob said, and his hand nearly brushed the outside of her breast.

Her nipples didn’t care.

Straightening, she pulled away with regret. “I’m sorry, can you excuse me a minute? I need to…” She waved vaguely to the exit and rose, stepping over Lena. On the other side of Lena was Rick, and on the other side of Rick sat…

Mark.

Oh, God. When had he showed up? She managed to get past the man without making eye contact, then found her way to the lobby to gulp in some air. A smattering of people were walking around looking glazed. She wondered if they were having a panic attack as well. Bypassing the bathrooms, she beelined straight for the bar. “Wine,” she told the bartender, and slapped her credit card down. “Whatever you have.” It didn’t matter. She rarely drank wine because it tended to relax her right into a coma but she could use a coma about now. What was wrong with her that she’d been in the presence of two perfectly good guys in two days, and neither had produced a zing?

And just knowing that Mark was in the building had her so full of zing, her hair was practically smoking. The wine came and she gulped it down. “Another, please.”

* * *

MARK CAME UP behind Rainey. He looked at the two empty wine glasses in front of her and read a new relaxation in her body language—which was quite different from the body language she’d sported when she’d run out here—and smiled. “Better?” he asked.

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t look at him. “Go away.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?” She waved at the bartender, but he didn’t see her, so she sighed. She had her hair up tonight, but a few golden-brown tendrils had escaped, brushing the nape of her neck.

She was heart-stoppingly beautiful to him, and just looking at her made him ache. He ran his finger down that nape and was rewarded by her full body shiver. Encouraged, he put his mouth to the spot just beneath her ear, smiling when she shivered again and sucked in a breath. “How’s that not-a-date date with your non-fixer-upper going?” he asked.

“I think it’s me.” Looking morose, she propped her head on her hand. “I’m the fixer-upper.”

Hating that she felt that way about herself, Mark swiveled her bar stool to face him. Her mascara was slightly smudged around her eyes, making them seem even more blue. She’d nibbled off her pretty gloss. She was wearing a little black dress, one strap slipping off her shoulder. Running a finger up her arm, he slid the strap back into place and left his hand on her. “I think you’re perfect,” he said softly. Beautiful, and achingly vulnerable, and…perfect.

She went still, then sighed and dropped her head to his chest, hard. “Now who’s the liar?” she whispered.

With a low laugh, he tipped her head up and stared into her glossy eyes. She was half baked. “I mean it,” he told her. “You don’t need to change a goddamn thing.”

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth, and her tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. The motion went straight through him like fire, heading south. She stood up, her hands on his chest now, but he didn’t flatter himself. She needed him for balance. Her high heels, black with a little bow around the ankles that he found sexy as hell, brought her mouth a lot closer to his. Her fingers dug in a little, fisting on the jacket of his suit.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, holding her to him, right there where he liked her best, when she murmured his name and sighed. “I’m going to instigate now.”

His heart kicked. “Instigate away.”

Just as their lips touched, a low, disbelieving male voice spoke behind them. “Rainey?”

They turned in unison to face Jacob, who was holding Rainey’s shawl in his hands. Mouth grim, eyes hooded, he handed her the shawl, gave Mark an eat-shit-and-die look, and walked out of the theater.

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