Читать книгу Time Out & Body Check - Эль Кеннеди, Jill Shalvis - Страница 12

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.