Time Out

“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.”

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