by Jill Shalvis
“You’re not that scary.”
“Give me some time,” she quipped.
“I still won’t find you scary.”
“That’s because you’ll be gone,” she reminded him. “Back to your whirlwind life.”
“I get to Santa Rey occasionally.”
She smiled but there was something different in her gaze now, something sad. “Good night, Mark.”
“Rainey.” He couldn’t explain his sudden panic, but it was like he’d missed something. “Why do I feel like you really mean goodbye?”
“It used to be,” she said with a terrifying quietness, “that I’d take any scrap bit of affection from you I could get. That was the sixteen-year-old in me, the pathetic, loser sixteen-year-old who didn’t respect or love herself. I realize that it didn’t start out all that different this time either. I mean, I played a good game, but we both know my crush is still in painful existence.” She shook her head. “The bad news is that it’s grown even past that.” Again, she leaned in and brushed her lips to his, clinging for a minute. He could feel her tremor and tried to tighten his grip on her, but she wriggled loose, closing her eyes when he pressed his mouth to her forehead. “Tonight was amazing. I’ll never forget it. Or you.”
“Rainey—”
“I love you, Mark,” she whispered, and then slid out of his embrace and inside, leaving him standing there wondering what the fuck had just happened.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY dawned bright and sunny. Perfect game weather. The Santa Barbara rec center teams had arrived by bus. The girls played first. Rainey sat with Lena, watching from the sidelines as Mark coached the teens in a tight game. The stands were filled. The entire town had turned out, it seemed, and a good number of people had come from Santa Barbara too. The mood of the crowd was fun and boisterous.
In between plays, Rainey told Lena the whole story of the night before, leaving out a whole bunch of what had happened in the trailer, much to Lena’s annoyance.
“A real friend would give details,” Lena said. “Like size, stamina…”
“Hey. Can we focus on the real problem here?”
“Yeah, I’m not seeing the real problem,” Lena said. “Mark’s rescued you from crappy dates, pretty much single-handedly saved your job, and he’s been there whenever you’ve needed him, for whatever you’ve needed. What a complete ass, huh?”
“Look, I know he’s been there.” Always, no matter what she needed. “But he doesn’t want a relationship. Nothing changes that fact.”
Casey, James and Rick had been sitting with the boys but they came over and joined the two of them for a few minutes. “So what are we talking about?” Rick asked.
“Nothing,” Rainey said.
“How perfect Mark is for her,” Lena said.
“Aw,” Casey said, disappointed. “That’s not news.”
“If they’re so perfect for each other, then why does he look like shit?” James asked. “I don’t think he’s slept.”
“Mark never looks like hell,” Lena said reverently. “Unless you mean hot as hell.”
“Sitting right here,” Rick said to Lena.
Lena smiled and kissed him. “The hotness runs in the family.”
Rainey hadn’t slept either. She looked at Mark standing just outside the dugout, but if he was tired, hurting, unhappy, he gave no sign of it as he coached the girls through a three-run inning. At the break, he left the dugout and walked to the stands, ignoring everyone to stop in front of Rainey. He wore a pair of beat-up Nikes and a pair of threadbare jeans, soft and loose on his hips, still managing to define the best body she’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. His T-shirt was sweat-dampened and sticking to the hard muscles of his arms and chest. It’d been given to him by the girls, and was bedazzled and fabric painted with a big COACH on the front.
He should have looked ridiculous. Instead, with his expensive sunglasses and all the testosterone he wore like aftershave, he looked…
Perfect.
“Hey,” he said, sliding off his glasses, his gaze intense as it ran over her.
She became incredibly aware that the entire Santa Rey side of the stands had gone silent, trying to catch their conversation. “Hey.”
“I want to talk to you after the game,” he said. “You busy?”
She did her best to look cool in front of their avid audience and shook her head. “Nope. Not busy.”
“Good.” He strode back to the game, and she might or might not have been staring at his very fine ass when Lena nudged her in the side with her elbow.
“Do you think ‘talk’ is a euphemism for—”
Rainey stood up. “Going to the snack bar.”
* * *
IT WAS A time-out and Mark stood in the dugout talking to the girls.
Or rather, the girls were talking to him.
“We can tell you’re having a bad day, Coach,” Pepper said. “Did you get dumped?”
“This is a time-out,” he said. “We are going to discuss the game.”
“Aw. You did.” Pepper put her hand on his shoulder. “What’d you do? Because Rainey’s a really great person, you know? Probably if you just said you were sorry, she’d take you back.”
Mark shook his head. Never once in his entire professional career had he had a time-out like this one. In his world, his players lived and breathed for his words and never questioned him. “We’re in the dugout,” he said. “In the middle of a very important game.” The press was there, which had been Mark’s intention all along. But he found he could care less about the press. It was about these girls. “We’re talking about the game.”
“That’s not as much fun,” Kendra said. “I bet if you tell us what you screwed up, we could tell you how to fix it.”
“How do you know he screwed up?” Cindy asked.
“Please,” Sharee said. “Rainey wouldn’t have screwed up. She never screws anything up. She’s on top of things, always.”
Mark scrubbed his hands over his face. How the hell had this gotten so out of control? He couldn’t even wrangle in a handful of teenage girls.
Oh, who the hell was he kidding. He’d lost control weeks ago, his first day back in Santa Rey. They wanted to know what he’d screwed up, and he had no way to tell them that he’d screwed up a damn long time ago.
She loved him. She saw right through him and still loved his sorry ass. The words had slipped out of her mouth so easily, so naturally, words he’d never dreamed he’d hear directed at him from a woman like her. A woman he could trust in, believe in, a woman with whom he could be himself. She was so amazing, so much more than he deserved, and she was meant to be his.
He also knew that things didn’t always work out the way they should.
Pepper put her hand on Mark’s. “My dad says it’s okay to make mistakes,” she said very quietly.
Mark’s dad had often told him the same thing. In fact, Ramon was right this minute out there in the stands cheering his son on, which he’d do no matter what mistakes Mark made.
“Everyone makes them,” the girl said. “But only the very brave fix their mistakes.”
Mark lifted his head and looked her into her old-soul eyes. “You’re right.” He’d pulled Rainey in even as he’d pushed her away. He was good at that, the push/pull. Standing, he locked eyes with Rainey. She stood off to the side between the bleachers and the snack bar. Close enough to have heard the entire conversation.
The ump whistled that the time out was over. Sharee went off to bat, and the other girls plopped back down on the bench of the dugout.
Mark didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact with Rainey. He had no idea how long they could have kept that up, communicating their longing without a word, when the sharp crack of Sharee connecting with the ball surprised them both.
* * *
SHAREE’S HIT WENT straight up the line and Rainey watched as the girl took off running. The teen still had an attitude the size of the diamond, but she had it under control these
days. There were fewer blowups and hardly a single bad word out of her all week.
Of course that might have been because Todd was in the stands watching her, cheering her on.
Sharee glanced at the teen and blushed.
Todd, already in uniform for his game, grinned.
Watching them caused both a pang in Rainey’s heart and a smile on her face.
But that faded fast as she caught sight of the man in dirty jeans and wrinkled shirt walking toward the field from the parking lot. He staggered a bit, but his eyes stayed focused on the diamond.
Martin, Sharee’s father.
Drunk.
Just what Sharee needed, for her father to humiliate her today.
Rainey moved towards him, wanting to run the other way, but she couldn’t let him ruin the game for Sharee. “Martin, wait.”
“Gettoutta my way.”
He smelled like a brewery and looked like he’d slept in one. “Did you come to see the game?” she asked.
“I came to see my daughter,” he slurred, blinking slowly like an owl. “She stole money from my wallet. She’s going to pay for that.”
Rainey’s gut tightened. “I have your money in my office,” she said, gesturing in the opposite direction of the field. No way was she letting him out there to embarrass Sharee.
Not that Rainey was going to take him to her office either. Hell, no. He was a mean drunk, and her unease had turned to fear. She led him around the side of the building, heading back toward the parking lot, her phone in her hand to call Rick for help if necessary, when suddenly she was slammed up against the brick building, hard enough that she saw stars. But that wasn’t her biggest problem. That would be the forearm across her throat, blocking her airway.
Her fear turned to terror.
“You told her to call the police on me,” Martin hissed, his fingers biting into Rainey’s arms. “Didn’t you, bitch?”
Bitch… It hadn’t been those kids who’d painted her car. It’d been Martin. Rainey blinked the spots from her eyes and looked around.
There was no one in sight. They were all watching the game. She wasn’t quite in view of the parking lot, and was out of view of the stands. In succeeding to get him away from the field, she’d screwed herself. “Martin, I can’t…breathe.”
“Because of you, Sharee called the police on me the other night. I went to jail, and lost my job when I couldn’t make bail.”
“You shouldn’t…hit her.”
Martin gave Rainey another shove against the brick wall, and her head snapped against it, hard. More stars. She’d have slid to the ground if he hadn’t been holding her up. He pressed harder against her throat and her vision shrank to a pinpoint. “Stay away from my kid,” he gritted out. “Stay away from me. You hear me?”
She heard him, barely, over the rush of blood pounding through her ears. Unable to draw a breath, she clawed at his hands.
“Answer me, bitch!”
She answered in the only way she could. With a knee to his crotch.
His scream was high-pitched, and thankfully very loud as he let go and they both hit the ground.
Martin bellowed in pain again.
Someone hear him, she thought. Please, someone hear…
Pounding footsteps sounded, and cool hands reached for her. “Jesus. Rainey.”
Mark.
“I’ve got you,” he said firmly, pulling her against him, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve got you, Rainey.”
There were others with him, the whole field by the sounds of it, but she could only sigh in relief as the spots claimed her.
15
RAINEY BLINKED AND found herself staring up at a white ceiling. She was in the hospital.
“You’re okay.” Mark’s voice, then his face, appeared in front of her, looking more fierce and intense than she’d ever seen him.
“You have a concussion,” he said. “And your windpipe is strained.” As was his voice. “You’re going to hurt like hell, but you’re okay.”
She nodded and held his gaze. It was blazing with bare emotion. She tried to say his name, but nothing came out.
“Don’t,” he murmured. He leaned over her, one arm braced at her far hip, the other stroking her hair back from her face. “Talking will just hurt.” Turning, he reached for a cup with a straw and helped her drink. “You’re supposed to just lie there quiet until morning,” he said.
She felt surrounded by him, in a really warm way. She swallowed and winced. “Martin—”
“In jail,” he said tightly, and dropped his head, eyes closed for a beat. Then he met her gaze. “You did great, Rainey. You took a really bad situation and handled it. Do you have any idea how amazing you are?”
“Did you win?”
He stared at her in shock for a beat, before an exhausted but warm smile crossed his face. “Yeah. I won.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “But not the game. We declared a tie. God, Rainey. I thought I’d lost you. I just found you and I thought you were gone.”
She remembered how he’d looked earlier, in his sunglasses, hat low over his game face, letting nothing ruffle him.
Nothing.
In fact, she’d never seen anything ruffle the man…except her.
She got to him. And there was a good reason for that. He loved her, too.
And if she hadn’t already been head over heels, she’d have fallen for him right then and there, even as she watched the pain and hurt flash in his eyes, neither of which he tried to hold back from her. “Sixty-five seconds,” he said. “You weren’t breathing for sixty-five seconds after we found you. I lived and died during each one of them.” He let out a breath. “Never again.”
Her heart stopped. Never again…?
“Never again do I want to be without you.”
Her heart had barely kicked back on when Mark cupped her face and peered deeply into her eyes. “I want to be with you tonight,” he said.
“Here in the hospital?”
“Here. And tomorrow night. The next night, too.”
She swallowed hard. “What happened to day-to-day?”
“It went to hell,” he said. “Do you have any idea how addicting you are? The minute I’m away from you I’m already thinking about the next time I’m going to see you. Touch you. Taste you.”
“That sounds like sex.”
“It’s always been more than sex, Rainey. Always. You said you love me.” He gently set his finger on her lips when she would have spoken. “That threw me. You throw me. You were unexpected, and you’ve changed my endgame. And then you—” His eyes burned hot emotion. She was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face between her breasts, breathing deeply. “You could have died before I could tell you.” His grip on her tightened. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before, taking comfort from her instead of offering it. Eyes burning, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in even closer.
“I can’t remember my life before this summer,” he said, lifting his face. “Before you came back into my world. I don’t want to be without you, Rainey. I’ve known that for a while, before what happened to you today, but I guess I thought knowing it made me weak.”
And he wasn’t a man who had any patience with weaknesses, especially his own. She laid her cheek on top of his silky hair. “And now?”
He let her see everything he was feeling. “I don’t give a shit whether it makes me weak or not. You’re the only thing I care about. I love you, Rainey. I think I always have. You make me feel.”
“What do I make you feel?”
“Everything. You make me feel everything.”
* * * * *
Her Man Advantage
Joanne Rock
1
“I’M NOT SIGNING THE WAIVER.” Hockey defenseman Axel Rankin placed the sheet of paper on the desk of the Philadelphia Phantoms’ head coach, Nico Cesare, hoping like hell his refusal wouldn’t be a big deal. He couldn’t be a part of the TV documentary series that would follow his
team over the next month. “There are enough guys on the team to film. Besides, I’m the defensive goon, not some big headliner.”
The native Finn kept the real reason to himself. Axel couldn’t afford to have his personal life broadcast to the world, the details of his day-to-day in the U.S. available to old enemies back in Finland. He’d worked too hard to put that past behind him. Having a camera crew follow Phantoms players around day and night would only resurrect old problems.
“Bowing out is not an option.” The coach, a former goalie and one hell of a leader, passed the waiver back to Axel, not even looking up from a competing club’s roster filled with margin notes. “The league needs the publicity and the Phantoms need the exposure. The dictate from corporate is that everyone participates.”
Win as a team, lose as a team. Axel had been hearing the same mandate since arriving in Philly on a trade six weeks ago. Cesare’s refusal to back off that policy had helped his hockey club earn a spot in the Stanley Cup Playoffs, which would start next week, but that die-hard commitment would make it tough for Axel to cut loose from the group now.
Shit. He ground his teeth, sweat dripping down his forehead from the morning practice session where he’d gone hard from whistle to whistle.
“I’ve got personal reasons, Coach.” He hated to go there. Waving the “it’s personal” flag felt like a cop-out.
Cesare finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting Axel’s in the austere office decorated with pictures of his two kids and hot, blonde lawyer wife. Other than that, the space was like a computer geek’s ode to hockey, full of stats and charts, roster breakdowns of twenty different varieties.
“Then you’ll fit right in with the rest of us, Rankin.” He tossed his ballpoint onto the desk and threaded his hands together as he rested the palms on his head. “I’ve got two players who didn’t want to sign because they’re afraid their wives will get wind of their extracurricular activities on the road from watching the show. I have three guys who don’t want their kids referenced in any way, including me. I’ve got a superstitious player who thinks the cameras will mess up his game rituals. The documentary is shit. I get that. But we’re all doing it and we’re all signing.”
