by Jill Shalvis
“We’re barely budgeted for sports,” she said dryly. “Pretty sure we’re not budgeted for miracles.”
Mark hung up on Tony. “Just trying to help.”
“Or micromanaging,” she suggested.
He smiled. “Again, hello, Mrs. Pot.”
She sighed and shut the door, closing them in the closet. “It’s very generous of you to do this,” she said, staying firmly out of reach. A real feat in the small space.
“Yes, it is.” Because she smelled amazing, he shifted closer without even thinking about it. “Feel free to thank me in any way you see fit.”
Her mouth quirked, but she remained cool, calm and collected, in charge of her world.
It was a huge turn-on. Hell, everything about her was. Especially those shorts. Pressing her back against the door, he flattened his hands on either side of her head. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy, is all.” Her breasts brushed his chest and they both sucked in a breath.
Slowly he tipped his head down and watched as her nipples puckered and poked against the material of her shirt. “You’re instigating again.”
“My nipples have a mind of their own!”
Crowding her, he closed his teeth over her earlobe and tugged, not all that lightly.
She moaned and grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “No fair. I can’t control my body’s response to you.”
Even better. He nipped his way down her jaw to her throat, nearly smiling when she tilted her head to make room for him. “God. Mark, stop.” But even as she said it, she tightened her grip so he couldn’t get away, tugging on a few chest hairs as she did. “Please,” she said softly.
“I’ll please anything you want, Rainey.”
“Please don’t do this. Don’t make me want you.”
Well, hell. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. At least not when it came to her. He pulled back and met her gaze. “There are two of us in this, Rainey. Two of us wanting each other.” With one last long look at her, he left the closet and made his way to practice, where he found the girls in various poses on the stands.
At least they were dressed in the gear he’d given them. Pepper was on the top row reading a book. Cindy was sprawled across three benches, staring at the sky, twirling a strand of her hair, yammering on her cell phone. Kendra was at the bottom eating a candy bar and sucking a soda. The others were scattered in between, talking, laughing, doing each other’s hair and texting.
Only Sharee was on the field, stretching.
Mark shot her a small smile, then walked up to the stands. “What’s this?”
Every single one of the girls kept doing whatever they were doing. He mentally counted to three and asked again, using the voice that routinely terrified his world-class athletes in a blink.
The girls still didn’t budge. With a sigh, he blew his whistle. With a variety of eye rolls, the teens made their way down to the grass in front of him.
“When you’re dressed out,” he said, “I expect to see you here running your drills. Not texting, not talking on the phone, not eating candy. You do all of that on your own time. This is my time.”
Grumbling, they turned away to start their drills. “And what did I say about sagging?” he asked Kendra, whose shorts were so low he had no idea how she kept them up. “No shorts down past your ass—” Dammit. He pulled out a buck and handed it to Pepper, the keeper of the swear jar. “Or you won’t play. Now start stretching, following the routine I showed you, or you’ll be running laps.”
They headed to join Sharee on the field. Mark watched them go, aware of Rainey coming up to his side. He waited for her to blast him about…hell, he didn’t know what. Maybe breathing incorrectly.
Instead, she gave him an interminable look. “You do realize that they’re teenage girls, not grown men,” she finally said.
“I have minimum requirements, regardless of the age or sex of the athlete. They’re not difficult to meet.”
“What are they?”
“Honesty, loyalty and one-hundred-percent participation.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Those are all good requirements,” she said, and began walking back to the building.
Nice ass, he thought, and walked in the opposite direction, onto the field, handing Pepper another dollar.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“I thought a bad word.”
RAINEY MADE HER way to her office, then stared out the window at the field. She had a million things to do and yet she was riveted in place, watching Mark coach the girls just as she’d occasionally watched him on TV. Hell, who was she kidding, she’d watched him more than occasionally. He had a way of standing at his team bench looking deceptively calm except for all that unfailing intensity and dogged aggression.
He was coaching the girls the same way he did his guys—hard and ruthless, and somehow also shockingly patient. And while not exactly kind, he had a way of being incredibly fair.
The girls, who’d given her and every other coach they’d had such endless grief, did everything in their power to please him.
“Rainey?”
She turned from the window to her office door and found Cliff from Accounting smiling at her. He was lanky lean, with dark spiky hair and smiling eyes. He was shy as hell, but also one of the nicest guys she’d ever met. “Did I forget to sign my expense account again?” she asked.
Cliff laughed. They didn’t have expense accounts. Hell, they were lucky to have salaries. “No.” He looked behind them as if to make sure they were alone. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime.”
Some of her surprise must have shown on her face because he smiled with endearing self-consciousness and lifted a shoulder. “I know. We’ve worked together forever so why now, right? But—”
“Lena,” Rainey guessed. “Lena put you up to this.”
“She mentioned you were open to dating right now, but honestly I’ve always wanted to ask you out.”
Aw. Dammit. And she was open to dating. Supposedly. And if it hadn’t been for a certain alpha, obnoxious, annoying man outside on the field voluntarily helping her with the teens, the same alpha, obnoxious, annoying man she kept accidentally having sex with, she’d probably have said yes. “Cliff, I—”
“Just think about it,” he said quickly, already backing away. “Don’t give me your answer now. I’ll call you sometime, okay?”
And then he was gone.
Rainey looked out the window again. Yep, Mark was still out there, batting pop flies to the girls for catching practice. He’d given them directions on how to improve and they were doing their best to follow.
And failing, a lot.
Never giving up, Mark kept at them, not afraid to get right in there to show them exactly what he wanted. He moved with easy grace and intensity, and she flashed back to a few days prior, when he’d moved inside of her with that same grace and intensity.
The memory made her legs wobble. She pressed her forehead to the window. The girls were trying to do what Mark wanted, tossing him back the balls as soon as he hit them.
Sharee was the fastest and the best, even with the healing bruise on her face and sullen attitude. She’d missed a practice, then showed up today without a word of explanation. Rainey had tried to press the girl for details on what was going on at home, asking if she needed any help, interference, anything, but Sharee was an island.
Which might have something to do with the phone call Rainey had taken yesterday from the girl’s father, the second extremely obnoxious “mind your own fucking business” phone call. Martin needed a new tune to sing.
Sharee rocketed a ball to Mark at the same time as Pepper. Mark caught Sharee’s, and took Pepper’s ball in the crotch.
Though she couldn’t hear the collective gasp that went up from the entire team, Rainey sensed it as Mark bent at the waist. Whirling, she ran out of her office, hitting the field, pushing her way through the circle of girls ar
ound Mark. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer, just sucked in another breath.
“Mark?”
Still bent over, hands on his thighs, he held up a finger indicating he needed a minute.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Stop talking.”
It was late enough to call practice, so Rainey excused the girls. As they shuffled by, they offered a chorus of “Sorry, Coach” and “get better, Coach.”
When she was alone with Mark, Rainey asked, “Do you need a doctor? Ice for the swelling?”
With a slight groan, he finally straightened and sent her a dark glare.
“What?” she asked. “That’s what you do for an injury. You ice it, right? It eases the pain and swelling.”
“This is not the kind of pain and swelling I need you to manage for me,” he grated out.
“Are you sure?”
He drew another deep breath and gained some of his color back as he walked stiffly past her. “I’m fine.”
“I’m just trying to help. Offer a little TLC.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you really want to get your hands on my cock again, then—” He broke off at her surprised gasp. “Oh, sorry, we never did decide what you deemed an acceptable term for that particular body part, did we?”
She lifted her chin. “Clearly, you’re feeling better.”
At that, a hint of amusement came into his eyes. “Yeah. But any time you want to kiss it and make it all better, you know where I’m staying.”
A FEW NIGHTS later, the Mammoths were scheduled for an exhibition game for a huge local charity event at home in Sacramento against the San Jose Sharks.
Rick drove Lena and Rainey to the game. Rainey didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t to sit with the players’ girlfriends and wives, with a crystal-clear view of the ice and an even better one of the Mammoths’ bench.
Mark was there with his players, of course, wearing his hat low, mouth grim as the tight game stayed tied all the way to the end, when his team pulled a goal out of nowhere in overtime.
Rainey was pretty sure she never took her eyes off Mark, not even when Casey was body checked into the end boards or when James took a flip pass to the head. Afterwards, Rick took her and Lena to the team room. There was a huge spread of food, reporters and players. Everyone was eating, relaxing, speaking to the media…having a good time.
Mark was in his big office off to the side, a large wall of glass revealing him standing at a huge desk, on his phone and laptop at the same time.
“Post game crap,” Rick said, handing her a drink. “The Mammoths are working on their media coverage.”
She nodded and continued to watch Mark in his element until he lifted his head and leveled his gaze unerringly on her.
She caught his surprise in the slight widening of his eyes before he left his office and came to her.
“You didn’t know I was here,” she said when he stood directly in front of her.
“Rick is a sneaky bastard.”
“We had great seats,” she said. “Usually I sit way up in the nose bleed section—” She broke off, but it was too late. Her secret was out. She met his gaze, his eyes full of laughter.
“You come to the games,” he said.
She sighed. “Sometimes. But mostly I watch them on TV.”
“To see me?”
“Well let’s not go overboard.”
“Admit it.”
She sighed again. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
His grin widened, and two players across the way gawked at him. So did the members of his coaching staff. In fact, everyone near them stared.
Apparently he didn’t grin like that very often here at work.
“You don’t hate me,” he said, not paying the people around them any attention whatsoever. “You like me. And you know something else?” He leaned in. “You want me again, bad.”
His mouth on her ear made her shiver but he was laughing, the bastard, his body shaking with it. She gave him a shove and stalked off to the food table. She needed meaningless calories, and lots of them.
Because yeah, she wanted him.
Bad.
She ate with Lena and Rick, then watched the team gather together and shove a present in Mark’s hands.
“Just a little something from us, Coach,” Casey said with far too much innocence. “To protect you when you’re coaching the girls.”
Mark gave him a long look and opened the box.
As his players hooted and hollered, he pulled out a jockstrap.
Mark’s laughing eyes met Rainey’s and heat bolted through her.
He’d rather have a box of condoms.
He didn’t say it out loud, he didn’t have to, but she felt her face heat. Because she wished he’d gotten a box of condoms too....
TWO DAYS LATER, Mark gathered the teenagers in the rec center parking lot. They’d had two home games so far, and had won one, lost the other. Today they were heading to their first away game against a neighboring rec league in Meadow Hills, twenty-five miles east of Santa Rey.
The guys took one bus, the girls another. Mark boarded after his last player, then stopped short at the sight of Rainey, sitting next to the driver.
“I try to go to as many of the away games as I can,” she told him. “Especially the first one, in case a coach can’t handle it.”
He raised a brow. “Pretty sure I can handle it.” He turned to take a seat but she pointed to the iPad in his hands. “What’s that for?”
“I have stats I want to go over with the girls before the game.” He pulled up a file for her. “See?”
She stared down at the numbers. “These stats aren’t for our team.”
“No, they’re for the team we’re playing today.”
“How did you get them? We don’t keep stats in our league. It’s a noncompetitive league.”
The word noncompetitive wasn’t in Mark’s vocabulary. “I had someone to go out and watch their games this week.”
“You had…” She stared up at him for a full minute. “Okay, maybe you didn’t get the memo. This is a rec league, and for fun.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”
“Mark.” She appeared to pick her words carefully, and he let her, mostly because he was still standing over her and had a nice view right down her shirt.
“You can’t coach these girls with the same fierce intensity you coach your players,” she finally said.
He liked her pink lace bra. And he was pretty sure he could see the very faint outline of her nipples—
“Are you listening to me?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “I stopped listening to you after you said noncompetitive.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a control freak.”
Yeah, and it took one to know one. He was just about to say so when there was a tussle in the back of the bus between Sharee and Kendra. He strode down the aisle, eyes narrowed, but by the time he got to them, everyone was quiet and angelic. The bus began to move, forcing him to sit where he was—right in the middle of the team.
From her comfy seat up front all by herself, no kids near her, Rainey gave him a smirk.
The sexy tyrant…
