Jill Shalvis

Time Out & Body Check: Time Out / Body Check


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      “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,