Time Out & Body Check: Time Out / Body Check. Jill Shalvis

SHIT, MARK THOUGHT, still dazed.

      “Rule number one. This—” She waggled her finger back and forth between them. “Happens only when and if I instigate it. If you do it, I might mistake it for something deeper and more emotional than it is. It’ll mess with my head, Mark.”

      His gut hurt again. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her.

      “Look,” she said, more softly. “I get that we’re stuck working together for the next month. We’re grown-ups, we’ll handle it. Right?”

      He’d never in his life done less than handle anything that came his way. And he’d also never lost his ability to speak either, but he was having trouble now, so he nodded.

      “Good,” she said, looking relieved that he’d agreed to her terms. Damn, Rainey, don’t give me yourself on a silver platter and ask for nothing in return....

      “You should go now,” she said.

      She was making things easy, giving him the exit strategy. He should be ecstatic. Instead, he stepped toward her to… Hell, he didn’t know. Hold her? Yeah, he wanted to hold her until the world stopped spinning.

      But she gave a sharp jerk of her head and backed away.

      Right. The rules. She was in charge of physical contact. Pretending that his legs weren’t still wobbling, he did as she wanted and walked out.

      He’d walked away plenty of times before. It should have been a no-brainer. Hell, he should have been running, far and fast, with relief filling his veins. Except it wasn’t easy, and he felt no relief at all.

      Plus, it was damn cold outside and she was still wearing his shirt.

      * * *

      THE NEXT DAY at lunch, Rainey and Lena sat in the small café across the street from the rec center, each inhaling a triple scoop ice cream sundae. Officially, it was a meeting about the upcoming charity auction. Unofficially, it was a discussion on their favorite topic. Men.

      Specifically Mark.

      “I’m surprised you didn’t make me share a sundae with you,” Lena said around a huge bite. “Usually you only allow yourself a single scoop.”

      “It’s an entire sundae sort of day.” Rainey ate one of the two cherries from the top. “It’s got cherries on it so it’s practically a fruit salad.”

      Lena grinned. “You know what I don’t get? Why you aren’t singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ I mean, you got lucky last night. Damn lucky by the looks of you.”

      Yeah, she had. It’d been everything she thought it would be, too.

      And more. “I can’t believe I slept with him. He chased off my date and I still got naked with him.”

      “Look, you can’t blame yourself. The guy’s got serious charisma. He’s a walking fantasy. And you were past due.” Lena paused. “Rick says you two have been past due for fourteen years.”

      “Rick? You talked to Rick about us?”

      “Everyone’s talking about you two.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t know, Rainey, maybe because yesterday afternoon after the staff meeting you pulled Mark into the storage closet in the main hallway. And then today you come into work with that glow.”

      Rainey ate the other cherry and slumped in her seat.

      Lena grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

      “No. Not fun. He’s not my type.”

      “Right. Because he’s not a fixer-upper,” Lena said. “You like the fixer-uppers so you can eventually let go of them for not being The One.”

      “Are you saying that Mark is perfect as is?”

      “Mark is oh-boy-howdy perfect,” Lena said.

      “No, he’s not. He’s bossy and domineering, and way too alpha.”

      “Mmm-hmm,” Lena said dreamily. “I bet he likes to be in charge. Especially in bed, right?”

      Rainey felt her cheeks go hot. They hadn’t made it to a bed.... “You’re as impossible as he is.”

      Lena laughed and scooped up a big bite of ice cream, moaning in pleasure. “Some things just need to be appreciated for what they are, even the imperfect things. Like men. Hell, Rain. You accept the kids at the center every single day, just as is. Why not a man?”

      Rainey stopped in the act of stuffing her face with a huge spoonful of ice cream and stared at Lena. Most of the time Lena’s comments were sarcastic, but once in a while she said something so perfect it was shocking. “How did you get so wise?”

      “Practice,” Lena said. “And lots of kissing frogs before I found my prince. And you know what else? I think you found yours.”

      “I’m not going for Mark, Lena.” It was a terrible idea.

      Terribly appealing…

      She’d once read an article about him that said his talent in coaching came from the fact that he didn’t so much inspire awe as he discouraged comfort.

      She knew that to be true. Her comfort level was definitely at risk when he was around.

      * * *

      THAT AFTERNOON AFTER working on the construction site, Mark gathered his team on the bleachers and looked them over. Twelve teenage girls, with more attitude than his million-dollar players combined.

      Casey and James had their team on the far field. Boys. Boys who could really play, by the looks of them. How the hell his in-the-doghouse players had ended up with the easier task was beyond him.

      Okay, he knew what had happened.

      Rainey had happened.

      And he knew no matter what the girls dished out, last night had been worth every minute.

      His team wore a variety of outfits from short shorts that were better suited to pole dancing to basketball shorts so big they couldn’t possibly stay up while the girls were running bases. Shirts ranged from oversized T-shirts that hung past the shorts to teeny tiny tank tops or snug tees. “First up,” he said. “Everyone back to the locker room to change into appropriate gear.”

      No one moved.

      “Ladies, I just gave you a direct order. Not obeying a direct order will get you personally acquainted with push-ups.”

      “We’re already dressed out,” one of them said, and when he gave her a long look, she added, “Coach, sir.”

      “Just Coach,” he said, and went to the large duffle bag he’d brought with him. It was the warm-up T-shirts, shorts, and practice jerseys he’d had over-nighted. He had new equipment as well; bats, batting helmets, gloves… He handed the clothing out, then waited for them to run back to the building. Instead, they all stripped and dressed right there. “Jesus,” he muttered, slamming his eyes shut. “Some warning!”

      “Hey, we’re covered,” Sharee called out. “We’re all in sports bras and spandex.”

      “From now on,” he grated out, “you change inside. Always.”

      “Prude,” someone muttered, probably Sharee.

      Prude his ass, but swallowing the irony, he risked a peek and found them all suitably dressed. “Ground rules,” he said. Now he sounded as anal as Rainey. “No ripping or cutting the sleeves off, no tying the shirts up high, no bras showing, and all shirts need to be neatly tucked in. And no sagging. There will be no asses on my field.”

      “We’re not allowed to say asses.” The timid voice belonged to the same girl who called him sir. “We’re not supposed to swear.”

      Mark