Time Out & Body Check. Jill Shalvis

even in his bed.

       He was sprawled in the beanbag chair beneath the window, long legs spread for the woman on her knees between his, head bobbing—Oh, God.

       Mark’s head was back, eyes closed, his perfect body taut and his hands fisted in his date’s hair as she…

       Rainey must have made a sound, or maybe he’d heard the crack of her heart as it split wide, because Mark sat straight up so fast he nearly choked his date. “Christ. Rainey—”

       “Hey,” his date complained, lifting her head with a pissed-off frown. “I’m Melody.”

       Rainey turned to run away and ran smack into the door—which didn’t slow her down. Not that, or the sprained ankle from her stupid heels.

       “Rainey!”

       The pounding of bare feet told her he was coming after her. Not wanting to face him, she kicked her heels off and raced barefoot out into the night like Cinderella trying to beat the clock. Young and desperate, she’d run off looking for a way to prove herself as grown up as she imagined.

       She’d been ripe for trouble, and unfortunately, she’d found it.

      * * *

      SITTING STRAIGHT UP in bed with a gasp, Rainey realized it was dawn, and she blinked the dream away. Fourteen years and she remembered every humiliating detail as if it’d been yesterday. Especially what had happened next. But she wasn’t going there, not now. Not ever.

      By that afternoon, she’d nearly forgotten all about the dream and Mark. She was running laps with the group of teens who’d shown up after school, counting heads to make sure none had made off with each other into the bushes, when Sharee came up to her side.

      Rainey’s welcoming smile faded as she locked her gaze on the new bruise on the teen’s jaw. “What happened?”

      Sharee switched into her default expression—sullen. “Nothing.”

      “Sharee—”

      “Walked into a door, no big deal.”

      “Where was your mother?”

      Sharee lifted a shoulder. “Working.”

      Rainey would like to get Martin alone and walk him into a door, but that was a stupid idea. The man scared Rainey. “You know where I live, right?”

      “The Northside town houses.”

      “Unit fifteen,” Rainey said. “Next time your mother’s working nights, come have a sleepover with me.”

      “Why?”

      “So you don’t walk into any more doors. We’ll watch a movie and eat crap food. It’ll be more fun than any date I’ve had in a while.”

      “How often do you date?” Sharee asked.

      The easy answer was not much. But that was also the embarrassing answer. “Occasionally.”

      Sharee nodded, then went back to running laps. Rainey ran again too, until her cell phone buzzed an incoming text from Rick.

      * * *

      The help I promised you for the summer league is on their way. You’ve got two Mammoth players and their head coach, who I believe you’ve met. They work for you, Rainey. You’re in charge.

      * * *

      She’d have to kill Rick later. For now, she grabbed her clipboard and blew her whistle. “Two more laps before we scrimmage,” she called out, and began stretching to cool down. She’d figured Rick would get a few local college athletes. But nope, he’d gone all the way to the top.

      And all she could think was that Mark would be around for three weeks.

      Twenty-one days…

      She lay on her back and stared at the puffy clouds floating lazily by, trying not to delve too deeply into how she felt about this. The first cloud looked sort of like a double-stuffed Oreo. She could really go for a handful of double-stuffed Oreos about now. The next cloud came into sight, resembling—“Mark?”

      She blinked up at the cloud that wasn’t a cloud at all as Mark flashed her his million-dollar smile.

      “Heard you need me,” he said. “Bad.”

      * * *

      AT TWENTY-ONE, Mark had been long and leanly muscled, not a spare inch on him. Rainey’s gaze ran down his thirty-four-year-old body and she had to admit he was even better now. In fact, the only way to improve on that body would be to dip it into chocolate.

      He offered her a hand, his grip firm as he pulled her upright. She immediately brushed the dry grass from her behind and the backs of her legs, painfully aware of the fact that once again she was a complete mess and he…he was not. He had all that perfect Latino skin, and the most amazing dark eyes that held more secrets than some developing countries. He had strong cheekbones and a mouth that always brought sinful thoughts to her mind, especially when he flashed that rare smile of his. He’d broken his nose twice in his wild and crazy youth, not that it dared to be anything less than aristocrat straight. But even better than his arresting face was everything else—his fierce passion, his drive, his smarts. And now for the first time, she supposed she could also appreciate his coaching skills firsthand. “We’re running,” she said.

      “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