was looking right at him.
“That’s fine,” he said smoothly.
Casey and James both lifted their brows, but he ignored them. “We’re here to serve.”
James choked on the soda he was drinking.
Casey just continued staring at Mark like he’d lost his marbles.
His brother out-and-out grinned, which was his first clue.
“You just agreed to coach a girls’ softball team,” James whispered in his ear. “Me and Casey get the boys, but she gave you the girls.”
Ah, hell.
Rainey was watching him, waiting for him to balk and possibly leave, which was clearly what she’d been aiming for. Instead he nodded. “Great.”
“Great?”
“Great,” he repeated, refusing to let her beat him.
“The kids are going to love it,” Rick said. “Tell him your plans, Rainey.”
She was still looking a little shell-shocked that she hadn’t gotten rid of him. Guess their kiss had shaken her up good.
That made two of them.
“Well, if you’re really doing this…?” She stared at him, giving him another chance at a way out. But hell no. Diegos didn’t take the out…ever.
“We’re doing this,” he said firmly. “All the way.”
Color rose to her cheeks but she stayed professional. “Okay, well, the Mammoths are taking advantage of our needs in order to gain good publicity, so I figure it’s only fair for us to take advantage of your celebrity status.”
“Absolutely,” Mark said. “How do you want to do that?”
Rainey glanced at Rick, who gave her the go-ahead to voice her thoughts. “You could let us auction off dates with you three,” she said.
Mark was stunned. It was ingenious, but he should have expected no less. It was also just a little bit evil.
Seemed Rainey had grown some claws. He had no idea what it said about him that he liked it.
Casey grinned. “Sounds fun. And I’m sure the other guys would put their name on the ticket too.”
“I’m in,” James said agreeably, always up for something new, especially involving women. “As long as the ladies are single. No husbands with shotguns.”
The meeting ended shortly after that and Rainey gathered her things, vacating quickly, the little sneak. Making his excuses, Mark followed after her. She was already halfway down the hall, moving at a fast clip. Obviously she had things to do, places to go. And people to avoid. He smiled grimly, thinking her ass looked sweet in those jeans. So did her attitude, with that whistle around her neck, the clipboard in her hands. She was running her show like…well, like he ran his. He picked up his stride until he was right behind her, and realized she was on her cell phone.
“This is all your fault, Lena,” she hissed. “No. No, I’m most definitely not still crushing on him! That was a secret, by the way, and it was years ago—Yes, I’ve got eyes, I realize he’s hot, thank you very much, but it’s not all about looks. And anyway, I’m going out with Kyle Foster tonight, which is your fault too— Are you laughing? Stop laughing!” She paused, taking in whatever was being said to her. “You know what? Calling you was a bad idea. Listening to you in the first place was a bad bad idea. I have to go.” She shoved her phone into her pocket and stood there, hands on hips.
“Hey,” he said.
She jerked, swore, then started walking again, away from him, moving as if she hadn’t heard him. Good tactic. He could totally see why it might work on some people—she moved like smoke. He could also see why she’d want to ignore him, but they had things to discuss. Slipping his fingers around her upper arm, he pulled her back to face him.
“I’m really busy,” she said.
“Girls’ softball?” he asked softly. “Really?”
“Not here,” she said, and opened a door. Which she shut in his face.
Oh hell no, she didn’t just do that. He hauled open the door, expecting an office, but instead found a small storage room lined with shelves.
Rainey was consulting her clipboard and searching the shelves.
He shut the door behind him, closing them in, making her gasp in surprise. “What are you doing—”
“You said not out there,” he reminded her.
“I meant not out there, and not anywhere.”
He stepped toward her. Her sultry voice would have made him hard as a rock—except he already was. “Girls’ softball?” he repeated.
She took a step back and came up against the shelving unit. “You volunteered, remember? Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Already toe-to-toe, he put his hands on the shelf, bracketing her between his arms. He leaned in so that they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh…and everything in between. Her sweet little intake of air made him hard.
Or maybe that was just her. “Are you punishing me for what happened fourteen years ago?” he asked. “Or for kissing you yesterday?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, her hands coming up to fist his shirt, though it was unclear whether she planned to shove him away or hold him to her.
“Admit it,” he said. “You gave me the girls to make me suffer.”
“Maybe I gave you the girls because that’s what’s best for them. Not everything is about you, Mark.”
Direct hit.
“So we used to know each other,” she said. “So what. We’re nothing to each other now.” But her breathing was accelerated, and then there was the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat. He set his thumb to it, his other fingers spanning her throat and although he was tempted to give it a squeeze, he tilted her head up to his.
Her hands tightened on him. “I mean it,” she said. “We’re not doing this.”
“Define this.”
“We’re not going to be friends.”
“Deal,” he said.
“We’re not going to even like each other.”
“Obviously.”
She stared into his eyes, hers turbulent and heated. “And no more kissing—”
He swallowed her words with his mouth, delving deeply, groaning at the taste of her. He heard her answering moan, and then her arms wound tight around his neck.
And
