I glanced down at her hand. “Are you really explaining to me how a league works?”
“I said it was a strange structure.” She pushed the binder in my direction and when I didn’t take it from her, she dropped her arm and let it rest on her lap. “You’re going to make this harder than it should be, aren’t you?”
“Me?” My brows wrinkled. “You think I am the one complicating this.”
“I guess I deserve that,” Adalyn murmured, reaching for her bag. Something stirred in my gut at the slight tone of defeat in her voice. She pulled out a second binder. This one was red. “Saturday’s game is against the Grovesville Bears.”
Once more, I was more than a little impressed by the way she pushed through what I threw at her. I didn’t think she deserved it, but I still didn’t like that she was here, in Green Oak, sucking me into her vortex. She moved to her bag again and pulled out a Post-it stack. I tilted my head. “What do you have in there, a print shop?”
“Close,” she said dryly. “I went ahead and researched every team and town playing the Six Hills,” she added, scribbling something on a sticky note and plastering it to one of the pages inside the binder. “There wasn’t much but everything I found is here.” She looked up and met my gaze. “It would be great if you could go through what’s in here about the Grovesville Bears before our meeting on Wednesday. You have about a day and a half. I’ve just marked it for you.”
I stared at her, that set of brown eyes waiting, expecting a confirmation or a promise that I would, if I had to guess. But with her hair up in a tight bun, it was hard not to get distracted by all that weary tiredness clinging to her features.
The question toppled off my lips, “Are you getting any sleep on the air mattress?”
Her eyelids swept up and down a couple of times. Slowly. She shook her head. “This Saturday is a home game for the Green Warriors,” she said. “Depending on the outcome, I’ll pitch you my press angles. But first I need to see how well the Green Warriors can do.”
My whole body went alert at the mention of press.
Adalyn must have seen that, because she explained, “My focus is on the girls and the success story I’m here to make happen.” She made a careful pause. “Your focus should be on getting them the points that land them in the final.” Another moment of hesitation. “You win the games and I’ll keep you out of my angle. That’s all I ask.”
That was all she asked? As if she hadn’t asked enough already.
And yet… There was that moment of hesitation. It told me she was more bark than bite.
The red binder was pushed against my chest. I didn’t take it.
“Okay,” she murmured, standing up suddenly. Thanks to the difference in height of the stand she was on, her chest lined up with my gaze. “Don’t take the binder, then,” she continued, her breasts rising and falling with a deep breath. My jaw clamped down at the trail of memories triggered by that sight. Sunday. Yoga. My hands on her. Softness and warmth under my fingers. My palm on that exact spot on her chest as she’d struggled for air. Her hand flew to one of the tiny buttons of her blouse, returning me to the present. “I guess we should wrap up here.”
“Please,” I breathed out, my gaze locked on the button as she fumbled with it.
Neither of us made the attempt to leave.
“Oh,” Adalyn started, her voice distracted and the pad of her thumb toggling with the tiny thing, twisting it side to side. “Have you seen the uniforms, by the way? Taking care of the new ones is up on my priority list, but I don’t think they’ll be ready for the game this week.” A pause. Her thumb stopped. I felt my Adam’s apple bob. “Josie said we were covered for now, whatever that means, but something tells me we should check them before Saturday.”
Adalyn’s hand dropped to her side, leaving that one button crooked to one side. She inhaled deeply and her chest swayed again, testing the resistance of the slit. An unwarranted thought popped up in my head. What kind of underwear did a woman like Adalyn Reyes hide under such an adept and prim fa?ade? Did she wear lingerie or was her underwear just as proper and decorous as the outer shell?
My gaze dipped down, as if trying to discern the lines through all that thin and soft-looking fabric and getting a little lost on the dip of her curves. Breasts. Waist. I’d had my hands there, on that exact spot on her waist. I knew how soft—
“Cameron?”