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happen. Not when her focus was on her father. Which was why she needed to adopt all-out avoidance tactics. Not easy when she was stuck with Zac almost 24/7.
    She scanned the pitch for any playing concerns.
    Jaxon motioned from the field; his thigh injury was obviously causing him distress. ‘Hey, Coach.’ She clicked the switch and spoke into the mic. ‘Next time there’s a break in play we’ll have to sort out Jaxon’s hamstring. I’d suggest bringing him off, but we need him.’
    ‘Got you.’ Matt’s disjointed voice crackled down.
    ‘Come on, Jets.’ Zac yelled, and shifted in his seat. His smell wafted around her. She forced back the million things his proximity made her want to do. Hit him. Hold him. Kiss him.
    And then suddenly he was running onto the pitch screaming at her to bring the bag, the ice. Her arrhythmia kicked into full force as she grabbed at the equipment and raced towards the player prone on the grass.
    ‘Manu? Manu? Can you hear me?’ Zac tapped the player’s cheek. ‘Manu?’
    ‘Yeah?’ Manu’s voice sounded fractured and hazy.
    Zac tipped his head up and looked at her, his eyes cautious but determined. ‘Hey, Dani. Head collision. The other one’s okay. Their doctor’s seeing to him.’
    ‘You want to bring him off?’
    ‘Let’s see if he can stand.’ He shifted an arm under Manu’s back and manoeuvred him upright. The player staggered to the left but Zac held on to his arm. ‘You okay, mate?’
    ‘Yeah. Gotta stay and play, though.’
    Dani smiled and inched closer to him, aware that this game was possibly the most important in Manu’s life. He wouldn’t want to come off, however badly hurt he was, so they needed to deal with this delicately. A concerned hum rippled round the stadium at one of the star players being injured in the first game. The TV cameras would be fixed on them. She tried to concentrate on their patient, not on the large screens showing her in close-up or on Zac. Definitely not on Zac. ‘Manu. There’s only a few minutes left to go. Let’s get that head looked at so you can play next round.’
    ‘I’m good. I can stay on.’
    ‘No, mate. I’m telling you. You’re coming off.’ She flicked her switch again. ‘Bringing him off, Matt.’
    ‘Says who?’ Manu’s manner darkened. He jumped up and lurched forward, his large face inches from hers, blood running down his cheek from a gash on his forehead, his teeth bared. His eyes looked like they were trying to focus, with little success. If she’d met him in a dark alleyway she’d have run in the opposite direction. Right now she had to face him down in front of the crowd. ‘You’re not the coach. You’re just a woman. What do you know? I’m staying. Okay?’
    ‘Enough.’ Zac stood between them and faced off the six-feet-two player. Determined, but assertive, Zac’s voice held no nonsense and just enough empathy. ‘Listen. You need a thorough assessment. Head injuries can be a lot worse than just a headache and blurred vision. I’m not taking any risks. As for Dani? She’s our physio, so you’ll listen to her. And I’m the doctor, and right now we’re in charge. We’re both telling you, you need to get off the pitch. Now.’ Then he looped his arm round the player’s shoulder and frog marched him to the sideline.
    The raging tachycardia didn’t stop until she left the field accompanied by a round of applause. Although she knew that was probably for Manu’s efforts earlier in the game rather than anything the medical team had done.
    ‘Is he okay?’ she asked Zac, who was handing their patient over to the ambulance service pitch-side. He flicked his phone into his pocket.
    ‘Mild concussion, I imagine. Hence the volatile temper. He’ll be fine. I’ve just organised an assessment by a neurologist’they’re taking him now.’
    ‘Good.’ Although she could have dealt with Manu on her own she’d been glad for Zac’s support. He’d taken a candid attitude in a situation