Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (13 page)

Mark slapped the glass on the table, his eyes filled with amusement, and smacked his lips. “Mmm, that was good.”

Smug bastard.

Lorelei wasn’t about to be outdone and reached for another glass. Taking a cue from him, she snatched a fork from the table and stirred the liquid until it was thoroughly blended.

“Are you sure you want to do that? I’d sure hate to see you toss your cookies over a little oyster. Maybe you should just set the glass down before you embarrass yourself.” His voice shook with suppressed laughter as he issued the backhanded challenge.

Lorelei looked him dead in the eye. “Fuck you, Mark Cutter.” Before she could change her mind, she threw her head back and tossed the drink down. Then she slapped the glass on the table. “Bring it on, pansy boy. I can take whatever you dish out.”

Laughter erupted down the table and she swirled her head around to see Mark’s teammates looking on in avid fascination. JP, the rookie, grinned at Lorelei. “I think I’m in love.”

John snorted and cuffed the young guy’s shoulder, “You’re just horny, boy. Besides, I’m the one really in love.”

Kowalskin piped up, his voice full of admiration, “Will you marry me, Lorelei? Forget that pretty boy. Let me show you how a real man treats a lady.”

Lorelei laughed in surprised delight. “I’m flattered, Peter. And maybe I’ll just take you up on that offer. Can you cook?”

He flashed a grin and ran a hand over the black shadow beard on his square jaw. “Nope, but I can hire you a mighty fine chef.”

Mark shoved away from the table and stood up, the humor gone from his eyes. “Forget about it, Pete. She’s already taken.” He rounded the table and grabbed her elbow. “Come on, Lorelei. We’re going dancing.”

She let him pull her out of her chair, amused at his reaction to the guys’ mild flirting. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I said I didn’t feel much like dancing. Now I do.”

“Oh well. I beg your pardon.” Those oyster shooters had a pretty decent kick to them. Lorelei felt heat spreading out from the pit of her stomach, enjoyed the looseness flowing through her limbs.

As Mark led her through the crowd, the deep beat of the music seeped into her, the groove of the reggae got her blood pumping. The heavy bass pulsed low in her gut and her body started to sway to the rhythm.

Mark’s hand slid down her arm, leaving a trail of jangled nerves, until his large, hard palm was flush against hers and his long fingers were tangled with hers. Her head whipped up and her eyes sought his, but he was still pushing his way through the crowd. Didn’t he feel it? The hot current of electricity that sparked between their hands and shot up her arm?

Finally Mark stopped and turned. She saw in his eyes the answer. He felt it, too. She wasn’t the only one.

She didn’t even like him most of the time, but she felt a crazy chemistry with him. And deep down she felt hugely relieved. It meant she was alive. Vibrant. Having experiences and living life—something she’d become desperate for.

For the first time in two years she felt carefree and a little reckless. And it felt
good
.

Someone bumped her from behind and pushed her forward into Mark. Swallowing a yelp, Lorelei tried to push away, but he gripped her hip with his free hand and pulled her closer. When they were flush against each other, he started to move. His hips rolled loosely as he swayed to the side and his hard thighs brushed hers. Taking the lead, he placed his hand on her hip to guide her until they found the rhythm, rocking back and forth.

Heat washed over her, wave upon wave, as they moved together. In time with the throbbing bass they swayed, Mark’s finely toned body beckoning her, urging her to sin with every erotic brush against hers. Lorelei felt herself melting, drowning. And she didn’t want it to stop.

Giving herself over to the moment, she let the music seduce her, let the man inside. Just this once, for this dance, she fell into the moment.

The music slowed and the tempo changed. Spinning in Mark’s arms, she reached for his hands as she backed up against him until she could feel his arousal strain against her butt. She pushed against him in a slow grind, heard his deep groan with a sense of feminine triumph.

Lorelei released his hands and raised her arms to wrap around the back of his neck. Her body shivered deliciously when his hands stroked possessively over her rib cage down to her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh and jerked her back as he thrust forward, ground against her.

She closed her eyes as sensations flooded her. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she gloried in the feel of his heart hammering in his chest. His breath poured hot down her neck as he lowered his head. The ache between her legs grew until she was throbbing in time to the music, her inner thighs slick with her desire.

Damp tendrils of hair curled around her fingers when she shifted to grip his head with one hand, as she turned her face to him and found his mouth. She moaned as his lips covered hers, hard and desperate.

They continued to grind erotically, moving slowly to the music, his mouth devouring hers in a kiss of raw animal need. He placed a hand on her neck and added pressure, gently squeezing in an arousing display of sexual dominance. His tongue thrust into her mouth, stroked aggressively, possessively against hers. And he didn’t let up the assault until she whimpered into his mouth in complete surrender.

When it came he ripped his mouth from hers and swore. His voice was rough and primal when he growled, “I want you, Lorelei. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Tell me you feel the same.”

She opened her eyes to find him staring hard at her, lust burning hot in his translucent gray eyes. His mouth was slick from their kiss. Lorelei could feel his chest heaving against her back, expanding with great gulps of air.

With gentle pressure to her neck, Mark urged her on. “I know you want me. Your body is so turned on I can feel it. You’re practically begging to be fucked. Admit it, tell me you want me and I’ll give you the best fuck of your life.”

Lorelei stopped dancing and stared at him as the world came crashing in on her. As she looked into his eyes full of passion for her, reality settled heavily on her shoulders. She tried to push away from him, but his grip tightened. A warning sound came low in his throat.

Her body screamed for release and Lorelei had to admit she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. It would be so easy to give in to this wild, wanton need inside her to embrace her sensuality with Mark. She ached for it. But suddenly it wasn’t as simple as that, and the idea of using him solely for that purpose seemed wrong. Somewhere between oyster shooters and dancing to reggae, something had changed.

She didn’t want to be just another name in a long list of fucks in Mark Cutter’s life.

Firmly pushing out of his embrace, she braced herself for his outburst and hitched her chin. “I do want you, Mark. More than is probably good for me.”

His voice was sharp with sexual frustration and growing anger. “Then what’s the problem, Lorelei? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to remember me. My name, my face.”

With force, he raked his hands through his hair, the movement jerky. “What do you mean? You’re not making any goddamn sense.”

“A year from now, Mark, when you’ve moved through a dozen women and added more to your list of sexual conquests, I deserve to be more than just another faceless screw.”

Chapter 14

M
ARK SWORE AS
another ball flew past his glove and sped toward the backstop behind him. On his feet in a flash, he chased it down ruthlessly and spun toward third. A runner had rounded the base and was speeding toward home. Instantly judging the distance to the plate, Mark’s feet kicked into motion, determination to tag the runner out his only motivation. That was
his
goddamn plate. Seeing him advance, the runner lowered into a slide, forcing Mark to dive headfirst toward home, the ball stretched out in front of him nestled firmly in his glove.

The impact jarred him, and dirt flew obscuring his vision. He knew he’d tagged the runner, but had he already crossed the plate?

The answer came roaring from the umpire and it pissed Mark off. “
Safe!
”

Like hell he was.

Jumping to his feet to argue the umpire’s call as the dust settled, Mark could barely hear the discontent from the crowd around the blood pounding in his ears.

A warning look from the umpire stayed him, though. He’d been tossed from a game on more than a few occasions for arguing calls. Biting back the anger, Mark registered the sound of cheering from the opposing team’s fans, their very presence a punch to his already bruised ego.

Thoroughly ticked, he slapped his mitt hard against his thigh and prepared for another batter. The Denver Rush were taking a thrashing. And it was completely his fault. One hundred percent his frigging fault. He wasn’t playing worth shit tonight.

He was jinxed. And he deserved it for being idiotic enough to have a woman for a good luck charm. They caused nothing but trouble.

Before play could resume an argument broke out between JP and the runner on second. JP was nose to nose with the guy, spouting obscenities. Adding insult, the shortstop lashed out with his free hand and knocked the runner’s helmet from his head. The umps rushed over to break it up, hollering as they waded into the pissing match.

The game got under way again and Mark took his frustration out on any call he disagreed with, criticizing the home plate umpire every chance he got. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he suddenly didn’t care.

When a runner tried to steal second after a pitch, Mark caught the ball, leaped forward, and rocketed it off with punishing force. Though the second baseman tagged the runner out, it did nothing to assuage Mark’s ego.

The ousted runner jogged toward the dugout and glared at Mark as he came into range. “You’re a real asshole tonight, Cutter.”

“What’d you say, Norton? You whining about something?” Mark rolled his shoulders beneath his pads and shifted on his cleats, ready to take him on.

The player just shook his head and entered the dugout. Smart move on his part, but there was a part of Mark that was pretty bummed about it. He felt like kicking some ass.

Mark tried crossing himself for good luck and shook the feeling off. He hoped to God he’d be able to get his head back in the game.

With the runner out at second, that made two outs in the top of the third. One more and he could take a few minutes, cool down and collect himself on the bench. All he had to do was keep it together. The Rush were down 6–1.

Ten minutes later the bases were loaded and Mark knew his luck had completely deserted him. He’d given up two more runs—easy runs that he should have been able to stop. In a fit of temper he cursed a blue streak. He couldn’t remember playing a worse game in his life.

By the time the last game in the series was over Chicago had scored more runs, ending the game in a humiliating 9–2 defeat. The locker room was hushed when Mark walked inside.

They were all taking the loss hard. The Rush had been in the position this game to really put them in the running for the playoffs. They’d blown it.

Now they had a road trip coming up and the Phillies to contend with. Every Rush player despised going to Philly. The fans were notorious and made the games there damn tough. But it was part of the deal and it meant Mark had one day to get his head back in the game. He wondered briefly what it meant that he’d played like ass even though Lorelei had been there. Maybe he’d run out of luck. Or maybe he’d just sucked because he’d sucked. The end.

Drake Paulson dropped down on the bench beside Mark. Shaking himself, he leaned over and began undoing the laces of his cleats.

“You looked like you were struggling out there tonight, Cutter.”

Mark started on the other cleat. “You could say that. I played like shit.”

The big infielder stretched his leg out and began unwrapping the bandage around his knee. “We all have off games. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

With his cleats off, Mark stood and began to undress. “I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

Drake clipped the bandage and tossed it in the open locker behind him. “I should have played better at first. You aren’t the only one to blame for tonight.”

“Maybe I wasn’t the only one, but I was the biggest contributor.”

The scarred veteran leaned his huge shoulders against the metal locker. “When a woman gets under your skin it can really screw with your game. I know.” He eyed Mark. “I saw the two of you the other night. You’ve got it bad, brother.”

Denial was swift and strong. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m fine.”

“How long have we been teammates? Five, six years? This is the first time I’ve seen you lose focus. It’s the first time I’ve seen you look at a woman the way you did last night.”

Mark scowled and yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. “How did I look at Lorelei?”

“Like I used to look at my wife.” Drake smiled and shook his head. “Before she left me for my tax accountant.”

M
ARK HAD BEEN
awfully withdrawn on the car ride to his condo. In fact, he’d been downright sulky.

Lorelei knew he was upset about tonight, but she had a feeling it was more than that.

She’d spent the game observing him and visiting with Leslie. Turned out his sister went to almost all his games. What she’d observed was that Mark had played like a man haunted by something. And that something wasn’t related to baseball. Lorelei was pretty sure she knew what that was.

It was her.

He shoved the door to his condo open and she followed him through. Flicking on lights as he went, Mark shrugged out of his charcoal dress jacket and strode down the hall to his room. Left alone in the foyer, Lorelei sighed. He’d been ignoring her since she’d turned him down last night.

He couldn’t have made his feelings any more plain.

She’d been right. To him she was nothing more than a faceless name. It shouldn’t bother her. Not when she’d been considering using him the way she had. Mark wasn’t anything more to her than a means to an end. He couldn’t be.

It shouldn’t bother her, but it did.

Why it did, she didn’t really want to examine. Lorelei knew what she was, and what she wasn’t. She wasn’t the type of woman to keep the interest of a man like Mark for very long. It’d last just long enough for one or two nights of steamy sex.

It was her track record. The truth was that most men didn’t stay interested beyond the bedroom door. Mostly they hung around long enough to get what they wanted and then they bailed. The last one had been the worst. He hadn’t even waited until the sheets had cooled before he’d run out and never called again.

Lorelei sighed again and started down the hall to the guest room. She slipped off her brown leather jacket and hung it on a spare hanger in the closet. Spying her duffel bag on the floor in the corner, she went to it and crouched down.

Mark had already searched the bag for his cross, she knew that. It hadn’t been much of a secret, really. And she’d expected it. He could search all he wanted, but he wouldn’t find a thing. It was still at the concierge desk at the hotel.

Lorelei straightened and grabbed another bag off the floor. In it were some clean clothes she’d grabbed from her house. When Logan had asked about it, she’d just told him that she was going with Mark on an away game trip. He’d given her the eye, but kept his mouth shut. Not that he needed to say anything, anyway. She already knew how he felt. He’d made that clear back in their kitchen.

Now she pulled out a thin white cotton camisole and a pair of blue jersey lounge pants. They were the only clean pajamas she had. She needed to wash some clothes, but had no idea if Mark had a washing machine or if he sent his laundry out.

Kicking off her shoes, she quickly undressed and slipped the clothes on. Then she pulled the clip holding her hair in a messy bun out and let it fall loose down her back.

Out in the living room she went straight to Mark’s entertainment center and perused his CD selection. His tastes ran the gamut from classical to hard rock and she skimmed the spines until coming across one that suited her mood. Slipping it from the rack, she put it in the player. When slow, moody blues came through the surround sound speakers, she turned and sank into the couch and listened. Blues full of sax and guitar always relaxed her.

Mark appeared a few minutes later, dressed only in a pair of flannel lounge pants. Lorelei glanced over the back of the couch and fought to keep her jaw from dropping. Her mouth watered at the sight of his tanned, sculpted chest and washboard abs. Those deeply cut muscles that V’d down into his low-riding flannels were delicious. So was the dark blond trail of hair that disappeared beneath the plaid fabric.

Why was she hesitating to act on her desire to have sex with him? At the sight of his gorgeous body she was about to experience a total meltdown. And if he never spoke to her again after getting her in the sack? Well, she supposed she could deal with that, if it meant she got to experience a night with him.

He took another step and his abs flexed hard in response to the movement. Oh yeah, she could deal.

He shot her a dark look as he headed into the kitchen. Lorelei guessed he was still ignoring her. Glass clinked as he rummaged in his cupboards. A few minutes later he reemerged with a glass half full of amber liquid and started toward his room.

She sat up straighter and swung an arm over the back. “Why don’t you come sit over here, Mark?”

He stopped. “Why would I want to do that, Lorelei?”

Because he looked angry and miserable at the same time, that’s why. “You look like you could use a sounding board. I’m a great listener if you want to talk about tonight’s game.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” But he rounded the couch and took a seat. Bringing the glass to his lips, he took a sip and propped his bare feet on the coffee table.

So he didn’t want to talk about the game. Fine. She had a million questions she wanted to ask him. “Did you decorate this place, or did you hire an interior designer?” She’d keep it light until he relaxed. Then she’d ask the good stuff.

Mark took another drink of the amber liquid. The corded tendons of his throat worked and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I hired someone. I can’t decorate for shit.”

She smiled. “So you don’t have an affinity for colored rocks?”

That got a tiny smirk out him. “Nope. But they kinda grow on you after a while.” He dropped his head back against the backrest, exposing the long line of this throat. A day’s growth of deep bronze hair shadowed the strong line of his jaw and his lean cheeks.

Lorelei tucked her legs underneath her and leaned back against the plush cushions. “Do you ever get tired of the grind of professional baseball? Ever think about retirement?”

He rolled his head along the back of the couch and looked at her. “Every player has to think about retirement somewhere down the line, Lorelei. As much as we’d like, we can’t play ball our whole lives.”

Curiosity prodded her to ask, “What would you do if you couldn’t play baseball anymore?”

“Are you trying to jinx me, sweetheart?”

The day’s stress and the alcohol had his voice growing rough. The velvet sandpaper sound of it crept inside her and lodged in her chest. “No, I was just wondering what you would do, that’s all. What your other interests are.”

“Uh-huh. I’m not going to answer that because you’ve already jinxed me by stealing my good luck charm. Any chance you’re willing to give it back?”

Lorelei shook her head.

“Didn’t think so.” He sighed. “Am I going to have to have you arrested after all, Lorelei Littleton?”

She leaned forward and took the glass from his hand and swallowed a small amount. It burned a path down to her stomach. “You don’t want to have me arrested, Mark. You just want something to blame for your performance tonight.”

“Is that so? Maybe I might enjoy seeing your sexy little butt carted off to jail in handcuffs. Ever think about that possibility? You’ve caused me a lot of grief, sugar.” His hand closed over hers and he brought the glass to his lips, took a long pull. His sullen gaze never left hers.

The feel of his large, hard hand on hers sent a spear of heat spiraling up her arm. She dropped her hand and stood. “I’m going to grab the bottle real quick.”

“Good idea. I wasn’t planning on getting drunk, but now that you mention it. Grab another glass, too.”

Lorelei returned with the liquor bottle and another glass. She started to hand it to Mark but he gave a look that spoke volumes and shook his head. “That one’s yours. I remember too well what happened the last time you brought me a glass.”

Guilt slammed into Lorelei and she nearly dropped the bottle. She recovered quickly, but her hand shook slightly when she poured a drink. He watched until she took a drink and swallowed before he reached for the bottle to replenish his glass.

He had every right not to trust her. She’d done nothing to deserve trust, but it still stung just the same. Before her encounter with him she’d never done anything to deserve distrust and skepticism. And she discovered that it didn’t sit well that Mark felt both for her.

If only they’d met under different circumstances he would have seen the real Lorelei. But they’d met under these circumstances and she was just going to have to deal with it.

It would have made the whole thing easier if she could continue believing that Mark was the selfish womanizer she’d first thought him to be. Instead, she was beginning to have a sneaky suspicion there was a whole lot more to Mark Cutter than met the eye.