Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (14 page)

Turning, she strode over to the panoramic windows and gazed out at the lights of downtown Denver. It was beautiful. It felt almost like being on top of the world with all the shimmering lights sprawling out before her. She hugged her arms to her, the snifter dangling from her fingers, and soaked it in. It was all so different from the world she lived in.

“Little League.”

She sharpened her gaze until it focused on his reflection in the window. He was still lounged on the sofa with his feet outstretched and his head tipped back. In one hand he held the glass, the other rested across the flat plane of his belly. His hand shifted and he lazily scratched the skin just above his pelvic bone, and Lorelei felt it in the pit of her stomach like a caress. Heat flooded her and pooled in the same spot on her where his hand touched him.

What was she doing feeling so much chemical attraction for a man who thought so little of her? A man who, with one misstep on her part, would have her arrested without a second thought? It was insane. And stupid.

So why couldn’t she stop it?

Movement in the glass caught her attention and she watched as Mark raised his head and looked at her. He was waiting for her response. “What are you talking about?” she said. “You’ve lost me.”

In the reflection she saw him take another drink and lower the glass to rest on his thigh. “You asked what I would do if I couldn’t play. I’d coach Little League.”

“Really?” That was a shocker. “You’d want to teach kids?”

He pressed his lips together, revealing the deep creases in his cheeks, and frowned. “I’m not a complete ass, Lorelei. I do have a few redeeming qualities. I like kids. To me it’s more rewarding to coach them than it is an adult team, all right?”

If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d just offended him. And wasn’t that strange? She’d insulted a man known by and large to be a completely arrogant jerk. She hadn’t known it was possible. An apology was in order. “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, you did,” he countered. “But that’s fine. It doesn’t really matter what you think of me. You’re only here because I need my lucky charm.”

So that’s what it boiled down to. The bottom line. Lorelei swirled the half-forgotten drink and took a deep pull of the rich Caribbean rum. Heck, she knew that, but to hear him say it with such annoyed finality was jarring.

The moment at the club last night had been nothing more than a passing urge to him. She could have been any woman last night and he’d have done the same thing. The blond bimbo could have been in his arms and he’d have wanted her, not Lorelei.

She knew that with gut certainty because he was Mark Cutter, and people didn’t get a reputation like his for nothing. Women were nothing more than a passing amusement, a moment of distraction.

Last night had been her moment and now it was gone.

Lorelei tossed back the rest of the rum and wiped a forearm across her lips. She turned from the windows and squared her shoulders. Knowing that only made her job easier.

Guilt was a five-letter word that didn’t belong in her vocabulary. In fact, it was a good thing that Mark reminded her so bluntly where she stood before she lost sight of what she was doing there in the first place. Before she found herself falling for a cold-hearted baseball player who didn’t give a crap about her.

Mark Cutter deserved to be brought down a peg by a woman. And she was just the one to do it.

Chapter 15

L
ORELEI STILL COULDN’T
believe she was in Philadelphia, a city of such rich history. It was home of the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and Benjamin Franklin. The former two being places she’d love to see. Still, more importantly to some of the less historically minded, Philly played host to the Eagles, the Flyers, and some of baseball’s rowdiest, most enthusiastic fans.

When Lorelei walked into Citizens Bank Park the roar of the crowd was jarring. She couldn’t believe the mad crush of fans in red and white jerseys. The atmosphere was nearly manic. Normally baseball fans were the subdued sports enthusiasts—brainy, courteous, quiet unless cheering a play. Apparently somebody forgot to give the Phillies fans the memo.

It was nuts.

No wonder Mark loved playing baseball. It was pure enthusiasm. If these fans were anything to go by, baseball fanatics would be crazy enough to pay an armload for Mark’s charm.

Earlier she’d had the brilliant idea to use the hotel’s business center to put it up for auction on the net. But before she’d been able to enter all the information she’d caught sight of Leslie searching for her near the bathrooms and she’d had to bail. She’d been so close, too. Maybe his necklace really was charmed, because she was having a heck of a time getting rid of it.

But she wasn’t about to give up.

Leslie nudged her side. “Mark got us great seats for the game tonight. We’re three rows up from the boards on the first base line. We’ll have the best view of all the action. And there’s bound to be tons of it tonight.”

If the frenzy of the crowd was anything to go by she didn’t doubt it.

They made their way down the steps until they found their seats. A balding man with his face painted red and white and sporting a Phillies jersey blocked the aisle. He looked at them and said, “You gonna cheer for our boys? It’s gonna be a great game tonight.”

Leslie shoved past him, followed by Lorelei. When they were standing before the plastic seats, Leslie turned back to the Phillies fan. “We sure are going to cheer for our boys tonight, aren’t we, Lorelei? Our boys are going to kick your boys’ butts. The Rush has the better catcher and stronger fielders.” She smiled sweetly and plopped down.

“Saying things like that in this stadium could be very dangerous, I’m thinking,” Lorelei mumbled as she sat next to her.

Leslie winked and grinned. She turned to the blustering man and said, “Y’all don’t mind a little good-natured ribbing, do you?”

The guy shook his head. “Nah, but you got it all wrong. Our fielding is way better and our catcher is ten times better than Cutter is.”

Leslie leaned around Lorelei and challenged, “You care to bet on that?”

Here comes trouble
, Lorelei thought. Betting on Mark wasn’t the wisest choice considering the way he’d played the last game.

“All right. Twenty bucks to whoever’s team wins. You’re gonna regret betting against the Phillies. They’re kicking ass this season. And Cutter’s been playing pathetically this go-round. But I’ll gladly take your money.”

Stretching out her arm, Leslie leaned across Lorelei and shook the balding man’s hand. “You’re on. And I wouldn’t count Cutter out just yet if I were you. He’s got a hell of a comeback record.”

Lorelei hoped that was the truth as she watched them shake hands on the bet. Music sounded through the stadium speakers loudly as they waited for the game to begin. Lorelei could see JP Trudeau first at bat, Mark on deck behind him.

The guy next to her stood up and yelled, “You suck, Denver Rush! You suck, Cutter!”

Lorelei felt like punching him in his pudgy face. She gave him a good glare instead and stood up.

Placing her fingers in her mouth, Lorelei blew and released an ear-piercing whistle. “Yeah! Go Cutter! You rock! Whoo-hoo!” For added measure she threw her hands up and punched the air. Then she looked down at the man with his red and white face paint and smiled. She had to clamp down on the urge to stick her tongue out, too.

She didn’t like anyone bashing her boy like that.

Glancing back at the field she saw Mark looking at her while he swung a weighted bat, his eyes unreadable. For several long heartbeats he stared at her, studying her, before he turned his head.

Lorelei realized she was standing there like an idiot and quickly sat down. It wasn’t the smartest idea to stand up in a stadium bursting with infamous Phillies fans while hollering for the enemy for very long. They might start throwing something. Like batteries.

She realized Leslie was staring at her. “What?”

“You really like him don’t you?” she said.

More than she should. “I just didn’t like that bozo calling Mark names, that’s all.”

Everyone hushed for the National Anthem and then all of a sudden the stadium went absolutely wild as the music changed. Lorelei watched as the Phillies’ starting pitcher warmed up on the mound to the tune of “Good Times, Bad Times” by Led Zeppelin.

And she’d thought the Rush fans were loud.

Leslie leaned close. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? Milwaukee is the only other city I’ve been to that rivals Philly for baseball fanatics.”

All around her people were standing and yelling for their team, thousands of voices raised in chaos. “It’s mind-blowing,” she had to admit. “I never really thought baseball fans were rowdy.”

“That’s why I never miss an opportunity to come when Mark plays here. It’s too much fun to miss.”

“So that’s why we flew over together? Not because Mark wanted you to babysit me?” It still vaguely annoyed her even though she liked his sister a lot.

Leslie tossed back her blond hair and laughed. “Is that what you think?” She dabbed a pinky finger at the corner of her eye. “You mean Mark hasn’t told you?”

“Hasn’t told me what?”

“He got us on the same flight because he didn’t want you to be lonely. He was worried that you would feel awkward flying into a strange city separately from him. Since I was already planning to come, I agreed.”

What a bunch of bull
, Lorelei thought. Mark didn’t give a damn for her comfort.

“Darlin’, my brother is head over heels for you. Can’t you see it?”

Like a flash of lightning, shock speared through Lorelei and she jerked in her seat. She shook her head. “No he’s not. He barely even likes me. You don’t know the whole situation.”

Leslie sent her a knowing smile. “You mean about you taking Mark’s good luck charm? My brother doesn’t lie to me. I’ve known about that from the get-go. I’ve simply decided not to ask you about it. I figured you’d talk about it when you were ready.”

Lorelei melted against her seat and groaned. “You must think I’m a horrible person.”

She felt a hand pat her knee. “I don’t think that at all. What I do think is that there’s a very strong incentive in your life that’s caused you to do it.”

“There is.”

Leslie looked at her for several seconds, understanding in her hazel eyes. “I know. And y’all trust Mark when you’re ready and you’ll tell him the truth.”

Her jaw clenched. “I’ll never trust him. I can’t.”

“Lorelei, look at me.” She looked. “I know you’ve heard things about Mark. Bad things. I won’t lie, some of it’s true. My brother’s made mistakes, no doubt. But he’s a good man. You can trust him.”

She shook her head in denial. “I can’t.”

“I’m asking you to take a chance on him, Lorelei. I was there at the club the other night, you know.”

“You were?”

“Yes, and I saw the way y’all were together. I haven’t seen him act like that before. Ever.”

Lorelei looked out at the field, down at the Rush’s catcher. “He was married before.”

With a wave of her hand, Leslie dismissed that comment. “That was a mistake. He was very young and she was the first woman to tell him what he wanted to hear at the time. It wasn’t love.”

“But—”

“Ask him why that cross is so special to him, Lorelei. If you want to get to know the real Mark you’ve got to take that first step. He’s learned from experience not to trust until he’s trusted. He’s worth the risk.”

Well, if that wasn’t a cryptic message then she didn’t know what was. Trust Mark. Impossible.

Or was it?

“I’m not sure if I can do what you’re asking but I’ll think about it.”

“Hey, you two girls ready to see your team lose?”

Both women spun their heads around at the intrusion.

Lorelei gave him a once-over, leaned close, and said, “I’m going to enjoy watching you eat your words. By the way, nice paint job on your face. But you missed a spot.”

The crowd let out another earth-shattering cheer as the Phillies of the National League geared up to take on the Denver Rush. Lorelei forced the doubts and questions from her mind and focused on the game.

Her gaze drifted down the diamond to Mark. He looked positively lethal and focused as he readied at bat. Which brought up a question. “Hey, Leslie? Why is Mark second at bat? I was under the impression that catchers didn’t bat at the first of the lineup.”

Leslie tossed her a grin. “That’s only if they suck at bat, hon. Mark’s good. Real good. He’s not a slugger or anything, but he’s great at base hits and super fast.”

Lorelei thought about that for a minute. “And that’s what you need at the beginning of a game—to get on base. So, he and JP are good at getting to bases. Makes sense.” In more ways than one. Mark definitely was good at getting to bases.

Leslie nodded agreement. “Yep, and they’re fast, too. Especially JP. That kid’s got fire under his butt. Just watch.”

Lorelei shot out of her seat as the umpire came into position and JP stepped into the batter’s box, and began shouting and clapping alongside Leslie. The pitcher wound up to the great delight of the roaring crowd. She couldn’t help being affected by the energy level in the stadium and felt adrenaline pump into her as the Rush took their first turn at bat.

The Rush came out strong in the first inning, claiming two runs and keeping the Phillies at bay. The heckling and ribbing mellowed a little from the crowd when the second inning got under way. Only about two hundred times did the Phillies fans yell out something rude about a Rush player within her earshot.

When Drake Paulson slammed a homer beyond the center field wall, someone behind Lorelei yelled out, “You’re a pansy, Paulson!”

A fight broke out on the far side of the stadium as Phillies and Rush fans clambered in the bleachers for the ball. It quickly turned into a group effort. Before her eyes it seemed every person in those bleachers got into the scramble and began tussling.

Had she ever thought baseball a gentlemen’s sport?

She glanced down to see Mark standing calmly at the front of his dugout, a slight smile on his face. He shot a stream of water from a plastic bottle into his mouth and spit it out. Amusement showed on his face as he watched the fans scuffle.

Lorelei studied him from her seat. Damp hair stuck to his temples and clung to the sides of his neck. His tanned cheeks were slightly flushed from exertion and a shadow beard covered his jaw. From a distance his eyes were dark and intense.

Her stomach took a long, slow dive. He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

Leslie elbowed her in the ribs. “Y’all want to tell me again that you don’t like him?”

Lorelei watched him shrug his shoulders, and roll his head from side to side. Then he retreated to the bench, slipping out of view.

Leslie elbowed her again and she swallowed hard. Her eyes never left the spot he’d been as she slowly shook her head. She didn’t answer, couldn’t. She couldn’t speak at all.

Her heart was in her throat.

O
NE OUT WAS
left in the bottom of the ninth, Philly at bat. Mark watched Peter wind up the pitch through the metal cage of his helmet. Walskie was pitching his heart out tonight and holding his own. It was impressive he was still going strong in the ninth, his throws still on target and fast. He was definitely earning himself a few days of rest and recovery.

The Rush were up 3–2.

They were hot tonight. They were out to prove themselves and they were pulling out all the stops. Outfielders were making the cleanest relays of the season, the infield was making double plays left and right, and he was guarding home with ruthless efficiency.

Mark was holding his own.

He had to keep it up for one more out, that’s all. One more out and his team moved one step closer to the playoffs. They were busting ass for it. Hell, they suffered bruises and divorces for it.

Now they just had to put the lid on the game.

Like a predator, Mark followed the ball with his gaze, never taking his eye off Peter. At bat was a pinch hitter for the Phillies pitcher—a hard-nosed slugger come to clean up and even the score. Mark knew the player’s reputation and calculated the pitch. Signaled it to Kowalskin. He knew the Philly batter was lethal if the ball was low and outside, but weak if it came at him high and inside. In preparation Mark shifted to his left, prepared for the pitch. If Peter threw it right the pinch hitter would swing and find only air.

After an intense moment the ball came and the batter swung hard, missed, and swore. Mark threw the ball back to Peter and signaled the same pitch again. The Philly batter couldn’t resist swinging at those high and inside throws.

Again, Peter wound up and released, the ball zooming toward him at an incredible speed. And again the batter swung, only this time catching a piece of the ball with the bat and sending in flying into foul territory.

Two strikes.

On a deep breath, Mark settled into a crouched position again and decided to call the same pitch. If it wasn’t broke, now wasn’t the time to fix it. Peter nodded agreement and the ball came hard on the inside.

At the last minute the slugger pulled his swing and connected on a bunt. The ball fell dead a few feet in front of home plate. The batter dashed off toward first, hoping to outrun the play.

On his feet instantly, Mark streaked toward the ball, moving with amazing agility and speed. Kowalskin was racing in from the pitcher’s mound, and Paulson called to him from first.

In one fluid motion, Mark scooped up the ball, pivoted, and drilled the ball hard toward Paulson’s waiting glove. The contact sounded with a thwack as the pinch hitter dove headfirst toward safety at first.