Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (8 page)

Lorelei opened a drawer and grabbed a butter knife. She dipped it in the hummus and collected a large amount on the blade. Swallowing a laugh, she turned to face him, barely twitched her wrist, and watched as red pepper hummus splattered across the front of his white T-shirt.

“I
’M SO SORRY!
Gosh, how clumsy of me. Let me get something to wipe that off with.”

Mark knew she’d done that on purpose. Her wide-eyed innocent act wasn’t fooling him. Not for a second. So she wanted to play dirty, did she?

The brat thought he couldn’t handle a little disorder, a little mess. She was about to find out how wrong she was.

He eyed her and drawled, “Now, honey, don’t you worry yourself over that mishap.” With a finger he wiped the blob off his shirt and flicked it on hers. “Oh darn. Looks like I’m slippery-fingered today, too.”

Her gasp of outrage made him laugh. Served her right for snooping around his office.

He saw her go for the hummus tub and snaked a hand out, snatching it an instant before she did. Mark couldn’t resist taunting, “Too slow, Hamburgler. You’re not stealing my fries.”

She made a face and let out a growl. She lunged for the tub. “Gimme that hummus, Mark.”

Amusement rolled through him. God, she was easy to tease. And tempting when she was riled. Color flooded her cheeks and her eyes turned vivid green.

He shook his head and raised his arm, holding the tub high above them. “Come and get it.”

“You don’t think I will?”

He laughed. “Can you reach it, short stuff?”

She huffed and blew away the hair hanging in her face. He wiggled the tub in challenge.

Lorelei jumped, missing the tub by a good six inches. “Catchers have good reaches, girl. You’d better try harder than that.”

She cussed, making him laugh. Then she jumped again. Again and again she tried until Mark was almost doubled over with laughter.

Finally, she stopped and gave him a good glare. “Fine. You win, you big jerk.”

He felt a stab of disappointment, but before he could respond she wheeled around and leaped, her legs wrapping firmly around his waist as both her hands grabbed at his arm. Shock and arousal shot through him as she wiggled up his body, using his arm like a fire pole.

The laughter slowly died in his throat when her legs clamped tight around him, pulling her heat snug against him. Her amazing breasts pressed flush against his chest. In an instant he was hard and aching for her.

Turning them, Mark pressed her against the counter. Oblivious to the hunger gnawing at him, she squeezed her legs and thrust up, taking the hummus out of his loose grip.

Her face lit with triumph, Lorelei sat on the counter and lowered her victorious gaze to him. Then she looked at him and her eyes went wide. “Oh my goodness,” she whispered.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Lust slammed into him and he took her mouth in a hot, carnal kiss. No tender coaxing, no gentle persuasion. He fed her a kiss full of a grown man’s raging need. No games. Just tongue, teeth, and raw sex.

She whimpered and it fueled him, ignited him. Made him burn.

He vaguely heard the sound of the tub of hummus as it hit the floor, splattering across the cupboards. Then her hands were on him, yanking at his shirt, pulling at his fly. Her lush mouth was moving wickedly against his, her tongue stroking, demanding.

She bit him and he swore, laughed. His head spun with a sort of delirium. God he wanted her.

Shoving his erection against the V of her thighs, Mark broke the kiss and yanked his shirt over his head. He sucked air like a drowning man as his chest heaved from exertion.

Suddenly he had to see them. In the bright light of day he had to touch them, taste them. Leaning in, he kissed Lorelei hard before yanking her sweater over her head. Just as quickly he undid her bra, not stopping until her breasts were bare, exposed to his view. Every creamy, beautiful inch.

They were perfect. Full and round with plump, tight, dusky nipples. His cock jumped hard in reaction, straining madly against his fly.

Her voice was a little husky. “I want your mouth on me, Mark. I want to feel your tongue across my nipples.”

“Jesus.” Something primitive and wicked reared its head at her words. It washed over him, into him, made him grip a handful of her hair and yank until she whimpered and her throat was bare.

Then his mouth was on her, feasting on her breasts. Never. Never before had he wanted a woman like this.

Closing his mouth over her puckered nipple, Mark sucked, using teeth and tongue until Lorelei let out a groan of pleasure and slid her hands into his hair, pulling him even closer. He grinned when he felt her tug his hair and heard her moan his name.

He was so engrossed in the sight, feel, taste of her that he was slow to realize she was trying to get his attention. With a vicious growl he straightened, licked his lips for one more taste of her. And felt immense satisfaction at the dazed, aroused look he saw in her gorgeous eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice sounding rough to his own ears. Desire still pumped a furious pace in his blood as Mark released her hair and slid a finger down her silky throat. He grinned when he found her pulse racing there.

Lorelei closed her eyes and purred, stretched into his caress like a cat. “Mmm, the phone, Mark. Someone’s calling.”

And that’s when he heard it, the sound of his cell phone. He was going to ignore it. Getting Lorelei naked was way more important. Then reality registered.

Instantly the fog lifted, and Mark swore. She’d done it again, damn it. Made him forget his priorities, his job.

He had a game today.

Mark took one last look at her amazing breasts and scowled. How the hell was he supposed to focus on his game after tasting those?

Chapter 9

L
ORELEI WAS AT
her very first professional baseball game. She was seated four rows up and directly behind home plate with a great view of the field. In spite of herself she couldn’t help feeling excited as Coors Field filled with enthusiastic Rush fans.

Pregame music blared through the speakers—hard-hitting rock ’n’ roll. The smell of vendor hot dogs and cheap beer lingered on the air, mixing with the crisp scent of the freshly mowed ball field. The noise level grew as the crowd shuffled in and began waiting anxiously for the game to begin. Lorelei snuggled deeper into the gold and green Rush jersey Mark had given her to wear. Though it was short-sleeved it was so large on her that the sleeves came down past her elbow.

The Rush were currently on the field for their pregame warm-up. She’d spotted Mark the minute he’d strode onto the field. Of course he was the one with all the catcher’s padding and the big glove, but it was more than that. It was the way he moved. So graceful and confident.

A sharp thrill had shot through her when he separated from the team and stalked toward the plate in front of her. After walking around the plate three times and whacking his fist in his glove twice, he’d turned his head toward her and shot her a warning look through his helmet cage. It clearly said,
You disappear, you pay.

If she was honest with herself, Lorelei wasn’t so sure she wanted to skip out just yet. She had a chance to watch Mark “The Wall” Cutter work his magic live and up close. And after what had happened between them in his kitchen she had to admit she was more than a little curious about him.

Besides, she could always bail later.

Yeah, then he’d have her arrested and charged with theft and drugging him. And that was no laughing matter.

Lorelei realized she was glaring at the back of Mark’s jersey. She still hadn’t figured out how to get the money.

“You missed our meeting today, Lorelei. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Lorelei started at the voice coming from behind her and glanced up, tried to turn her head.

“No! Don’t turn around. He can’t see me talking to you!”

Dina. She couldn’t stop the chill that ran down her spine. Lorelei’s gaze whipped to Mark as her heart started hammering. He wasn’t looking, thank God. The last thing she needed right now was him seeing her with his ex-wife. Twin surges of panic and excitement darted inside her at what this unexpected meeting meant. The money wasn’t lost after all. She kept her eyes locked on Mark and replied, “I won’t turn around.”

“Good. Now, where is it? Where’s that stupid prick’s lucky charm?”

Lorelei frowned at that nasty comment. That was a bit harsh, even coming from an embittered ex-wife. “I don’t have it on me.” It was still with the hotel concierge. “But he knows I took it and is holding me hostage until I give it to him.”

Impatience sharpened Dina’s tone, raising it almost a full octave. “Well, that’s not very smart of you, is it? And that’s your little problem to figure out. You do want the money, don’t you? God, just look at him out there. He thinks he’s something special, doesn’t he?” She let out a huff of air and snorted. “He’s not going to be so special after I’m through with him.”

Unease began to creep along Lorelei’s nerves. Dina was sounding downright nasty. Something was off about this whole thing—she could feel it. Glancing out at the field warily until Mark came into view; she took a deep breath and watched him. Her tone was guarded when she replied, “Well, he is a pro ballplayer. That does make him somewhat unique, I would think.”

Another snort sounded behind her, full of derision and sarcasm. “Oh, he’s
unique
all right. Uniquely stupid. Do you know that he thought I wouldn’t catch on to why all of our old friends began snubbing me? That I wouldn’t know why I wasn’t being invited to all the big social events anymore? I made him look good and he threw it away. Threw me away. And he made me look like a fool. He’s going to pay for that. Top dollar, too, because he needs his precious little necklace.”

The unease crept up another notch, but she kept her eyes on Mark. If he knew who she was talking to she’d be so done. There’d be no wiggling her way out of this one. “Is that what this is all about, Dina? Payback for losing your membership to the rich people’s club? I thought he cheated on you and abused you.”

Something very close to venom snaked into Dina’s voice, “I
belong
to that club. It’s
mine
.” It sounded so very different from the wide-eyed, abused ex-wife tone Lorelei had experienced before that she couldn’t help swiveling her head around. Before she’d succeeded, a cold, bony hand splayed across her cheek and pushed her back.

“I
told
you not to turn around!”

Well,
excuse
her. Irritation bloomed in her chest. If she didn’t need the money so bad she’d tell Dina just where she could stick it after that little stunt. But she did need it, so she remained cool and apologized instead. “I’m sorry.”

Apparently mollified, Dina leaned in close and said emphatically, “He did cheat me! I did everything for him and what did I get for it, huh, Lorelei? The bastard took out a restraining order against me.
Me!
I’m the victim—not him. I got publicly shunned and humiliated for that stunt. He ruined my life. Now it’s his turn.” Suddenly she gasped in outrage and demanded, “Get me the cross, Lorelei. Bring it to me at this address”—she shoved a piece of paper into Lorelei’s hand—“and the money is yours. I want to see him humiliated. Shit, I have to go.”

The noise level in the stadium rose as fans grew impatient for the game to get under way. Lorelei whipped her head around just in time to see Dina’s tall, slender form slip quickly into the crowd and disappear. She tucked the paper quickly into her pocket and frowned. And just what the hell was Lorelei supposed to think about all this, because it was pretty damn apparent that the wool had been pulled over her eyes. A restraining order? What the hell?

Now she understood why Dina needed her.

Before she got a chance to mull it all over, a female voice startled her. “Excuse me, are you Lorelei Littleton?”

Tearing her gaze from where Dina had been, Lorelei turned her head and glanced up. A tall, fit-looking woman about her age stood a few feet down, a tentative smile on her stunningly gorgeous face.

“Yes, I’m Lorelei.”

The woman slipped into the empty seat next to her and chuckled. “Oh good.” She held out a hand. “I’m Mark’s sister, Leslie Cutter. It’s nice to meet you, Lorelei.”

At a loss for words, Lorelei shook her hand and studied Mark’s sister. Took a moment to calm her racing heart. At least she knew Leslie hadn’t seen anything—the stadium was way too crowded and people were still standing up milling about.

There was a definite resemblance in the blond hair, the set of the jaw, the shape of the eyes. The color and expression were very different, however. Hers were hazel and Mark’s were that pale gray. And his were sulky half the time.

“Y’all are wondering why I’m here, aren’t you?” Leslie asked in that softly Southern accent reminiscent of her brother’s, only stronger.

Lorelei glanced at Mark just in time to see him salute to his sister. He didn’t even look at her. Obviously he hadn’t noticed anything, either.

Forcing herself to relax, she answered, “I
was
wondering that, since I didn’t even know Mark had any siblings. In fact, I don’t know Mark all that well at all.”

The beautiful blond tossed her head back and let out a hoot of laughter. “That’s just like my brother, all right. Mr. Enigma.” Leslie reached for a drink tray she’d set on the floor and handed Lorelei a cup. “Here you go. Mark said you’d probably go for a soda during the game, so I brought you one.”

How’d he know that? She
had
been planning on a soda.

Not sure whether to be angry or flattered that Mark had sent his sister to babysit her, Lorelei grabbed the cup and took a sip of the soft drink through the straw. “Thanks, Leslie.”

“No problem. So, Mark tells me that y’all have been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

Lorelei shifted in her seat and eyed his sister warily. “You could say that.” How much did she know?

Leslie took a sip of her drink and pointed the cup and straw toward the field. “It’s nice to hear that he’s been spending a significant amount of time with the same woman. Since his divorce, there hasn’t been anyone who’s occupied more than a few weeks of his life at a time.”

Lorelei watched as Mark sat on the ground and stretched. The number seventeen slithered over his back as he bent forward to stretch his hamstrings. He was surprisingly flexible.
Hmmm.
Maybe he did do yoga. “Is that so? He hasn’t dated anyone exclusively?”

Ripping her gaze from Mark, she turned to look at his sister. Leslie shook her head, her pale blond hair swinging with the movement. “Nope. There’s been no one. Until you, that is. When Mark called me and asked me to come meet you, told me that you were very special to him, I was thrilled. He’s been playing at being the single bad boy long enough.”

She wasn’t dumb enough to tell Leslie the truth, but her conscience nipped at her, making her inwardly flinch. Now she was going to have to lie to Mark’s sister and for some reason that bothered her. Maybe her conscience was kicking into overdrive, trying to make up for completely deserting her when she’d met Dina.

Glaring again at the hulking catcher, since her lying to his sister was his fault, Lorelei said, “I’m glad to meet you, too, Leslie. You’re the first of Mark’s family that I’ve met.” That, at least was true. “I thought they were all back in Florida.”

“Most of us are. I just moved here a little over a year ago. A change of scenery and all.” Leslie’s gaze followed a Rush player until he jogged in front of them. Then she put her fingers in her mouth, whistled and yelled, “Whoo! John Crispin, you stud!”

The rugged-looking, unshaven player flashed a smile and raised his mitt, pointing it toward Leslie. Then he twisted on his cleats, sent a spray of dirt flying, and dashed away.

Lorelei held back a smile as Leslie sighed and said, “That’s a whole lotta man there, Lorelei. I swear to y’all, his kisses will melt the panties right off a gal.”

Lorelei almost choked on her soda. The bubbles went up her nose, making her eyes water and her sinuses sting. Waving a hand in front of her face, she croaked, “Is that so?”

She wondered if Mark could hear them, because just then his head whipped around and he sent her a piercing stare, his eyes as cold as ice behind the metal of his face cage. Tension emanated from him, flowing out in frustrated waves toward her. Or maybe he was just psychic.

“Looks like Mark’s in one of his moods tonight.” Leslie blew him a kiss. He jerked his chin up, paused, and then turned back around, his movements abrupt. “Unless he gets that under control and focuses, he’s going to play like crap.”

Lorelei slid farther down in her seat. “Hmm, wonder why he’s in such a bad mood?” she muttered vaguely. Like she didn’t know exactly why he was in such a foul temper.

Leslie propped a booted foot on the seat in front of her and leaned back, turning her head toward Lorelei. She grinned. “I tell you what, to make things interesting, every time Chicago scores a run, I’ll divulge a little secret about him. Something he’d be completely mortified to know I told you. And for every run the Rush scores y’all gotta dish about you.”

Lorelei glanced at Mark and back at Leslie. “Seriously?” Leslie nodded. “He doesn’t have his lucky charm, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Won’t it be fun?”

A chance to learn some intimate details about him. Lorelei pursed her lips and considered. Then she glanced at Mark again as the game got ready to start and smiled.

She hoped he played like crap.

M
ARK SWORE AS
another ball slipped past his glove and a runner took home. The crowd roared in discontent, announcing another fuck-up of his. Damn that was a stupid mistake. He’d misjudged the ball bounce from left field and his glove had missed it by a mile.

Trying to shake it off, Mark shoved his mask up, yanked off his catcher’s glove, and watched as Peter Kowalskin jogged over.

“What’s the deal tonight?”

Mark clenched his jaw and glared at a Chicago batter as he warmed up on deck and blew a kiss at him. “Jackass. Why don’t you come here and do that again, Gregor, you pussy.”

“Hey. He might be a pussy, but you’ve got to get your head in this game.”

Mark shoved his hand back into his glove and slammed his cage down. “Yeah, I got it. Let’s do this.”

Kowalskin reached out and smacked the top of his helmet. “Damn straight. Let’s do this thing.”

Nothing was sweeter for Mark than the time he spent behind home plate. Not even sex. And nothing pissed him off more when things were going bad.

Two up, two down. Top of the fourth. He watched as Kowalskin took the ball back to the pitcher’s mound and readied himself for the next batter. Mark assumed the position, muscles alert and ready for action. Adrenaline raged as he watched the batter stride to the plate and stop short of the box. A few swings, a dig of his cleat into the box dirt, and the Cub settled in for the pitch.

Mark signaled to Peter for a slider and narrowed his eyes when the pitcher shook his head, rejecting the pitch. Reassessing, Mark signaled for a curve and raised his glove when the pitch was accepted.

As he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, his eyes zeroed in on the ball as it was pulled back like a rock in a slingshot waiting for release. He could feel it, almost see the play before it happened, knew a split second before the ball came flying high and fast on his glove side, just inside the strike zone.

He reacted instantly as the batter swung hard, hitting his knees in a butterfly stance. Reaching, he felt the sharp sting of leather hit his glove and heard the resounding thwack
.

The umpire behind him yelled out, “Strike!” The batter swore and stepped out of the box.

Mark looked at his glove hand and opened it, the white leather of the ball bright in the early evening sun. The roar of the crowd echoed in his chest.