Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (9 page)

He was back, baby.

Mark stood and loosened his shoulders, rolled his head from side to side. Man, that felt good.

As the play began again, he finally tapped into the focus that made him one of the best catchers in the major leagues. As he called pitches and caught every ball, adrenaline tore through him, pumping him more and more.

When a ball whipped into the strike zone followed by a furious swing, Mark shifted forward and caught it.

As the crowd went wild, blood rushed to his head making him feel intensely alive. This was what the game was all about for him. The thrill, the total head-rush. It was him against them—a test of courage, skill, strength, and reflexes.

It was a fast-paced battle of brains and finesse. And Mark loved it like nothing else.

He shut down every attempt at home for the rest of the game, using his toned body and calculating mind to make out after out. Whereas the last game he’d gone to the field in a fit of temper and bad mouth, tonight the attitude from him was minimal. After a few initial bumps, he was totally, completely in his zone.

At the bottom of the ninth the Rush came out on top 4–3, ensuring them one game closer to solid season standings. Intense relief flooded him as he made his way down the line, shaking hands with his teammates.

He’d been able to play a winning game without his good luck charm. Part of him wondered why that was. The other part of him was afraid he already knew. Because there was only one thing different in his life, in his routine that could be attributed to the abrupt change of fortune. Only one thing it could possibly be.

Heading to the locker room still riding high on the Rush’s victory, Mark stopped at the edge of the field and glanced into the stadium seats. And there she was. Lorelei. Sitting with his younger sister, Leslie, their heads together, laughing like they were lifelong friends.

Suddenly Lorelei glanced up and their gazes locked. His chest squeezed tight around his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He dropped his gaze and stepped off the field into the dugout, heading to the locker room.

He didn’t want to think about her. Didn’t want to feel anything for her. She already spent too much frigging time in his head. But there was one nagging suspicion about her he wasn’t going to be able to deny much longer. And he didn’t like it one little bit.

“Hey, Wall. Good game tonight.”

Mark glanced up to see Rush newbie JP Trudeau waiting for him. The kid had taken a beating tonight at shortstop and looked like someone had hit him with a sledgehammer. He had a nasty split lip swelling up on him—courtesy of a collision with a runner at second. His jersey was streaked brown with dirt.

“You look like shit, JP. No girl’s gonna want to kiss you tonight with an ugly lip like that.”

The young player began to smile and winced. “It’s okay. I’ll just have her kiss another part of me instead.”

Mark’s laugh echoed down the long corridor. “Now you’re thinking like a real baseball player, rookie.”

Together they walked on the painted concrete toward the locker room, the young shortstop towering over Mark. Pushing open the door to the greeting of laughter and celebratory yells, they entered the locker room and crossed the rug with the Rush’s logo of Goldpan Sam and his pickax on it. As he passed his teammates they slapped his back and congratulated him on the win.

“Damn good comeback, Wall. You kicked ass out there.”

“Another game like that, Cutter, and we move one step closer to that sweet-ass Series.”

Mark stopped in front of his locker and dropped to the bench, sweat running down his temples into his damp hair. A bead slid down his throat and soaked into his jersey as he leaned his head back against the metal locker and listened to the guys razz one another.

As the sports reporters made their way into the locker room, he closed his eyes and grinned. He’d pulled it off tonight. He’d played a damn good game without his cross. He’d found his zone. Damn his superstitious hide, but he knew it could mean only one thing: He had a new lucky charm.

It went by the name of Lorelei.

Chapter 10

“Y
OU SEEMED PRETTY
chummy with my sister tonight.”

Lorelei tossed her purse on the table and ignored his comment. Her head buzzed from all the juicy tidbits Leslie had shared about what Mark was like growing up.

Even after Mark had started playing like the premier catcher he was, his sister had kept dishing the inside scoop on her famous brother. Lorelei had a little better idea of who he really was, what made him tick.

And now she didn’t know what to make of him.

“Hmm,” she finally responded dismissively, and changed the subject. “Why don’t you have a home phone or a computer, Mark?”

Tossing his bag on the floor, he shrugged out of his navy suit jacket and headed down the hall toward his bedroom. “I hate computers and I have a cell phone. Why? Did you find it hard to get ahold of my ex today?”

Not so much
, Lorelei thought.
She got ahold of me.
But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

She followed him, the soles of her running shoes squeaking against the floorboards. “I did find it inconvenient, yes. Care to tell me why you don’t have those modern household tools?”

She almost swallowed her tongue when he emerged from the walk-in closet with his white dress shirt unbuttoned. The hard plains of his tanned stomach rippled beneath the fabric as he loosened the buttons at his wrist. His fly was open, the waistband of his navy slacks riding seductively low across his hips.

Tousled waves of dark blond hair fell across his brow as he worked the buttons free. Thick lashes hid his eyes from view and a day’s growth of whiskers shadowed his jaw.

Mark was raw, sweaty sex undiluted.

Lorelei’s equilibrium pitched dangerously off center, throwing her libido into chaos. And it felt damn good. Her last boyfriend, Harry, had tried his best to convince her she was a dead fish with no heat inside her. Now there was this. And this rush of desire was liberating. Proof Harry had just been an incompetent idiot.

The air between them suddenly flashed with tension when Mark looked up and caught her staring at him. He froze, his gaze sharpened, and his body went dangerously still. As if he could smell her arousal, his nostrils flared and he inhaled.

Lorelei felt locked in place, unable to move as he slowly slid his shirt off his muscular shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Swallowing around the knot in her throat, she desperately tried to think of something, anything to take her mind off his amazingly hot body. If she didn’t, she’d find herself flat on her back with that spectacular body between her legs. Showing him all her moves and putting her yoga flexibility to good use.

Not that she really had anything against that. It could be the remedy she needed for her two-year dry spell, as long as she kept her head. Maybe that sounded a little shallow, but it wasn’t like there was any worry of an emotional entanglement between the two of them. And she seriously doubted that he’d mind being a sex toy.

Right now she had other plans, however.

It took sheer force of will, but Lorelei was able to drag her gaze away from the chiseled muscles of his abs and exhaled on a puff of air. She tugged at the sleeves of his gigantic jersey and took a calming breath.

Time had come for her to negotiate her situation.

“I know why you sent Leslie to me tonight. I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a faded blue T-shirt. Yanking it over his head, Mark shoved his arms through the sleeves and swore. “I wasn’t trying to be coy about it, Lorelei.”

“It backfired you know. I learned quite a bit about you from your sister. Things that most people don’t know,” she said.

That got his attention. “What the hell are you talking about? Like what?”

Pretending indifference, she watched Mark drop his slacks and toss her a wicked grin. Though it did crazy things to her insides, Lorelei casually leaned back against the wall. “I know that you wore braces for three years.”

He shrugged as he pulled on a pair of gray sweats. “So what? That’s nothing to write to the
Enquirer
about.”

“I know about the time you stole a six-pack of your dad’s beer and took the old Buick for a test drive when you were fifteen. And how you drove it into a pond.”

Mark let out a laugh and grinned. “Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. Dad was real pissed when he pulled the old boat out of three feet of muddy water. Cops never did get wind of that one.” He shook his head at the memory and said, “You got any good dirt on me? Come on, hit me with it. Shock me, awe me.”

Taking an intense interest in her cuticles, Lorelei studied the nails of her right hand. “You barely graduated high school. I also know you used to stutter when you talked to girls and that you didn’t have a real girlfriend until after you were drafted to the MLB.”

Moving over to the side of his bed, Mark sat down on the beige comforter and took his watch off. Opening the top drawer of the bedside table, he dropped the Rolex in and closed it with a thunk
.
His voice was very casual, almost lazy, when he drawled, “Not too bad. But I bet you didn’t know I was a virgin till I married my ex-wife, did you?”

He glanced up as if to gauge her response. To hide her shock Lorelei retorted, “Huh, and now you’re a complete slut. Go figure.”

“Yeah, well, when you find something you do well, you keep at it,” he shot back with a grin.

That surprised a snort out of her. “That’s true, unless you’re the only one who thinks you’re good. Maybe all those bimbos were faking it, Mark. Ever consider that?”

“I know when a woman’s having an orgasm, sugar.” His voice was instantly seductive and warm. “Why don’t you come over here and let me prove it to you.”

Lorelei tipped her head to the side and looked at Mark. If ever there was a man who could prove definitively whether that was true or not, it was he. No doubt he was the master at giving the big O.

But she wasn’t taking the bait. “Some other time, Mark. Like . . . hmm . . . never.”

“Chicken.”

Too much, too soon, was all she could think. There was so much to consider. She needed some air and some time to consider. What she really needed was her life back.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
brought her a pleasant surprise: her laptop. She’d left it in her car, but it was sitting on the table next to her purse when she stumbled into the kitchen, owl-eyed, only to find Mark fully dressed and making breakfast. And he was utterly gorgeous in low-slung jeans, a navy sweater, and running shoes. His gorgeous mass of hair curled around the collar of his sweater and tumbled over his forehead. Raising a tanned hand, he pushed his fingers into the thick waves and shoved it out of his eyes.

It was too darn early for an attack of animal lust, but it slapped her smack between the eyes anyway. Scrubbing her hands over her cheeks and biting back a groan, Lorelei narrowed her eyes at him. He grinned right back, the dirty rat. “Are you always so perky in the morning?”

With a flick of his wrist, Mark folded over the omelet he was making in a pan and shook his head. “What can I say? I’m a morning person. Here, I ran out this morning and got you this.” He reached for something on the far side of him and turned, handing her a dark red paper cup with a cardboard holder and white plastic lid.

It couldn’t be. Was it? With an experimental sniff, the tantalizing aroma of coffee and chocolate hit her nose, cleared her sleep-fogged head, and nearly buckled her knees.
Mocha
.

Instead of taking it from him, she just stood there, staring at the grande cup in his hand. “You got me coffee?”

“That’s what it’s called, yeah.” He shook it gently. “Here, take it. I can tell by your brilliant conversation you need it.”

Why did she suddenly feel like crying? Swallowing hard, Lorelei took the cup from him and battled back the urge to bawl. It was just a stupid cup of coffee. A kind act from a confusing man. Nothing more.

It felt like a whole lot more, though.

She noticed Mark was studying her, a question in his clear gray eyes. Blast the man, everything was going to hell, all her careful plans, and it was because of him. She should hate him. She did. She couldn’t stand him.

But he brought her coffee. For that she had to like him.

A stunning smile lit his face, revealing those amazing dimples as he tilted his head to the side. “Are you going to get all girlie on me now and cry?” he teased.

Blinking hard, Lorelei spun around and marched over to the table and plopped down on a chair. A protective hand shot up to rest on the smooth surface of her laptop. “Sorry to disappoint you so early in the day, but no.” She took a savoring sip of the rich brew and sat it next to her Dell. “Thanks for this. And thanks for my laptop. I’m assuming that my car is somewhere in the parking garage below now?”

He grunted. She assumed that was a yes. “Did you have a good time snooping?”

He grinned at her over his shoulder and winked. “Uh-huh. Don’t get too excited about your computer though. I don’t have wi-fi. ”

Damn it. She should have known he would’ve considered that.

Mark scooped up the omelet with a spatula and put it on a plate. He turned and carried the cream-colored plate to the table and sat it in front of her. “Eat up, runt. You need good protein and vitamins in your diet, else you’re going to end up stooped over like Quasimodo.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.
The Hunchback of Notre-Dame
. You read it?” she asked.

Something flickered in his eyes, a fleeting shadow. Then it was gone and he smiled. “Nope. Watched the movie. We jocks try to avoid reading when at all possible.”

Wow, what was that? Lorelei sensed she’d touched a nerve, but why? Though he’d smiled at her, it was strained. “Did I say something wrong?”

He pushed a fork into her hand and ignored her question. “Take a bite. There’s things in there called vegetables. You might like them.”

She eyed the omelet. “Are there any Brussels sprouts hidden in this?”

He just grinned and motioned her to take a bite. Oh, what the hell. She’d live dangerously. Cutting off a bite with her fork, she asked casually, “Did I upset you with my question? You know I was just asking, right? Some people don’t like to read.”

A frown pulled at his brow and he moved his gaze to stare over her shoulder. “Just eat your food, Lorelei.”

“I want to know what I said wrong.”

His gaze snapped back to her, his eyes hard. “I said, drop it.”

She had seriously said something wrong somewhere. But Mark stared her down with cold, challenging eyes so she shoved the bite of omelet in her mouth and kept quiet. Her eyebrows shot up at the burst of delicious flavor that greeted her taste buds. Mark Cutter could definitely cook.

“Mmm, this is great. What’s in it?”

“Brussels sprouts.”

She almost choked. “You’re not serious, are you?”

His gaze leveled on her. “Eat.” That’s all he said. Then he turned and strode out of the kitchen.

“What about you? Aren’t you going to eat one?”

His voice sounded irritated. “I already did, Lorelei. Some people get up at a decent hour of the morning, instead of sleeping half the day away.”

She glanced at the clock on the stove. It was barely eight o’clock. What was he talking about? It was still early.

Wait a minute, didn’t he have practice? He’d better not even think about locking her in again. No way was she going for that a second time.

Grabbing the plate and fork, Lorelei hurried out of the kitchen and headed down the hall to his bedroom. She found Mark in his closet reaching for a black leather jacket.

Oh no, he wasn’t. He wasn’t locking her in a second time. “I’m going with you. I refuse to be left here again.”

He shrugged. “Fine, but I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked at the coat he was holding, pointed at it with her fork. “Sure looks like you are to me.”

Mark let out a long-suffering sigh and looked at her. “I was just getting it out for later.”

“Well, wherever you’re going later I’m coming, too.”

Walking over to her, he stopped and said near her ear, “I’m not sure my girlfriend would enjoy me bringing another woman along, you know? I don’t think she’s into that.”

Something hot and hard slammed into the pit of her stomach, almost doubling her over from the force of it. It shouldn’t matter. It
didn’t
matter.

Taking a deep breath, Lorelei walked over to the dresser and set her plate down. She forced her muscles to relax and said, “Your girlfriend? I wasn’t aware that you had one at the moment.”

Gazing at her with watchful eyes, Mark replied, “Oh, there’s always one or two. I like a little variety in my diet.”

Her voice dripped sarcasm. “A redhead on Tuesday, a blond on Friday, twins on Saturday night. Is that it?”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, he advanced on her. “It’s the spice of life, sweetheart.”

She felt like kicking him in the shin. And if he came any closer she was going to. “Your life must be well seasoned then, huh? Women waiting for you in every city you play in, cleat chasers ready to flop onto their backs with one word from you.”

Body heat radiated off Mark as he stopped directly in front of her. “My, my, Lorelei. That sounds suspiciously like jealousy. I can’t be hearing that right, because you wouldn’t be jealous, would you? You don’t even like me.”

The size of him, his closeness was making it hard to breathe. She pushed against his chest in rising frustration. “I
don’t
like you, you jerk. Now get away from me. You’re too close and I can’t breathe.”

“Is that so?” he murmured as he brought a hand up and grabbed a strand of her loose hair, rubbing it slowly between his fingers.

Shoving harder as a feeling close to panic tried to grab hold, she demanded, “Save it for your groupies. I said get away from me. I mean it.”

Mark stilled and lowered his gaze as a chill crept into his voice. “Or what? You’ll sell my good luck charm to Dina?”

She jerked her chin up a notch. “Absolutely.” The very next chance she got.