Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel

by Jennifer Seasons

  Peter Kowalskin—Denver Rush’s ace pitcher—eyed Mark and asked, “Where you off to in such a hurry? The night’s still young and so are the women here tonight, bro.”

  The team’s newest rookie, JP Trudeau, piped up, “Yeah, where are you going?”

  Mark glanced down at the young Iowan and grinned. The kid was shaved bald as a cue ball from a bout of rookie initiation, but was sporting a black ski cap to cover up that fact. It didn’t help. At the ripe old age of twenty-five he looked like a boy band member, even with the nasty shiner.

  Man, had he ever been that fresh-faced and innocent-looking?

  Yeah, maybe. Back in the day before the major leagues when he couldn’t get play with a girl to save his life. But one good luck charm and a contract with the Toronto Blue Jays had changed all that. Now those days seemed almost surreal. Women weren’t hard to come by anymore, and hadn’t been for years.

  Mark glanced at the rookie again, his thoughts turning back to the brunette. Hell, maybe he was becoming jaded in his old age. There’d been a time when a drink from any woman would have sent him to the moon and back. And it kind of sucked that he hadn’t felt that excitement in a very long time.

  Turning his gaze just in time, he caught sight of her as she slipped out the back door. He needed to catch up to her before she got away. “I’m curious about something. I may or may not be back. Either way, don’t wait up.”

  Kowalskin grinned. “Ah, the cute brunette that just left. Good choice, brother.”

  JP’s eyes went huge. “I saw her, too. Great ass.”

  Suddenly impatient, Mark tucked his wallet away and said, “If you boys don’t stop yapping, I’ll miss her.”

  Why did it even matter?

  Making his way through the bar with long, purposeful strides, Mark hit the back door and stepped out into the chilly Colorado night. As he scanned the parking lot, anxiety quickened his pulse when at first he didn’t see her. Then his eyes fell on her curvy figure near a small red car and he smiled. Anticipation and curiosity quickened his pace as he headed across the parking lot toward her.

  A crowd exited the bar, their laughter and loud voices muffling his footsteps as he approached. “So, what? You buy me a drink and then skip out before introducing yourself?”

  The brunette spun toward him on a gasp, one hand flying to her throat.

  Biting back a laugh at her reaction, Mark crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “The logic of that is all wrong.”

  He had to give her points. Even though she was obviously off balance, she rallied and replied, “Is that so? Just what would the logical step have been for me then, being as you rejected my drink?”

  Good question. What had he really wanted her to do? Damned if he knew. Apparently tonight he was a bundle of contradictions. So he settled for an easy answer. “Come over and down the shot yourself. No need to waste good booze.”

  “And then what? You would have been overcome with desire and whisked me back to your place?” The expression on her face told him clearly that she had her doubts.

  So did he. “I might have. But the night’s young. It’s still a possibility.” And why in the hell had he just said that? She wasn’t even his type! He’d meant to deny her suggestion, not proposition her. Shit.

  Obviously he’d had one too many drinks and his ability to reason was impaired. That, or he’d taken one too many balls upside the head in his career and it was finally catching up with him.

  LORELEI PAUSED AND narrowed her eyes at the catcher. Had he just hit on her? It sounded suspiciously like the guy was inviting her back to his place. Lordy, she’d never had a one-night stand in her life. Wasn’t her style.

  Her first instinct was to laugh at the thought of going home with a strange man. Especially since the man suggesting the tryst was the very one she planned on stealing from.

  She opened her mouth to blow off the invite, but something occurred to her and she snapped it closed again.

  Fate was handing her a cookie. And now she felt like smacking her forehead at her denseness. Why break in and steal from him when she could simply get invited back to his place as a one-night stand? Was it a viable alternative?

  It was an even better idea than the original plan and with less guilt on her part. Besides, what was the point of big breasts if they couldn’t be put to good use at a time like this? Why not act like a tease and take advantage of the opportunity being presented to her?

  Lorelei contemplated all her choices for a moment, turned them over in her mind to see all the angles. Pondered briefly which approach would make her feel less deceitful and guilty in the morning. Then she came to a conclusion: It was time to get her slut on.

  Pasting a hopefully sultry smile on her face, she placed her hands on her waist and cocked her hip. “You’re right. The night is still so full of possibilities. It’d be a shame to waste it. What do you say we make it one to remember?”

  Flat-footed in her sneakers, she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. Mark Cutter was an imposing man. But he wasn’t so imposing at the moment with that mildly shocked expression he wore. Obviously he hadn’t expected her to take him up on the offer. Well, too bad for him. The man should have kept his sexy mouth shut. Because now that she’d been presented with this avenue of attack, she was darn well going to take it.

  Lorelei stared leisurely down his body and back up again. Even in the dark sweater and jeans she could tell he was all muscle and fit, gorgeous body. It wasn’t hard to appear appreciative—she most definitely was. A woman would have to be dead not to feel a temperature spike at what he had.

  Bringing her eyes back up to meet his, she waited for him to respond to her boldness. It didn’t take long.

  “By the way you bailed out of the bar I wouldn’t have guessed you for that type of woman.”

  She wasn’t that type of woman, but she sure as hell was going to act like it tonight. “I’m complex.”

  “Is that so?”

  His gaze had dropped to her hands. Good. It meant she had his attention. Sliding them slowly over the soft cotton of her shirt, she moved them down her hips, then up to her ribs and back. “What do you think of my T-shirt? Do you like it?”

  She felt a bit ridiculous saying that, but she was trying to be provocative. She had her slut on, darn it. They said things like that—all kinds of trashy pickup lines. And she had some good ones stored up.

  Lorelei watched his gaze follow her hands before they broke contact. The corner of his mouth lifted and he smirked as he stared at the slogan smeared across her chest.

  “Makes me wonder if you’re the kinda girl who really digs everything.”

  Nice. Now she was a naughty slut. “Yeah? You think?”

  He raked a hand through his hair and nodded. “It’s kinda hot.”

  Lorelei smiled at him through her lashes and tossed out another line. “Take me back to your place, darlin’, and I’ll show you hot.”

  His stare was amused and speculative at the same time. “Oh yeah?”

  She had a killer comeback for that and pushed her chest out a little more, let her voice go all soft and husky. “I’ll ride you so hard you’ll walk bowlegged for a week.”

  Mark Cutter’s smile was lightning-quick, twice as wicked, and she felt those darn butterflies in her stomach again.

  “Wow. I thought only guys had cheesy pickup lines like that. Does that one ever work for you?”

  They were cheesy lines, for sure. Velveeta-style, smooth and creamy. “You’ll have to let me know in the morning.”

  His eyebrow lifted and he took a step closer to her. The butterflies turned into grasshoppers on crack and Lorelei had to fight the urge to scramble backward.

  A big, warm hand cupped her chin and he said, “Is that so?”

  A tremble vibrated down her spine at his touch, but she stood her ground. “By the way, I take my coffee with sugar.” Not that she had any intention of being there in the morning, but that one was true.

&
nbsp; Heck no, she planned on being on her way home to Loveland with the money she was going to earn tonight. And she was earning it. It wasn’t so easy playing the tramp.

  Mark tilted his head to the side and laughed as he studied her. “Okay, Ms. Rodeo. What’s your name?”

  Lorelei took a deep breath. “I’m Fonda.”

  “Fonda what?”

  She looked him square in the eye and lied. “Fonda Peters.”

  His hand dropped and so did his jaw. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re Fonda Peters?”

  How she found the audacity to wink at him, she’d never know. “I am tonight.”

  Mark shook his head and grinned as he took a step back. His voice sounded both exasperated and intrigued, if that was possible. “You’re too much. All right, you win. Get in the car, Fonda Peters. I’m taking you home with me.”

  She shot him a smile and released a tiny squeal of delight. “Oh goodie.” Actually, she was delighted. Such a perfect opportunity. And it was so much better than breaking and entering—even if she did have a key. A little more law-abiding. Now all she had to do was figure out how to swipe his good luck charm without actually sleeping with him.

  Good thing she had a car ride to figure that one out.

  Chapter 3

  THE DOOR TO Mark’s condo shut with a muffled thud and Lorelei had to fight the urge to jump. Her nerves were too close to the surface and it was taking some major concentration not to start biting her nails—she’d quit that awful habit two years ago. Instead, she curled her fingers into her palms and let the nails dig into them.

  Stepping farther into the spacious condo, Lorelei replayed in her mind the new plan she’d concocted on the ride over. But before she could put it into action Mark grabbed her. His deep voice carried easily through the quiet.

  “Well, Fonda Peters, now that I have you here, whatever am I going to do with you?”

  Not what he was hoping, that’s for sure. With any luck she’d be out of there before he’d even taken off his shoes.

  But she hadn’t forgotten the role she was playing. “You tell me, catcher. Now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”

  She stopped in the center of the vast living room after dropping on the counter the purse she’d kept in her car. Lorelei turned her head and looked over her shoulder at Mark. She shouldn’t have. He’d left a light on in the kitchen and it pooled across him, casting his face into beautiful rugged angles. When he began walking toward her with a long, loose-hipped stride, her stomach dipped low and she could practically feel her knees turning to liquid.

  This was not good.

  Tonight was supposed to be nothing more than a quick and easy illegal dealing: swipe his good luck charm for a boatload of cash. It had seemed so simple, practically elementary, when she and Dina had cooked up the scheme the other night. She’d take something from a no-good baseball jerk, his ex-wife would have her revenge for his foul behavior, and she’d save a little girl’s life. Win-win situation.

  Only now that she was actually standing in Mark Cutter’s condo it didn’t seem quite so simple. And he didn’t seem quite so bad after all. But a deal was a deal and she wasn’t about to back out now.

  It would just be easier if he was sloppy drunk and butt-ugly. Then she wouldn’t be having these infuriating twinges of attraction and excitement. All she’d feel was repulsed. Instead, the man was sinfully gorgeous and too darn sober. And if she didn’t do something about that soon, she’d find herself flat on her back with her feet in the air. Not that she had any real moral objection to that. Heck, from the looks of him, she’d more than enjoy it. But it wasn’t on her to-do list for the night.

  It was almost a shame, really. Almost. But not quite.

  Mark stopped when he was only a foot away, and she eyed him warily as he reached for her hand, tugged her flush against him. Her body shivered at the contact.

  “I’m going to see what secrets you’ve got hidden beneath your clothes, Ms. Rodeo. Are you a satin or lace girl?”

  Neither. She was a good ol’ cotton kind of girl. But she didn’t think that was the right answer for a lady of the night to give, so she said, “Why don’t we have a drink and then you can find out for yourself, pretty boy?”

  Dimples creased his lean cheeks at that remark and Lorelei had to look away when he smiled. Mark was male sexiness personified. And to think that Dina had told her he was a busted-up baseball pro. Sure his nose was slightly crooked from being broken a time or two, but oddly enough that only added to his appeal.

  Since Lorelei had only heard of him, but never seen him, she’d believed Dina. Now she was beginning to think the woman must have downed one too many of those prescription drugs she’d thrust on her. Briefly she pondered what else Dina might have been wrong about. Was he really such a lousy cheating husband? An emotional abuser? A user and a horrible human being?

  Good God, was Dina’s name even really on the lease? Nothing was turning out to be what it seemed. She just hoped to hell that his good luck charm was in the spot Dina had sworn it would be. To get to it, Lorelei needed to be in his bedroom. She was suddenly very glad for those prescription pills now in her purse.

  The night she’d met up with Dina to finalize plans, she’d had an attack of conscience. That’s when Dina had whipped open her purse and shoved the bottle of muscle relaxers into her hand, insisting that they’d help calm her anxiety. Good heavens, that woman had been a walking pharmacy. Lorelei must have seen at least half a dozen prescription bottles lining the Gucci bag. She’d commented on the amount, and Dina had said they were all for a bulging disk in her neck.

  She’d refused at first, but the ex-Mrs. Cutter had persisted, assuring her that she took them all the time and that they were perfectly harmless. In the end, Lorelei had wound up with them just to hush the woman up. Now she felt like kissing her for them.

  They were going to save her behind.

  “If you want a drink, then by all means. What’s mine is yours tonight.”

  Lorelei glanced up and looked into Mark’s pale gray eyes. “You’re going to have a drink, too, sugar, to make up for refusing mine at the bar.”

  He smirked down at her. “Is that so? And what if I refuse a second time?”

  Lorelei raised her hand and cupped his cheek, feeling the day’s growth of stubble beneath her palm. “You wouldn’t do that, darlin’.”

  His voice went soft and seductive as he lowered his face closer to hers. “And why is that?”

  When his mouth was mere inches from hers he stopped and she could feel his breath whisper across her lips. Desire sparked between them, tangible and hot. “Because you want to see me naked.”

  Before he could respond, Lorelei slipped out of his embrace, letting her hand trail down his neck and across his chest as she strode away. She heard his slow exhale and felt his hand cover hers briefly before she broke contact.

  “I do. I really do.”

  Lorelei believed him. His voice had sounded completely sincere and it made her insides shaky. And that made her frown. Being attracted to Mark Cutter was not an option.

  Without a backward glance, she strolled leisurely toward the kitchen, aware that his eyes were on her the whole time. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to set her purse on the kitchen counter when she’d walked in, because she’d never have been able to reach in and grab the bottle otherwise.

  To cover the noise of the lid popping, Lorelei asked, “Where do you keep your liquor, cowboy?”

  “In the cabinet above the microwave.”

  Fabulous. She palmed some pills. “Do you take your whiskey straight up or on the rocks?”

  “I’ll take it neat, beautiful.”

  Fine with her. Spotting snifters through the glass door cabinet to her right, Lorelei got them down and reached above the microwave for the liquor. Quickly pouring the amber liquid into the cut crystal snifter, she dropped the pills in and willed them to dissolve in record time. She hurried the process along by mixin
g with her finger, then wiped it on a dish towel hanging off the fridge door.

  When they’d disappeared fully into the drink, she picked up the glasses, mindful of the drugged one, and went back into the living room. She found Mark standing in front of the open floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights from downtown Denver playing shadows across his sculpted body. Hair the color of old gold in the dim light curled lazily over the collar of his sweater. He stood there, broad shouldered, with his muscular legs spread, looking ready to do battle until he saw her. Though his face smoothed into a smile meant to charm her, Lorelei could still sense the tension in his body by the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

  “Let’s try this again.” Lorelei held the glass out to him and said a quick prayer for forgiveness. “Don’t disappoint me a second time, handsome.”

  MARK REACHED FOR the glass and let his hand skim across her wrist before taking it. Her stunning green eyes grew round at the touch, but she only smiled. It was obvious that she was nervous—he’d felt the way her pulse raced when he’d touched her wrist. And her hand wasn’t quite steady as he took the glass from her.

  It charmed the hell out of him.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a shy woman. And that in itself told him it’d been way too long. Vacant minds, vapid personalities, and silicone had been his norm for more than five years, and he’d gone through them like water. It meant no surprises and no complications, but he realized now he was so burnt out by it that his rejection of her at the bar had been knee-jerk. He’d thought it was the same old dance. Call him jaded, but he was sick of it. He wanted to want a woman—really want her. Wanted something . . . Well, he wasn’t quite sure what. More. Just something more.

  With her wide eyes and delectable curves, she was a breath of fresh air. The little vixen that dug everything still had a wholesomeness about her he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing until just now. No wonder he’d been intrigued by her.

  It suddenly made sense to him why he’d invited her home with him—it’d just taken him a while to recognize the feeling.