Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel

by Jennifer Seasons

  “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.

  ONE 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.

  “Out!” The first base umpire pumped his arm and yelled.

  The crowd went ballistic. Mark shut it out, closed his ears to the noise. Only one thing mattered to him.

  The Rush had won.

  Back in the locker room the noise level was almost as loud as the arena. Cheers went up as the Rush players congratulated the rookie on his amazing double plays. The kid blushed from all the attention and smiled.

  Mark dropped onto the bench and watched with a smile as JP was treated to an old-fashioned noogie by veteran Carl Brexler. Though the kid was tall, the outfielder had a good sixty pounds on him and easily wrestled him into a headlock, rubbed his knuckles over the kid’s nearly hairless head.

  Kowalskin laughed and announced, “Tonight we celebrate, boys. What do you say to a night of fun and debauchery?”

  A round of emphatic “Hell, yeah”s followed.

  Mark began unlacing his cleats and grinned at JP. “I think we need to make the rookie our guest of honor.”

  “You boys know what that means,” replied Kowalskin.

  The whole team hollered in unison, “It’s Miller time!”

  JP looked over at Mark, confusion in his eyes. “What’s Miller time?”

  Mark stood and pulled his jersey over his head. He grinned. “It means, my man, that you’re gonna be drinking a whole lotta beer.”

  “Hey, Cutter.”

  He looked up. “Hey, Crispy Critter, what’s up?”

  John Crispin flipped him the bird and laughed. “You want to call Leslie and tell her where to meet us, or should I?”

  They all knew there was only one place to go in Philadelphia for a visiting baseball team to enjoy some fun and debauchery. Dirty Harry’s Bar and Grill. It came fully equipped with booze, barbecue ribs, big screen TVs, and even a mechanical bull affectionately known as Ballbuster.

  “Why don’t you give her a call. I’m going to go to my room and change out of my suit before I head out to the bar.”

  “I was headed back to my room to change, too.”

  Mark shrugged his shoulders and turned to his locker. “Okay. I’ll call. No big deal.” He could talk to Lorelei that way.

  John’s voice sounded behind him. “No, I can do it. I’ll give her a call when I get out of the shower.”

  “Fine.” Mark didn’t really care.

  “Fine.”

  “All right then.” He’d see Lorelei soon enough.

  “Fine. Good.” A pause. “You gonna call her, then?”

  “John?” He was going to bang his head against the locker.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just shut up and call your girlfriend.”

  “Fine.”

  Before he slammed his own head against the locker, Mark stripped and headed for the showers. When he reached the tiles he stopped and grinned. “Hey, John?”

  The player looked up. “Yeah, what?”

  “Fine.”

  Chapter 16

  A GLASS APPEARED in front of her. Lorelei took it and looked up. Mark stood towering over her, a grin full of rotten intentions on his face.

  Suddenly suspicious that her drink contained something gray and slimy, she peered into the glass. “Did you have the bartender slip a raw oyster in my drink?”

  He dropped into the chair across from her and laughed. “Now why would you think I’d do a thing like that?”

  “Because you would.”

  Drake Paulson hooked a thumb over at her. “She’s got you pegged, Cutter.” He looked down at her. “When you going to forget about that loser and marry me, sweet thing?”

  Lorelei asked, “What happened with”—she cupped her hands in front of her chest—“Candy?”

  Drake’s gaze dropped to her hands and back up. “She used me, abused me.”

  She feigned sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that, Drake.”

  “I’m more than just a gorgeous body, you know.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’m more than just a thick wallet.”

  Lorelei bit her cheek to keep from laughing. “Absolutely.”

  “She did find out the most important fact about me, though.”

  She was almost afraid to ask. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “I’m an easy lay.”

  A burst of laughter erupted and she snorted. Across the table Mark let loose a laugh and shook his head.

  Peter Kowalskin swore and retorted, “Like she wasn’t.”

  Apparently the whole table had been listening to their conversation. Several pair of eyes were turned in their direction.

  Drake shrugged his massive shoulders and smiled at the guys. “What can I say, it was a match made in heaven.”

  “You mean a one-night stand, Paulson,” another player said from down the table.

  He laughed. “That, too.”

  Still chuckling, Lorelei glanced around the bar and inhaled the mouthwatering scent of barbecue that hung on the air. Three big screens were built into the walls and were tuned to the local late night news. Booths and tables were scattered around the huge open room, two pool tables were to her right, and a round pen with a mechanical bull was set up in the far corner. There was also a small stage for karaoke directly in front of her against the wall.

  The bar and grill wasn’t crowded, but there were a few groups of people scattered throughout. For the most part the whole Denver Rush baseball team had the place to themselves.

  Some of the guys had hopped cabs as soon as they’d hit the hotel lobby and were still wearing their dress suits. Others had gone up to their rooms to change first. Mark was one who’d changed into casual clothes.

  Butterflies fluttered deep in her gut when she glanced at him. He was in conversation with another player, his hands laced together behind his neck while he leaned back in his chair. The cuffs of his shirt were rolled up his muscular forearms.

  His profile was to her and she studied him. Hair waved over his ear and curled lazily. He’d shaved, and his skin was smooth and very tan against the pale blue chambray shirt he wore. He had such thick lashes. They fanned out and cast a slight shadow below his eyes in the low light.

  He laughed at something and the masculine dimples that drove her crazy flashed in his cheeks, teasing her. The top two buttons of his shirt were open and when he moved she caught a glimpse of his sculpted chest. Her lungs tightened. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  He must have felt her gaze because he turned his head. The smile melted and his eyes grew hot. Instantly his body tensed and he stilled.

  Why hadn’t she noticed the deep bow of his upper lip before? It practically begged to be licked. Or the indentation of his clavicle? Her lips suddenly craved to know the feel of it. Mesmerized, her mouth opened as she stared at the base of his throat, at the smooth skin, and her tongue slipped between her teeth and touched her bottom lip.

  Lorelei jolted and she felt her eyes go wide when Mark swore and lurched from his chair. “I’m going to play pool,” he growled.

  She watched him go as her libido went haywire. Raked her gaze over his broad shoulders, down his back and narrow waist, over his firm butt and heavy thighs. Her mind flashed back to the night they’d first met, to the image of his bare chest and flat stomach. She had to bite back a moan.

  Leslie appeared at her side, a glass of red wine in her hand. “Wh
y are you still sitting here? Go after him, Lorelei.”

  Why was she still there? This was her opportunity to experience what it felt like to be truly desired by a man, and to desire him back with equal intensity. Her chance to experience Mark Cutter.

  Was she woman enough to handle it?

  She glanced up at Leslie and demanded, “Tell me again that he’s worth it.”

  Leslie’s smile was sympathetic and her voice was full of encouragement when she murmured, “He’s so worth it, Lorelei. So absolutely, totally worth it.”

  With shaking hands she pushed from the table and stood. She took a step and stopped. The drink Mark had brought her still sat completely full on the table and she snatched it up and downed it in one long gulp, set it back down with a thump.

  Leslie gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and nudged her in the back. “Go to him.”

  She did.

  He was alone at the pool tables; the rest of the guys were either still eating ribs and helping the rookie down his third pitcher of beer by chanting, “Go, go, chug, chug, chug,” or they were taking turns shouting dirty insults and getting bucked off the mechanical bull.

  Mark glanced up from racking the balls, his eyes devoid of emotion. “What do you want, Lorelei?”

  You. “Mind if I play?”

  “Do you know how?” He rolled the triangle full of colored balls forward and back, settling the yellow one ball on the brown marker.

  Lorelei spotted the pool cues and walked over. She grabbed one, held it out in front of her, and checked for straightness. It was too bowed for her taste and she put it back, grabbed another one, found it satisfactory. “I can hold my own.”

  “What’s the ante?”

  “What?”

  Mark smirked and carefully removed the wooden triangle. “What’s the bet? You can’t play pool without one, or are you afraid I’ll kick your cute little butt?”

  He thought her butt was cute. That was good to know. “I’m not afraid of you, Mark Cutter.”

  Rounding the pool table, he stopped behind her and said against her ear, “You should be. If you knew even half the things I want to do to you, you’d be very afraid.”

  Oh, this was getting good.

  Her stomach flopped and took a nosedive. “Nothing you say could scare me.”