Stealing Home

chapter 13



“WHAT IS THIS place?”

Mark reached for Lorelei’s elbow and grinned. Yeah, he knew what it looked like. A giant ramshackle old brick warehouse that had definitely seen better days.

It was exactly what he’d wanted when he’d bought it.

His palm cupped her elbow and he tugged her to the huge plank door. Heat from her body soaked into his hand and traveled up his arm in a warm, wandering wave. Already on edge, his pulse leaped at the contact and his blood temperature rose.

It seemed to be a common condition when Lorelei was near. “Are you worried, Lorelei? Afraid of what’s inside?”

She leveled a look at him. “It’s been my experience that outside appearances are, more often than not, deceiving.”

Mark reached for the door and gripped the handle. “Ah. So you don’t believe what you see is what you get?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. There’s always more to the story, Mark. Most people don’t take enough time to look.” Her eyes became cool and guarded. “Most people just don’t care.”

His mind flashed back to the scene he’d witnessed in the kitchen of her house. There was very definitely more to that story, a hell of a lot more. Emotions he’d never experienced before had slapped him in the face like a scorned woman. Grief, loss, despair. Ugly, desperate emotions so foreign to him he’d almost not been able to put a name to them.

And he hoped to God he never had to experience them again. He liked his life simple and free of complications.

He played baseball. Lived it, breathed it—dreamed it. And he kept his encounters with women brief and shallow. Everyone got out before things got messy and feelings got hurt. Well, most of the time.

He’d learned the value of self-preservation from his first marriage and he’d learned it well. So then what was he doing with Lorelei? She was anything but simple.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to open the door? It’s getting chilly out here,” she said.

Mark blinked and shook his head. She was right, it was getting cold. Springtime in Colorado was unpredictable and there was a definite bite in the night air tonight.

A car turned onto the street, its bright headlights washed over them. The deep muddled thump of rap music bass reverberated against the pavement and practically shook the car windows. It grew louder as it sped past until it rounded the corner a block down and disappeared from sight.

When all was quiet again, the wide street of Lodo momentarily empty, Mark flung the door open and ushered Lorelei inside. Another blast of music hit them as they stepped onto the landing. A large black man with rolls of muscle stepped in front of them, his huge pecs bulging beneath his T-shirt.

Mark felt her shrink against him and smiled. It felt good to have her plastered to his side. Her curvy body fit snug against him, warm and soft. Settling a protective arm over her shoulder, he raised his other hand and extended it toward the huge man. “Hey, Mario. It’s good to see you. How you doing, man?”

The bouncer returned Mark’s handshake with a smile. His deep voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke. “Good to see you, brother. It’s been a while. Some of the guys are here tonight. Should I tell Leslie you’re here?”

Mark gave Lorelei a squeeze. “Nah. I’m sure word will get out soon enough. Sounds like it’s the Rhumbi boys on stage tonight. Good. I’m in the mood for some live reggae. We’ll head on down and grab a table. Hey, tell Denise I said hi, will you?”

“I will. The guys are at their usual table if you and the lady would like to join them. The band just started their second set of the night.”

With a nod, Mark led Lorelei down a flight of stairs to the open main level of the club. He was satisfied to see the place full on a late night. The long bar in the corner was packed and the wraparound balcony was almost full. Even the couches on the left were totally occupied.

Good. His sister was doing a great job with his club.

Lights hung suspended from the two-story ceiling on long poles and illuminated the huge stage. Lively reggae music pumped from the speakers as the band kicked into another song.

The dance floor was crowded as Mark steered Lorelei around the crush to a long table on the far side. Some of his teammates were there, drinks in hand, listening to the live band. The noise level was so loud it took her elbowing him in the side to get his attention.

He smiled down at her and grinned. In the low light she was gorgeous, her pouty lips a mouthwatering shade of pink, her eyes deep as emeralds. His breath hitched in reaction.

“Are you going to tell me now what we’re doing here?” she practically yelled.

Mark lowered his head until his mouth was a breath away from her ear. “We’re enjoying a night out. Have you got a problem with that?”

He was so close he could smell the warm scent of her skin, feel her hair whisper across his cheek as she shook her head. His stomach pitched and took a long, slow roll.

“I don’t have a problem. I’m just surprised, that’s all,” she replied.

“Even self-centered, womanizing baseball jocks like to kick back once in a while, Lorelei.”

A yell from the table caught his attention and he stepped back from her. He looked up to see Peter Kowalskin waving them over.

“Hey, Cutter! Get your pathetic ass over here and bring the lady. We want to meet her.” Peter called out with a grin.

Sliding his hand down until it rested at the small of her back, Mark guided her past a young couple busy shoving their tongues down each others’ throats and pulled a chair out for her at the table.

Lorelei sunk into the chair and looked around the table at Mark’s teammates. There was Peter Kowalskin and a young kid with a shaved head and nasty split lip. Both of them she recognized from the first night she met Mark. Another was the gruff-looking player Leslie had whistled at. He looked almost more imposing in civilian clothes, his size and brute force even more apparent. The only thing soft about the guy was the brown hair that swept back from his rugged face and curled over his shirt collar.

The fourth guy she couldn’t place. Mark took a seat across from her and began making introductions. “Lorelei, I’d like you to meet some of my teammates. The old man there is Peter Kowalskin and next to him looking pretty with his split lip is our new rookie, JP Trudeau. They were with me the night we met.”

“That was you?” the young player asked, his eyes huge.

She nodded. The rookie opened his mouth again, but Mark cut him off before he could say anything. “She’s not kissing anything of yours, rookie, so forget it.” He glanced across the table at her, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. “That’s John Crispin next to you. He and Leslie have been seeing each other for the past few months. And the delicate flower here next to me is Drake Paulson.”

After shaking hands, Lorelei shrugged out of her coat and leaned back against the seat. Talk immediately turned to—what else?—baseball, so she took that as her cue and tuned out. Her gaze wandered around the huge club and the mass of people.

She couldn’t help noticing a lot of eyes kept wandering over to the table of MLBers. A lot of female eyes. And they seemed to land an awful lot on the blond-haired catcher with the killer smile and notoriously quick hands.

Lorelei felt a stab of irritation when a man-eater in a six-inch dress and fake breasts the size of melons broke away from a group of similarly attired hoochies and strutted over. She slowed when she reached the table but continued around to the far side, bumping hard into Lorelei as she rounded it.

The bimbo didn’t even apologize. She was zeroed in on Mark and apparently couldn’t be bothered with common courtesy. Conversation came to a slow halt when she leaned over, her huge silicone breasts almost popping out of her skimpy red dress, and placed her hands on the table. She was so skinny the bones in her chest were visible.

Somebody really needed to feed the poor blond bimbo. She needed some mashed potatoes and gravy or something. Maybe a brownie and some ice cream.

Lorelei felt her eyebrows rise when the woman wiggled her skeleton fingers at the guys and crooned, “Hi there, fellas. I’m Candy.”

The guys all mumbled a greeting, except for Mark. His eyes were fixed firmly on Lorelei, his lips pressed in a thin line. Annoyance radiated from him, his body tense.

Why he was annoyed was beyond her. Wasn’t this what he waited for? A willing woman and no-strings sex? For crying out loud, she’d propositioned him much the same way a few nights ago in that parking lot. He hadn’t been bothered then.

Or was it just that he was irritated that she’d been so right about him?

Suddenly a perverse sense of amusement washed through her. She was going to enjoy seeing how Mark handled this little situation. Grabbing a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the table, she popped a few in her mouth and shot him a smug smile. This was going to be highly entertaining.

At her smile, he scowled, nearly causing her to choke on her peanuts. Laughter bubbled up and almost burst loose and she coughed to cover. Apparently he didn’t think the situation was funny.

The great hulking Rush player sitting next to her whipped out a hand and whacked her on the back, the force of it almost toppling her from the chair.

“That’s enough. You’ll make her swallow her tongue you hit her like that again.”

The ballplayer dropped his hand and shrugged as he looked at Mark. “Just trying to help out. She was choking.”

“She was fine—”

“Thank you, John,” she cut in, and smiled at the gruff-looking player.

The blond wasn’t about to be ignored or one-upped by Lorelei’s fit of choking and scooted closer to Mark. She cranked up the wattage of her bleached smile and ran a finger along his arm. When he tensed she misinterpreted the action for encouragement and practically purred, “You’ve got great arms, handsome. Why don’t we hit the dance floor so I can feel those strong arms wrapped around me?”

Lorelei had to give her points for that line. But she had a feeling Mark had heard variations of that from women just like her a thousand times. He looked almost bored when he slid his pale gaze up his arm to look the woman in the face.

“It’s Candy, isn’t it? Right. Well, I appreciate the compliment and the fact that you singled me out, but I’m not much of a dancer.” His gaze moved to the bruised man beside him and back. “Now, Drake here is a helluva dancer. Light-footed as a ballerina. Why don’t you two give it a whirl and get to know each other?”

Candy stuck her collagen-injected lip out on a practiced pout, but her gaze was assessing. “Are you a baseball player, too?” she asked Drake.

The giant winked at her from his good eye. “That’s right, darling.”

The blond straightened and pasted a smile on her face. She held out a hand. “It’d be my pleasure to dance with you, Mr. Drake.”

The ballplayer downed his drink and pushed away from the table. When he stood he towered over everyone. “Drake’s my first name, honey.” He slapped Mark on the back. “I’ll catch you boys later.”

With that they melted into the crowd and Lorelei looked back at Mark to find him staring hard at her. For a heartbeat their gaze locked, tension flowed between them.

The table was silent until Kowalskin spoke. “You’re a real ass, Cutter. Why didn’t you send her my way? I haven’t seen any action in a while.”

That started off a round of good-natured arguing between the players about who really should have gotten to dance with her. The conversation veered straight into the gutter and Lorelei found herself laughing at a highly politically incorrect comment. Until she saw the way Mark was staring at her.

“What?”

He grabbed a passing waitress, his eyes never leaving hers. “Hey, Cindy. Bring me a couple rounds of oyster shooters, will you?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Cutter. The club’s been hopping tonight. Everyone seems to really like this reggae band your sister hired. They’ve become a house favorite. Leslie’s really doing a great job managing your club. Business has been really booming since she took over.”

Lorelei waited until the waitress left. “This is your club? You own this place and your sister is the manager?”

He folded his arms across his muscular chest and leaned back. “Uh-huh.”

“Wow, must be nice to have the money to just buy whatever you want.”

His eyes narrowed. “It has its advantages.”

A flash of anger caught her off guard and she reacted, lashing out. “I’m sure it does. You get to have whatever your little heart desires, don’t you, Mark? Clubs, fancy cars, fast women, designer drugs. Whatever you want is yours for the taking.”

He whipped forward in his chair, a warning flashed in his steely eyes. “You pissed about something, Lorelei? Be woman enough to come right out and say it.”

Something hot flared between her breasts and she jerked forward across the table until they were inches apart. “You really want me to say it?”

He bared his teeth in a snarl and growled, “I dare you.”

The waitress chose that moment to return. Oblivious to the tension, she set the drinks on the table and beamed at Mark before disappearing again.

Reacting before she thought, Lorelei grabbed the nearest shot glass and downed it. Her eyes bulged when she encountered the raw oyster. A shiver ran through her at the slippery feeling and her stomach reacted with a greasy lurch. She almost spit the vile thing out until she saw that Mark was laughing at her. No way would she give him the satisfaction of seeing her gag. Forcing herself, she chewed the disgusting glob and swallowed it down.

She smiled in triumph and smacked her lips. “Mmmm, that was good. Why don’t you try one, Mark?”

Still laughing, he grabbed a shot glass and stirred the red cocktail sauce until it was blended with the vodka. “You sure that was good, sweetheart? It looked like you were about to lose your lunch from where I’m sitting.”

That was the truth, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Not at all. I positively love raw oysters.”

He raised the shot glass to his lips and Lorelei felt her skin crawl when she saw the grayish oyster pressed against the side. With a flick of his wrist he swirled the liquid, his eyes locked on her. He must have seen her shiver because he let out a laugh and tilted the glass in salute. Then he tipped his head back and downed the shooter in one fluid motion.

Mark slapped the glass on the table, his eyes filled with amusement, and smacked his lips. “Mmm, that was good.”

Smug bastard.

Lorelei wasn’t about to be outdone and reached for another glass. Taking a cue from him, she snatched a fork from the table and stirred the liquid until it was thoroughly blended.

“Are you sure you want to do that? I’d sure hate to see you toss your cookies over a little oyster. Maybe you should just set the glass down before you embarrass yourself.” His voice shook with suppressed laughter as he issued the backhanded challenge.

Lorelei looked him dead in the eye. “F*ck you, Mark Cutter.” Before she could change her mind, she threw her head back and tossed the drink down. Then she slapped the glass on the table. “Bring it on, pansy boy. I can take whatever you dish out.”

Laughter erupted down the table and she swirled her head around to see Mark’s teammates looking on in avid fascination. JP, the rookie, grinned at Lorelei. “I think I’m in love.”

John snorted and cuffed the young guy’s shoulder, “You’re just horny, boy. Besides, I’m the one really in love.”

Kowalskin piped up, his voice full of admiration, “Will you marry me, Lorelei? Forget that pretty boy. Let me show you how a real man treats a lady.”

Lorelei laughed in surprised delight. “I’m flattered, Peter. And maybe I’ll just take you up on that offer. Can you cook?”

He flashed a grin and ran a hand over the black shadow beard on his square jaw. “Nope, but I can hire you a mighty fine chef.”

Mark shoved away from the table and stood up, the humor gone from his eyes. “Forget about it, Pete. She’s already taken.” He rounded the table and grabbed her elbow. “Come on, Lorelei. We’re going dancing.”

She let him pull her out of her chair, amused at his reaction to the guys’ mild flirting. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I said I didn’t feel much like dancing. Now I do.”

“Oh well. I beg your pardon.” Those oyster shooters had a pretty decent kick to them. Lorelei felt heat spreading out from the pit of her stomach, enjoyed the looseness flowing through her limbs.

As Mark led her through the crowd, the deep beat of the music seeped into her, the groove of the reggae got her blood pumping. The heavy bass pulsed low in her gut and her body started to sway to the rhythm.

Mark’s hand slid down her arm, leaving a trail of jangled nerves, until his large, hard palm was flush against hers and his long fingers were tangled with hers. Her head whipped up and her eyes sought his, but he was still pushing his way through the crowd. Didn’t he feel it? The hot current of electricity that sparked between their hands and shot up her arm?

Finally Mark stopped and turned. She saw in his eyes the answer. He felt it, too. She wasn’t the only one.

She didn’t even like him most of the time, but she felt a crazy chemistry with him. And deep down she felt hugely relieved. It meant she was alive. Vibrant. Having experiences and living life—something she’d become desperate for.

For the first time in two years she felt carefree and a little reckless. And it felt good.

Someone bumped her from behind and pushed her forward into Mark. Swallowing a yelp, Lorelei tried to push away, but he gripped her hip with his free hand and pulled her closer. When they were flush against each other, he started to move. His hips rolled loosely as he swayed to the side and his hard thighs brushed hers. Taking the lead, he placed his hand on her hip to guide her until they found the rhythm, rocking back and forth.

Heat washed over her, wave upon wave, as they moved together. In time with the throbbing bass they swayed, Mark’s finely toned body beckoning her, urging her to sin with every erotic brush against hers. Lorelei felt herself melting, drowning. And she didn’t want it to stop.

Giving herself over to the moment, she let the music seduce her, let the man inside. Just this once, for this dance, she fell into the moment.

The music slowed and the tempo changed. Spinning in Mark’s arms, she reached for his hands as she backed up against him until she could feel his arousal strain against her butt. She pushed against him in a slow grind, heard his deep groan with a sense of feminine triumph.

Lorelei released his hands and raised her arms to wrap around the back of his neck. Her body shivered deliciously when his hands stroked possessively over her rib cage down to her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh and jerked her back as he thrust forward, ground against her.

She closed her eyes as sensations flooded her. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she gloried in the feel of his heart hammering in his chest. His breath poured hot down her neck as he lowered his head. The ache between her legs grew until she was throbbing in time to the music, her inner thighs slick with her desire.

Damp tendrils of hair curled around her fingers when she shifted to grip his head with one hand, as she turned her face to him and found his mouth. She moaned as his lips covered hers, hard and desperate.

They continued to grind erotically, moving slowly to the music, his mouth devouring hers in a kiss of raw animal need. He placed a hand on her neck and added pressure, gently squeezing in an arousing display of sexual dominance. His tongue thrust into her mouth, stroked aggressively, possessively against hers. And he didn’t let up the assault until she whimpered into his mouth in complete surrender.

When it came he ripped his mouth from hers and swore. His voice was rough and primal when he growled, “I want you, Lorelei. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Tell me you feel the same.”

She opened her eyes to find him staring hard at her, lust burning hot in his translucent gray eyes. His mouth was slick from their kiss. Lorelei could feel his chest heaving against her back, expanding with great gulps of air.

With gentle pressure to her neck, Mark urged her on. “I know you want me. Your body is so turned on I can feel it. You’re practically begging to be f*cked. Admit it, tell me you want me and I’ll give you the best f*ck of your life.”

Lorelei stopped dancing and stared at him as the world came crashing in on her. As she looked into his eyes full of passion for her, reality settled heavily on her shoulders. She tried to push away from him, but his grip tightened. A warning sound came low in his throat.

Her body screamed for release and Lorelei had to admit she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. It would be so easy to give in to this wild, wanton need inside her to embrace her sensuality with Mark. She ached for it. But suddenly it wasn’t as simple as that, and the idea of using him solely for that purpose seemed wrong. Somewhere between oyster shooters and dancing to reggae, something had changed.

She didn’t want to be just another name in a long list of f*cks in Mark Cutter’s life.

Firmly pushing out of his embrace, she braced herself for his outburst and hitched her chin. “I do want you, Mark. More than is probably good for me.”

His voice was sharp with sexual frustration and growing anger. “Then what’s the problem, Lorelei? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to remember me. My name, my face.”

With force, he raked his hands through his hair, the movement jerky. “What do you mean? You’re not making any goddamn sense.”

“A year from now, Mark, when you’ve moved through a dozen women and added more to your list of sexual conquests, I deserve to be more than just another faceless screw.”