Stealing Home

chapter 15



LORELEI STILL COULDN’T believe she was in Philadelphia, a city of such rich history. It was home of the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and Benjamin Franklin. The former two being places she’d love to see. Still, more importantly to some of the less historically minded, Philly played host to the Eagles, the Flyers, and some of baseball’s rowdiest, most enthusiastic fans.

When Lorelei walked into Citizens Bank Park the roar of the crowd was jarring. She couldn’t believe the mad crush of fans in red and white jerseys. The atmosphere was nearly manic. Normally baseball fans were the subdued sports enthusiasts—brainy, courteous, quiet unless cheering a play. Apparently somebody forgot to give the Phillies fans the memo.

It was nuts.

No wonder Mark loved playing baseball. It was pure enthusiasm. If these fans were anything to go by, baseball fanatics would be crazy enough to pay an armload for Mark’s charm.

Earlier she’d had the brilliant idea to use the hotel’s business center to put it up for auction on the net. But before she’d been able to enter all the information she’d caught sight of Leslie searching for her near the bathrooms and she’d had to bail. She’d been so close, too. Maybe his necklace really was charmed, because she was having a heck of a time getting rid of it.

But she wasn’t about to give up.

Leslie nudged her side. “Mark got us great seats for the game tonight. We’re three rows up from the boards on the first base line. We’ll have the best view of all the action. And there’s bound to be tons of it tonight.”

If the frenzy of the crowd was anything to go by she didn’t doubt it.

They made their way down the steps until they found their seats. A balding man with his face painted red and white and sporting a Phillies jersey blocked the aisle. He looked at them and said, “You gonna cheer for our boys? It’s gonna be a great game tonight.”

Leslie shoved past him, followed by Lorelei. When they were standing before the plastic seats, Leslie turned back to the Phillies fan. “We sure are going to cheer for our boys tonight, aren’t we, Lorelei? Our boys are going to kick your boys’ butts. The Rush has the better catcher and stronger fielders.” She smiled sweetly and plopped down.

“Saying things like that in this stadium could be very dangerous, I’m thinking,” Lorelei mumbled as she sat next to her.

Leslie winked and grinned. She turned to the blustering man and said, “Y’all don’t mind a little good-natured ribbing, do you?”

The guy shook his head. “Nah, but you got it all wrong. Our fielding is way better and our catcher is ten times better than Cutter is.”

Leslie leaned around Lorelei and challenged, “You care to bet on that?”

Here comes trouble, Lorelei thought. Betting on Mark wasn’t the wisest choice considering the way he’d played the last game.

“All right. Twenty bucks to whoever’s team wins. You’re gonna regret betting against the Phillies. They’re kicking ass this season. And Cutter’s been playing pathetically this go-round. But I’ll gladly take your money.”

Stretching out her arm, Leslie leaned across Lorelei and shook the balding man’s hand. “You’re on. And I wouldn’t count Cutter out just yet if I were you. He’s got a hell of a comeback record.”

Lorelei hoped that was the truth as she watched them shake hands on the bet. Music sounded through the stadium speakers loudly as they waited for the game to begin. Lorelei could see JP Trudeau first at bat, Mark on deck behind him.

The guy next to her stood up and yelled, “You suck, Denver Rush! You suck, Cutter!”

Lorelei felt like punching him in his pudgy face. She gave him a good glare instead and stood up.

Placing her fingers in her mouth, Lorelei blew and released an ear-piercing whistle. “Yeah! Go Cutter! You rock! Whoo-hoo!” For added measure she threw her hands up and punched the air. Then she looked down at the man with his red and white face paint and smiled. She had to clamp down on the urge to stick her tongue out, too.

She didn’t like anyone bashing her boy like that.

Glancing back at the field she saw Mark looking at her while he swung a weighted bat, his eyes unreadable. For several long heartbeats he stared at her, studying her, before he turned his head.

Lorelei realized she was standing there like an idiot and quickly sat down. It wasn’t the smartest idea to stand up in a stadium bursting with infamous Phillies fans while hollering for the enemy for very long. They might start throwing something. Like batteries.

She realized Leslie was staring at her. “What?”

“You really like him don’t you?” she said.

More than she should. “I just didn’t like that bozo calling Mark names, that’s all.”

Everyone hushed for the National Anthem and then all of a sudden the stadium went absolutely wild as the music changed. Lorelei watched as the Phillies’ starting pitcher warmed up on the mound to the tune of “Good Times, Bad Times” by Led Zeppelin.

And she’d thought the Rush fans were loud.

Leslie leaned close. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? Milwaukee is the only other city I’ve been to that rivals Philly for baseball fanatics.”

All around her people were standing and yelling for their team, thousands of voices raised in chaos. “It’s mind-blowing,” she had to admit. “I never really thought baseball fans were rowdy.”

“That’s why I never miss an opportunity to come when Mark plays here. It’s too much fun to miss.”

“So that’s why we flew over together? Not because Mark wanted you to babysit me?” It still vaguely annoyed her even though she liked his sister a lot.

Leslie tossed back her blond hair and laughed. “Is that what you think?” She dabbed a pinky finger at the corner of her eye. “You mean Mark hasn’t told you?”

“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.”