Stealing Home

chapter 23



HE GAVE HER a tomato plant.

She cried when she saw it. Bawled just like a baby.

Lorelei found it on the front porch wrapped up in red ribbon just like a Christmas present. A plain white card was tucked among the tender young leaves. It said:

For your writing inspiration. Think of me.

Mark

How could she not think of him? He occupied her head every minute of every day. Days had passed since she’d blown up at him. Long, agonizing, awful days.

Sitting down on the top step of the porch and stretching out her bare legs, Lorelei picked up the plant and set it in her lap. Stared at it as she blinked back tears and felt sorry for herself. She missed him so much it was just pathetic.

Then she got mad. “Ugh. You were the one that ended it.” She pulled the card from the fuzzy green branches and looked at Mark’s message. His handwriting was terrible.

Logan rounded the barn, turning her attention. Lorelei watched him stride over to his pickup and toss a pair of spurs, some braided rope with a bell, and his black and red chaps into the backseat.

So he’s going to do it, she thought. A part of her had known he would eventually. There really wasn’t another option. And to be honest she couldn’t blame him. He’d always been an amazing bull rider and stood a decent chance of making some real money if he stayed healthy.

That’s what scared her. Logan was only thirty-two and had more battle scars than most men obtained in a lifetime. He’d been hooked, stomped, mauled, and kicked. And the idea of him climbing on the back of a living tornado again made her insides shrivel.

“Hey, Lorelei. Can you bring me my riding glove? It’s sitting in the rocker over by you.” Logan glanced at her from beneath the brim of his black cowboy hat. “Thanks.”

With a sigh she pushed off the porch and set the tomato plant on the railing. Sliding the card into the front pocket of her running shorts, she grabbed the tan kidskin glove and walked over to him. “So you’re really going to do this.”

His jaw tightened and he slid the glove between his leather belt and Wranglers. “We’ve talked about this.”

“No, we didn’t talk. You informed me of your decision. There’s a difference.” Anger rose up and she clamped it down. She reminded herself he was only doing what he had to.

He sighed and looked down at her. “I’m sorry for that, sis. But we both know this is something I have to do.” He reached into the backseat and grabbed a black protective vest. “I’ll be fine. I knew you’d worry so I got one of these. I reckon a bull’s horns will have a mighty hard time getting into me with this on.”

Not if it really wanted to. But it was pointless to argue. “I’m not going to waste my time fighting with you over this, Logan. You’re even more stubborn than I am. All I’m going to ask is that you be careful. And that when you sit down on the back of whatever beast you’re riding today you remember you have a daughter and sister who love you very much.”

He looked down and studied her profile. “I will, I promise. Have you been crying?”

Lorelei hugged her arms to her and nodded. “Yeah.”

He grabbed her jaw, turned her face to him. “Shit. I’m sorry if I’ve made you cry.”

“It wasn’t you.” She pushed his hand from her chin. “It was another jerk.”

Logan searched her face, brows drawn together over his dark eyes. He asked softly, “Does he mean that much to you?”

She shrugged. There was no use talking about it, anyway. It was over. “He doesn’t mean anything to me. We enjoyed each other for a while, that’s all. We don’t even know each other.”

Her gaze slid over Logan when he turned and jogged to the porch. Once there he grabbed the tomato plant and walked back over, placed it in her hands. He read the question in her eyes. “I saw the note when you were on your run. Seems to me a guy who’d drive over an hour to bring a woman a plant is more than just enjoying things for a while. Too much work for a fling.” He looked purposefully at the plant. “He brought you a tomato plant, Lorelei. How’d he know that would get to you more than roses ever could? It means he’s either been paying very close attention, or he’s a damn good guesser. Nobody’s that good.”

The delicate little leaves beckoned her and Lorelei traced a finger over a branch. She caved. “All right. I care about him, Logan. A lot. But it’s over.”

He raised a black brow at her. “Yeah? Doesn’t look like it to me.” He gestured to the plant in her hand.

Maybe Mark was still interested, maybe not. It didn’t matter, not if they didn’t trust each other. “He’s got a secret. Something that he doesn’t want me to know.”

Logan considered. “Have you asked him about it?”

She shot him a look full of exasperation. “Of course I have.”

He gave her a small lopsided smile. “Yeah, I’m sure you have. Forgot a moment who I was talking to.”

Enough. She was done talking about Mark Cutter. He spent far too much time in her head as it was; she didn’t need to fill her days with conversations about him, too. “I’m heading inside. Michelle should be getting up soon and I want to take a shower before I get breakfast ready for her. Did you want me to make you something, too, before you go?”

“Nope. I scrambled some eggs and cooked some bacon earlier.” He started to turn, paused, turned back. “Hey, Lorelei?”

She looked up from her plant. “What?”

“I went out to feed the horses about six this morning and saw your plant then. I just realized your ballplayer must have got up damn early to get that here, is all.”

Yeah, she’d thought about that, too.

The phone was ringing when she stepped in through the front door. Doing a quick search she found it under a mountain of newspapers. She grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Good morning, sweetheart. Did you get my present?”

Since he couldn’t see her she gave in to the urge and smiled into the plant she still cradled in a hand. “Maybe.”

Goodness, his voice was sexy. His deep chuckle had lust snaking through her. “You wearing any skimpy shorts today? I’ve been fantasizing about those little pink ones of yours. Want me to share the details?”

Absolutely. “Not really.”

Lorelei belatedly realized what he’d asked and looked down at her black running shorts. Her head snapped up and she darted to the front window, looked out. “You’re not hiding somewhere outside again, are you?”

“No, why?” He sounded sincere.

Maybe he really was psychic. “Never mind.”

His voice took on a tense note and he said just above a whisper. “You’re wearing Daisy Dukes again, aren’t you?

Lorelei grinned. She wasn’t, but it’d be fun to mess with his head. “Uh-huh. Black silky ones.”

He groaned into the phone and the ragged sound had her biting her lip to keep from laughing. He was too easy.

“Are you wearing panties?” Heat flooded his voice.

Yep. Granny panties. Ugly cotton ones she wore when she went for her runs. “No.” She made her voice sound a little breathless. “Just smooth bare skin.”

She heard a clunk and a curse and realized he’d dropped his phone. Laughter bubbled up and she put the phone between her breasts and covered her mouth with a hand as it let loose.

Lorelei gulped in air and forced the giggles under control. She put the phone back to her ear just in time.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Mark asked, his voice all hoarse.

The connection crackled with static and she moved to the dining room for a better signal. “Uh-huh.”

He sucked in air. “Whew.” He didn’t say anything else for a moment. Then he growled, “That’s so hot.”

Suddenly she didn’t have to fake a breathless voice. Her lungs squeezed and her nipples grew tight with instant arousal. She opened her mouth to say something about it when she heard another voice in the background and said instead, “Who did I just hear?”

His voice was strained when he answered, “Peter Kowalskin.”

Warning bells went off in her head. “Where are you?” She had a feeling she knew the answer.

“On the plane getting ready for takeoff.”

Oh God. “You’ve been talking to me like this when there’ve been other people around?”

“Nobody can hear me and most everyone’s asleep anyway,” his deep voice responded.

Her face caught fire. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait,” he rushed. “Don’t go. Come to my place for dinner Tuesday night. I’ll make something.”

She wanted to. She really wanted to. But she wasn’t sure if she should. “Mark—”

“I want to talk to you, Lorelei. About things.”

Mark wanted to talk about things. That could only mean a few things.

How could she refuse?

She sighed and hoped she was making the right decision. “All right.”

MARK HEARD THE knock. Heat coiled in his abdomen.

He reached for the wineglasses and called over his shoulder, “It’s open.”

The door shut softly and the sound of boots clicking on hardwood echoed lightly in the foyer.

“Yum. Something smells good.”

He turned at the sound of Lorelei’s voice and bobbled a glass. Only quick reflexes kept the crystal from smashing against the tile floor. Grabbing it mid-air, Mark set it quickly on the counter and slid his eyes leisurely over her. It ought to be illegal for a woman to look that fine, was all he could think.

He grinned and tossed her words back at her. “Yum. Something looks good.”

Man, did she ever. He’d had no idea before that cowboy boots could be so frigging sexy. But when Lorelei wore them paired with gorgeous legs, a white top, and a short denim skirt, he decided he’d seriously been missing out. Had missed one vital fact every man should know.

Cowgirls rocked.

She’d even topped off the whole look with a denim jacket, and by piling her dark hair on top of her head in a messy bun, tying it with a red bandana. Just like she’d worn it the other day when he’d watched her hang laundry. He knew she’d done it on purpose just to torment him. Make him remember the hot bout of sex up in her bedroom.

Right. Like he’d ever forget that. She’d rocked his world so damn hard it’d taken him two days to level off afterward. Lorelei Littleton was one dangerous woman.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. The heat of it kicked his pulse up a notch. Make that very dangerous woman. Potent as hell.

“Hey there, Mark. Whatcha cooking?”

Was it his imagination or was there an extra swing in her hips when she walked up to him? Like maybe she was up to something. Like maybe she was thinking about seducing him. God, he hoped so. He wanted to be seduced by Lorelei in the worst way. “I thought I’d make my lemon and dill salmon.”

Lorelei stopped when she was less than a foot away and smiled at him through her lashes. “Sounds good. I’m real hungry.”

So was he. For her. But when he reached for her she sidestepped and laughed.

She shook her head and the ends of her red bandana danced in the air. “No way. You said we were going to talk.”

He grinned and leaned his butt into the counter. “All right. We’ll talk. Why don’t you tell me if you’re wearing any panties beneath that sexy little skirt.” She laughed and he shook his head. “I’m serious. Are you wearing panties or going commando?”

Lorelei smoothed her slender hands down the faded denim on her curvy hips and asked with a flutter of lashes, “You mean what I’m wearing under this ol’ thing?”

His gaze followed her hands and heat pooled in his belly. “Yeah, that ol’ thing.”

Pure mischief lit her eyes, made them sparkle under the recessed kitchen lights. The brown leather arches of her cowboy boots slid against her tan calves when she put a hand on the counter and shifted her feet. She placed a booted foot behind the other and rubbed it against the back of her leg. He swallowed hard. “I’ll tell you what I’m wearing under my skirt,” she said with relish, and he knew he was in trouble, “but you have to say please.”

Mark raised his eyes from the frayed hem and Lorelei’s bare golden skin to see her staring at him with bold challenge in her mossy green eyes, an eyebrow arched. She clearly remembered his comment from a few weeks ago and was trying to see if he still felt the same way.

He didn’t. Not in the least, but he was still working on the words and wasn’t quite ready to get into the heavy stuff. “I was just being polite. I figured I’d give you the chance to tell me before I stuck my hand under that pitiful excuse for a skirt and found out for myself.”

Heat spread across the skin on her chest and up her neck in a pink flush. Turning on the wood-stacked heel of her boots, she scrambled to the fridge and opened it. “Got some white wine chilling or anything?”

Mark knew he’d flustered her and it felt so good to know he had that kind of effect on her that his chest seized up tight. He almost started to get worried when he couldn’t breathe after several seconds, but then the air rushed out on a whoosh. It just went to prove his earlier point that Lorelei was a seriously dangerous woman.

“I’ve got a chardonnay chilling on the top shelf.” Something cold was definitely a good idea. Before he spontaneously combusted from staring at the smooth, firm skin on the backs of her thighs. “Why don’t you pull the salad out while you’re at it?”

For a few more seconds he stared at the backs of her firm legs until his pants began to pull uncomfortably tight from a hard-on. Her head was still in the ice box and she couldn’t see, so he reached down and adjusted himself so his fly wouldn’t pinch. Then he raked a hand through his hair and sucked in a lungful of air.

“So, I watched the game last night. I still can’t believe that John Crispin scored against the Giants star pitcher like that,” she said all casual-like, and pulled the wine bottle and salad from the shelf. The door swung shut with a tap of her boot and she shot him a grin. “You looked good out there, too. I just about jumped off the couch when you threw yourself at this outside ball and barely snagged it with your mitt. How do you regain your feet so quick after flinging yourself on the ground like that?”

Intense pleasure swept through Mark and warmed his chest. No wonder they’d won. His good luck charm had watched the game. Lorelei had cared enough to tune in even though she wasn’t a baseball fan. The truth of it slammed into him on a burst of happiness.

The timer went off on the stove and he pushed away from the counter. He reached in a drawer for a pot holder and said over his shoulder, “You see the way Drake hammered on the Giants second baseman Javier Martinez during the sixth inning? It took eighteen stitches to close up the gash in his forehead.”

She chuckled, and the warm, husky female sound of it slid inside him. “Yeah, I saw that. It was so sweet.”

God, what a woman. She’d watched a nasty sports fight and thought it was sweet.

No wonder he was crazy about her.