Stealing Home

chapter 6



IT WAS FIVE-THIRTY in the morning. Before the sun had even reached the sky. And Lorelei sat awake on the edge of Mark’s guest room bed in the dark and wondered how the hell she’d gotten there. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t protested. Oh no, she’d raised a ruckus, all right. She believed she’d even threatened him with bodily harm. But to no avail. He’d still gotten what he wanted. She had a suspicion that he usually did and it ticked her off that she’d played right into his hands.

She had better things to do than play his warped game. And she sure as hell didn’t want to spend so much alone time with the jerk. She might just forget all about her integrity if she saw his naked chest again.

As enjoyable as that might be, she had a life to get back to.

Just because she didn’t have an office at a fancy building didn’t mean she didn’t have a job. She had a life. She had friends. Most importantly, she had family. Her brother, Logan, was going to start worrying about her if she didn’t show back up soon. Mark didn’t give a crap about any of that.

Lorelei sighed into the quiet of predawn and stretched her arms above her head, slow to wake up. The outline of downtown Denver was just becoming visible through the open windows in the weak light. The condo was so still she actually cringed at the sound of a yawn that escaped her.

What she wouldn’t give for a big, fat, designer triple-shot mocha with whip right at that moment. Full of fat and caffeine and chocolate. Coffee was one of her weaknesses. Another being a sick addiction to rock music from eighties’ hair bands. She was not a happy person without her caffeine fix.

If only she could run to a coffee shop and grab a mocha. Oh, but then she’d want a chocolate croissant. No, maybe a chocolate chip muffin. Better yet—both. And a fresh scone to chase it all down with.

Standing up to head to the bathroom, she mentally pictured the room as she evaded a potted palm and a stubbed toe by mere inches. Mark’s taste certainly ran toward the contemporary. Not overly so like some decorating magazines she’d seen. Nothing space-age or futuristic. Just clean and simple lines.

Not her favorite style, but then her style didn’t matter. Still, she’d have preferred a little more warmth and visual coziness to her prison. Instead, she got a room with Asian-inspired decor, and two black and white photos of nature scenes.

And it was all very neat and tidy.

Lorelei stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the overhead lights. “Shit! Ouch.” Pain shot through her eyes at the sudden burst of brightness and she flinched. Her toes dug hard into the green slate floor. Why on earth hadn’t someone yet discovered a way for lights to come on gradually? Getting poked in the eye with a thousand pinpricks first thing in the morning ranked right up there with hot dogs on her list of favorites.

Rubbing the heels of her hands into the sockets of her eyes, Lorelei mumbled a curse. She dropped her hands and grimaced at the sight in the mirror. It wasn’t pretty.

She looked like hell. She wouldn’t be entering the Miss America pageant this morning, that’s for sure.

Hair fell in a tangled, snarled mess from her sloppy, lopsided ponytail. Dark shadows dusted the undersides of her eyes, and her usually tawny skin was pale.

Raising her right arm, Lorelei did a quick sniff test and winced. Not good, but not too bad. At least she didn’t smell nearly as bad as she looked. Yet. But she could really use a shower before Mark woke up.

Before Mark woke up. Genius! She slapped her hands flat on the cream granite countertops and grinned. She could be out of there and on her way home to Loveland in two minutes. If exhaustion hadn’t forced her into sleep moments after he’d planted her in this room, she’d already be home. Frustration gnawed at her over that fact, but quickly subsided. She’d tried her best to stay awake and wait him out. That had failed, but she had another opportunity right now.

Racing from the bathroom, Lorelei stubbed her toe on the foot of the bed and cursed. Hopping around on one foot as pain slithered from her toe up her calf, she gritted her teeth and looked for a lamp. Nothing.

Come on, come on. Limping, she felt around in the predawn darkness for her running shoes. Finding them on the other side of the bed, she dropped to the corner edge and started to slip them on. When she jarred her throbbing middle toe she winced and almost cried out. Biting her bottom lip, she frowned and finished shoving her bare feet into the shoes.

If ever there was a time for her to bail, it was now. While Mark was sound asleep in his big ol’ bed. All her problems would be solved. She’d get away from him and his blackmail. She could collect the money from Dina, and she could get back to Loveland and her family. Talk about win-win.

It was about time she finally found her brains.

Her giant overnight bag lay scrunched over on the floor by the door and she snatched it up. She’d just call a cab from the lobby, go collect her car and the necklace from the hotel concierge, and then she’d be on her way.

Thrilled at her thoughts, Lorelei reached into her bag and grabbed a lavender sweatshirt and pulled it on. Then she tossed her purse and bag over her left shoulder and quietly opened the door. Ducking her head into the hallway, she sighed with relief when she saw the living room and the hallway on the other side still dark. Mark was across the living room down that hall in his bedroom asleep.

She felt like doing a Snoopy dance.

Something wild and almost giddy flared hot in her as she began to walk quietly toward the door, her running shoes muffled against the hardwood floors. When she stepped on a board a few feet from the door, she jumped. Its groan echoed in the huge condo.

Oh crap.

She froze. And waited. After a minute she let out a breath of relief and rushed toward the door. It appeared Mark was a sound sleeper.

She reached the door and placed a hand on the knob.

“Leaving so soon, Lorelei?”

Dropping her hand on a screech, Lorelei spun around as the overhead light flicked on. Her heart leaped right out of her chest.

Mark stood at the doorway to the kitchen, shirtless and rumpled from sleep, a pair of plaid flannel lounge pants his only clothing. And he looked good. Really, really good.

If she wasn’t so terrified he’d caught her trying to sneak out she might have even been distracted by the sight of all that tanned, scrumptious flesh. She was too scared, though. She didn’t even notice the happy trail that shot over his flat abdomen down into his pants. Didn’t notice his flat brown nipples and hard chest.

Right. And pigs flew.

Blinking rapidly against the sudden glare of light, Lorelei racked her brain for a plausible excuse. But she couldn’t think around all the static in her head. It had whipped out of frequency the moment she’d heard his rough voice.

Now she was back to no brains. And she still wasn’t wearing a bra, damn it.

Silence stretched between them. Moments ticked by while he leaned against the doorway staring at Lorelei and she stared at his feet. Big feet. Not surprising since his bulge had been pretty darn big, too.

She’d been caught sneaking out and she was thinking about his crotch again. She deserved to be arrested. For stupidity.

Mark had warned her that if she tried to ditch him he’d call the cops instantly. And he’d been so ticked off she didn’t doubt his sincerity for a minute. So she needed to bluff her way out of this. Needed to make him forget what he’d just seen. Fast.

It was time for Fonda Peters to make a comeback.

She let her eyes go soft as they traveled over his body, and her lips curved in a warm smile. It wasn’t much of a chore. His hard, sculpted body kicked her body temperature up a notch. She just let it show. “Why, hello, Mark. You look utterly delicious this morning. Makes a girl kind of hungry and I haven’t had breakfast.” Lorelei dropped her bags and sauntered over to him. His muscular arms were crossed over his sculpted chest and he lifted a dark blond brow at her words.

She ignored the fact that she was wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt. Avoided thinking about how she had looked in the bathroom mirror and pretended instead that she was wearing something very sexy. That she looked sexy.

When she reached his side, Lorelei raised her palms to the flat plane of his stomach and stroked up to his powerful shoulders. Then she slid them down to rest against the waistband of his lounge pants. His stomach quivered beneath her touch, but his face remained impassive. “I was on my way to get some coffee from Starbucks, handsome. Wanna come?”

Humor lit his gray eyes and a smile softened his cut lip. Sleep-rumpled hair added to his sexy, disheveled appearance. “Sweetheart, I always want to come,” he said with a slight Southern drawl.

She hadn’t noticed that last night. But she did now and it did crazy things to her insides. Mark Cutter was one wickedly hot man.

Lorelei felt a smile tug her lips when she suddenly realized the double meaning. He’d set them up for this. “I’m so glad you like . . . coffee . . . as much as I do. It can get kind of lonely for a lady enjoying coffee all by herself. It’s nice having a strong, sexy man along once in a while.” Her fingers slipped just inside the elastic waistband of his flannels and rubbed softly back and forth. Her pulse leaped at his answering intake of breath and quick jerk.

Big, warm hands smoothed over her hips and squeezed her butt gently. Mark’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, “Are you often left to drink your coffee alone, Lorelei?”

If he only knew. It’d been quite a while since she’d shared coffee with a man. More than two years in fact. Since before her niece Michelle had been born and her sister-in-law had died, actually.

But Mark didn’t need to know that.

Lorelei mentally chided herself. All he needed to know was that she was interested in an intense game of tonsil hockey. Her family needed her to get back home. And that meant she had to stick out her boobs and rattle his cage. Make him forget about her sneaking out.

And if he didn’t forget? What good would she be to Logan and Michelle if she was rotting in prison?

That simply couldn’t be an option.

Fighting off the frown she felt forming between her brows, Lorelei tried for a seductive smile and purred, “Honey, it’s been far too long since I’ve had the pleasure of a man over for coffee. Especially one as enthusiastic about it as you.”

She watched his gaze drop to her mouth and his nostrils flare. Felt the hot, velvet tip of his erection brush against her fingertips. And it felt nice. Very, very nice.

“That’s too bad. Coffee’s such an enjoyable pastime. Maybe you oughta forget about sneaking out and running away, and think about grinding beans with me instead,” he said, and rotated his hips in circular motion to emphasize his meaning.

Lorelei snorted and then laughed out loud. Who’d have thought Mark had a sense of humor?

He arched a brow, whirled her around until her back was to a wall. “Oh, you think that’s funny, do you? Didn’t think I was smart enough to get what you were really doing? I see. I’m just a dumb jock who only thinks about his cock, aren’t I?”

Still laughing, she sputtered, “You said it. Not me. But that’s just pure talent, rhyming like that.”

Lorelei looked up to see him smiling, those sexy dimples on display. She noticed when the smile reached his eyes little specks of silver glittered among the pale gray. Sleep-tousled waves of deep blond hair fell across his forehead.

He was simply gorgeous.

“You wanna see talent, Lorelei?” His voice had taken on a rough, raw edge. Without a doubt he had the sexiest voice she’d ever heard. It made her want to call him on the phone just to hear it isolated like that. So male and sexual—it alone got her blood boiling.

Her pulse scattered when the warm hands on her butt streaked up under her top and around her rib cage until they came to rest flat against the undersides of her bare breasts. There they teased, barely cupping, lightly testing the weight.

Lorelei swallowed a gasp. “I don’t doubt your talent for a minute. But I don’t trust it, or you.”

He lowered his head until his mouth stopped a fraction above hers. His breath slid hot and promising over her lips. “You don’t trust me, sweetheart?” he asked just above a whisper. Then his tongue slipped past his lips to tease the corner of her mouth with slow, erotic strokes.

The hard calluses on Mark’s palm gently abused the tender skin of her breasts as he caressed them, sending rivers of need flowing to the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t control her response as her knees began to quake and her mouth opened helplessly, eager for his invasion.

But it never came.

Cold air brushed her parted lips as Mark suddenly released her and sneered, “You’re damn right you don’t trust me. And I sure as hell don’t trust you.”

Fighting a barrage of unwanted emotions, she swallowed hard and ignored the ache in her breasts created by the cold man standing before her. How could she have so easily lost sight of who, and what, he was?

The only thing they shared was a strong desire to possess a certain necklace. And even that would end as soon as she could find a way to get it to his ex and be rid of it.

Mark Cutter was a means to an end. Nothing more. Okay, right now he was a whole lot more. He was her blackmailer and kidnapper. But he was also the only thing standing between her and a nice long stay at the women’s pen.

Not to mention the new star in some very dirty fantasies of hers.

Mark’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Hand over your bag and go sit on the couch, thief.” The command came hard and unyielding. Without a word of protest, Lorelei handed her duffel over and went to sit on the black leather couch. There was nothing left in the bag for him to find anyway. He’d already taken her cell phone, purse, and keys.

Jerking her head around, she followed his retreat down the hallway with her gaze and asked, “What are you doing?”

He didn’t respond as he disappeared into his room. Tapping her thumb impatiently on the buttery leather of the couch, she rolled her eyes and let out a huff of frustrated air. So the guy was going to give her the silent treatment. Real mature.

Lorelei glanced longingly over her shoulder at the door and huffed again. There had to be a way out of this. She just hadn’t found it yet. He’d told her she was stuck there for the foreseeable future until he had his necklace, so a way was bound to pop up. The problem was that where he went, she went. It was going to be hard to escape with him glued to her side.

“I used to be smart, damn it. I should be able to figure this out. It’s not rocket science, for goodness’ sake,” she muttered to herself.

“What was that, Hamburgler? What’s not rocket science?” he asked behind her.

Startled to find Mark standing behind her dressed in jeans and a green hooded Rush sweatshirt, she did a double take. Frowning at him, she said, “What did you just call me?”

With a rake of his fingers through his thick hair, Mark tossed on a black baseball hat and grinned. Then he winked at her.

Unbelievable. The jerk had the gall to be charming now?

Ignoring her question, he inclined his head toward the door and said on a rough laugh, “You wanted coffee. Come on then.”

Coffee? Seriously? Hot damn.

Pushing off the couch, Lorelei glared at him as she walked past. “I certainly don’t have a big butt.”

“I never said you had a big butt.”

“The Hamburgler does.”

“So?” he challenged.

“So, don’t call me that. I don’t have a big butt and I’m not a burger thief.” So there.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Thank you.” It was good he got that straight.

“You’re a jewelry thief,” he said with relish.

A*shole.

Lorelei stopped in front of the door and whipped around to face him. “I have good reason for that, Mark. More than you could possibly understand in your narrow, selfish world.” Her voice rang with self-righteousness. Not that it mattered. Like he was going to believe her anyway.

Mark ducked his head, the bill of his hat covering his face momentarily. A suspicious-sounding cough caught in his throat.

She hoped he choked on it.

Clearing it finally, he reached around her and flipped some latches on the door. “Yes, ma’am.”

She wasn’t buying that for a second.

Oh, the slight hint of Southern accent in his tone added to the gentlemanly words, but he was no gentleman. Not by a long shot.

But he was taking her out for coffee. In a way there was something vaguely gentleman-like in that.

Lorelei leveled a hard look on him one last time, straightened her shoulders, and said, “I’m not buying that good ol’ boy, Bo Duke charm for a minute, sweetheart. But as long as we understand each other we’ll get along fine.”

The corner of Mark’s mouth turned up as he twisted the doorknob, sent the door swinging open. Lorelei marched through with her head held high.

“Whatever you say . . . thief.”

Double a*shole.