Stealing Home

chapter 7



HE REFUSED TO take her to Starbucks. Being a strong believer in supporting local business, he drove right by one and chuckled at the look of longing on Lorelei’s face.

She turned her head and glared at him. “I knew you taking me for coffee was too good to be true.”

“Nah. Just not hopping on the bandwagon that helps corporate conglomerates crush the little guys.” He could tell she wasn’t listening, though. She’d already turned her head to stare back out the window.

A small redbrick building came into view and he turned his Rover into the cramped parking lot and nabbed a space. Pocketing the keys in the front pouch of his sweatshirt, Mark hopped out and breathed in the cold, crisp Colorado morning air. Before he could reach the passenger door, Lorelei shoved it open and climbed out.

Her attention was locked on the building front as she fumbled to shut the car door. Reaching over her head he pushed the door closed, then cupped her elbow to lead her toward the coffee house. “You must be one of those people who don’t function without caffeine. Such a shame.”

She pulled her elbow from his grasp and muttered, “Suck it.”

That surprised a laugh out of him and he shook his head, grinning.

Lorelei was prickly as a cactus, Mark thought as he ushered her through the door of Rocky Mountain Coffee Company. The rich, heady scent of ground coffee beans filled his nostrils when he stepped through the door behind her. It smelled great, but he hadn’t touched caffeine in seven years and he wasn’t going to backslide now.

Now, Lorelei. He could tell she was a real caffeine addict.

Amusement filled him at the almost euphoric look on her face. He watched as her eyes drifted halfway closed and she inhaled deep, her lips curving in a smile of pure satisfaction. His gut tightened at the small purring sound she made low in her throat. It made him think of other ways to make her purr.

And he shouldn’t be thinking things like that at all about Lorelei. The woman had his priceless lucky charm in her possession—had acquired it in a rather dubious manner. Hell, he wasn’t too sure she didn’t do shit like that on a regular basis just for kicks.

Uncomfortable with where his thoughts were headed, Mark turned his head slightly to look more fully at her. She was even more attractive in the harsh light of day than she’d been the other night. And she didn’t have a bit of makeup on.

Her hair was a mess, he’d admit that. But for some reason it added to her appeal. Like a mass of liquid chocolate, it tumbled from her ponytail in loose waves, flyaway strands framing her face and neck. He knew it was every bit as luxurious to touch as it looked.

Shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pockets he frowned and continued to study Lorelei as she devoured the menu on the board behind the counter. She had flawless skin. The golden velvet look was real, not some creation of the makeup she’d worn two nights ago. He’d had seen his fair share of women who looked great with makeup and way less than stellar without it.

Fact was, Lorelei Littleton was a natural beauty.

For some reason that kind of irritated him. Mark grabbed hold of her elbow again and tugged her gently toward the counter. At 6:15 in the morning, the café was nearly empty except for an elderly couple at a corner table sipping coffee and sharing the morning newspaper. A young woman wearing nursing scrubs lounged tiredly on the red sofa.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You wanted coffee. Now why don’t you stop staring and order yourself something to get your brain working. You’re a little slow this morning.”

Lorelei turned her stare on him. He was halfway expecting a lecture of feminine affront, but she just smiled and nodded. “I am slow this morning, aren’t I? Couldn’t be from all the excitement and lack of sleep of the past few days, could it?”

Mark felt himself grin in response. “Nah, couldn’t be. I’m thinking you might be sluggish from all those fries and burgers you’ve stolen. All that saturated fat, you know.”

She rolled her beautiful eyes at him and said with exaggeration, “Whatever.”

Chuckling, he slipped his wallet from his back pocket and tossed a twenty down as she stepped up to the counter. “I’ll take an orange juice and one of your fresh fruit bowls, along with whatever the lady wants.”

Before Lorelei could protest he reached up a hand and squeezed the back of her neck. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”

She eyed him warily for a moment, then turned to the barista to give her order. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Grabbing his breakfast and utensils, Mark led the way to a round wooden table in the far corner by the front window and took a seat. His gaze settled on her breakfast pick and his eyebrow shot up in surprise. Apparently Lorelei had quite a sweet tooth.

Munching happily on her double-chocolate muffin, she caught his gaze and muttered, “What?”

He gestured to the assortment on the table before her. “Is that the way you normally eat?”

Washing down a bite of her muffin with a swallow of coffee, she glanced down at her food and shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah. About once a month I get a real craving for all things chocolate. Why?”

Detecting a note of defiance in her voice, Mark raised an eyebrow and gave a shrug of his own. Another challenge. He grinned. “No reason in particular. Just seems like an awful lot of crap there, that’s all.” He stabbed a cantaloupe ball with his plastic fork and held it out to her. “Here, try this. It’s called fruit and it’s healthy for you.”

Lorelei leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her fantastic chest. “You’re a health food fanatic, aren’t you?” she accused. “What’s wrong with what I’m eating? I’ve got a muffin. It’s got flour, which is a grain. It’s got chocolate, which is good for you. And I’ve got a chocolate cherry tart, which has cherries, and they’re fruit. So what’s the problem?”

He was about to jump right into a lecture about nutrition when he noticed the sparkle in her eyes and realized she was teasing him. Relaxing, he wiggled the small globe of fruit and crooned, “Come on, Hamburgler, you know you want this.”

She considered. “I’ll make a deal with you. You eat some of my tart and take a swig of my triple-shot mocha and I’ll eat your fruit.”

Mark picked up his bottle of orange juice and downed half of it before setting it on the table again. He licked the remaining drops off his bottom lip with his tongue and lowered the fork. “Can’t. It’s game day. No way am I gonna load my body full of that crap before playing Chicago again. I’ve got to be in top form if I want to play well tonight.”

Lorelei took another sip of her coffee and grinned at him over the rim of her cup. Heat slithered into his gut at her saucy smile. “We’ll just call it a truce then. Now tell me, did you always want to be a professional baseball player?”

Mark’s answer was immediate. “Always. As a kid I wasn’t happy unless I had a bat in my hand. It was kind of an obsession for this northern Florida boy and I can’t remember ever wanting to do anything else.”

The bell above the door rang and they turned and saw a couple with a young boy walk in and head to the counter. Then he brought his attention back to Lorelei. “Why do you ask? I thought you weren’t a baseball fan.”

“I’m not, really. I’ve watched a game or two before when my brother had one on, but I don’t go out of my way to watch it,” she said.

“Do all the big bad men scare you, honey?”

Crumpling her napkin into a ball, she scoffed, “Hardly. I just have better things to do than sit and watch a bunch of men prove their masculinity by trying to bash a ball beyond the outfield.”

He raised a brow at her. “Huh. I take it you’re not a hockey fan then, either.”

Her surprised laugh sounded warm and intoxicating. “Not especially.”

A blur of movement caught his eye and Mark turned to see the young boy shuffle over to him, eyes round and full of excitement. Putting down his fork, he turned full in his seat until he was facing the dark-haired boy, and smiled. “Hi there.”

The boy stopped so fast his sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floor, and his face flamed scarlet. His young voice came on an excited rush. “You’re The Wall, aren’t you? Oh man, my friends are gonna be so jealous that I saw you. Can I get your autograph? Please? My friend Timmy got your autograph last season when you played Atlanta and he’s been bragging about it ever since.”

Tipping his hat up his forehead with his index finger, Mark chuckled and leaned forward. “You’ve got the right man, sport. I’m Mark. I’d be happy to sign something for you. What’s your name?” Holding out his hand in greeting, he grinned when the boy wiped his palms on the front of his jeans before reaching for a handshake.

“My name’s David Muldoon. I’m nine. Oh man. My friends are gonna flip. You’re like our favorite baseball player ever. Like, our hero, you know? Here, you can sign this.” Reaching into his pocket, the boy pulled out a slightly bent and dog-eared baseball card.

Reaching for the card, Mark felt a jolt of pleasure when he saw it was he. Deeply touched, he asked as he searched for a pen, “You play ball, David?”

A pen appeared in his line of vision. “Sorry, forgot my mom gave that to me. Yeah, me and my friends all play. We belong to a junior league in Lakewood. We’re the Eagles.”

Mark took the pen and signed the card. Then he handed them both back to the boy. “That so? I bet you’re great. What position you play, David?”

The boy’s blue eyes lit with pride and his thin chest puffed out as he stood a little taller. “I’m a catcher. Like you. I got your poster in my room to remind me that I can be the best, just like you, if I try real hard. ’Cause I wanna play for the Rush someday, too.”

It was moments like this that made him grateful for his career. Made all the pain and grind worth it. All the stress and sweat. Totally worth it.

Mark motioned the kid closer with the crook of his finger. When the boy stepped close he said in a low voice, “You’re already a champ, David, because you try with all your heart. That’s what matters most.”

Nodding vigorously, the boy nearly vibrated himself across the floor. His voice barely contained his enthusiasm when he thanked Mark and hustled over to his waiting parents. With a last wave and neon-bright smile the boy and his parents left.

Gratitude filled Mark as he turned back in his seat to find Lorelei studying him through narrowed eyes. Uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny and what she’d witnessed, he shrugged. “What?”

“Are you serious? You’re going to act all surly and ill-tempered now? Just because I saw you behave like a decent human being?” Her voice was ripe with disapproval.

Unused to being scolded, Mark felt his temper spark. “I can act any way I want. Too damn bad if you have a problem with it.” Jerking his shoulder, he began to clean his mess from the table and tried to ignore the pain in the ass across the table from him.

She must have decided to drop it because she changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were a lefty.”

His mind always two steps from the gutter, he smirked. “Most guys are, sweetheart.”

It took her a few seconds, but he saw the instant comprehension hit her. Color tinged her cheeks and she shook her head. “I was referring to you writing with your left hand, Mark Cutter, not from which side you hang your package.” She grinned at him. “Besides, I already knew that.”

Tension coiled hard in his groin. Slowly, Mark shifted his gaze until it locked on hers. How was it possible that one provocative statement from her got his blood burning? She was an unwanted, unwelcome complication in his life. Hell, he didn’t even like her.

So why did he have a crazy urge to skip working out and do his push-ups with her instead?

If he didn’t get his head cleared and focus on the game ahead, he’d find himself benched. He hated being benched. It didn’t matter if all catchers got pulled from the plate from time to time. For Mark it was an insult and a harsh message that he’d totally screwed up his game.

Mark glanced down at his wristwatch. He had a game today. A very important game that set the tone to the season. And no lucky charm.

There was only one thing to do.