Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (15 page)

“
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.”

Chapter 16

A
GLASS APPEARED
in front of her. Lorelei took it and looked up. Mark stood towering over her, a grin full of rotten intentions on his face.

Suddenly suspicious that her drink contained something gray and slimy, she peered into the glass. “Did you have the bartender slip a raw oyster in my drink?”

He dropped into the chair across from her and laughed. “Now why would you think I’d do a thing like that?”

“Because you would.”

Drake Paulson hooked a thumb over at her. “She’s got you pegged, Cutter.” He looked down at her. “When you going to forget about that loser and marry me, sweet thing?”

Lorelei asked, “What happened with”—she cupped her hands in front of her chest—“Candy?”

Drake’s gaze dropped to her hands and back up. “She used me, abused me.”

She feigned sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that, Drake.”

“I’m more than just a gorgeous body, you know.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m more than just a thick wallet.”

Lorelei bit her cheek to keep from laughing. “Absolutely.”

“She did find out the most important fact about me, though.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m an easy lay.”

A burst of laughter erupted and she snorted. Across the table Mark let loose a laugh and shook his head.

Peter Kowalskin swore and retorted, “Like she wasn’t.”

Apparently the whole table had been listening to their conversation. Several pair of eyes were turned in their direction.

Drake shrugged his massive shoulders and smiled at the guys. “What can I say, it was a match made in heaven.”

“You mean a one-night stand, Paulson,” another player said from down the table.

He laughed. “That, too.”

Still chuckling, Lorelei glanced around the bar and inhaled the mouthwatering scent of barbecue that hung on the air. Three big screens were built into the walls and were tuned to the local late night news. Booths and tables were scattered around the huge open room, two pool tables were to her right, and a round pen with a mechanical bull was set up in the far corner. There was also a small stage for karaoke directly in front of her against the wall.

The bar and grill wasn’t crowded, but there were a few groups of people scattered throughout. For the most part the whole Denver Rush baseball team had the place to themselves.

Some of the guys had hopped cabs as soon as they’d hit the hotel lobby and were still wearing their dress suits. Others had gone up to their rooms to change first. Mark was one who’d changed into casual clothes.

Butterflies fluttered deep in her gut when she glanced at him. He was in conversation with another player, his hands laced together behind his neck while he leaned back in his chair. The cuffs of his shirt were rolled up his muscular forearms.

His profile was to her and she studied him. Hair waved over his ear and curled lazily. He’d shaved, and his skin was smooth and very tan against the pale blue chambray shirt he wore. He had such thick lashes. They fanned out and cast a slight shadow below his eyes in the low light.

He laughed at something and the masculine dimples that drove her crazy flashed in his cheeks, teasing her. The top two buttons of his shirt were open and when he moved she caught a glimpse of his sculpted chest. Her lungs tightened. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He must have felt her gaze because he turned his head. The smile melted and his eyes grew hot. Instantly his body tensed and he stilled.

Why hadn’t she noticed the deep bow of his upper lip before? It practically begged to be licked. Or the indentation of his clavicle? Her lips suddenly craved to know the feel of it. Mesmerized, her mouth opened as she stared at the base of his throat, at the smooth skin, and her tongue slipped between her teeth and touched her bottom lip.

Lorelei jolted and she felt her eyes go wide when Mark swore and lurched from his chair. “I’m going to play pool,” he growled.

She watched him go as her libido went haywire. Raked her gaze over his broad shoulders, down his back and narrow waist, over his firm butt and heavy thighs. Her mind flashed back to the night they’d first met, to the image of his bare chest and flat stomach. She had to bite back a moan.

Leslie appeared at her side, a glass of red wine in her hand. “Why are you still sitting here? Go after him, Lorelei.”

Why
was
she still there? This was her opportunity to experience what it felt like to be truly desired by a man, and to desire him back with equal intensity. Her chance to experience Mark Cutter.

Was she woman enough to handle it?

She glanced up at Leslie and demanded, “Tell me again that he’s worth it.”

Leslie’s smile was sympathetic and her voice was full of encouragement when she murmured, “He’s so worth it, Lorelei. So absolutely, totally worth it.”

With shaking hands she pushed from the table and stood. She took a step and stopped. The drink Mark had brought her still sat completely full on the table and she snatched it up and downed it in one long gulp, set it back down with a thump.

Leslie gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and nudged her in the back. “Go to him.”

She did.

He was alone at the pool tables; the rest of the guys were either still eating ribs and helping the rookie down his third pitcher of beer by chanting, “Go, go, chug, chug, chug,” or they were taking turns shouting dirty insults and getting bucked off the mechanical bull.

Mark glanced up from racking the balls, his eyes devoid of emotion. “What do you want, Lorelei?”

You
. “Mind if I play?”

“Do you know how?” He rolled the triangle full of colored balls forward and back, settling the yellow one ball on the brown marker.

Lorelei spotted the pool cues and walked over. She grabbed one, held it out in front of her, and checked for straightness. It was too bowed for her taste and she put it back, grabbed another one, found it satisfactory. “I can hold my own.”

“What’s the ante?”

“What?”

Mark smirked and carefully removed the wooden triangle. “What’s the bet? You can’t play pool without one, or are you afraid I’ll kick your cute little butt?”

He thought her butt was cute. That was good to know. “I’m not afraid of you, Mark Cutter.”

Rounding the pool table, he stopped behind her and said against her ear, “You should be. If you knew even half the things I want to do to you, you’d be very afraid.”

Oh, this was getting good.

Her stomach flopped and took a nosedive. “Nothing you say could scare me.”

Hot breath feathered across her cheek. “Wanna bet? You forget who I am, Lorelei.”

A delicious shiver raced down her spine. “Remind me, bad boy.”

Heat pooled between her legs when he moved behind her and she felt a hand smooth over her butt, stroke down the center seam of her jeans. It stopped just before the junction of her thighs and curled, pressed strong fingers into the cleft between her cheeks.

“Ever been kissed there, sweetheart?”

She shook her head.

“Want to be?” His voice was low, rough with arousal.

He was trying to shock her, scare her with his vast experience. It wasn’t working. “Are you offering, Mark?”

The hand on her butt jerked slightly and she thrilled at his quick intake of breath. Two could play this game.

Teeth nipped the curve of her ear, sending a jolt of electricity down her neck. “Anytime, anyplace. I’ll kiss you, lick you wherever you want. Just tell me where you want it and I’ll make you scream.”

The air was too thick, too hot. It was like syrup in her lungs. Arousal like she’d never felt before washed over her on a tidal wave and settled between her thighs.

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating, this game of naughty taunting. It made her bold.

She turned her head slightly so that only he could hear her scandalous words. She couldn’t believe she was about to say it, but he’d dared her, challenged her. Called her bluff. On a lot of different levels. Because she knew in her heart now that she wasn’t just another conquest of his. She was more—so much more.

And that changed everything.

She swallowed hard and whispered, “Do you want to kiss my pussy, Mark? Lick it until I come?”

His whole body convulsed and his hand squeezed her, hard. He swore violently. “Fuck, yes.”

Charged silence stretched between them. Neither moved for several long seconds, then he slowly unclenched his hand and slid it back over her butt and let it drop away. She heard him suck in a deep breath as he stepped back and put some space between them. Cool air swept over her, a startling contrast to the wicked heat of his body.

They both looked up when they heard someone call his name. A group of the guys were heading in their direction, beers in their hands, completely oblivious to what was going on in the darkened corner where Lorelei and Mark stood.

She felt more than heard him move. He was suddenly beside her, his butt resting on the edge of the pool table. His voice was low and urgent. “This isn’t over, Lorelei.”

“Hey guys, mind if we get in on the game?”

Mark’s teammates crowded around the table and headed for the pool cues on the wall. Drake Paulson picked up the stick Lorelei had dropped on the table, raked his gaze over her and Mark. He laughed at them as he handed her back her pool cue. He, at least, knew
exactly
what he’d interrupted.

Lorelei took the offered pool cue and fought to get control of her emotions. There was no escaping the brood of slightly drunk baseball players crowding in on her, so she had no choice but to get a handle on her hormones for the time being and resign herself to a few rounds of pool.

Apparently Mark also realized the futility of trying to slip away because he let out a frustrated sigh and said, “Which one of you pansies wants to take me on first?”

A ballplayer she didn’t recognize stepped forward. “I’ll take you on, Cutter. How about loser buys the next round of drinks?”

Mark looked down at her before he stood and walked around to the head of the pool table. “You’re on, Brexler, but I break.”

For the next twenty minutes she watched Mark play and eventually felt her equilibrium return. When Mark won the first round of pool, Brexler shrugged and happily ordered a round of beers. Before she knew it, a pint had been shoved in her hand and she found herself laughing at something Peter Kowalskin said.

Another player stepped forward and issued the same challenge—a round of beers on the loser—only
he
got to break this time. “You had unfair advantage, Wall. We’ll see who wins this time.”

Lorelei brought the pint glass to her lips and was about to take a drink when JP Trudeau stumbled over to the table. Over the rim of her glass she saw that he’d downed one too many pitchers of beer. He was totally smashed.

He raised his nearly empty pitcher and said around a belch, “Iz Miller time.”

It must have been some inside joke because all the guys—including Mark—laughed, raised their beers, and shouted, “It’s Miller time!” Then they took a drink.

Baseball players.

“Somebody needs to pour that boy into a cab. I think he’s about to pass out,” she said to no one in particular.

Another player she didn’t know came forward. “I’ll take him back to the hotel. It’s about time I call it a night anyway. The wife will be calling my room before much longer to make sure I’m there.”

Everyone said their good-byes to the inebriated shortstop and then attention turned immediately back to the pool game. The guy who’d challenged Mark was just about to break when Kowalskin spoke. “Not so fast there, Jim. I think our boy here needs something tougher than a round of beers from the loser. Let’s make it interesting.”

M
ARK SET THE
butt of his cue on the floor and grinned. “Oh yeah, old man? You wanna take me on instead?”

Peter crossed to the table. “If Jim here’s willing to give up his turn I will.”

He turned his head to see what the second-string third baseman’s response was. Jim smiled and handed Pete his cue. “He’s all yours, Walskie.”

Mark eyed ballplayer. “You want to make this interesting?”

Pete looked over at Lorelei and winked, irritating Mark. “Uh-huh. New bet. Loser has to stand up on that stage over there and sing a karaoke song for the great enjoyment of the team.”

He considered. “What’s the winner get?”

Pete laughed and clapped him hard on the back. “To pick the song.”

Mark heard Lorelei gasp and snort with laughter. He straightened. “You’re on, Pete.”

“You’d better tune up your vocal cords, boy, ’cause you’re gonna be singing like a canary in a minute.”

For the next half hour Mark and Peter battled it out, the crowd of onlookers cheering like it was a baseball game instead of pool. When Mark tried to bank the seven ball and it missed the corner pocket by a mile, a collective gasp came from the players. Even Lorelei was getting into the sport of things, and she gasped right along with them.

“Your turn, Walskie.”

As Peter lined up his shot, Mark quickly surveyed the table. The seven ball was his last one before sinking the nine ball. If Pete didn’t dislodge it from its spot by the middle pocket he shouldn’t have a problem getting it next time. And Pete still had two balls to get in the pockets.

His shot set up, the pitcher pulled his stick back and let it go. The cue ball smacked hard into the striped ball, sending it straight into the pocket. “Are you ready to sing, Cutter?”

Mark stared at the table with a sinking feeling. “A bet’s a bet.”

With efficient strokes, Peter cleared the table and sent the nine ball home to rest in the corner pocket. Looked like he was going to be singing.

Shit.

A shout went up from the guys as they congratulated their pitcher. Then the heckling started.

“Whatcha gonna sing, Tweety Bird?”

“Oooh, The Wall gets to perform for us.”

“Does he have to dance, too?”

The group gathered around him and started pushing him toward the small stage by the bar. A liberal amount of alcohol made the shoves a little more enthusiastic than needed and Mark tripped on the step as they hauled him up on stage.