Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (21 page)

He shifted her, and then her shorts and panties were flying through the air. They landed on her computer desk, her flower-printed panties draping from the corner of her open laptop.

His harsh voice made her wet and achy for him. “I’ve spent the past week hard for you. Nothing’s worked to cool the fever you’ve started in my blood. I’d think of your mouth, the way it had felt so slick and hot around me that night in my car, and my cock would turn to stone. When I’d try to take care of it I’d see your hot little pussy and my hand wasn’t enough. I wanted your hands on me stroking me off, not mine.” He dropped to the floor between her knees. “I needed you.”

“Oh God,” she breathed. Her hands fisted into the quilt.

Mark laughed and slid his hands under her behind, spread her thighs, and pulled her to his mouth. “He’s not going to save you now.” His wet tongue stroked boldly, aggressively over her. “You’re mine.”

A strong finger slid inside her as his mouth covered her fully and it made her cry out. “Mark!”

Another finger joined the first. His tongue rolled over her clit and he sucked. Used tongue and lips and suction on her with single-minded intent. Her muscles started to quiver on the edge of orgasm. Wanting more, wanting to go over the brink, she raised her knees and placed her feet on his shoulders, arched into his mouth.

A growl ripped from him, vibrated against her before he pulled back. His voice was rough, raw with arousal. “Look at me,” he demanded.

She opened her eyes and stared down her body. Sexual desire rolled off him and slammed against her. His body was rock-hard beneath her knees. “Don’t ever leave me again. Do you hear me? I don’t think I could take it.” Mark straightened slowly, pulled her bottom off the bed until she was positioned over him, the thick head of his penis pushing against her. “Say it. Tell me you’ll never leave me again.”

His hard hands gripped her butt and she tried to slide onto his erection, but he held her off. He rubbed the hot length of him against her opening until it was slick with her moisture and she was panting with need. “I need to hear the words,” he said just above a ragged whisper. “Tell me you’ll stay.” This time it wasn’t a demand. It was a plea.

But she couldn’t say it. So Lorelei did what she knew they both wanted instead. She gripped the end of the bed and shoved off the edge, buried him all the way inside her in one long thrust. The hot circumference of him filled her up and she quivered around him, moved against him.

He gasped. “Damn you. Why can’t you just say it?”

Because she was still so scared. So she shifted her hips and rotated them, ground flush against him. Rubbed against the base of him. Mark swore violently and pulled out, rocked into her. Thrust in deep again on a primal moan.

They forgot all about talking.

Chapter 22

“C
OME BACK TO
Denver with me.”

Lorelei pulled her shorts over her hips and sighed. “What just happened doesn’t change anything.”

His voice was hard behind her. “It changes everything. Go throw some clothes in a bag. I’ll buy whatever else you need to stay in town with me for the next few days.”

And that right there was part of the problem
, Lorelei thought. Mark could just about buy whatever the hell he wanted to just like that. No thought involved or financial struggle. Anything at all. He wanted it and it was his.

She and Logan had trouble some months buying groceries.

Not that she begrudged him the money, really. Some people just had it, some didn’t. She knew that, was fine with it. Except when there was a situation like Michelle’s. Then it got to her. Made the unfairness of it burn in her chest.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mark pulling his shirt over his head. A flash of gold metal caught her attention before gray cotton covered it. Bitterness and guilt mixed hot in her abdomen.

His good luck charm. Funny how she hadn’t noticed it ten minutes ago when he’d been naked.

But she wasn’t the least bit surprised he was wearing it. No doubt he’d kissed it like a long-lost girlfriend and put it on the second he’d spotted it. He’d probably permanently fused the clasp so it could never come off again.

Seeing it around his neck served a purpose, though. It reminded her that there was no solid, honest foundation for them to build a relationship on. When she’d pushed him that day he’d told her it had been a girl’s—but whose, she still didn’t know. Something else was missing, too. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I’m going downstairs to finish hanging the laundry. The front door’s unlocked. You can leave that way.” Lorelei didn’t look back when she walked out.

She had just hung a pair of Michelle’s little pink Wranglers when the creaking of the screen door signaled Mark’s presence behind her. A small stain on the hem of the tiny jeans suddenly caught her interest.
Wonder how that got there.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him lean his tall frame against the trunk of an old maple. He rubbed back and forth against the bark as he scratched at an itch, then he crossed one foot over the other and hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. The black ball cap was back on and pulled low over his eyes.

He looked casual, totally relaxed.

She knew better.

“Care to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, Lorelei?” Wow, he even sounded casual. Mark was a dang good actor.

Lifting the pant leg for a closer inspection, she scraped her thumbnail across the teeny mark. “Nope.”

His sigh could have parted the tree branches. “All right. We’ll play a round of twenty questions then. Are you mad because I didn’t call or come by before today?”

I’ll be damned, that looks like a grape jelly stain.
She’d have to remind Logan not to feed Michelle peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Too much sugar. “Nope.”

“Are you upset because I didn’t let you lead back there in your room just now?” He jerked his head in the direction of the house.

She snorted. “Get over yourself.”

“I promise, next time you can tie me to the bed and have your way with me. How’s that sound? You can do whatever you want. Except whips and chains—I’m not into pain.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Well, except maybe some spanking. That might be all right if you ask me real nice.”

A smile tugged at her mouth and she bit her cheek to stop it. Tried for a frown instead. “There’s not going to be a next time, Mark.”

“So spanking’s out?”

She choked back a laugh. Smart-ass. “Go home and leave me alone. I’ve got work to do and Logan should be bringing Michelle back from therapy soon. Go harass someone else.”

Lorelei didn’t realize what she’d let slip until he asked quietly, “Why does Michelle need therapy?”

Shit. All humor left her and she grabbed up another damp pair of toddler jeans, hung them on the line, pinned them. “Never mind.”

His voice was soft with his next question. “Is she who you were talking about that day in my room? Is Michelle sick?”

She spun to face him and threw the clothing in her hands at him as hot grief overcame her. “I said drop it!” Tears burned the back of her throat and stung her eyes. What right did he have to ask that like he really cared? Damn him. She just couldn’t deal with this right now, not when so many emotions were at the surface. Raw vulnerability ripped through her and she pushed back violently, an instinctual response to the overwhelming emotion.

He pushed away from the tree and strode across the grass, avoiding the wet wads of clothes. “That’s it, isn’t it? What this whole thing has been about. Something’s wrong with Michelle.” His eyes filled with instant understanding and sympathy.

Feeling scared and cornered, she lashed out, all rationality lost in the face of such emotional bombardment. “You don’t get to ask me questions about my life and my family like you give a shit. I want you to leave.
Now
.” It was too much. He was tromping all over her personal boundaries and if he didn’t leave soon she was going to lose it. She wasn’t ready to let him in.

He was relentless. “Is she going to die, Lorelei?”

It was all suddenly way too much. Michelle, Logan, Mark.

She lost it.

Tears sprang up and spilled down her cheeks. When he tried to reach for her she slapped out blindly against his hands. Something close to hatred flooded her. His life was so perfect.
He
was so fucking perfect. “I said
leave
! Go back to Denver and leave me and my family the hell alone.”

His hands grabbed hers and he pulled her roughly into his arms as she fought him. He grunted when she elbowed him and said against her hair, “No. I’ve already told you that. Damn it, Lorelei, calm down and talk to me.”

That was rich. “Talk to you? Why should I when you don’t say a single thing to me?” She gave up on struggling when she realized the futility. His strong arms held her effortlessly. Her gaze lifted to his and she glared at him instead.

He stared down at her with confusion in his eyes. “What are you talking about? You know how I feel about you.”

Did she? She knew he wanted her, found her desirable. Even that he found her funny. But, no, she didn’t know how he really felt.

But that wasn’t what she was talking about now. “What about you, Mark? Your secrets?”

A hard glint came into his eyes. “This isn’t about me. This is about you finally telling me the truth about why you stole from me. It’s because Michelle needs help or she’s going to die, isn’t it? And you and Logan don’t have the money to get her the help. That’s why you needed the money my necklace would bring so bad, isn’t it?” He gave her a gentle shake. “
Isn’t it?
”

She snapped like a wishbone. “Yes! She’s going to die because I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t sell your cross. I couldn’t do it because of how I feel about you. And I hate myself for it!”

Mark sucked in a breath. “Don’t say that, honey. You don’t mean it.”

She wasn’t so sure.

Blood roared in her ears and a hard ball was lodged deep in the pit of her stomach. She shoved out of his arms, leveled her gaze on him, and sent him away. “I
do
mean it when I say I want you to leave.”

He let her go and she walked to the house. She refused to look back when she opened the screen door and stepped inside. She didn’t stop until she was in her room. And she didn’t give in to the feelings tearing at her until she heard a door slam and the sound of wheels crunching gravel as his car pulled away and sped down the drive.

Then she gave in and let the flood take her.

M
ARK PUNCHED THE
gas pedal and the Ferrari responded. It rocketed down the gravel road. A turn came up and he took the corner at sixty, sent the car into a slide to make the Duke boys proud and grinned over the quick rush.

It was about frigging time he’d finally got some answers.

Man, had he got them. Lorelei had folded like a deck of cards. He supposed he should feel guilty for what he’d just done, and a big part of him did. He felt bad for pushing at her, bullying her for answers until she’d snapped. But it had been necessary. It was way past time for her to come clean, and he’d realized that for her to do it she’d need some serious prompting.

See, he was learning how she worked, what made Lorelei Littleton tick. He’d reached a point of near desperation that night the guys had invited him out to the strip club. Ten times he’d picked up the phone to call her. Ten times he’d dialed Lorelei’s number and hung up before it rang. And that was when he’d had to admit the truth, admit the guys were right.

He was totally whipped.

He wasn’t ready to call it love, but it was way more than he’d felt for a woman in a long, long time. It was more. Stronger. Deeper.

So he’d sat there after hanging up the phone for the last time wondering when he’d become such a sissy. And that’s when it had hit him. Just because Lorelei had a hold on him didn’t mean he had to be a pansy about it. Instead of staring at the stupid phone like an idiot he could be figuring out how to get what he wanted. He’d always been more of a doer, so he got off his ass and did something.

He’d stayed up that night watching girlie movies and downing Lorelei’s favorite drink. Triple-shot mochas with whip. Those he’d drunk because he was pathetic and had wanted some sort of connection to her while he’d been twelve hundred miles away. And probably because deep down he was a real sick, twisted masochist who liked to be punished.

Man, he’d paid for it the next day. But it’d been worth it. Well, not the mochas—hell, no. That’d just been plain stupid on his part. There was a reason he stayed away from caffeine. Now he remembered. Boy, did he remember.

But all those movies had been worth it because they’d showed him the same thing. When pushed too far the women got pissy and blew up. Then the poor, abused guy was able to get down to the real important stuff.

It had seemed like it might work for him, so he’d planned, strategized. And he’d managed not to call her for four whole days.

Late at night had been the toughest. He’d gotten used to her being with him so quick it was a little scary. And when she hadn’t been there it’d been tough. He’d had a few sleepless nights. Well, all right. All of them had been sleepless. But he’d got what he wanted today so it’d been worth it.

Now he knew what she’d been hiding from him. And he was still jarred by the truth, but he’d wanted to know. Had needed to know deep in his gut that Lorelei was someone he could trust enough to tell about his dyslexia and know she wouldn’t someday use it to belittle him. To make him feel worthless like his ex-wife had.

Now that he knew
why
she’d stolen from him, he felt much better. He’d needed the truth. And it turned out it was something he could help with.

Now he had some plans to put into action.

Chapter 23

H
E 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.”

M
ARK 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?”