Stealing Home: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (7 page)

Chapter 8

T
HE SON OF
a bitch had locked her in. Locked her inside his condo with no way out. Lorelei was steaming mad after she’d stepped out of the shower and found that Mark had left. Well, that wasn’t what ticked her off. It was discovering the stupid front door had special security locks on it that she couldn’t open from the inside—even with a key.

What was she supposed to do now? Crochet a sweater?

Stomping back to the guest room, she threw her towel on the bed and let out a frustrated yell. “Mark Cutter, you pig!”

She yanked her duffel off the floor and tossed it on the bed, rifling through it for some underwear and a bra. “How dare he lock me in like a common criminal.” As soon as the words were out her conscience tried to remind her she
was
a criminal, so she ignored it. Told it to shut up. Now was not the time for a guilt trip. He had crossed the line big-time. And after he’d behaved so wonderfully toward that little boy in the coffee shop.

Creep.

Just when she’d started to think there might be more to Mark than a giant ego, he went and pulled a dumb-ass stunt like this. Hadn’t he learned by now not to cross a lady?

Lorelei dressed quickly in jeans and a cream V-neck sweater, then finger-combed her hair as she headed down the hall to the living room, her bare feet padding quietly on the smooth cherry floors.

She’d show him. A quick phone call to his ex and Dina’d be there in no time. Surely Dina had more than one spare key to his place. All Lorelei had to do was give her a jingle and Dina’d be on her way in a jiffy with a pocketful of cash.

Only one problem. Mark didn’t have a home phone. And he’d taken her cell and her purse.

Looked like he’d cut her off at the knees after all. She couldn’t even call her brother to tell him she was fine. And she had no idea how Michelle was holding up.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as Lorelei walked over to the plush leather couch and slumped into the cushions. It wasn’t even noon yet and her day had already gone down the toilet.

For a few minutes she just sat there in the quiet, fighting tears. Her poor brother. He’d been through hell. Lost so much. She and Michelle were all he had left. Everyone else had died. Their parents and sister, Lucy. His wife. One tragic accident after another.

He already thought he was cursed. It would kill him to lose his daughter, too. Lorelei
had
to get that money, one way or another.

She wished like hell she could snap her fingers and make it appear. Or rewind the clock back a few years to when her credit was good and she could have gotten a loan. But she’d already been down that route before when she’d taken out loans to help Logan pay old medical bills. She was tapped out. No institution would loan her the money needed to cover the costs. And Logan couldn’t even ride bulls anymore to win the money. His days with the PBR circuit were history after a bull had hooked him and he’d lost a kidney. He’d nearly died, but she knew he was
this close
to reentering the sport anyway. Although he hadn’t said anything, she knew her brother only too well. He’d risk everything he had, including his life, to make sure Michelle was safe. The poor baby had already lost her mom. She needed her daddy, healthy and alive, to raise her.

Getting the money was completely and solely up to Lorelei. That knowledge was a heavy burden to bear. Still, she had to do it—fast. Before Logan went and played Russian roulette on the back of some thundering beast.

Lorelei was desperate to keep what little family she had left.

Dina’s offer had been an answer to her prayers. Almost Robin Hood-ish. Rob from the rich and spoiled and give to the needy. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

It never was. Didn’t she watch the movies, read the books? There was always a hidden trapdoor. Besides, hadn’t her gut warned her?

Lorelei glanced at the clock tucked into Mark’s sleek iron-and-glass entertainment center. It was now noon. She’d missed her meeting with Dina. Shit.

Anger surged up inside her. Like hell she’d miss her chance. She wasn’t giving up that easily.

Pushing off the couch, she took a good look around Mark’s condo for the first time. It was decorated in the same Asian-inspired contemporary motif as the guest bedroom, with a wall of windows overlooking Denver. They cast tons of natural light across the hardwood floor and huge, biscuit-colored rug. Large bamboo planters with lush plants were scattered around the room, the deep green leaves vibrant against the taupe walls. And there was an absurdly large amount of colored rocks in decorative bowls and vases scattered around his place.

What was up with that? Maybe Mark was a Zen Buddhist or something.

The kitchen was more of the same sleek, contemporary look. Stainless steel, glossy black granite counters, glass-topped table. More colored bowls with rocks.

And it was all very, very tidy.

Next she made a beeline for Mark’s bedroom. It was time to snoop and see about finding a way out of there. Or see about finding things about the catcher, period.

Lorelei snorted in disbelief when she entered his room and saw the perfectly made bed. Not a single wrinkle to be found on the tan bedspread. Everything was in place. No socks on the floor, no shoes scattered around, no door ajar on the black dresser or matching black bedside tables. The guy was a neat freak. A health-food-fanatical, order-craving neat freak who believed in lucky charms. How odd.

And she wanted to jump square in the middle of that perfectly made bed and mess it up real good.

But first there was one more room to snoop through. Another spare room across from the one she was in. Then she’d give in to the juvenile urge to wreak havoc with the sheets of his bed. She’d loosen the corners, wrinkle the bottom sheet, and maybe shove something lumpy under the covers he wouldn’t notice until he climbed in.

It’d drive him nuts. Sucker.

Detouring through the kitchen on her way to the final room, Lorelei opened the fridge and groaned. Vegetables and fruit. Nothing but health food. Where was the good stuff? She had a real bad craving for nachos. Didn’t every fridge in America have a block of Velveeta, for goodness’ sake?

She leaned inside to take closer look and rummaged through the meat drawer. “Come on, come on. I know there’s got to be something in here, some contraband. Even Mr. Health has to have something. Aha!” She grabbed the block of cheddar and slammed the door closed.

A few minutes of cupboard searching and she uncovered some organic corn chips, made a face, and went about fixing lunch. She couldn’t help noticing how much more room Mark’s kitchen had than her cluttered one back at the ranch. Then again, he didn’t live with a rancher and a toddler, either.

Ten minutes later Lorelei had a heaping plate full of nachos topped with gourmet olives, green onion, fresh guacamole, and organic sour cream. Not exactly junk food, but it would do in a pinch. Inhaling the aroma, she popped a corn chip in her mouth and headed out to discover the treasures of the last bedroom.

She left all the dishes on the counter. And she hoped it bugged the hell out him.

Pushing the door open with her hip as she bit into another smothered corn chip, Lorelei stopped short and stared. It was a library. Not another super-clean guest room.

“Holy cow,” she muttered around a mouthful of nacho. Trophies, pictures, books, framed posters of Mark in action on the wall. Her eyes grew round as she took in the large room. “Score.”

Lorelei pushed the door closed with her behind and made her way around the huge black painted wood desk to the plush leather chair. It, too, was black. Everything in the room matched. In her entire life she’d never been that color-coordinated. Nor had she ever been rich enough to be so, but that was beside the point.

Sinking into the deep-cushioned chair, Lorelei sighed in ecstasy and closed her eyes. If only she could have a chair like this. One with great back support and a thickly padded seat that conformed to her body.

Instead, she had a cheapie from the thrift store that she sat in while she wrote her gardening articles upstairs in her room. It creaked like a rusted door no matter how much she oiled it, and the back was broken. If she leaned back too hard it fell off. She’d landed on her head more than once and had the permanent knot to prove it.

Someday she’d have the money to buy a decent office chair. That thought made her frown.

She hitched her chin and glared at the framed poster on the wall in front of her of Mark snagging a pitch with his glove while crouched behind home plate. He’d ruined everything.

Reignited anger had her reaching for one chip after another while she glared at all his awards and pictures. All his accomplishments.

She polished off the whole huge plate as she compared his pampered life and all its luxuries with the struggling one she and her brother lived. It wasn’t that she cared about being rich. Heck, no. That wasn’t it.

Lorelei grabbed a small golden trophy off the desk in front of her and turned it around in her hands. It just wasn’t fair that one person should have so much while another didn’t, that’s all.

“That’s life, Lorelei. It’s not fair. Deal with it.” She was, in the best way she knew how.

She stood and walked over to the bookcase. Might as well pass the time while he was out with a good book.

Perusing the shelves, she mulled over her choices. There were a lot of photo essay books, a stack of coffee table books, and tons of magazines spanning from
Ranger Rick
to
Sports Illustrated
. Graphic novels. Even a children’s book or two. But very few regular adult novels.

That was strange, but to each his own, she supposed. Everyone had their thing, and obviously he liked pictures.

“Find anything you like, sweetheart?”

Lorelei jumped, a scream lodged in her throat, and whirled around to find Mark standing with wet hair in the hallway. “Would you stop
doing
that? Stop sneaking up on me.”

He raised a brow and leaned his large body against the door frame. “I didn’t sneak, Lorelei. You were too busy snooping to hear the front door open and slam shut.”

He had a point. “Yeah, well, don’t do it again. And about the front door. I don’t appreciate you locking me in and taking my things.”

Mark shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t appreciate you taking
my
things.”

She huffed and strode across the floor until she was directly in front of him. She held out her hand. “I want my purse and my cell back.”

Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “I want my necklace back.”

“You don’t need it. I do. And I need my stuff, so give it back.” Lorelei rotated her outstretched hand and nudged him in his solid chest.

He sighed. “I’m going to make something to eat. Want anything?”

“I’ve already eaten. I want to go home, Mark.”

Pushing away from the wall, he turned and strode down the hall, Lorelei hot on his heels. The frustration of the past few hours, of being locked in, of missing her opportunity with Dina made her voice thin and sharp. “Did you hear me?
I want to go home.
”

He glanced over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen. “Then give me what I want, Lorelei. Hand it to me now and you can leave. Make us both happy.”

How could he be so callous?

And what was she doing looking at his butt? He was her warden.

Just then Mark let out a bellow and came rushing out of the kitchen, a fierce frown plastered across his face. Sparks of anger danced in his silvery gaze and a tic worked in his unshaven jaw.

He’d found the dishes.

That’ll teach him, Lorelei thought with smug satisfaction.

His voice came low and tight. “There seems to be some dishes on my counter with crap drying on them. Would you happen to know anything about that, Lorelei?”

She grinned like the devil. Dried guacamole was a real bitch to clean. “Yep.”

“Plan on doing anything about that?” His voice was carefully neutral.

Oh, this was fun. Lorelei tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes. “Does the mess bother you, Mark?”

She held back a laugh as she watched him fight for control. The win was so close she could taste it. Any minute he’d explode. So she thought.

She thought wrong.

Shrugging his broad shoulders beneath his white T-shirt, Mark shook his head. “Nah. Just making sure it was you.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That kinda shit’s why I’ve got a housekeeper.”

Her mouth dropped open. How could he recover like that? Go from almost boiling to cool cucumber in a blink? It was maddening.

The cocky grin on his face told Lorelei he knew what she’d been up to. No way was it going down like that. Nuh-uh. Straightening her shoulders, she strode past him and flashed a wild smile.

She wasn’t giving up that easily.

Lorelei headed straight for the fridge and threw the door wide open. She needed something messy.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pair of very white socks covering large feet come into view. Briefly she let her gaze travel up the faded denim jeans covering muscular legs before she turned her attention back to the contents of the fridge.

“What are you doing in my refrigerator?”

“You said you were hungry. I’m going to make you something to eat. Eew! You have Brussels sprouts in here. You actually eat those things?”

He sounded like a surly teenager when he replied, “They’re good for you. You might want to give them a try sometime and lay off the manufactured sugars.”

Lorelei scoffed as she reached for a tub of hummus. “I don’t think so, buster. Besides, I eat plenty healthy.”

This time he snorted. “Since when? And stop wiggling your butt like that, it’s distracting.”

Emerging from the fridge with her hands full of ammunition, she grinned and closed the door with her hip. “Since always, that’s when. It’s only during a certain time of the month that my body craves junk food. A guy with as much female experience as you should know that.”

Mark leaned his behind against the counter and crossed his arms. His eyes danced with amusement. “Ah, gotcha.”