Stealing Home

chapter 3



THE DOOR TO Mark’s condo shut with a muffled thud and Lorelei had to fight the urge to jump. Her nerves were too close to the surface and it was taking some major concentration not to start biting her nails—she’d quit that awful habit two years ago. Instead, she curled her fingers into her palms and let the nails dig into them.

Stepping farther into the spacious condo, Lorelei replayed in her mind the new plan she’d concocted on the ride over. But before she could put it into action Mark grabbed her. His deep voice carried easily through the quiet.

“Well, Fonda Peters, now that I have you here, whatever am I going to do with you?”

Not what he was hoping, that’s for sure. With any luck she’d be out of there before he’d even taken off his shoes.

But she hadn’t forgotten the role she was playing. “You tell me, catcher. Now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”

She stopped in the center of the vast living room after dropping on the counter the purse she’d kept in her car. Lorelei turned her head and looked over her shoulder at Mark. She shouldn’t have. He’d left a light on in the kitchen and it pooled across him, casting his face into beautiful rugged angles. When he began walking toward her with a long, loose-hipped stride, her stomach dipped low and she could practically feel her knees turning to liquid.

This was not good.

Tonight was supposed to be nothing more than a quick and easy illegal dealing: swipe his good luck charm for a boatload of cash. It had seemed so simple, practically elementary, when she and Dina had cooked up the scheme the other night. She’d take something from a no-good baseball jerk, his ex-wife would have her revenge for his foul behavior, and she’d save a little girl’s life. Win-win situation.

Only now that she was actually standing in Mark Cutter’s condo it didn’t seem quite so simple. And he didn’t seem quite so bad after all. But a deal was a deal and she wasn’t about to back out now.

It would just be easier if he was sloppy drunk and butt-ugly. Then she wouldn’t be having these infuriating twinges of attraction and excitement. All she’d feel was repulsed. Instead, the man was sinfully gorgeous and too darn sober. And if she didn’t do something about that soon, she’d find herself flat on her back with her feet in the air. Not that she had any real moral objection to that. Heck, from the looks of him, she’d more than enjoy it. But it wasn’t on her to-do list for the night.

It was almost a shame, really. Almost. But not quite.

Mark stopped when he was only a foot away, and she eyed him warily as he reached for her hand, tugged her flush against him. Her body shivered at the contact.

“I’m going to see what secrets you’ve got hidden beneath your clothes, Ms. Rodeo. Are you a satin or lace girl?”

Neither. She was a good ol’ cotton kind of girl. But she didn’t think that was the right answer for a lady of the night to give, so she said, “Why don’t we have a drink and then you can find out for yourself, pretty boy?”

Dimples creased his lean cheeks at that remark and Lorelei had to look away when he smiled. Mark was male sexiness personified. And to think that Dina had told her he was a busted-up baseball pro. Sure his nose was slightly crooked from being broken a time or two, but oddly enough that only added to his appeal.

Since Lorelei had only heard of him, but never seen him, she’d believed Dina. Now she was beginning to think the woman must have downed one too many of those prescription drugs she’d thrust on her. Briefly she pondered what else Dina might have been wrong about. Was he really such a lousy cheating husband? An emotional abuser? A user and a horrible human being?

Good God, was Dina’s name even really on the lease? Nothing was turning out to be what it seemed. She just hoped to hell that his good luck charm was in the spot Dina had sworn it would be. To get to it, Lorelei needed to be in his bedroom. She was suddenly very glad for those prescription pills now in her purse.

The night she’d met up with Dina to finalize plans, she’d had an attack of conscience. That’s when Dina had whipped open her purse and shoved the bottle of muscle relaxers into her hand, insisting that they’d help calm her anxiety. Good heavens, that woman had been a walking pharmacy. Lorelei must have seen at least half a dozen prescription bottles lining the Gucci bag. She’d commented on the amount, and Dina had said they were all for a bulging disk in her neck.

She’d refused at first, but the ex-Mrs. Cutter had persisted, assuring her that she took them all the time and that they were perfectly harmless. In the end, Lorelei had wound up with them just to hush the woman up. Now she felt like kissing her for them.

They were going to save her behind.

“If you want a drink, then by all means. What’s mine is yours tonight.”

Lorelei glanced up and looked into Mark’s pale gray eyes. “You’re going to have a drink, too, sugar, to make up for refusing mine at the bar.”

He smirked down at her. “Is that so? And what if I refuse a second time?”

Lorelei raised her hand and cupped his cheek, feeling the day’s growth of stubble beneath her palm. “You wouldn’t do that, darlin’.”

His voice went soft and seductive as he lowered his face closer to hers. “And why is that?”

When his mouth was mere inches from hers he stopped and she could feel his breath whisper across her lips. Desire sparked between them, tangible and hot. “Because you want to see me naked.”

Before he could respond, Lorelei slipped out of his embrace, letting her hand trail down his neck and across his chest as she strode away. She heard his slow exhale and felt his hand cover hers briefly before she broke contact.

“I do. I really do.”

Lorelei believed him. His voice had sounded completely sincere and it made her insides shaky. And that made her frown. Being attracted to Mark Cutter was not an option.

Without a backward glance, she strolled leisurely toward the kitchen, aware that his eyes were on her the whole time. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to set her purse on the kitchen counter when she’d walked in, because she’d never have been able to reach in and grab the bottle otherwise.

To cover the noise of the lid popping, Lorelei asked, “Where do you keep your liquor, cowboy?”

“In the cabinet above the microwave.”

Fabulous. She palmed some pills. “Do you take your whiskey straight up or on the rocks?”

“I’ll take it neat, beautiful.”

Fine with her. Spotting snifters through the glass door cabinet to her right, Lorelei got them down and reached above the microwave for the liquor. Quickly pouring the amber liquid into the cut crystal snifter, she dropped the pills in and willed them to dissolve in record time. She hurried the process along by mixing with her finger, then wiped it on a dish towel hanging off the fridge door.

When they’d disappeared fully into the drink, she picked up the glasses, mindful of the drugged one, and went back into the living room. She found Mark standing in front of the open floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights from downtown Denver playing shadows across his sculpted body. Hair the color of old gold in the dim light curled lazily over the collar of his sweater. He stood there, broad shouldered, with his muscular legs spread, looking ready to do battle until he saw her. Though his face smoothed into a smile meant to charm her, Lorelei could still sense the tension in his body by the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Let’s try this again.” Lorelei held the glass out to him and said a quick prayer for forgiveness. “Don’t disappoint me a second time, handsome.”

MARK REACHED FOR the glass and let his hand skim across her wrist before taking it. Her stunning green eyes grew round at the touch, but she only smiled. It was obvious that she was nervous—he’d felt the way her pulse raced when he’d touched her wrist. And her hand wasn’t quite steady as he took the glass from her.

It charmed the hell out of him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a shy woman. And that in itself told him it’d been way too long. Vacant minds, vapid personalities, and silicone had been his norm for more than five years, and he’d gone through them like water. It meant no surprises and no complications, but he realized now he was so burnt out by it that his rejection of her at the bar had been knee-jerk. He’d thought it was the same old dance. Call him jaded, but he was sick of it. He wanted to want a woman—really want her. Wanted something . . . Well, he wasn’t quite sure what. More. Just something more.

With her wide eyes and delectable curves, she was a breath of fresh air. The little vixen that dug everything still had a wholesomeness about her he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing until just now. No wonder he’d been intrigued by her.

It suddenly made sense to him why he’d invited her home with him—it’d just taken him a while to recognize the feeling.

Maybe she was that more.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve wanted to see any woman undressed and underneath me the way I do you.”

She bit her bottom lip and glanced down at her glass, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Soon.”

If she needed a shot of liquor to bolster her confidence, he’d give her whatever she needed. And since his earlier rejection of her drink had bothered her, Mark figured he’d make it up to her, starting with a toast. Raising his glass, he smiled and said, “To the rodeo. May you ride your bronc well.”

Color singed her cheeks as they tapped their glasses. But her eyes remained on his while he took a long pull of smooth, aged whiskey.

Then she spoke, her voice low. “I’ll make your head spin, cowboy. That I promise.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, even as heat began to pool heavy in his groin. “I’ll drink to that.” And he did. He lifted the glass and drained it, suddenly anxious to get on to the next stage. A drop of liquid shimmered on her full bottom lip and it beckoned him. Reaching an arm out, Mark pulled her close and leaned down. With his eyes on hers, he slowly licked the drop off, his tongue teasing her pouty mouth until she released a soft moan.

Arousal coursed through him at the provocative sound. Pulling her more fully against him, Mark deepened the kiss. Her lush little body fit perfectly against him and her lips melted under the heat of his. He slid a hand up her back and fisted the dark, thick mass of her long hair. He loved the feel of the cool, silky strands against his skin.

He wanted more.

Tugging gently, Mark encouraged her mouth to open for him. When she did, his tongue slid inside and tasted, explored the exotic flavor of her. Hunger spiked inside him and he took the kiss deeper. Hotter. She whimpered into his mouth and dug her fingers into his hair, pulled. Her body began pushing against his, restless and searching.

Mark felt like he’d been tossed into an incinerator when he pushed a thigh between her long, shapely legs and discovered the heat there. He groaned and rubbed his thigh against her, feeling her tremble in response.

Suddenly she broke the kiss and pushed out of his arms. Her breathing was ragged, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Confusion and desire mixed like a heady concoction in his blood, but before he could say anything she turned and began walking toward the hallway to his bedroom.

At the entrance she stopped and beckoned to him. “Come and get me, catcher.”

So she wanted to play did she? Hell yeah. Games were his life.

Mark toed off his shoes as he yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it on the floor. He began working the button of his fly and strode after her. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to catch her. When he entered his room he found her by the bed. She’d turned on the bedside lamp, and the light illuminated every gorgeous inch of her curvaceous body.

He started toward her, but she shook her head. “I want you to sit on the bed.”

Mark walked to her anyway and gave her a deep, hungry kiss before he sat on the edge of the bed. He wondered what she had in store for him and felt his gut tighten in anticipation. “Are you going to put on a show for me?” God, that’d be so hot if she did.

All she said was “Mmm hmm,” and turned her back to him. Mark let his eyes wander over her body and decided her tight round ass in denim was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

When his gaze rose back up he found her smiling over her shoulder at him. “Are you ready for the ride of your life, cowboy?”

Hell yes he was. “Bring it, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

Her smile grew sultry with unspoken promise as she reached for the hem of her T-shirt. She pulled it up leisurely while she kept eye contact with him. All he could hear was the soft sound of fabric rustling, but it fueled him—this seductively slow striptease she was giving him.

He wanted to see her. “Turn around.”

As she turned she continued to pull it up until she was facing him with the yellow cotton dangling loosely from her fingertips. A black, lacy bra barely covered the most voluptuous, gorgeous pair of breasts he’d ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t stop staring.

“Do you like what you see?”

Good God, yes. The woman was a goddess. He nodded, a little harder than he meant because he almost fell forward. He started to tell her how sexy she was when suddenly a full-blown wave of dizziness hit him and he shook his head to clear it. What the hell?

“Is everything all right, Mark?”

The room started spinning and he tried to stand, but couldn’t. It felt like the world had been tipped sideways and his body was sliding onto the floor. He tried to stand again, but fell backward onto the bed instead. He stared up at her as he tried to right himself and couldn’t.

Fonda stood there like a siren, dark hair tousled around her head, breasts barely contained—guilt plastered across her stunning face.

Before he fell unconscious on the bed, he knew. Knew it with gut certainty. He tried to tell her, but his mouth wouldn’t move. Son of a bitch.

Fonda Peters had drugged him.