High-Stakes Passion (14 page)

T
he drab little house on the north side of Fort Worth was even shabbier than Mark remembered. Keith had offered to go with him, but this was something he needed to do alone.

He parked his truck across the street and sat there for almost an hour, contemplating what he was about to do. He gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline, praying for the strength to get through this meeting with his mother.

She opened the door after the first knock—as if she'd been expecting someone. Her face was heavily made up, but he could still see the deep lines around her mouth, drooping bags under her eyes and sallow skin that declared a life of hard living. Her pantsuit was skintight on her still slim but sagging body, and she wore the same type of large, dangling earrings and bleached-blond hairdo he remembered from his childhood.

“If you're lookin' for Dudley, he ain't here,” she snapped, a lit cigarette hanging from her bright red lips.

Mark swallowed hard. “Hello, Mama.”

She leaned forward, squinted and peered closely for a few seconds. With her first and middle finger, she grabbed the cigarette from her mouth, leaned that same hand in the doorway and smiled, revealing yellowed smoker's teeth.

“I knew you'd come crawling back someday.”

Mark's jaw hardened, his hands in tight fists at his side. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure. Come on in.” She led him back to the small, dirty kitchen, waved him to a chair and grabbed two beer bottles from the fridge. Setting one on the table in front of him, she stubbed out her cigarette and said, “Sit down and have a cold one.”

Mark took off his hat and sat down. He moved the beer away and put his hat on the table in front of him. The stench of stale beer, cigarettes and cheap perfume flooded his senses and unearthed long-repressed childhood memories. His throat was as dry as trail dust, and he couldn't seem to force any words past his lips.

“So? Whaddaya want? You ain't cuttin' me off, are ya? 'Cause I need that money.” She plopped in a chair and lit another cigarette.

“No. You'll still get your money.”

“Well? What is it then? Keith send you over here?” she sneered, and took a drag on her cigarette.

A small smile curved his lips. “In a way.”

“Well, you can just tell him to keep his damn psychobabble to himself! Thinks he's better than everybody 'cause he's getting some fancy-ass degree!” She took another drag.

Keith had warned him, but still, Mark shook his head in disgust. “You oughta feel lucky somebody cares enough
to worry about you! Don't you ever think about anybody but yourself?”

She jumped from her chair and leaned across the table, hand raised, ready to strike. “Don't you talk to me that way, boy. I'm still your mother!”

Mark remembered when fear of her temper would make him stiffen in terror. But he'd learned to hide that terror with the same mask of indifference he hoped he displayed right now. He didn't move a muscle except to narrow his eyes. He wasn't scared, he wasn't even angry anymore. All he felt was a profound pity. What had Audrey said?
What a waste of a life.

Like lightning in a summer storm, the truth hit him. It wasn't his fault. Audrey was right. He'd just been a young kid whose mother beat the crap out of him until one night he'd had enough. At ten years old, he couldn't have predicted the horrible consequences of his actions.

All these years he'd believed if he'd been smarter, or stronger, or worked harder, his parents wouldn't have gotten mad, would have loved him and Keith. If he hadn't told on his mom, they could have been a real family. But he saw now, it didn't matter.

It was like he'd been walking through life carrying a saddle on each shoulder. And now he tossed them off. He was free and the past no longer had power over him.

When she got no reaction from him, his mother sat down, breathing heavily and trembling, wariness in her eyes. “Dudley's gonna be home any minute! You better get out of here.”

Mark leaned back. “I came to ask a favor. Some reporters might show up, askin' about me. I don't want you talkin' to 'em.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Reporters? I don't
know,” she said slyly. “What if they make me an offer I can't refuse?”

Mark took the hint. “How much?”

She smiled. “A couple of thousand oughta do me.”

Mark slid his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out two hundred-dollar bills. “Here's a down payment. I'll have my business manager write you a check for the rest. If they offer you more, I'll double it.”

She sneered and stubbed out her cigarette. “Think you can buy whatever you want now that you're so famous and all?”

Mark smiled sadly. He'd been wrong all these years. He'd been wrong about Audrey, too.

“What I needed, I got for free.” He grabbed his hat and headed for his truck.

 

Audrey dipped her fingers in the tank of cold water, and a chill shot up her spine. She stood behind the dunking booth, tugging down the hem of the oversize Big Brothers T-shirt that covered her from neck to knees—for now, at least.

Underneath she wore only her one-piece swimsuit. It helped that her father and Miranda were there to show their support, but all she could think about was that once the T-shirt was off and the suit was wet, she might as well be naked.

All they needed was a patron to hand over his five dollars for three baseballs. Audrey was going to throw up. Her palms were sweaty, and her heart pounded in her chest.

But she had no regrets. Though she was nervous, she was also proud. A few months ago, she would never have been able to do something like this. Being with Mark might have cost her heart, but she was a stronger person for it. He'd seen her body and thought her beautiful, de
sirable. Never again would she sit on the sidelines while life passed her by. She had taken control.

Grudgingly, she acknowledged the irony of her situation. She hadn't taken a test yet, but she suspected she might be pregnant. She'd wanted to change her life, and that goal had certainly been accomplished.

Though she had moments of sheer terror, the thought of having a little chestnut-haired, blue-eyed boy or girl thrilled her. What would it be like to have a new life growing inside her?

“Hey, Toby! Here's that magazine woman. Let's dunk her!” The teenager, in baggy jeans and backward cap, handed the attendant five dollars and reached for his first baseball.

She reluctantly took off her T-shirt and stepped onto the dunking platform, shivering more from the humiliation of being so exposed than from the fear of being dunked.

“Aim good, Kyle!” the other teenager called.

“Piece of cake.” The boy named Kyle raised his arm behind him.

Audrey squeezed her eyes shut.
This is a mistake. I can't do this. Everyone's staring at me!

She heard a loud bang, but she didn't fall.

He'd missed! But he still had two more tries.

Another bang, another miss. This was too good to be true. Dare she hope?

“Hold it, son.”

Audrey's eyes flew open. She froze like a marble statue, unable to speak or even breathe. He'd come. The black hat, the white shirt, the tight Wranglers. He looked like her hero from long ago.

“I'll donate five thousand dollars for a kiss from the lady.”

Only now he was her tormentor.

The volunteer attendant whipped around to look at her, eyebrows raised, questioning. He did a double take at Mark. “Wait a minute. You're the
Lone Cowboy!
Can I have your autograph?”

Her father and Miranda shoved past the attendant, attempting to talk Mark out of his outrageous offer. Guess they thought she'd been humiliated enough. Both had the tempers to match their red hair. Miranda poked Mark in the chest, and her father raised his voice. Mark only stared at her saying nothing. The attendant and Kyle were yelling, and more people crowded around to see what the commotion was about.

Chaos ensued.

It was as if Audrey had been transported into some bizarre TV sitcom with no script. Fed up, she put her pinky fingers on either side of her mouth and whistled.

Instantly, silence reigned.

Audrey glared at Mark and climbed down from the platform. If he wanted a little extra revenge, so be it. She held his gaze as she approached. “Let's see the five thousand.”

Mark reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and slammed them on the booth's table. “Now, for my kiss.”

Audrey scowled. Why was he doing this? Who cared? She threw her arms around his neck and smothered his mouth with hers.

Mark started to kiss her back, but pulled away, looking surprised.

Hah! She glared back at him. Did he think she'd cower and simper like a scared virgin? She wasn't that timid girl anymore. And she was through playing games. “I thought you wanted a kiss.”

He stared at her a moment until a slow smile curved his lips. Then he took her face in his hands, bent close and kissed her back, long and deep.

Audrey heated and tingled under his sensual assault. His lips were firm and warm, and she drank him in like a tall glass of cool water after a day in the hot sun.

She opened her eyes when Mark slipped a hand under her knees and swung her up into his arms. She clutched his neck. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“You're through for the day,” he answered, his voice raspy. “The dunking booth made its quota.” He headed toward the outer doors.

“Put me down.” She wiggled and pushed against him, but he held her in an iron grip.

“For crying out loud. You're not heavy!”

“I didn't say I was. But I'm not—” she smacked his chest and continued fighting “—going with you.”

Mark squeezed her closer and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you are. Now quit squirmin'.”

She stilled. The heat from his body inflamed her. She was tempted to run her hands down his muscled arms and up to his broad shoulders. But she forced herself to look at him. “Where are we going?”

Mark lowered his gaze to her chest. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “Cover up, or I won't be responsible for my actions.” He gestured with his head to her T-shirt he'd picked up along the way.

Of all the nerve! She didn't know which to respond to first, being kidnapped or being ridiculed. But she gratefully grabbed the shirt off his shoulder and draped it across her chest.

Mark stepped through the outer door of the Dallas Convention Center, stopped and turned around. “Smile and
wave at your dad. Tell him you're fine and you'll see him later.”

“But where are we going?”

“Just do it, damn it!”

Audrey reluctantly did as he bid.

At least her dad had quit following them, and even smiled at her. She caught a glimpse of John leading him away.

Mark whisked her into a waiting limo, maneuvered himself in beside her and the chauffeur took off. Snatching off his hat, Mark tossed it on the opposite seat and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't speak or look at her.

His hair was a little longer, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. But he was clean shaven, and smelled of his unique musky scent. His arm held her tight against him.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “So? What do you want?”

Mark turned to her, and she thought she glimpsed a flicker of passion in his eyes. But the next moment it was gone. What more could he want? Audrey raised her arms and began putting her head through the T-shirt's neck opening.

Mark reached over and stopped her.

“I thought you wanted me to cover up?”

His eyes swept over her breasts and he took a deep breath. “Changed my mind.”

She twisted away from his grasp and continued dressing, daring him to stop her. Just because she felt badly about deceiving him didn't mean she'd revert to being a doormat.

Though she struggled, Mark easily wrenched the shirt from her hands. He grabbed her wrists, held them over her head and pushed her down to the plush leather seat.

The full weight of his body pressed her down, his
breathing as ragged as hers. She looked into his oh-so-beautiful blue eyes, striving for composure, determined not to let him guess she was aroused.

“Look, I know I lied to you. But I never printed your secrets, and I apologized publicly. What more do you want? Isn't this taking things a bit far?”

“Not far enough, darlin'.” He captured her lips with his, kissing her until she whimpered.

She wished he'd let go of her hands so she could run them through his hair and reacquaint herself with the feel of him. She soon got her wish, but he only released one.

His free hand glided down her hair to her shoulder, lowering her suit strap and landing firmly on her breast to squeeze and caress.

If he meant to punish her, he was succeeding. She ached for him. “Let me up.”

He ignored her plea, kissing down the line of her throat.

She pushed against his shoulder with her free hand. “Please. Don't do this.”

“Why not?” he grumbled, lifting his head to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Didn't you mean what you said in the field that night?”

She bit back the resounding “yes” on the tip of her tongue. Was he serious, or playing some cruel game? Maybe it would be better to let him think she'd lied. He already had several advantages in this situation—her guilt and his strength. Why give him one more? Besides, the last thing she needed was more humiliation or pity.

Mark let out a sigh. Was that disappointment she'd seen in his face before he'd shuttered his expression? “All right. Guess we'll do this the hard way.” Slowly, he let her go and sat up.

Audrey scooted away, sat up and pulled her bathing suit
strap over her shoulder. She gathered the T-shirt in front of her. “What do you want?”

Mark slid close and put his arm across the back of the seat. He turned to her and grinned. “One more high-stakes game, darlin'.”