Games of the Heart
Pamela Yaye
Up-and-coming celeb manager Sage Collins is ready for the big time. About to land her first big client–a teenager who could be the next Michael Jordan–Sage is determined to make her mark.The immovable object in her way? Marshall Grant, the athlete's father and manager–over six feet of sexy, take-charge ex-military male. No matter. Big-city chick Sage isn't leaving small-town Indiana without a contract–even if she has to seduce Marshall to get it.Sage is all wrong for Marshall. So why is the single father finding the Vegas glam girl so irresistible? Marshall never thought Sage would trade her stilettos for sweats and sneakers, or her thrill-a-minute life for the frigid temps of Indiana. (Maybe the romantic firelit dinner or midnight sleigh rides have something to do with it.) Is the ultimate city girl playing a game neither of them can win? Or are they about to become partners in a new game, where love calls the shots?
Sage and Marshall lay in front of the fireplace, kissing
Desire hovered over the living room, smothering them with its thick, intoxicating perfume. The wine, the music and the gentle breeze gliding through the balcony doors heightened their growing passion.
Marshall swept her hair off her shoulders. His mouth was sweet, soft, pleasing. He pressed his lips against the slope of her neck and she moaned with pleasure. Sage had a strong sense of her own feminine power and sensuality, but Marshall’s kisses turned her inside out. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch, she pitched her head back, words spilling from her lips between jagged breaths. Tracing his fingers along her back in a loose zigzag pattern, he teased her earlobe with his tongue. “You like that?”
“Love it.”
“Want more?”
PAMELA YAYE
has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to actively pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her handsome husband and adorable daughter.
Games of the Heart
Pamela Yaye
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the entire Kimani team: I want to thank everyone who
was involved in bringing this story to life. A big thanks to
the editorial assistants who answer all of my questions; the
marketing team for another gorgeous cover and intriguing
blurb; and all the people working behind the scenes. Keep
doing what you do. You’re doing an amazing job!
Dear Reader,
I’m not a risk taker. Never have been, never will be. I don’t speed, I don’t do extreme sports and you’ll never catch me on one of those bug-eating reality shows (I don’t care how much they pay me!). So imagine my surprise when ballsy, gutsy Sage Collins barged into my thoughts, plunked herself down and insisted I write her story. A story about a fiercely driven celebrity manager who’ll stop at nothing to advance her career.
The vivacious city chick never imagined a handsome guy with old-fashioned family values would get in her way, but from the moment Sage meets Marshall Grant, she knows her plan is in trouble. Their connection is instantaneous, powerful, consuming. Sage is a strong-minded woman, but beneath the Gucci business suit is a wounded heart that only one man can mend. One fine, supertall man who knows a thing or two about seduction!
I can’t wait to “hear” what you think, so post your thoughts and opinions about Sage and Marshall’s story at www.pamelayaye.com.
With love,
Pamela Yaye
Acknowledgments
Jean-Claude and Aysiah Yaye:
I love you more and more each day. I feel incredibly blessed that I get to share my life with both of you. May the next seven years of our lives be even happier than the first.
Mom and Dad:
You are the picture of happiness and love. I know what a “good” marriage looks like because I saw it growing up each and every day. I haven’t forgotten my promise. One day I’ll take you guys on that dream vacation. Hawaii, here we come!
Bettey Odidison:
Sister, you are such a blessing. I love you, I’m incredibly proud of you and I miss you! I can’t wait to see you again, so hurry up and find Mr. Right so I can help plan the wedding (hee, hee) !
Kenny Odidison:
I have a big brother who looks out for me and who’ll hook me up when I need it. What a blessing! Thanks for always having my back, Ken. You have turned out to be a truly wonderful man.
Sha-Shana Crichton(my supercool agent and friend):
Because of you, I’m living one of my dreams. You’ve played a significant role in my career and I feel fortunate to have you. You’re a great listener who also gives quality advice. Know that everything you say and do on my behalf is appreciated.
Kelli Martin:
When I see your name in my in-box, I’m so excited I practically jump out of my seat! I look forward to reading your editorial notes and am amazed at how much attention you give each line, each page and each chapter. Thanks for all of your hard work and for taking the time to get to know me better. (But I knew we’d click the second you said you liked Jagged Edge!)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 1
“Come on, you stupid thing,” Sage Collins grumbled, huffing vigorously. “I gave you my change, now give me my damn Kit Kat candy bar!” Forgetting that she was at Indianapolis’s illustrious Westchester Academy, and that impressionable young children were milling about, she smacked the vending machine glass powerfully with her right palm. “I want my chocolate bar and I want it now, you good for nothing piece of—”
“What’s going on here?” demanded a voice behind her.
Sage didn’t bother to turn around. Her eyes were fixed on the chocolate bar, held captive between a jumbo bag of Cheetos cheese puffs and a can of roasted peanuts.
“Do I need to get security?”
Now the man had her attention. Sage tossed a look over her shoulder and quickly regarded the taller-than-average brother. He was a giant of a man. Built like an NFL linebacker, but without the jiggly beer belly and menacing stare, he had extrawide shoulders, ripped forearms and a pair of strong, sturdy legs. Staggered by his height, but not the least bit intimidated by his brisk tone, she expelled a breath. “This machine sucks,” she told him, sweeping her bangs off her forehead. “If I had matches, I’d torch it.”
“Ever stop to think that maybe it’s the customer and not the product?”
“No, because it robbed a six-year-old of his allowance five minutes ago.”
His furious scowl matched the heat in his eyes. “You’re acting like a deranged psycho, and I’m supposed to believe you? Are you on medication or something?”
Sage was a mature, cultured, twenty-eight-year-old woman, but she felt like smacking the man hard upside the head. Hot with anger, she scrutinized the burly stranger with the aggressive wide-legged stance. His plaid shirt should be in a box on its way to Goodwill charity donations and his faded jeans had obviously seen better days. In Las Vegas, a brother would never be caught dead wearing scuffed shoes, she thought. They dressed to the nines or not at all. But up here in Indianapolis, dressing casual took on a whole new meaning. The man needed a new pair of Birkenstock shoes, and most importantly, a new attitude.
“Are you from around here?”
“No, and I don’t have a name or phone number, either.”
Snorting, he shrugged dismissively. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not interested.”
“Sure you aren’t. That’s what all the rejected guys say.”
His face darkened. “Move out of the way so I can take a look at it.”
“No thanks.” Turning around, she bumped the machine with her hips. The Kit Kat bar fell, along with a jumbo bag of Doritos chips and several packs of gum. Bending down to retrieve her goods, she donned a proud smile. “I told you I didn’t need your help.”
“You didn’t pay for those things! What you’re doing verges on theft.”
“So what are you going to do, make a citizen’s arrest?” she asked, the absurdity of her words mocking him. His cologne, like his shirt, screamed for attention, but Sage wasn’t going to give him another second of her time. Turning away, she quipped, “I wish I could stay and continue this riveting verbal exchange, but I have a game to watch.”
Grinning, she ripped open the bag of Doritos chips and popped one into her mouth. “Mmm, delicious!” Deaf to his threats, she continued down the hall, and ducked inside the gymnasium. In the ten minutes she’d been gone, the stands had filled up and now a row of spectators stood beside the bleachers. Middle-aged men wore the home team’s lively orange jerseys, adoring mothers waved homemade signs and teenage girls stomped their feet to the swish of the cheerleader’s pom-poms. The scent of popcorn and nacho cheese mingled with colognes, perfumes and sweat.
Smiling apologetically, Sage inched past a row of overzealous fans with spiky hair and vibrant face paint. Stepping over a wailing toddler, she took her place beside her stout, barrel-chested boss, Leo Varick. At fifty-eight, the former sixties child star had been in the entertainment business since birth and a celebrity manager for decades.
Plunking down on the bench, she reached in her handbag and pulled out a bottle of Perrier water. Shifting uncomfortably, her jean-clad legs colder than blocks of ice, she munched hungrily on the bag of chips. She’d had nothing to eat on the connecting flight from Atlanta. But after partying at the Voodoo Lounge with her girlfriends until dawn, she needed a solid meal, and not the packs of crackers the stewardess had offered.
“What do you think so far?”
“I think a lot of these kids have raw talent.”
“Anyone stand out?”
Sage shrugged. “Not really.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen Khari Grant yet.”
Stuffing the last Dorito chip into her mouth, she brushed the salt from her hands. “That’s the fifth time you’ve mentioned this kid’s name today. He must have some crazy skills on the court, because I’ve never seen you this excited.”
“Khari’s the real deal. One day fans will be lining up just to see the kid practice.”
“If he’s such a big-shot athlete, how come I haven’t heard any buzz about him?” Sage sipped her water. “I’m always on the ESPN sports channel message boards, and I haven’t heard jack about a high school player named Khari Grant.”
“Until last season, Khari was just another point guard, but he went through a major growth spurt and now he’s mopping the floor with his opponents.”
“But he’s still a teenager. How good could he be?”
“Khari Grant is one of those rare athletes who only comes along once. Six years ago LeBron James took the basketball world by storm, and it’s just a matter of time before Khari does the same thing. Soon he’ll be signing endorsement contracts and…”
Crossing her legs, she inspected the frantic crowd of basketball fans. It was the first week in January, and despite being weighed down with bomber jackets, sweaters and velour sweat suits, spectators cheered relentlessly for the home team. Sage had only been in Indianapolis for twenty-four hours, but she already missed home. Unlike Las Vegas, the city was a dark, gloomy gray, and from what Leo had told her on the plane, it was only going to get colder. Thank God we’re only here for the weekend, she thought, stuffing her chilled hands into her wool coat.
“Did you see that?”
“No, I missed it. What happened?”
“He hit a three pointer from half court!” Shaking his head in awe, Leo flipped open his folio case and perused the documents inside. “The kid’s stats are amazing. Twenty-one-point average, three blocks, a couple steals, and he makes the other team work hard on defense.”
Aware of her boss’s love of basketball, she decided this was the perfect time to talk to him about the executive position job, and her plans for the future. “Leo, I tagged along on this scouting trip because I was hoping we could talk about my career. I want to know if you’ve given any more thought about who’ll be replacing Ryan.”
“Why? You interested?” Chuckling, he turned his attention to his scouting report.
“Yes. In fact, I’m very interested.”
“No offense, Sage, but you don’t have what it takes to be an executive manager.” He patted her leg sympathetically. “You’re great at what you do. The kids love you.”
“But I’m tired of babysitting overpaid pop stars whose only ambition is to be on the cover of US Weekly. I need a change. And I know I’d do a kick-ass job as the second in command. I’ve made so many contacts in the entertainment industry, it’ll be a cinch to slide in and take the reins.”
“A cinch, huh?” His tone reeked of sarcasm. “Sage, you don’t want the job, trust me. You’d have to put in ten or more hours a day, and although there’s an enormous salary hike, there’d be a lot more responsibility too.”
“Sounds like it’s right up my alley,” she argued. “I can do it, Leo. I’m capable, I’m qualified and people love me!”
With a deep sigh, he folded his beefy hands in his lap. “All that might be true, but the executive manager job is no joke. You’d have to lead by example and stay on top of things. I’d expect a lot more from you.”
“And I’m ready to give you more. All I’m asking for is a chance. A chance to prove myself and take Sapphire Entertainment Agency to the next level.” Sage paused to let her words sink in. Ignoring the butterflies ruling her stomach, she faced her boss, convinced that this was the single most important moment of her career. “Leo, I think it’s time we branch out and add more pro athletes to our client roster. We only have a couple, and we’re not going all out for them. It’d like to be the one to head our athlete’s discussion.”
His cell phone rang to the sound of the Jay-Z classic, “It’s a Hard-Knock Life.” Whipping out his iPhone handheld, he checked the number and leaped to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Hold that thought. It’s Mariah’s people. I have to take this call.” Phone at his ear, he jogged down the stairs and out of sight.
Around her, fans cheered and a few energized ones started the wave, but Sage was too upset to join in. Leo thought she was joke. Just another pretty face working at the agency. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but she caught the underlying message.
Sage considered her options. Bribing Leo with VIP passes to the hottest clubs in Vegas wouldn’t work. As a regular in and around town, he had access to everything.
But there had to be something she could do. Something that would demonstrate just how serious she was about the executive manager position. Eight years of controlling arrogant, snotty child stars was eight years too many. At first, Sage had been enamored with the glitz and glam of the business. Concerts. Backstage passes. Private parties. When she’d first attended the Academy Awards and saw all of her favorite actors, she’d become a bumbling fool in a Versace evening dress. Drinking flutes of champagne didn’t help, either. And every time Terrence Howard swaggered by, she imagined tripping his wife and shimmying up to the handsome star. But these days, Sage would rather watch paint dry than go to another movie premiere.
The turbulent roar of the crowd yanked Sage from her thoughts. Candy wrappers rained down on her, cola splashed onto her shoes and popcorn fell like yellow balls of snow.
“What the hell?” Feeling around in her purse, she grabbed a handful of Kleenex tissues, and cleaned the stain from her leather Gucci boots. Have these people lost their damn minds? she wondered, picking kernels out of her hair and tossing them on the ground.
Sage looked up just in time to see a tall, majestic being suspended in midair. Palming the basketball in one hand, he waved off the bug-eyed defender with the other. He dunked the ball with such power, the backboard shook like a leaf in the wind. Fervent applause echoed around the gym, bouncing off the ceiling, the floor and the walls.
Mesmerized, she leaned forward in her seat. Sage didn’t need to look at the back of the kid’s jersey to know this man-child, the future heir to Michael Jordan’s throne, was Khari Grant. She watched him play. He had the speed of Allen Iverson, the athleticism of Kobe Bryant and the grace of an African gazelle. No awkward moves, no misdirected plays, no jogging back on defense. Nothing but no-look passes, long-range jumpers and three-point shots.
Somewhere between a Khari steal and a Khari dunk, Leo returned. “I told you the kid was something special.”
Sage closed her gaping mouth. “I’ve never seen anything like him,” she managed, resurfacing from her trance. “I mean, I’ve watched hundreds of basketball games, trying to do research for us, but I’ve never seen a high school player dominate the court the way he does. And he’s only seventeen. He’ll be invincible in a couple years! Who represents him? In the Know Management? Sports for Life?”
“Neither.”
“That’s weird. Why would he have chosen a smaller, less-known firm?”
“Wrong again. The kid doesn’t have a manager.”
Her head snapped back. “Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I was.” Leo tucked his phone into his suit pocket. “See the big lug sitting at the end of the home team’s bench?”
Sage followed Leo’s gaze. It was the angry brother in plaid. “I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting him outside. What about him?”
“That’s Khari’s father.”
Staring at him with fresh eyes, Sage reexamined the surly guy she’d met in the hall. Without the scowl, he was a different man. He still needed a gift certificate to a Ralph Lauren boutique, but she noted the defined features of his profile. The nose was straight, the mouth sensuously wide and full and his gaze startlingly intense. Marshall Grant had perfect posture, strong male features, and when he cheered his smile revealed slight dimples. “Are you sure, Leo? He doesn’t look old enough to have a teenage son.”
“He’s thirty-seven.” Pushing his Armani eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose, he lowered his head and his voice. “Marshall knocked up his girlfriend and they got married just before sophomore year of college. They split up when the kid was around ten. Apparently, Roxanne had a drug and alcohol problem and refused to seek help. When Marshall returned from Kuwait, he chose not to reenlist.”
“He served in Kuwait?” she asked, shocked.
“And Bosnia too.”
“Hold up. How do you know so much about him?”
Leo held up his folio. “It’s all in here. Why do you think I was studying the scouting report on the plane? I’ve got to bring my A game if I’m going to convince Marshall Grant that I’m qualified to represent his son.”
“What reverence. You make it sound like this guy is next in line for the throne!”
His smiled fizzled like an Alka-Seltzer tablet in water. “Grant spent five years in the navy before joining the navy’s counterterrorist unit. Since being discharged, he’s had a string of community service jobs and now runs a center for teens at risk.”
Nodding, she considered their ten-second exchange in the hallway. “A glorified truant officer, huh? He’s definitely in the right field.”
“Marshall will be a hard one to crack. He won’t let anyone get within a mile of Khari. He thinks someone’s going to cheat his son.”
Sage laughed. Nudging him playfully with her shoulder, she teased, “You’re not scared of him, are you, boss man?”
“You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew what Khari’s projected net worth will be once he turns pro.” Glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one was listening, he dropped his deep baritone to a whisper. “Fifty million.”
Sage was glad she was sitting down. If she had been standing, she would have tumbled forward and knocked herself unconscious when she hit the gymnasium floor. “Fifty million dollars,” she repeated, her voice rising with excitement. “At your standard twenty-percent fee and agency costs, you stand to make almost three million bucks!”
Licking his lips, he adjusted his crisp marine-blue tie. “You’re quick on your feet, Collins. I haven’t done the math yet, but that sounds about right.”
“Mind if I take a peek at the scouting report?” she asked, swiping the document from his briefcase. While Leo droned on about Khari’s baseline jumper, Sage slowly perused the five-page document. This kid was destined for greatness and she wanted a piece of the action. All she needed was an in. Something to endear her to Khari and his family. Something to help her stand out from all the other agents. Soon, Indianapolis would be crawling with slick-talking managers promising cars, cash and favors. It was imperative she do something while they still had a lead.
Sage raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her lips. There it was in black and white. Her in…
It was something so small, so insignificant, she’d almost missed it. “I can get to Khari,” she announced.
“Right, and I can change water into wine.”
“I’m serious, Leo.”
“What are you going to do? Seduce the kid with your womanly wiles? Forget it, Sage. Leave this to a pro.”
“Are you forgetting that I was the one to sign Hailey Hope, A-Town Boys, and a long list of other up-and-coming teen stars?”
“But that was years ago. You haven’t brought any new clients to the agency in months. And from where I’m sitting, that’s bad for business.”
The sting of his retort cut like a blade. Leo was right. There was a time when she was the celebrity manager to watch. But these days Sage just didn’t have it in her to schmooze. Traveling between Vegas and L.A. on a weekly basis was taxing, and although it was only an hour flight, it cut into her workday. Keeping her existing clients happy was difficult enough without the added pressure of having to court other celebrities; but all that was about to change. Signing the next basketball phenom would catapult her into the spotlight, and it wouldn’t be long before other superstar athletes were beating down her office door.
“Give me a week.”
Leo raised his eyebrows. “You think you can sign Khari Grant in seven days?”
“Maybe less, but I didn’t want to sound overconfident—even though I am.”
“Sorry, Sage, I can’t do it. You mess this up and there goes my million-dollar commission. I’ll handle this one myself, but the next case is all yours.”
“Please, Leo. I’m begging you. My career needs this. Hell, I need this.”
His answer was a firm “no.”
“Like I said, I’ll see to it that the next client who signs on at the agency belongs to you.”
Low-spirited but convinced she could successfully expand into the sports market, Sage searched for the right words. Her sharp mind and boundless creativity had been her springboard to success and would one day help make Sapphire Agency the best in the business. “What if I sweetened the deal? If, I mean, when, I sign Khari, I’ll split the commission with you.”
Wearing a contemplative expression, Leo stroked his pointy jaw. “I don’t know. I have a lot riding on this. If you blow it, it’ll ruin any chance I have of signing him.”
“I know what I’m doing, Leo. Trust me.” Sage batted her lashes for good measure and flipped her silky hair over her shoulders. Playing the beauty card was beneath her, but she was desperate. “All I need is seven days.”
Several agonizing moments went by. Then, Leo gave her the nod. “Okay, I’ll give you a chance to prove you’ve still got that Collins magic. Don’t mess this up,” he warned, eyeing her sternly. “There’s a ton of money at stake!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“You have one week and not a second more.”
Sage winked. “That’s all I need.”
Chapter 2
Adjusting her baggy gray cardigan, Sage stared down pitifully at the white blouse underneath. Worried Marshall might recognize her, she’d ditched her designer threads for glasses, polyester pants and penny loafers. Scratching the itch on her forearm, she expelled the bitterness clogging her lungs. Sage didn’t need the Fashion Police to spring from the bushes to know she looked awful. No makeup, no jewelry, hair hidden under a thermal cap. If her girlfriends could see her now, they’d fall over laughing. If it wasn’t mentioned in Vogue, Sage didn’t give it a second glance. But this wasn’t about winning a fashion contest or getting some guy’s attention. She had a job to do, and nothing, not even wearing used clothes and dollar-store perfume, was going to deter her from signing Khari Grant.
According to the scouting report, Marshall Grant was generous with his time and money. In addition to his at-risk youth center, he was the conditioning coach of the Westchester Academy basketball team, did regular talks at inner-city schools and delivered groceries to seniors. Reading about Marshall had sparked her imagination and given her a foolproof plan. All she had to do was deliver her spiel and let him do the rest.
As Sage climbed the steps, she felt her conscience prick her with the pin of truth. Assailed by doubts, she took a moment to rethink what she was about to do. Some might say posing as a volunteer was a cruel, unconscionable scheme. Booting the thought from her mind, she pressed the doorbell. Bringing attention to the plight of needy children could never be a bad thing, even if she did have ulterior motives. Her words breathed confidence. What she was doing was a good thing. A very good thing. Commendable even. Pleased that her plan would benefit the less fortunate, she made a mental note to talk to all of her friends and clients about sponsoring a child in Haiti.
While she waited for someone to answer the door, she took in her surroundings. The lawn was edged with shrubs and trimmed bushes. Mature oak trees shielded the windows from intrusive sunlight and, aside from a few scattered leaves, the lush, landscaped yard was litter-free. Sage could hear dogs barking, but the neighborhood was surprisingly quiet.
Sage patted back a yawn. It hadn’t been easy finding the place. All of the streets in Meridian Hills looked the same, and she’d wasted an hour driving around searching for Marshall’s address. A kindly dog walker had pointed her in the right direction and ten minutes later she pulled her rental car up to 73 Irvington Lane.
Battling a mixture of fear and anxiety, she jabbed the buzzer again. She pulled her finger away, but the bell stuck and continued to chime. “Oh, shoot.” Unzipping her tote bag, she groped around for her car keys. She was trying to pry the buzzer loose when the door swung open and Marshall Grant appeared.
“Can I help you?”
Groaning inwardly, she slipped her keys back into her pocket. Things were not off to a promising start. Marshall was supposed to be impressed with her, not growling at her. Standing ruler-straight, Sage fed him her friendliest smile. “I’m sorry about that, but the buzzer got stuck. You should get that fixed.”
Marshall looked peeved and Sage sensed that he was about to slam the door in her face. “I was hoping to speak to you for a few minutes, but I can come back if now’s not a good time.”
To her surprise, he said, “It’s all right. Go on.”
Sage could tell that he was trying not to be rude. Good, he did have a soft side. That would make her job that much easier. Moving her clipboard aside, she pointed to the World Mission logo on the pocket of her sweater. “My name is Sage Collins and I’m a volunteer for World Mission International. Might I speak to you for a minute about our life-changing sponsorship program?”
His lips relaxed into a grin. There was that dimple again. Today he didn’t seem nearly as intimidating as he had two days ago. Sage didn’t drool over brawny-looking men, but there was something about Marshall Grant that made her heart pitter-patter. He had a powerful chest, big man hands and a voice deeper than the Grand Canyon. Dazzled by the warmth of his smile, she stared up at him, utterly captivated.
“Sure, I have a few minutes to spare.” Leaning against the door frame, he folded his arms across his chest. “You were saying?”
“I…was…ah,” she sputtered like a fish out of water. This was a first. Men didn’t leave her flustered. She left them tongue-tied fools, not the other way around. But the more she tried to focus, the more delicious Marshall Grant looked. Soulful eyes, and a cleft chin that softened his facial features and detracted from his imposing height, he was as cool as he was fine.
Leo’s image flashed in her mind, yanking Sage out of her lustful haze and back to the present. Collecting her thoughts, she glanced down at her clipboard. “Thank you so much for your willingness to make a difference in a child’s life. Six thousand children lose a parent to AIDS every day. At World Mission, we believe that we can make a difference.” Sage held up a picture of Chibu, a seven-year-old Haitian boy with sad eyes. She didn’t know anything about the child, but from what she’d read online, he was an orphan, living in a center with hundreds of other kids. Moved by his story, she had filled out the sponsorship application and committed to paying forty dollars a month to maintain his care. Now Chibu would receive medical care and she would use this real-life story to reach Marshall.
“AIDS ravaged Chibu’s family and left him to fend for himself. He’s been living at the Center of Hope Orphanage, and though his basic needs are being met, he’s unable to attend school. His reading and writing skills are poor, but at World Mission International we believe that with you and the help of others like you, we can bring hope not only to the village of Jacmel, but to the entire country.”
“I can tell by listening to you that this organization is near and dear to your heart.” Admiration filled his eyes. “You’re very passionate about what you do. That’s commendable and I wish there were more people like you.”
“You do?” Reading Chibu’s story had stirred some powerful emotions in her too. She was supposed to learn more about Marshall and Khari, not prattle nonstop about the problems plaguing Haiti, but she couldn’t help herself. “As citizens of the world, it’s important that we all do our part, don’t you think?”
“I do. It’s not easy going door-to-door, especially during the winter.” His voice was awash with nostalgia. “The first job I had was signing people up for the Indianapolis Post. It’s a very difficult job, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. It is.” Or at least she imagined it was. After Sage left Marshall’s house, she wouldn’t be knocking on any more doors. It was back to the Four Seasons to work on the second half of her plan.
“I remember this one elderly woman who lived in Stanford Park. She took one look at me and slammed the door in my face!” Chuckling, he shook his head at the memory. “I had ID, but some homeowners still wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
Thankful she’d had the foresight to go to the World Mission office, she smiled inwardly. A quick trip downtown had put a small dent in her sign-Khari-Grant fund, but it was money well spent. The supervisor, Ms. Pittney, had beamed as she scooped up T-shirts, pens and other merchandise bearing the World Mission logo.
“I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been thinking about doing something like this for a while, but never got around to it.”
Her eyes danced over his face. His skin was a rich, creamy shade of brown, and he had a strong, defined chin. Policing her thoughts, she blinked hard, and quickly regained focus. Enough lusting. It was time to make her move. She had done her good deed for the day, now it was time to do something for herself. And nothing would make her happier than signing Khari Grant. “Do you have any children, sir?”
“Sir?” Marshall shook his head in disapproval. “I know I’m old, but I’m not that old,” he teased, his tone rich with humor. “How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. Thirty?”
He rewarded her guess with a smile.
“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked, liking how quickly he had changed from the snarling homeowner to the grinning neighbor. Attractive in a long-sleeve, collared black sweater and slacks, he looked more relaxed than he had at Westchester Academy. But then again, he wasn’t trying to stop her from beating up on the school vending machine. Today, she was a humanitarian. Feeling flirtatious, and enjoying their playful banter, she cocked her head to the right. “If you tell me your age, I’ll tell you mine,” she promised.
“Only if you come inside for a quick drink.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. “I’m right behind you, Mr. Grant.”
One look inside Marshall’s house and Sage knew he was a momma’s boy. Everything from the dainty glass tables, plush, luxurious rugs and frilly cushions was a doting mother’s handiwork. From the outside, the house was no showpiece, but the three-story home boasted lofty ceilings, gigantic picture windows and polished floors. The house felt lived-in and had obviously been decorated with tender, loving care.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“A glass of water would be great,” she said, holding her clipboard to her chest. “Walking around all day is exhausting.”
“I bet,” he agreed with a sympathetic nod. “Has there been a lot of interest in the sponsorship program?”
Remembering what Ms. Pittney said about last year’s Christmas campaign, Sage shook her head regretfully. “Not as many as we would have liked. More people sign up during the holidays. I guess it pacifies their guilt for buying things they don’t need, but by the time the New Year rolls around most sponsors have had a change of heart.”
“That’s terrible.”
The solemn expression on his face squeezed her heart. He really did care about the orphaned kids in Haiti. And there was no doubt in her mind that she’d be leaving with a financial contribution for World Mission International. An image of Ms. Pittney flashed in her mind, assuaging her guilt and bolstering her spirits. “It’s warm and toasty in here.” Glancing around, she rubbed her gloved hands together. “I’m from Las Vegas and not used to such cold weather.”
“What brought you all the way to Indianapolis?”
Caught off guard by his question, Sage racked her brain for a suitable answer. Snippets of her hour-long conversation with Ms. Pittney resurfaced. “World Mission has its headquarters here, and I felt it was important to make the trip out.” Marshall nodded, his eyes kind, and his expression sympathetic. Encouraged by his obvious interest, she went on. “I’m on a multicity tour to drum up more corporate donations. The AIDS treatment center in Haiti is desperately underfunded and on the verge of being closed.”
“Well, on behalf of Mayor Ballard and the entire city council, welcome to Indy.” Smiling, he motioned to the suede armchair to his left. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with your drink.”
“Thank you,” she said, resisting the urge to do the cabbage patch in the middle of the area rug. Sage never imagined it would be this easy getting close to Marshall. Five minutes into the plan, and she was sitting inside the Grant house. By the end of the week, Khari Grant would be her newest client. Confident she’d be thousands of dollars richer, she settled into her seat with the grace of a queen.
The harsh, riveting sound of Marshall’s voice knocked the grin off Sage’s face. He was warning someone named Dale Williamson to stop calling his house. Occupied with her thoughts, she hadn’t even heard the telephone ring. Sage could tell by the hostility in his tone that he was pissed off. It was the same tone he’d unleashed on her when he caught her kicking the vending machine.
Intrigued, she stood and tiptoed across the living-room floor. Holding her breath, she pushed open the kitchen door and peeked inside. Marshall stood beside the stove, his teeth clenched and his fists tight.
“I don’t care what agency you’re from. My son’s future is not for sale. And if you call here again, I’ll have you charged with harassment.”
Sage gulped. Sweat dripped down her back and the knot in her stomach tightened. Those weren’t empty threats. Marshall meant business.
“No, I don’t want you to call me back next week. My answer isn’t going to change. Khari’s going to study medicine and that’s all there is to it. The NBA will not take care of my son in the way he needs. He needs an education first, not groupies and more money than he knows what to do with.”
Filing that piece of information away, she pushed open the door farther.
“I’d prefer if you left us the hell alone.”
Her shoulders sank. So much for a lead! News of Khari’s remarkable basketball skills had gotten out and now offers were rolling in. It was just a matter of time before sports agents from In the Know Management and Legends of Tomorrow and a host of other agencies descended on the city.
“Who are you spying on?”
Sage whipped around so fast, the door whacked her on the butt like a wooden paddle. Khari Grant dropped his backpack at his feet and sidled up beside her. Like most basketball players, he was lean, trim and over six feet tall. Imitating her posture, he bent down and pushed open the kitchen door. He listened for a few minutes before turning back to her. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “That’s just Dad being Dad. He gets like that sometimes.” His lips expanded into a boyish smile. “What’s up? I’m Khari.”
“Hi, Khari,” she greeted, liking the teenager instantly. “I’m Sage.”
“Cool name.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
Khari chuckled. “So you work for World Mission, huh?”
“No, I’m a—” Sage caught herself before she unwittingly blew her cover. “Yes, I volunteer a few days a month. But I have a regular job there too.”
Bending down, he retrieved his backpack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. “I gotta hit the books. Got a paper to write about Hamlet and his boy Horatio. Check you later.”
“About what you saw when you walked in,” she began, feeling the need to explain. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Your dad sounded upset…I was going to go in the kitchen to see what was wrong, but I…I got scared,” she lied, praying he believed her.
His smirk told her he didn’t. “It’s all good, Sage.” He winked. “I do it too sometimes.”
The kitchen door swung open. When Marshall spotted Khari, his entire face came alive. “Khari, you’re home. How was study group?”
“All right, I guess. I’m starting to get the hang of this Shakespeare stuff.”
“Did you get back your physics test?”
Wearing a sheepish expression, he scratched the side of his neck. “I got a B minus, but it wasn’t my fault. Mr. Diefendorf wouldn’t give me extra time.”
“Khari, if you’re going to get into Harvard, you have to bring your grades way up.”
“I don’t want to go to Harvard, Dad. I’m going to play in the NBA. Coach says I’ve got what it takes to make it all the way.”
“No, you’re going to med school.” His voice was firm. “If you get your degree and decide you still want to play professional basketball, that’s fine, but at least you will have something to fall back on if things don’t work out.”
“I don’t know about all that. I ain’t—”
“Pardon me?” Marshall’s words came out in a stern rebuke, not a question.
Khari stared down at his sneakers. “I’m not thinking about medical school right now, Dad. I just want to pass English Lit and graduate with my friends.”
Marshall opened his mouth, but when he spotted the woman from World Mission standing by the fireplace, watching them intently, he swallowed his words. “We’ll talk about this later. I’ll be up in a few minutes to help you with your homework.”
Khari continued upstairs.
“I’m sorry about that. I almost forgot you were here,” he confessed, handing her a glass of water. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Sage took the drink from his outstretched hand and inadvertently grazed his fingers. Her heart pulsed with desire. Their connection was intense, and when he smiled at her, she knew he had felt it too. Underestimating the power of his touch, she stepped back to create more breathing room. “He seems like a good kid. And tall too!”
Marshall chuckled. “I hear that at least fifty times a day.”
“I bet. He must take after you.”
Sensing she had ventured into troubled waters, Sage adjusted her cardigan and slipped back into character. Returning to the couch, she picked up her clipboard and retrieved a World Mission brochure. “Now, if you’ll just fill out your personal information on this sponsorship form, I can be on my way.”
“There’s no rush,” he told her, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Can I interest you in something to eat? A muffin, some chocolate chip cookies, maybe? They’re homemade.”
His endearing half smile and the soft hue of his voice warmed every square inch of her body. I wonder what it would feel like to have those big, strong hands on my—Sage shook the thought from her mind. She tried to focus on something—anything but his toned arms and that broad chest—but her internal wiring was on the blink. Sage inhaled. There was something in the air. It was profound, crippling, more devastating than a tropical storm, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d blow her assignment on the first day. “That’s very kind of you, but no thanks.”
“It’s going to take me a few minutes to fill this out.” He uncapped the pen, but she remained the focus of his gaze. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”
“Not at all.” Pleased that she’d regained control, she stood patiently, determined not to be affected by his scent, his dimples or his calming vibe. For some reason, his buttoned-up persona and commanding presence was a serious turn-on. One she hadn’t expected. Overwhelmed by the silence, and wanting to keep the mood light, she said, “It’s been a busy day, but as long as I get home in time for 24, I’m good!”
“That show’s amazing. It’s in its seventh season, but I’ve never missed an episode.”
“Me too!” she gushed. “The writing is great, the plot is tight and the characters are hot, especially Jack Bauer. Ummm…”
Marshall chuckled. “You’re too cute to be with such a rebellious hothead. Not to mention he’s almost twice your age.”
Sage sequestered a smile. So he thinks I’m cute. No doubt, the clean face, casual clothes and curly hair gave her a more youthful look; but just how young did he think she was? His genial, if-only-you-were-older expression told Sage everything she needed to know. Marshall Grant thought she was jailbait.
“All my guy friends go gaga over Elisa Cuthbert, and I bet you do too.”
“She’s not my type. I prefer a more sophisticated woman.”
Their eyes held for a beat too long. Standing there, looking large and in-charge in his black-on-black ensemble, Sage wondered what it would be like to kiss the attractive single father. Her breathing sped up as her body slowly became infected with lust. I must be really desperate to be fantasizing about kissing this small-town guy. Unable to reel in her emotions, she stared into his soft, luminous eyes. The last time she’d had sex, platform shoes were still in style, so being in close quarters with a dark, chocolate hunk was more than Sage could stand. Basking in the light of his smile, Sage licked her lips, and settled her nerves with a deep breath.
They studied each other for a long, quiet moment. Marshall had a presence about him, something fierce and compelling that she wouldn’t be able to withstand much longer. The man was Denzel Washington in Training Day—cool and deliciously sexy. Her mission was in trouble and it was only the day one. Damn!
“Stay awhile. At least long enough for me to pick your brain about the season premiere.” He hadn’t lowered his voice, but she inched closer. “Were you as shocked as I was when Schector was killed?”
Sage had known Marshall all of five minutes, but when he gestured for her to take a seat, she did, and then chatted animatedly about her favorite TV show. Marshall was a deep thinker, who appealed to her on strictly an intellectual level. Or at least, that’s what she told herself every time her gaze strayed from his face to his chest.
“Looks like you’re almost done,” she said, watching him scrawl his signature at the bottom of the form. “World Mission appreciates your generosity, Mr. Grant. You’re going to help so many needy children.”
“I told you, none of that ‘Mr. Grant’ stuff. Call me Marshall.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Had he just given her the look, or was it just a figment of her imagination? With her goal front and center in her mind, she stuffed the sponsorship form in her purse and thanked Marshall for his time. “I should get going.”
“I know this is going to sound strange, but I just have to ask. Have we met before?” The words shot out of his mouth, pinning her to the couch. “I never forget a face, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to place you. Maybe it’s the glasses. Do you wear contacts, as well?”
“Um, no, I…” Her voice stalled. Nothing came out but a pathetic squeak. Lowering her eyes, she tugged at her black thermal cap. She’d overstayed her welcome and now Marshall was hot on her trail. “I really have to run.” Scrambling to her feet, she snatched up her purse and made a break for it. But Marshall met her in the middle of the living room, looking amused and becoming more handsome by the second.
“I’ll show you out.” Laying a hand on her back, he gestured toward the short, narrow hallway that led to the foyer. Sage felt like she was walking on a trampoline. Her legs were quivering and she worried she might trip over her feet. It was hard staying calm with Marshall at her side, watching her every move.
“Be safe,” he cautioned, unlocking the door. “And next time you’re in the neighborhood, be sure to stop by for a drink. We can talk more about trying to save the world.”
Frowning, she stopped and glanced up at him. That’s it? No, “I’d love to take you out sometime,” or “How about you give me your number?” Going out with Marshall was risky, but Sage felt oddly disappointed by his lack of interest.
“Again, thank you so much for supporting World Mission.” Playing her part to the hilt, she handed him a fridge magnet, and hurried down the steps. When Sage turned and saw Marshall watching, she added more bounce to her walk. A toothy smile on her lips, she waved and hopped into her trusty rental. I shouldn’t have run off, she thought, throwing the car into drive, but now I have that fine, ex-military man right where I want him!
Chapter 3
“He’s late,” Sage announced, her eyes fixed on the front door of Champions Sports Bar. Aside from the couples playing pool and the heavily pierced server shuffling back and forth between the kitchen and the dining area, the place was empty. “Are you sure he’ll be here? It’s almost nine. You said he’d be here at eight.”
The bartender nodded. “I’m positive. Every Saturday night Marshall and his army buddies swap war stories until closing.”
“Where do they sit?”
He motioned with his head. “Corner booth, next to the washrooms.”
“How many guys?”
“Usually five, sometimes as many as eight.” He added a splash of vodka and a pinch of Cointreau triple sec liquer to the metal shaker, then shook it vigorously. “They crack jokes, play pool and hit on the ladies.”
Convinced it would be the same game once he got a look at her sexy outfit, she smoothed her hands down the length of her miniskirt. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
He furrowed his scruffy eyebrows. “Hell if I know. I just fix the guys drinks. Never seen a woman with him though.”
“This is for your trouble.” Sage slid a twenty-dollar bill toward him.
“Hey, if you need anything else, just ask!” he yelled, his voice suddenly infused with enthusiasm.
“Thanks, kid,” she said, though he could only be a few years younger than she.
“The name’s Gamble and I’m here ’til closing!”
Feeling restless, and anxious to see Marshall, Sage headed for the row of pool tables. She’d visited the Grant home yesterday, and for the last twenty-four hours she had thought of nothing but Khari and Marshall. Well, mostly Marshall. And the more she thought about him, the more persistent her doubts. He was sharp, clever, discerning. Hell, he’d been a sharpshooter! There was no fooling him. If she wanted to taste the sweet juice of success, she’d have to modify her plan. There was too much at stake for her to mess up.
Taking a sip of her cocktail, she rested the glass on one of the raised wooden tables. Life-size photographs of sports icons covered the walls, flat-screen TV’s were mounted in corners, stadium chairs sat on polished floors and fan memorabilia was splashed across the room. Champions Sports Bar had a high-energy atmosphere and Sage knew it was just a matter of time before every seat in the place was filled.
Spotting the dartboard, she went over and retrieved the five missile-shape darts. Playing a round of darts would kill some time and provide the perfect distraction until Marshall showed up. She leaned forward, arching her back and lifting her shoulders, Sage released the first dart. It struck the wall. Shaking her head at the error, she tried again. Same results. The third dart hit the bottom of the target.
“At least it hit the board this time.”
Sage cast a sideways glance at the man beside her. He was of average height, had rippling forearms confined to a rock-hard chest and a black muscle shirt.
“Do we know each other?” she asked, wishing he’d disappear.
“We met a few weeks back at Studio 29.”
His voice was coarse, but Sage didn’t know if that was his natural tone or if he had a case of bronchitis. Either way, he was giving her a headache. Resisting the urge to cover her ears with her hands, she said, “No we didn’t. I’ve only been in Indianapolis for three days, so there’s no way we could’ve met last month.”
“Don’t try to play me. You were smiling in my face, ordering the priciest drinks on the menu, then slipped me some bogus number at the end of the night.”
“We’ve never met,” she repeated, imaging herself shooting him with a dart. Picturing a dart pricking his butt cheek brought a smirk to her lips.
“What’s so funny? You laughin’ at me?”
“Like I said, I’m not from around here. I’m in town on business.”
“For real?” His scowl fell away and was replaced with a hearty grin. “My bad. Sorry ’bout that. I’m Denzel.”
Oh, no, you’re not, she thought, facing the dartboard.
“What’s your name?”
To signal the end of the conversation, Sage narrowed her eyes in precision and shot the dart. It landed on the outer wire.
“Looks like you could use some pointers.”
“Bye. Enjoy the rest of your night. Have a nice life.”
“Don’t be like that, girl. You know you want my help.”
“No, I don’t,” she argued. “I know how to play. I’m just rusty.”
“It’s no fun playing alone.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Come on, girl.” Denzel took giant steps toward her, his hot vodka breath preceding him. “I promise to take it easy on you.”
Sage faced her tormenter. “I don’t need your help. Now, if you want to play a game, that’s another story. How about a friendly round to start? Is twenty bucks low enough for you? Or should we do ten?”
“Naw—twenty bucks a round is cool.”
“No, I meant per dart.”
“That’s a hundred bucks a game!”
“That’s not going to be a problem for you is it, Denzel?” she asked, forcing herself not to laugh in his face. “It’s up to you. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
He gulped. “That’s chump change. I can handle it.”
“Good. We’ll take turns shooting the darts. The first one to zero wins!”
“Sounds fair to me,” he agreed, his eyes flicking anxiously around the bar. The place was starting to fill up. Massaging the back of his neck, he fed her a shaky smile. “Ten minutes ago this place was empty. Now, it’s, uh, full.”
She retrieved the darts from the board, then offered them to him.
“I can’t.” He held up his hands and stepped aside. “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t let you go first? I’m a gentleman, girl. Go on and do your thing.”
Sage leaned forward, poised to shoot. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“She’s kicking his ass!”
The men sitting in the corner booth howled with laughter.
“Damn! She got another bull’s eye!” Roderick Baxter thumped his fist against the table. “And she’s making it look easy too.”
Marshall tasted his Hennessey cognac. Swallowing proved difficult. His jaw ached from laughing. If Roderick wasn’t poking fun at the player-wannabe strutting around the room like a seventies pimp, he was taking cheap shots at Denzel Patterson, the missing member of their three-man group.
“I feel for Patterson, though. There’s a crowd around them and everything.” Emilio Sanchez shook his head. “He’ll never be able to live this one down. Getting spanked by a woman at darts? Twice? Shoot. We might as well look for a new hangout spot, because after tonight, he’ll never be able to show his face in here again.”
“Serves him right for going over there in the first place.” Roderick draped an arm around the booth. “We told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Marshall defended his friend. “Can you blame him? We’ve all been there. How many times have you approached a beautiful woman only to have her shoot you down so bad you’re heart plunged to your knees?”
“You’re right, Grant,” Emilio agreed, his dark brown eyes full of lust. “And that sister over there is hot to death. That chest, those hips, and check out her legs.”
“She could wrap them around me twice!” Admiring the woman from afar, but wishing she was only a breath away, Roderick smoothed a hand over his mustache. “I’d do basic training all over again if she was the drill sergeant!”
Chuckles broke out across the table.
Returning his gaze across the room, Marshall watched the crowd dissipate, leaving Denzel and the shapely sister in the denim miniskirt. When she turned around, he got a clear, unrestricted view of her face. As he watched her count her winnings, it suddenly clicked where they had met before. It was the World Mission volunteer. Marshall thought she’d looked familiar, but couldn’t immediately place her. Downing the rest of his drink, he slipped out of the booth. “Be right back, fellas.”
“Aw, not you too, bro.” Roderick gripped his forearm. “You saw what happened to Patterson. Don’t be a fool, man. Leave that woman alone before you end up crying in your drink.”
“It’s not like that, Baxter. I know her.”
“That’s the same stupid mess Patterson said.”
“It’ll be okay, man. Hang back.”
Releasing his hold, he shrugged a shoulder. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when she does the Moon Walk all over your pride.”
“She won’t. I wouldn’t be going over there if I thought she was going to diss me.”
Dubious about his friend’s chances of success, he said, “Fifty dollars says you won’t get her phone number.”
“Make it a hundred and you’re on.”
“There’ll be no I-owe-yous, either. I want my money tonight. Hear me, Grant?”
“I hear you.”
Roderick pointed north. “There’s an ATM machine at the entrance. Make sure you have my dough when you come back!”
Disregarding his friend’s warning, he strode purposefully through the dining area. By the time he reached the bar, Denzel had slunk away and the woman was alone.
“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” It was an old line, but that didn’t stop him from using it. From what he remembered about the World Mission volunteer, she had a quick laugh and a great sense of humor. After filling out the sponsorship forms, they’d sat in the living room talking about movies and sports and music. “I thought you looked familiar.”
Sage cast a smoldering look over her shoulder. “Do I know you?”
Deflated, but not defeated, Marshall maintained his smile. “You came by my house a few days ago. We talked about World Mission’s sponsorship program.” He was rambling, but didn’t stop. He’d rather make a fool of himself in her presence than return to the booth a hundred dollars poorer. “I live on Irvington Lane, across the street from the park. Mine’s the gray and white house with the basketball hoop out front.”
A pensive expression on her face, she slowly spun around on the stool. “Um…Marshall—Marshall Grant, right?”
Nodding, he sighed inwardly. She remembered him. Pleased, he planted himself in the seat beside her. Roderick might crack on him tonight, but it wouldn’t be because this gorgeous woman shot him down. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“How come?”
Dressed in a cashmere sweater that plunged boldly between her breasts and an itsy-bitsy skirt that skimmed her thighs, she exuded a raw sexuality that demanded attention. She had smoky eyes, and her light brown hair was swept off her shoulders in a side ponytail. Sage Collins was the sister every woman in the bar wanted to be and for good reason. And her work meant she was trying to make the world a better place too. His dream girl. A vixen—and a shapely one at that—with a heart of gold.
Leaning in to ensure he was heard above the clamor, he said, “No baggy gray sweater and gym shoes. Tonight, you deserve a place in that Victoria’s Secret fashion show. Wings and all!”
Sage laughed. “And the other day?”
“Your beauty was concealed to meet the needs of orphaned children.”
“Nice save.”
“Thanks.” In the hopes of eliciting a smile, he said, “I can’t imagine what you’d be doing here alone. Your date’s a fool for making you wait. Give him hell when he shows up.”
Sage smiled, the sheer warmth of it crippling him. “I was supposed to meet a friend for drinks, but…” Straining her eyes toward the door, she sighed. Glancing down at her watch, she said, “It looks like I’ve been stood up.”
Marshall couldn’t believe his luck. She was alone? If he bought her drinks and kept making her laugh, maybe she wouldn’t mind joining him for dinner. He would get to know her better and impress the guys in the process.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Marshall.” Sage finished her drink, then placed the empty glass on the bar. “See you around.”
Touching her arm gently, he motioned to her vacant stool. “Don’t rush off. Let me get you another drink. What are you having?”
“An Orgasm.”
Marshall was quick to laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
“I couldn’t be more serious.”
He studied her for a moment. “All right, an Orgasm it is.”
“Ah, if it was only that easy,” Sage quipped with a dramatic sigh.
“It is. All women need to do is ask and men would gladly give them the world.”
“Right. Is that before or after you ask to hold some money until payday?”
“That’s cold,” he said, slumping in his seat. He couldn’t believe a woman this attractive and this intelligent had ever had trouble with the opposite sex. She was fit, free and oh so fine. What more could a guy want? “It sounds like you’ve been dating the wrong fellas,” he told her. “We’re not all lazy freeloaders, you know. At least I’m not.”
“And what makes you so different?”
“I was raised in an era of strict discipline, butt whuppings and Al Green!”
Her laughter filled the room with its sweet perfume.
Marshall soaked up the sound, giving his ears their fill. There was nothing like flirting with an attractive woman to inflate a man’s ego. Sage was the “It Girl” in the bar, and that made him the man. His confidence stirred, rose, pushed him to say something he’d never live down if his friends heard him. “All we brothers want to do is please you. But you sisters are harder to crack than a Rubik’s Cube puzzle!” Marshall chuckled long and hard. “Women make men into who they are, so don’t get mad if we come on too strong.”
Sage rolled her eyes.
“Present company excluded, but you sisters are fierce! Dropping it like it’s hot at the club, prancing around in your too-short tops, barely-there-skirts and sexy, five-inch stilettos.” He shrugged. “It’s a woman’s game. We men just play along.”
“Oh,” she crooned, her voice octaves higher, “so that’s why you guys dog us out all the time. Because we’re smart and sexy and not afraid to show it?”
“You’ve got it all wrong. That’s not what I’m saying.” In the hopes of redeeming himself in her eyes, he said, “I heard something on The Dr. Robin Show on the radio that challenged my views about male and female relationships.”
“Really?” Sage raised her eyebrows. “And what was that?”
“Love is selfless. When you love someone, you’re actually loving yourself in the truest, realest way. If you shortchange the people you love, you’re doing a disservice not only to them, but to yourself.”
“Relationships 101, according to the cynical youth center director. Interesting.”
Marshall frowned. “How did you know I run a center? I didn’t mention that when you were over the other day.”
“Khari told me,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue. “All this talk about honesty makes me want to confess.”
“To what?”
“We’ve met before.”
His eyes bulged. “We have?”
“Last week my boss took me to the basketball game at Westchester Academy. I was starving, so I decided to buy myself a snack, but when I put my money in the vending machine…”
Marshall stared at her lips. They were full and moist and looked softer than a Georgia peach. She had a beauty mark above her lips, Bambilike eyes, and her breath smelled sweet.
“I shouldn’t have been so bitchy, but I was running on three hours of sleep and one measly cup of coffee. I just wanted to apologize for acting so childish.”
The sheer intensity of her smile almost knocked him off his stool. Changing the channel in his mind, he fought to remember what they’d been talking about. Women complained that men didn’t listen and here was another shining example. Normally he was focused, attentive, alert. In his line of work he had to be. Let your guard down and you could lose your life. But something about this woman left his brain scattering like a pack of marbles. “Ah, sure, okay. No problem.”
“When I looked over my shoulder and saw you standing there, glowering at me, I had memories of my high school principal, Mr. McCaffery.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes as if haunted by his image. “The man was old, mean, and hated kids, especially me.”
“We met at my son’s basketball game?” Marshall asked, finally gathering himself. “You were the psycho—” he cleared his throat “—I mean, the nuisance beating up the vending machine?”
Her smile fell. “Yeah, it was me.”
“You?” His eyes glazed with doubt. “That’s impossible.”
Pretending to be angry, she accused him of being distracted by one of the young, female servers. “I just finished telling you my side of the story. Weren’t you listening?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know where my mind was.” He did, but admitting he had been fantasizing about her would scare her off. Unconvinced she was the culprit, he examined her face closely. She didn’t look like the woman he had butted heads with, but she could have been. “No way that was you! She had bangs. That much I know for sure. She kept blowing them out of her eyes.”
“What can I say? I’m a chameleon,” she said, crossing her legs. “I’d go crazy if I had the same hairstyle longer than a month, so I change it whenever the mood strikes.”
“Your hair was different when you were at the house yesterday. It was shorter, darker, right?”
“Yeah, I had it done this morning.” She touched the nape of her neck. “Like it?”
“Love it.”
Their eyes met. Stroking his jaw, he noted the vibrancy of her skin and the sensuous width of her smile. Silky-smooth layers cascaded over her shoulders, softening the bold, eye-catching shade. How come he hadn’t noticed her nose ring? Or her striking bone structure? If he had spent less time admiring her luscious backside and more time making eye contact, he wouldn’t look like Bozo the Clown now.
“Let me take you out for dinner. Or you could just join me and the guys tonight.”
Sage took a sip of her cocktail, mulling over his invitation. One-on-one, Marshall Grant was putty in her hands, but would he be as sincere around his army buddies? One woman sitting at a table with four men did not make for a pleasant evening. They’d be tripping over themselves trying to impress her, while all she was to be alone with Marshall. Not liking her chances at four-to-one, she politely declined. “I already ate,” she lied, motioning to the empty plate on the bar. Sage didn’t know who it belonged to, but she was glad the prop was there. “Maybe next time.”
If Marshall was disappointed, his face didn’t show it. “No problem, but we should definitely get together sometime.”
“It’s twenty below outside,” she said, coyly. “Where are you going to take me?”
“Slide me your number and you’ll find out.”
The bartender produced a ballpoint pen. “There you go,” he said cheerfully, resting it on the counter. “Just holler if you need anything else.”
Seconds later, Sage handed Marshall a napkin covered in her scrawled handwriting. “Happy now?”
“Very.” He took the napkin from her outstretched hand. His touch, though slight, stirred the fire within her. And when he leaned over and whispered a few scintillating words in her ear, her heart bounced up in her throat. “Be sure to call,” she said casually, though it sounded like an order.
“It was nice seeing you again, Sage. And I will.”
Not ready for him to go, she put a hand on his forearm. “Thanks for the drink. And I’ll try to remember what you said about…orgasms.”
His mouth stretched into a scrumptious grin. “You do that.” A wink, then he stood and strode away.
Chapter 4
“What do you mean he won’t set a wedding date?” Sage asked, wedging the cell phone between her ear and shoulder. Needing to exercise, but unfamiliar with the city, she had decided to drive down to Westchester Academy and jog on the outdoor track. The hotel gym was temporarily closed for renovations, and she couldn’t afford to miss a third consecutive workout.
“Tangela, you guys have been engaged for two years. How much more time does Warrick need?” Sage put her keys into her pocket and walked briskly toward the field. The wind was fierce, but the sun was strong and bright. A minute into her jog and she’d be nice and warm.
“You’re preaching to the choir, Sage. I’ve had this conversation with Warrick so many times, I’m starting to argue with him in my sleep!”
Sage laughed. Despite the circumstances, her best friend still had jokes. Sage had known Tangela Howard ever since she showed up on their foster mom’s doorstep fifteen years ago, clutching a stuffed elephant and a bag of dirty clothes. Exiled to the basement, the girls had regaled themselves by dressing up in Ms. Claxton’s nurse uniforms and imitating her thick Trinidadian accent. In a matter of weeks, they had joined forces against the hot-tempered woman, and even after all these years, they were still tighter than a new pair of pumps.
“What’s the hold up now? Last year he postponed the wedding because of his father’s stroke. That’s understandable, but I thought you said his dad’s been up and running for months.”
“That was then. Now he said he’s too busy expanding his company to think about planning some wedding,” she explained.
Dumbstruck, Sage closed her gaping mouth. “‘Some wedding’?” she choked out. “What does he mean he doesn’t have time to plan some wedding? It’s his wedding—to the woman he loves.”
“I know. Can you believe he said that? I cook, clean and even massage his crusty feet, and now he’s telling me he doesn’t have time to get married!”
Stretching on the track, Sage shook her head. How had her adventurous, free-spirited friend become a kept woman begging a man to marry her? Sage had never considered marrying any of her ex-boyfriends. But then again, no one had ever asked. Waking up to the same man for the next forty years sounded as exciting as an early-morning root canal. No way. Marriage wasn’t for everyone, and Sage was smart enough to know it wasn’t right for her. All she needed was a foot rub, Usher on blast, and some toe-curling sex. Send her on her way with an orgasm and a smile and she was happier than Pamela Anderson in a bridal boutique. “Tangela, you know what the problem is, don’t you? You’re spoiling him. You do too much for Warrick and now he doesn’t appreciate you. Ever heard the saying, ‘be sensible in love or end up getting burned’?”
“But how can you love somebody too much?” she questioned, her voice filled with genuine wonder. “I love taking care of Warrick, and he’s a good man. I just want us to make things official. Hell, at this point I’d forgo my dreams of a church wedding and marry him at the justice of the peace. All I want is to become Mrs. Warrick Carver.”
Sage couldn’t resist saying, “That’s what you get for moving in with him. I told you not to do it, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Now he’s treating you like the hired help because it’s his house.”
“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint because you lived with Jake and Adrian,” she pointed out. “How can you tell me not to do something you’ve done twice?”
“That was years ago,” Sage explained, bristling at the accusation. “I was young and stupid then and I had nowhere else to go. You, on the other hand, make good money as a senior flight attendant. You had your own house, a car and plenty of money before you ever met Warrick. Sure he’s bought you a lot of nice stuff over the years, but nothing you couldn’t buy for yourself.”
“You’re right.” There was a hitch in her voice. “Sage, you know Warrick. You’ve seen us together. Why do you really think he won’t set a wedding date?”
Sage paused. Her best friend was hurting and the last thing she wanted to do was pour more oil onto the fire. But what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t tell Tangela the truth? “Girl, you know I love Warrick like a brother, but I think he’s playing you. He’s doing just enough to keep you around. After all, he didn’t pop the question until you threatened to leave, right? You applied the pressure and he caved. He dangled that Harry Winston diamond in your face and you snatched it up quicker than a rabbit with a big, fat, juicy carrot!”
“It’s not like that,” she protested. “It’s great that he has money, but I’d marry Warrick even if he wasn’t a millionaire.”
“I know, Tangela. I know.” Sage sat down on the cold pavement and tied her shoelaces. “Are you still thinking about moving out?”
The silence was profound.
“I don’t know. There’s a lot going on right now and…I’m not sure.”
Tangela was holding back. Something else was troubling her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Instead of pressing the issue, Sage offered to help. “I’ll be back next week, but if you need somewhere to go—”
“I know. Use the spare key, feed the fish and don’t eat all of the shredded wheat,” she repeated in a lifeless tone of someone who’d heard it many times before.
Sage laughed. Bending her hips like a pretzel, she slowly reached down and touched the tips of her sneakers. Five more minutes of stretching and she’d give her lazy body a good dose of exercise.
“How are things going up there? Made any progress with that Marshall guy?”
Recalling what happened last night at Champions Sports Bar frustrated Sage afresh, but made Tangela laugh hysterically. “If it wasn’t for Denzel, the player from hell, I would’ve spent the rest of the night hanging out with Marshall.”
“Ooh, that sounds intimate,” Tangela cooed. “What’s this Marshall guy like?”
Sage paused. Good question. What was he like? If Tangela had asked her four days ago, she would have said Marshall Grant was a brute of a man with a down-home Michigan attitude and a sexy Brooklyn swagger. But yesterday she’d seen a charming side to him, a protective side, and she liked it.
The sound of Tangela’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You’re stalling. That must mean he’s superfine! Is he light-skinned with good hair?”
“No.”
“Is he buff?”
“You know it.”
“Does he drive a Hummer truck?”
Sage joked, “The closest Marshall’s ever been to a Hummer truck is peering at one through the showcase window.”
“He doesn’t sound dreamy,” Tangela confessed, after a lengthy pause.
“He’s supertall and he has the most gorgeous smile, but he doesn’t look like Antwan or anything. Honestly, he’s the last guy you’d expect to see me with.”
“And you’re attracted to him?”
“I know, it’s crazy, but there’s something about him that turns me on. Every time I see him, I break out.” Sage giggled. “Tangela, it’s disgusting. Brings back memories of when I was thirteen. Not good times.”
“Girl, you’re too much! Thanks, I needed a good laugh.”
“I’m glad I could entertain you, but I only have a few more days to sign Khari and things aren’t looking good. If I blow this, there goes the executive manager position, and I’ll be stuck toting around child stars for the rest of my life.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sage. You’ll get the job done. You always do.”
“I wish I had your faith, but it’s been one problem after another. Leo will have my head if I don’t come through.”
“Remember, success doesn’t come to you, you have to go out and get it.”
“Oh, so now you’re quoting me,” Sage teased. “It’s good to know my pearls of wisdom aren’t being wasted…” Hearing the distant sound of male voices, she turned in the direction of the parking lot. Marshall and Khari were climbing out of a rusted Jeep, equipment bags on their shoulders and water bottles in their hands. What the hell?
Her Puma tracksuit, hat and gloves were stylish, but her hair was gathered in a sloppy ponytail and she didn’t have a lick of makeup. If she had known Marshall would be here, she would have dressed up. Or at the very least, put on some mascara. Jogging in low-rise jeans and leather boots would kill her ankles and raise suspicion, but at least she’d look good doing it. Now, instead of sauntering over and striking up a conversation, she had to find a way to escape unseen. Damn!
On the line, Tangela called her name, her voice loud and frantic. “Sage? Are you there? Is everything all right? Sage?”
“I gotta go.” Sage hung up the phone, slipped it into her pocket and took off back to her car like a lightning bolt.
Sage had one foot inside the rental car when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Where are you running off to?”
So much for a clean getaway, she thought, facing Marshall. She could see Khari starting to run in the distance. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I thought that was you out on the track,” he said, coming over.
“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” Sage had never been the shy sort, but the way he was looking at her made her wish she was anywhere but there. Lipstick would have brightened her face, and concealer would have minimized the hideous pimple on her chin. His eye contact was intense and admiring, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the unsightly blemish.
“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me.” His gaze tore into her, and goose bumps pricked her arms. “Everywhere I go, you just happen to be there. Coincidence? I don’t think so. There’s something else going on here.”
Sage swallowed the lump in her throat. Had she been had already? Mouth dry, hands trembling, she racked her mind for something to say in response. All she had to do was play it cool. Men couldn’t resist a charming, attractive woman. Not even occasionally uptight men like Marshall Grant. Armed with a witty comeback, she raised her chin and flashed him a sexy smile. “You’ve got it all wrong. You’re the one stalking me! Every time I turn around, there you are,” she told him, poking her index finger in his chest. “Yesterday at Champions, and this morning you just happen to show up in the middle of my workout.”
His grin was slow in coming.
“I won’t call the police this time, but don’t let it happen again.”
Marshall tossed his head back, his full-bodied laugh loud and strong. Wearing a smile, and radiating sheer masculinity, he took a step toward her. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are you running off to?” He leaned against the driver’s-side door, foiling her escape.
“Nowhere. Just back to my hotel.”
“I still can’t believe you’re from Vegas. It never occurred to me that people actually live in that city.”
Sage shrugged. “I hear that a lot. People who’ve never been to Vegas assume it’s nothing but bright lights, casinos and five-star hotels, but there’s more to the city than meets the eye. I’ve been there for ten years, and I’m there to stay!”
“Really?” His face was wrinkled with skepticism. “I can understand the lure of the Strip, but from what I hear, the city is riddled with crime, poverty and pollution.”
“Most residents don’t frequent the Strip. That’s tourist stuff. And people don’t move to Vegas to ‘have a good time.’ They move there to find jobs, cheaper housing, and better opportunities. I know a lot of entrepreneurs who failed in other cities, but their businesses are now thriving in Vegas. If you have the drive, ambition and the right personality, Vegas is a gold mine.” Sage paused, wishing he wasn’t looking at her so intently. It was hard to concentrate when Marshall was staring down at her, his lips moist, his smile penetrating. His gaze unsettled her. Made her loose mind run rampant with lustful thoughts. Thoughts she had no business having.
“A week ago, a reporter for the Indianapolis Chronicle wrote that Las Vegas is a city consumed by greed, competition, and fueled almost entirely by the sex industry. Are you telling me that’s a lie?” he asked, a suspicious look clouding his features.
“Vegas is a sexy city. What can I say?”
Her sly grin incited a chuckle from Marshall.
“As for the pollution, crime and poverty, it’s no worse than anywhere else. I’ve traveled a lot and I’ve learned to appreciate the good and the bad. Poverty is everywhere, even in wealthy countries like Norway, Switzerland and Japan. It’s just better hidden.”
“I never really looked at it that way,” he confessed.
“Most people don’t.”
“But I should know better. I was stationed in Kuwait for years, and a lot of Kuwaitis have a self-righteous attitude. Prostitution, drugs and crime happen everywhere else but in their own backyard.” He stared down at her, the expression on his face one of appreciation. “Thanks for the reality check.”
“Anytime,” she told him. “Now quit trailing me and we’ll be cool.”
They laughed together.
“What’s so funny?”
Marshall pulled his eyes away from Sage and gave Khari a smile. “Nothing. Stay out of grown folk’s business.” His tone was light, but there was no mistaking the underlying meaning. “You finished your laps already?”
“I sure am,” Khari said, dousing his face with water. His gaze slid to his father’s companion. “I remember you. You’re the World Mission lady, right?”
“That’s me.” Sage waved at Khari, suddenly envious of the relationship he had with his dad. As a teen, she’d desperately needed a mentor to help her navigate the treacherous waters of high school. But there had been no one to check her homework, or talk to about her problems, and she had secretly longed for a father’s love. She had to settle for her foster mother’s.
“Dad, we should go.” Khari approached the Jeep truck, opened the passenger door and slid inside. “Coach will bench me for tomorrow’s game if I’m late for practice.”
Marshall wasn’t ready to leave. He wanted to continue talking to Sage. “It’s times like this that I wish you had your license.”
“I could have gotten it last year, but you said I wasn’t ready,” Khari shot back, a smug smile playing on his lips. “If I could drive, you wouldn’t have to chauffeur me around and you’d have more time to do other things.”
Sage pointed at the school. “Don’t you practice here?”
“We did, until scouts and reporters started showing up. The cameras were distracting, so Coach arranged for the team to practice somewhere private.”
“Your son’s an incredible basketball player. He’s bound to attract attention.”
Khari poked his head out the window. “You’ve seen me play?”
“Who isn’t a Khari Grant fan in this town?” she replied good-naturedly. “You’ve captured the heart of the entire city!”
“I’m the man, huh?” he joked with a chuckle. “I’m going to go all the way, World Mission lady. I’m going to make it to the pros!”
Her laughter was cut short by the sharpness of Marshall’s tone.
“Basketball’s a team sport, Khari. It’s not about you. And you’re certainly not the man.” Khari started to apologize, but Marshall withered him with a look. “How do you think your teammates would feel if they heard you say that? If you want the spotlight to yourself, go play golf.”
Lowering his head, Khari sank down into the passenger seat. He tugged at his seat belt, clicked it into place and stared out the windshield.
Marshall turned back to Sage. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m sure Khari didn’t mean anything by it. He was only—”
“We have to get going,” he said, interrupting. “I guess I’ll see you around.” Face pinched in anger, he strode toward the Jeep SUV and flung open the driver’s side door. Seconds later, when the battered SUV disappeared in the thick stream of morning traffic, Sage knew her mission was in serious trouble.
Chapter 5
“I need more time.” Sage stared at her boss, who was visible on her laptop computer. She would have preferred talking to Leo on the phone, but he had insisted on having a videoconference.
“Did you hear me, Leo? I said I need more time.” Climbing Mount Everest would be easier than gauging her boss’s mood. She couldn’t read the expression on his face and if his eyes weren’t open, she’d swear he was sleeping.
“I heard you, and the answer is no.”
Her eyes strayed to the window. It was the first time she’d seen the sun since arriving almost a week ago, but Sage wasn’t fooled by its splendor. The wind raged against the hotel and icicles dangled from the balcony railing. “I was employee of the month three times last year! Trust me, Leo. I can do this.”
“Sure you can.”
“Are you forgetting that I lured Devin Skye away from In the Know Management? She had a successful run on that Nickelodeon show.”
“That’s old news. You signed her how many years ago? In the prophetic words of Janet Jackson, what have you done for me lately?”
Sage could hear snickering in the background and knew their intimate videoconference for two wasn’t so private. Nine years as a celebrity manager was ancient by Hollywood standards and although most of her clients were pubescent, law-abiding teens, Sage was ready to take her career to the next level. Starting now. Annoyed that she didn’t have her boss’s full attention, she said, “If you’re too busy to talk, we can do this another time. I just hope someone else doesn’t sign Khari while we’re sitting back twiddling our thumbs.”
The mention of Khari’s name brought Leo’s gaze into focus.
“I can persuade Marshall to sign with us. I just need another week. Two max.”
“I knew you couldn’t do it.” Leo shook his head, the disappointment in his eyes piercing her soul. “I applaud your efforts, Sage. I really do, but your time is up.”
His words mocked her, momentarily weakening her resolve, but she rebounded before frustration set in. “Marshall’s warming up to me. I’ve made a lot of progress in the last six days. In fact, he…” Sage racked her brain for something, anything that would impress her boss. “He’s taking me out for dinner tonight.”
“It’s time for you to step aside and let me take the reins. I’m going to square his debts, buy him a Porsche and see to it that he never has to work again. That’ll bring him around.”
She shook her head. “Money isn’t the right angle, Leo. Marshall Grant can’t be bought.”
“Everyone has a price, Sage. Everyone.”
There was an exception to every rule and Marshall Grant was it. Integrity was at the heart of who he was and he’d rather do without than break the rules. “His place is real nice. It’s small, but cozy and he has all new furniture.”
“You’ve been inside their house?”
Detecting awe in her boss’s voice, she donned an innocent, wide-eyed look. “Oh, I was there for hours,” she lied, hoping he believed the tale she was spinning. “If Marshall didn’t have to go to work. I would have closed the deal right then and there.” It was an outrageous lie, but it was the only thing she could think of.
“That’s the closest anyone’s ever got to the family.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sage said. “Marshall’s very protective of his son.”
“Khari was there?”
“Yeah. Great kid, and smart too. With his grades and basketball skills, he can get a full scholarship to any school of his choosing.”
“Good work. I can’t believe you pulled that off.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me an extension?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
“No.” His voice was firm, like a steel door slamming shut in her face. “I need you back here pronto. Hailey Hope’s up for a Teen Choice Award and I need you to accompany her to the show. It’s in Orlando, and the Hope clan has never been to O-Town. Throw out the red carpet. Take them to see the dolphins. You know the drill.”
Her eyes tapered. “I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are. I’m still your boss and that’s an order.”
“But I’m making progress with Marshall. You said so yourself!”
“You were lucky.”
“Luck is the time when preparation and opportunity meet,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Don’t give up on me, Leo. I can make this happen.”
“Pack up and come home.” His tone was brisk, reminding her that he was the one in charge. “I’m tied up here right now, I should be out that way soon. Tell Marshall to expect me when you say goodbye.”
Her mind raced, spinning futilely with no end in sight. “I’m taking my holidays,” she announced. “I’ll be back in three weeks.”
“That’s not how things are done around here, Sage. You have to apply for time off like everyone else and wait for my approval.”
“Really?” she challenged, eyes blazing. “I don’t remember Jamaar or Whitney putting in notice when they went to the Bermuda Jazz Festival.”
“They’re model employees,” he explained, adjusting his silk tie. “They’ve been with me for years. I don’t mind making an exception for dedicated staff.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because I’ve been with the agency longer, and if you check my file you’ll see that I’ve signed more clients.”
Leo’s mouth remained a taut scowl, but she could hear whispering in the background.
Undeterred, Sage continued. “I’m entitled to four weeks paid vacation and I’m taking it effective Monday.”
“What is she up to?” asked a voice that didn’t belong to her boss.
“Know this,” Leo spat out between clenched teeth, “if you’re not back here by March first I’ll be mailing out your severance pay.”
Not bothering to reply to his threat, she closed her laptop. Dropping her head on the desk, she closed her eyes and soaked up the quiet sounds of the morning. Sage felt like a ship without a compass floating aimlessly at sea. She thought she’d made progress with Marshall, but Leo had made her feel inadequate. The problem was she hadn’t been aggressive enough. Standing, she packed up her laptop, tucked it under her arm and dashed into the bedroom. Sometimes to win you had to break the rules and that’s exactly what she intended to do. Game on!
Two hours later, Sage stepped onto the Westchester Academy football field. Her eyes watered, her teeth chattered and her body shivered against the punishing arctic wind. Rubbing her hands together, she hustled across the field, searching the bleachers for Marshall.
Spotting him, she wet her lips and ignored the sharp tingling sensation between her legs. Clad in a toque, a button-down jacket and jeans, Marshall towered head and shoulders above the spectators standing beside him. What was with this guy and plaid? she wondered, shaking her head in distaste. Didn’t he realize that it had never, ever been in style? Marshall had wide shoulders, a powerful chest and was a staggering six feet six inches tall, but he wore the ugliest clothes. He was an attractive guy; he just didn’t know how to dress. A trip to Nordstrom would cure him of his comfort-over-style mindset and not a moment too soon. Khari was going to be a superstar athlete and the quicker Marshall got with the program the better. Goodbye Eddie Bauer stores, hello Hermès boutiques!
Anxious to talk to the single father, she climbed the steps and squeezed herself onto the crowded bench, almost knocking over a kid in the process. By the time Marshall noticed her she was standing beside him. “Hey, Marshall. What’s up?”
“Sage? What are you doing here?” he asked, his face lined with confusion.
His words slammed into her chest. There was no mistaking the edge in his voice. He was not happy to see her. Fussing with her scarf, she glanced out onto the football field. “I—I, um, it’s a funny thing…” she stammered, unsure of what to say.
“I invited her,” Khari said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his open mouth.
Swiveling around, Sage offered the teen a gracious smile. Making a mental note to thank him privately later, she turned back to Marshall. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you. I don’t know anyone else here and I’d feel silly sitting alone.”
His smile returned. “Are you here to solicit business for World Mission?”
“No, not today, but I’m always on the lookout for generous donors. Do you have any rich friends in the parent association that you’d like to introduce me to?”
Marshall curved an arm around her waist and stared deep into her eyes. “No, Ms. Collins. I think I’ll keep you all to myself.”
The roar of the crowd drowned out Sage’s girlish laughter.
During the game, they talked about their respective jobs and their mutual love of sports. And when Marshall went down to the canteen to buy her a cup of hot chocolate, Sage couldn’t help thinking he was unlike anyone she’d ever met. Though the at-risk-community youth director wasn’t her usual type, she found herself attracted to him. His quiet, calm demeanor was a great compliment to her assertive personality. There was an air of humility about him, but he didn’t put up with any crap, either. He struck a fine balance of being cool and firm, and if he wasn’t from small-town Indiana, she’d be all over him.
“You like my dad, huh?”
Sage looked over at Khari. The teen was watching her, an amused expression on his slim face. “Your father’s a very nice man.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“He’s all right, I guess.”
Khari grinned. “Yeah, okay. You definitely like him.”
“No, I don’t.” Despite her better judgment, she asked the questions circling her mind. “Is he dating anyone right now?”
“No, never, but since I—” he corrected himself. “I mean, since the team started playing better, more women have been pushing up on Dad.”
Shame wedged in her throat, preventing her from speaking.
“I was the one interviewed on ESPN, but my pop’s the one getting crazy play!” Khari confessed with a chuckle.
“You don’t say?” Now Sage understood why Khari was attracting nation-wide attention. Every sports agent in the country had seen him on TV and had descended on the city like a pack of vultures. “You’ve become a celebrity overnight and now everyone feels like they know you, huh?”
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “I just hope no one’s trying to play my dad.”
Sage gulped. “Me too, Khari. Me too.”
Sage bit into her Meat Lover’s pizza, her gaze fixed on Marshall and the woman in the tight baby-blue sweater. Gulping down a mouthful of Cherry Coke, she wondered if everything Khari told her about his dad was true. Marshall might not be dating anyone, but he sure liked to flirt.
“More soda?” The sound of the waiter’s voice drew her attention.
Nodding, she raised her glass. “Thanks.”
After Westchester Academy won in double overtime, the football team and their fans had crammed into Dominos to celebrate the hard-fought win. But with teachers, parents and students all talking at once, it was hard for Sage to spend more than a minute with Marshall.
Taking another bite of pizza, she took notes on her competition. The blonde had delicate features and long flowing hair that kissed her shoulders. There was no denying her beauty, and when Marshall refilled her water glass, Sage felt a stab of envy.
Disappointed that a man as intuitive as Marshall Grant could fall for such a plastic-looking woman, she sighed inwardly. Sitting back in her chair, she allowed her gaze to wander. Sage was surrounded by people, amid laughter, smiles and jokes, but she felt oddly alone.
“Want me to go over there and tell my dad you want to talk to him?”
Sage didn’t bother to look at Khari. “No. I already told you, I don’t like him that way.”
“Then why are you eyeballing him so hard?”
Stuffing a meatball into her mouth, she avoided the teen’s intense gaze. He was an engaging kid, but his constant queries were more irritating than nails on a chalkboard.
“You’re feeling my dad. I can tell.”
Sage choked on her Italian sausage. Rubbing the ache in her chest, she shot a look at Khari, who was slumped back in his seat, chuckling. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Admit you like pops and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Your dad’s too serious for me,” she argued, cleaning her hands on a napkin. “I bet he color codes his socks, irons his boxer shorts and listens to Mozart.”
“That’s cold, Sage! Pops isn’t that bad.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
His smile was answer enough, but he said, “See, you guys just met and you already know him so well! I’m telling you, Sage, y’all were meant to be together.”
“Drop it, Khari.”
“I’m not a kid. I see the way you guys look at each other. I know what’s up.”
Sage bit back a smile. She’d caught Marshall staring at her a few times, but thought nothing of it. Besides, if he was interested in her, why had he spent all night flirting with Malibu Barbie? “Why are you sitting here with me?” she asked, turning the tables on him. “You should be eating with your friends.”
“I invited you, remember? I can’t leave you alone. You’re my personal guest.” Khari folded his pizza in half and took a bite. “Besides, it’s fun giving you a hard time.”
“I can see that.” Sage sipped her drink, the cold, sweet liquid alleviating the sudden tightness in her throat. Anxious to change the subject, she maneuvered the conversation away from Marshall and asked Khari about school. “What are your plans after graduation?”
His face brightened. “I’m going pro.”
“But your dad wants you to study medicine.”
“That’s his dream, not mine. I’m entering the NBA draft and nothing’s going to stop me.”
Sage was surprised, but kept her tone even. “Does your father know?”
“I’ll be eighteen soon. I don’t need his approval.” Squaring his shoulders, he thumped a hand to his chest. “I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”
“Khari, it’s not that simple,” she told him. “You’re going to need a manager, an agent, a publicist and a damn good lawyer to make it happen.”
“I am?”
Sage nodded. “And the sooner you find representation the better. The draft is still months away, but your first order of business will be to set up a meeting with the NBA’s Board of Directors. The committee will determine whether or not you can handle the pressure of playing in the league. If they think you can cut it, they’ll give you the go-ahead and you can write an official letter declaring your eligibility.”
“Really?” Eyes wide, Khari scratched the top of his head. “I—I thought I just entered the draft and waited for the offers to roll in.”
“The NBA is the most lucrative sports organization in the world,” she explained. “Commissioner Stern isn’t going to let money-hungry, high school players destroy the league, no matter how high they can jump.”
“Shoot! What am I going to do now?”
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