by Pamela Yaye
“My friends and I are going to Cancun for a week. Kind of like a guys-only trip.” He added, “And this time there’ll be no nosy chaperones spoiling our fun.”
“Khari, I wouldn’t make plans to go anywhere in June. If you decide to enter the draft, you’ll be busy for weeks leading up to the big night. It’s a whirlwind of interviews, meetings, team tryouts and—”
“But I’ll only be gone for a week,” he protested.
“I know, but in the world of sports every day counts.” Feeling guilty for ruining his mood, she smiled. “What else is on your mind?”
“Nothing. You probably wouldn’t understand. Nobody does.”
“Try me.”
“I want to play in the NBA, but I don’t want to miss out on all the cool things my friends will be doing.” He paused, a somber expression on his face. “Destiny’s going to UCLA and Oakley and Tevin both got full scholarships to California State University.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“I don’t know. I wish I’d applied to some universities, just to see if I would have been accepted.”
Sage frowned. Stringent, concise and methodical, it was hard to believe Marshall hadn’t sat down with Khari and handpicked the schools. Before she could ask the question running through her mind, he said, “Dad helped me fill out the application forms, but Coach is stalling on his recommendations.”
“What?” Her voice carried around the room, drawing the attention of everyone in the lounge. “Why?”
Khari shrugged. “He said I was born to play ball, and that a university degree wasn’t going to do anything for me. He said I should go right into the draft.”
An overlay of calm concealed her rage. Coach Conway was poisoning Khari’s mind. “Khari, have you changed your mind about going to Harvard?”
“I don’t want to study medicine.”
“What else do you like doing besides playing basketball?” she asked, smiling over at him, noting how much he resembled his father.
“Lots of things. Playing baseball, football and—”
“I mean besides sports. If you couldn’t play ball, what would you do?”
“You’ll laugh if I tell you.”
“I won’t. I swear on my Jimmy Choos.”
Khari laughed and the tension on his face vanished.
“I’m not going to laugh at anything you say. You have my word.” She touched his leg, offering reassurance and support. “We’re friends, remember? And friends don’t make fun of each other.”
After a brief pause, he said, “I think it would be kind of cool to be a music producer. You know, like Timberland and Diddy.”
“There’s nothing funny about that. All you need is an ear for music, a strong work ethic and a desire to learn. I know a lot about the entertainment industry, Khari, and a four-year business degree could really take you places.”
“That’s what Oakley said.”
Nodding, she poked him in the shoulder. “Smart kid. You should listen to him.”
“I still want to play in the NBA though.”
“I know.” Sage didn’t want to influence Khari’s decision, but she had to tell him the truth. “You can always turn pro after you graduate. Then you’d have the best of both worlds. A university degree and a professional basketball career.”
“But Coach said—”
“Never mind what he said. You need to do what’s right for you and only you.”
“I hear you.” Khari covered his head with his hands. “This is crazy. I’ve never been so confused.”
“No one said you had to decide today.”
“I should’ve sent off those applications, but now it’s too late to—”
“No, it’s not. It’s only February.”
His eyes shone like two coins. “Do you think I still have a chance?”
“For sure. Not only are you an amazing basketball player, you have a pristine academic record and you’re an A student. You could get a full scholarship to any school of your choosing.”
“You really think so?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “I was doing some checking online, but UCLA doesn’t accept late applications.”
“Come by my suite in the morning and we’ll get down to work. Maybe we can do it online.”
“Thanks, Sage! You’re the best.” Khari jumped to his feet. “I’m going to tell Oakley. We could end up playing ball at the same school!” His smile brightened the entire room. “We could live in the dorms. Or get an apartment off campus. Wait until Oakley hears this!”
Sage laughed. She watched Khari sprint through the door and disappear outside.
Chapter 13
Saturday was spent ice-skating, snowboarding and tobogganing. Bent on redeeming herself, Sage signed up for ski lessons and practiced all afternoon out on the slopes. She still wasn’t as graceful or as majestic as the other skiers, but she didn’t fall as much.
By six o’clock that evening, Sage was waiting at the door of her suite, dressed and ready to go. When Marshall didn’t arrive at six-thirty, she phoned his room. No answer. She thought of calling his cell, but didn’t want to seem anxious. She was, but when it came to the opposite sex, it was always wise to play it cool. Her foster mom had always told her to act like a lady, but think like a man. It was the only useful piece of advice Ms. Claxton had given her and Sage credited the adage for protecting her from heartbreak.
Sage stood and walked over to the balcony. Streaks of sunlight flittered into the room through the blinds. The sky was a flattering turquoise-blue and the mountains were as high as the heavens.
A smile danced across her face as she thought about Marshall. He’d showed up at her room last night with club sandwiches and fries, a pile of DVDs and a pack of brownies for dessert. Marshall looked crestfallen when she told him she was going to the all-night slumber party on the first floor. Sage was sorry to see him go, but being alone with Marshall in her hotel suite was a temptation she just couldn’t handle. If she wanted to keep her head, she had to stay far, far away from Marshall.
Bob Marley’s voice broke into her reprise. Sage unzipped her purse and retrieved her cell phone. She didn’t have to check the number to know it was Tangela. “Hey, girl, what’s good?”
“Nothing. I’m just calling to check up on you. How’s it going?”
“I love it up here! The scenery, the mountains, even skiing. Isn’t that crazy? Five years ago you had to teach me to walk in high heels and now I’m on skis!”
“But you hate cold weather,” Tangela pointed out. “And you bitch and moan whenever it’s less than fifty degrees here!”
“Like I said, crazy.”
Tangela laughed. “Your renewed love of the great outdoors doesn’t have anything to do with Marshall Grant, does it?”
“Maybe a little.”
“You slept with him, didn’t you!”
“No.” Sage started to protest, but stopped herself from saying anything that Tangela could use against her later. “We haven’t slept together.”
“But you want to.”
“It’s not going to happen,” she insisted, hoping to convince herself in the process. Glancing at the clock, she decided to go on without Marshall. On her way to the reception hall, she’d stop by the front desk and leave a message for him. “How are things going with Warrick? Did he apologize for not coming home the other night?”
As she listened to Tangela’s latest tale of woe, she picked up her clutch purse and sailed through the front door. Remembering that she wanted to bring her digital camera, she spun on her heels and hurried back into the bedroom. There was no doubt in her mind Khari would be named Athlete of the Year, and she wanted to capture every moment.
“Enough about my problems. Tell me more about Marshall.”
Images of their tryst on the gondola surfaced. “Girl, you won’t believe what happened yesterday,” she began, unzipping her bag. She was in the middle of telling Tangela about their kiss, when she heard Marshall’s voice beyond the bedroo
m door.
“Sage?”
“In here,” she replied, butterflies pelting her stomach. Not wanting Marshall to think she was a slob, she snatched up her underwear from off the floor and stuffed them under the pillow. “I’ll be right—”
Marshall strode through the open door. Bug-eyed, her cell phone slipped out of her hand and fell to the carpet. Was this the same man who lived in plaid?
His white dress shirt was ironed to perfection and his striped black-and-gray sweater vest made him seem even taller. It wasn’t an Armani suit, but it didn’t matter. He was a certified hunk. Handsome without even trying. His chain glimmered and his shoes were so shiny, she could see her reflection. Marshall Grant sure knew how to clean up! And she thought he didn’t know how to dress. He’d done it again. Surprised her. Yesterday he’d stolen her away from Owen and now he strolled into her hotel room looking every bit her type.
Moved by the strength of his cologne and his buoyant smile, she cancelled her search for the digital camera. His smile lured her away from the closet and images of their kiss flashed in her mind. She preferred a clean-shaven face, but his newly acquired goatee was growing on her. Hands fixed to her hips, she arched her eyebrows skeptically, affecting a look of disbelief. “You’re an imposter. What have you done with Marshall?”
Chuckling, he stared down at the cell phone lying helplessly between them. “Looks like you lost something.” Swiping it off the floor, he spoke into the receiver. “Hello?” After a brief pause, he said, “Can she call you right back? She’s, ah, tied up at the moment.” Marshall ended the call, tossed the cell phone on the bed and surprised his date with a kiss. A knee-knocking embrace that made her feel like she was floating high up in the sky. A nervous mess, Sage fought the urge to break free, scamper into the bathroom and lock the door.
She wasn’t going to let Marshall have his way with her again. All these sexy, heated exchanges and wild, frenzied kisses had to stop. Resisting him was harder than she had imagined. Rebelling against his touch, she stepped back. He pursued. Like a ravenous beast, he stalked her, claiming her with his lips and seducing her with his hands. His mouth paid homage to her lips, sucking, nibbling, caressing. He hit the sweet spot on her neck and she bit back a moan. Savoring her taste, he buried his hands in her free-falling hair. Sage was the one battling her conscience, but Marshall was the one who finally broke off the kiss. “You’re going to knock ’em dead tonight.”
Throwing her hands out at her sides, and doing a slow, sexy turn, she modeled her outfit. “Like the back?” she asked, staring at him coyly over her shoulder.
“Do I ever.” His low, husky voice underlined his need. “If Khari wasn’t up for an award tonight, I’d—”
“What? Ditch the party and stay here with me?” she finished, batting her thick, extralong eyelashes. “You and I both know that would be a mistake.”
“Never figured you were the kind of girl to follow the rules.” His hands curled around her waist. Marshall traced a finger down her arm. Loaded with shine and subtle waves, her hair coursed over her bare shoulders, skimming her elbows. And tonight, he wanted her all to himself. “Don’t make any plans for later. We’ll have drinks after the party wraps up. No excuses this time.”
“I like a man who knows how to take charge.”
“You do, huh?” Licking his lips, his gaze rested on the ruffles along the plunging V-neck blouse. He copped an eyeful of her cleavage, wishing he could nestle his head there for the rest of the night. Her skirt clung to her hips and the dangerously high slit flaunted the silky slope of her legs. The red-painted toes that poked out of her black sandals were bathed in an array of rhinestones. Blown away by the simplicity of her look and her staggering beauty, he took her hand and led her out of the bedroom. “We better get out of here before we miss dinner!”
Cone-shaped lights, and round tables showered with silverware, candles and appetizer trays pilled high with finger foods filled the second-floor banquet hall. Guests had been greeted by uniformed servers, offered a glass of sparkling club soda and accompanied to their seats. After a brief welcome from the vice principal and a toast to the graduating class, people made their way to their tables.
“Dessert, Ms.?”
Sage glanced up from her coffee cup. Lowering it, she inspected the plates on the dainty silver tray. Amaretto cream cake, pecan pie and cherry crisp were on the menu and she could already taste the vanilla icing in her mouth. After a grueling hike, wiping out repeatedly on the slopes and breaking two fingernails, she deserved a treat. It didn’t matter that she’d had two plates of food. What was the point of exercising if you couldn’t indulge every now and then?
“I’ll have the double-decker chocolate fudge cake,” she told the waiter, handing him her empty dinner plate. “And if it’s not too much trouble, can I have another glass of wine and a couple more of those lemon pie tarts?”
Nodding, he put down the dessert and marched off.
“I hate you.”
Conversation ceased around the table. Staring wordlessly at Geraldine Buford, a mother of four with Goddess braids, Sage pointed a finger at her chest. “Me?”
“Yes, you! I can’t stand women like you.”
Sage laughed to cover her embarrassment. “Why? What did I do?”
“You can eat whatever you want without fear of gaining weight.” The humor in her voice shone through. “If I so much as look at a piece of chocolate, I gain ten pounds!”
Laughter rang out. Sage turned to Geraldine’s husband, a short, tubby, balding man in his fifties. “You better keep a close eye on your wife because she was wooing them out on the slopes today. I caught a male instructor hitting on her!”
More chuckles. Geraldine may have been born in the sixties, but she had the face, the body and the vigor of a thirty-year-old. The motivational speaker had been the one to organize the senior girls’ slumber party, and when the teens conked out at midnight, she’d ordered dessert and cocktails for the chaperones. Four apple martinis and a New York cheesecake later, and the women were dishing the dirt about the men in their lives.
“I don’t have to ask if you’re having a good time,” Marshall said, touching the back of her neck. “You’ve charmed everyone, even Principal Rupert, and that old man never smiles!”
“I’m not the only one making an impression. I didn’t know you used to be a chef,” she said, wishing he didn’t look so damn sexy. They had turned heads when they’d entered the reception hall and Sage had caught the jealous stares of the female guests. There was nothing sexier than a handsome, extratall brother, and tonight Marshall Grant was every woman’s dream. “Why didn’t you tell me you know how to cook? You know I love to eat!”
“I’ve had every job under the sun.” Shaking his head wistfully at memories of the past, he said, “Before I joined the marines, I did everything and anything to make ends meet. I washed windows, walked dogs, delivered newspapers, I even drove a school bus. You name it, I did it.”
“A jack of all trades, huh?”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“I hear you,” she agreed, nodding her head. “I had dozens of crappy, low-paying jobs before I got hired on at World Mission. Now, I finally have a satisfying, rewarding career, but I’ll never forget what a struggle it was back in the day.”
Sage tasted her dessert. The cake was light and fluffy and lathered in icing. “Mmm. This is so good, I’ll probably be dreaming about it tonight.”
Marshall broke into a smile. “I should cook for you. Then maybe you’ll stop dreaming about food and start thinking about me.”
If only you knew, she thought, her eyes tracing the outline of his mouth. The soft, juicy mouth that left her breathless and yearning for more every time they kissed.
“What do you want me to make?” His smile teased her, hinting at things to come. Her heart leaped in her chest when he trailed a finger down her shoulder. “I hate to toot my own horn, but I can throw down in the kitchen.”
Marshall momentarily lost his concentration when she licked her spoon. Thoughts of making love to Sage plagued his mind, but he forced them away. Later, when the time was right and the mood was set, he’d love her until she begged him to stop. “My jambalaya. Khari says it’s so good it’ll make you slap your momma!”
They laughed together.
“But it’s not about me, it’s about you.”
She signified her approval with a smile. Had she ever met a man this caring, this selfless, this anxious to please her? “It’s been ages since I had Moroccan food. I’d kill for some chicken Tagine and spicy pilaf. Think you can manage that?”
“A five-course meal and wine coming right up!”
High on food, laughter and wine, Sage looped an arm around his. The cut of his shoulders, and the sheer strength of his upper body sent her mind into an erotic tailspin. Flirting with him weakened her resolve and intensified her desire, but she just couldn’t help herself. With Marshall everything was so easy, so natural, so right. And just because she’d made up her mind not to sleep with him, didn’t mean she was going to kill all her fun. “You’re not going to order in and pass it off as your own, are you?”
“I don’t need to, girl. I’m the black Wolfgang Puck!” Chuckling, he bent down and kissed her cheek. “It’s all set. I’ll cook a feast for you on Tuesday night.”
Sage couldn’t think of anything she’d like more, but having dinner with Marshall was a recipe for disaster. Consumed with second thoughts, she racked her brain for an excuse to get her out of the date. A last-minute appointment. An overlooked meeting. Something, anything to soften the glow of her rejection. What was wrong with her? One minute she was agreeing to dinner and the next she was pushing him away. When had she become an insecure, wishy-washy tease? “I don’t know,” she began. “I work really late on weekdays.”
Marshall knocked back his wine in two swallows. “I’m flexible. What time do you finish up at the office?”
