Stroke of Love

by Melissa Foster

  “That’s okay. Well, I’m not trying to pry…or maybe I am. I’ve known Kate a few years now, and I know how she comes across sort of hot and cold. She’s skeptical, but look at what she deals with day in and day out. She’s my friend, and I care about her. Just give her time.”

  Sage thought of how right she’d felt in his arms. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  The first home they came to was built from wide-planked boards, with the same thatched roof as the cabins where they were staying. There were two sections to the home. Sage slowed to take in the smoke rising from the back section of the hut.

  “Why two sections?” He craned his neck to peer inside. Two women stood before a cooking area, stirring the contents of two large metal pots, smoke billowing around them. One of the women lifted a woven fan and fanned the smoke away. The other said something, causing them both to laugh.

  “One’s a cooking house. The other is a sleeping area.”

  “Do they have running water? Electricity?”

  Luce shook her head. “Not yet. They get their water from the river. They’re really an amazing group of people. If you think people in the States work hard, then you’re in for an eye-opening realization. The families here rise before dawn. The children gather wood for the fires and go down to the river to fetch water for cooking. Then the women prepare breakfast. The men leave for the fields before the sun rises. Sometimes the older boys go with their fathers, if their help is needed. The men return right before sunset for dinner with the family. Then they bathe in the river at night.”

  “But we have water just up the road.” Sage was beginning to feel like fate had brought him to Punta Palacia for a much bigger reason than meeting Kate. His mind was wrapping itself around an idea that at the moment seemed a little far-fetched, but as Luce continued, the pieces began to fall together.

  “You’re right. Wells are as close as the town and the cabins, but they’d need a separate well here because they’re too far to use the same one. That’s one of the issues Kate’s been working on, getting a well for the village. But funding for such a small community is hard to come by.” She nodded at two women in the cooking house, seemingly oblivious to the sweltering heat. “I could never do what they do.”

  The basic necessities that he took for granted began to take on a whole new perspective. Sage glanced at the women in the cooking house and listened to them talking. Their Creole accents were so thick that he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then he thought about Penelope and Cassidy bitching about their accommodations—which had running water and electricity—and it struck him how spoiled they were and how oblivious they were to the things in life that really mattered. People. Love. Spending time together.

  “We have so much, and at the same time, we have so little.” His mind traveled down a fast and furious path. With Sage’s connections, and the connections of his family, he was sure he’d be able to pull together enough resources for wells for the village. But he couldn’t fund every community, and surely there were thousands in need of the same resources. Sage realized that his idea of creating artwork that reflected the area to sell in the States toward donations for Punta Palacia was small potatoes. He needed to think globally. The idea seeded on their way back to the compound, and by the time the cabins came into sight, the idea had bloomed to a full-blown concept.

  Sage was relieved that the press had already left when they reached the compound and he headed into the mess hall for more water with Luce.

  “Hey, Sage,” Clayton called from the path.

  “Go on in. I’ll be right behind you,” Sage said to Luce. What the hell do you want?

  Clayton sidled up to him and put his arm around Sage. Sage cringed.

  “Dude, thanks for last night.”

  “Excuse me?” What the hell?

  “Dude, you primed Penelope. She was livid with you, so of course she went to Cassidy’s place to commiserate, and…well…let’s just say three’s definitely not a crowd.”

  Sage’s hands fisted. He shrugged out from under Clayton’s arm and stomped off toward the building. Clayton, apparently as thick-headed as he was horny, caught up to him again.

  “So, if you wanna do the same with that hot little volunteer, Kate, I’ll gladly take your throwbacks.”

  The heat of the afternoon and his annoyance at Clayton, Penelope, and the press exploded in a rush of adrenaline. In the next breath, Sage had Clayton by the collar. He lifted him off the ground and slammed his back against a tree, seething between clenched teeth. “If I ever hear you mention her name again in that way, I will tear you apart.”

  “Dude.” The veins in Clayton’s neck bulged. He held his arms up in surrender, holding Sage’s stare.

  Every muscle tense, every nerve tight and hot, Sage lowered his voice and pressed his face an inch away from Clayton’s. “Shut up. Not one word, you hear me? Stay the fuck away from me, and stay the fuck away from Kate, or I promise you this: I will ensure that not only can you never touch another woman, but you’ll be lucky if you can walk. Got it?”

  Clayton swallowed hard. “G-got it. Okay. Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was serious.”

  Sage dropped him to his feet, and Clayton stumbled away, cursing under his breath. Sage spun around, blinded by rage. His chest swelled with each heavy breath, his veins protruded from his arms—and his eyes caught on Kate and Luce standing at the entrance to the mess hall, looking at him as though he’d lost his mind.

  Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

  Chapter Ten

  “SAGE!” KATE’S EYES locked on him. His shoulders were pulled back, every muscle ripe with anger. His jaw was set tough and tight, his eyes dark and angry. She took a step in his direction and Luce held her back.

  “You might want to give him a sec.”

  Give him a sec? What the hell was going on? He looked like he was going to kill Clayton. She pulled her arm free, took a last look at Luce, then ran to Sage as he stalked off.

  “Sage, what happened?”

  He shot a look at her that clearly said, Back off, and stomped through the path toward the cabins.

  She pushed the foliage out of her way and kept after him. “Sage, if it’s something I should know about, please, tell me.”

  He stopped walking. Kate held her breath, desperate for him to turn around. She had to talk to him, to see his eyes. To know what could have possibly caused the even-tempered Mr. Chill to react so violently.

  He finally turned to face her. His massive arms were tense, ready to finish the fight. He closed the gap between them and stared down at her, his nostrils flaring. Kate held her breath. Heat and anger coalesced in his eyes and rolled off his body. You’re a way-too-sexy badass. She watched his dark eyes narrow, his lips part, and in the next moment she was in his arms, his lips were on hers, and his tongue—oh, that glorious, talented tongue—was stroking away her brain cells again. It was a rough kiss, driven by passion or anger. She didn’t know—or care—which. Every nerve in her body was on fire, and when he put his enormous hands beneath her arms and lifted her up to his height, she didn’t need a single brain cell to wrap her legs around his waist and soak up his heat.

  One strong arm slid beneath her, holding her against him. His other hand moved up her back and cupped the base of her head. And oh, the sensations that sent between her legs, where his abs pressed against her most sensitive parts…He pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss. His glorious cheeks scratched against hers. She didn’t care about whisker burn. Loved it, in fact. When he finally drew back, they were both breathless, panting, wanting more. So much more.

  “I really fucking like you.”

  It was an accusation, with his piercing stare and his angry tone, but it was more. It was a statement of fact and an accusation. He really did fucking like her, and holy hell, what did that mean? How the hell was she supposed to respond to that?

  Honestly.

  “I really fucking like you, too.” Why am I whispering?
r />   He kissed her again, rough at first, then softer, more meaningful, more lovingly.

  “What the hell are we gonna do?” His voice still held a thread of anger.

  He searched her eyes, and the answer was too obvious. Wasn’t it? What did all adults do when they wanted each other? Maybe the anger had stolen his brain cells.

  “Um.” She panted. “Go to my cabin?” Now. This second.

  He rested his forehead against her. “I don’t want you anywhere near that asshole. I know it’s your job, and I have no business telling you what to do or with whom, but the thought of you and him kills me.”

  He was still holding her, and she could barely comprehend what he was saying. His body was too close, too hard. Damn hard.

  “Me and Clayton?” was all she could manage.

  His nostrils flared, as if she’d said, Oh yeah. Me and Clayton—we’re gonna fuck like bunnies.

  “I can’t tell you what to do,” he said again.

  Shit. His brain isn’t working. “No, no. Not me and Clayton. I meant—”

  He set her down, and she missed the feel of him against her. She hooked her finger in the waist of his jeans and settled her other hand on his hip.

  “I know what you meant.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked away for a beat, then trained his eyes on hers again. “I don’t have any claim on you, so you can do what you want. But I want you to know that I really like you. Way more than I probably should.”

  His eyes raked over her body, and Kate felt it as if he’d caressed every inch of her with his hands. She shuddered, opened her mouth to speak, and he settled his finger over her lips.

  “Just hear me out.” He backed her up against the thick, prickly bark of a tree, giant leaves engulfing them both.

  Kate swallowed hard against the thrum of excitement his touch sent through her.

  “Kate. I’m trying to do the right thing by giving you time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to lay you down and take you right here. I just want you to know who I am and how I really feel about you.”

  Kate was stuck on the idea of him taking her right there. In the path. In the heat of the afternoon. Yes. God, yes.

  “I…um.” Gulp.

  “I’m not the person you think I am, but I’m not a fucking saint, either.” His breath still came hard and fast, but his eyes softened.

  “I…know.”

  “No. You don’t, but you will.”

  Jesus, my heart is beating so loud you have to hear it. “Okay.” Okay? What the hell does that even mean? “I don’t want a saint.” Better.

  His eyes darkened, and when he lowered his face toward hers, she closed her eyes, ready for another incredible kiss.

  “Good,” he whispered in her ear; then he settled his mouth over her neck and pressed soft strokes with his tongue as he sucked just strong enough to harden her nipples…and make her damp down below.

  She moaned, or mewed. She had no idea which. Whatever she did, it drew him back with intense pleasure in his eyes.

  “I’m not playing, Kate,” he said in a serious tone.

  “Me neither,” she managed. She pressed her hips to his. Nope. Not playing. Though he could be. The man was as hard as a baseball bat.

  He ran his thumb along her jaw and softly kissed her lips. “I gotta work off this anger and apologize to Penelope.”

  “What? Penelope? Why?” Zap! Just like that, her brain kicked into high gear.

  He looked away. “I brushed her off last night, and she slept with Clayton.” He met her gaze again. “And Cassidy.”

  “But…Wow. Wait. How is that your fault?”

  “Because women have all kinds of crazy shit in their hea—” He must have caught her glare, because he corrected himself immediately. “Because the last thing she needs is to feel less about herself. She’s weak, insecure. I don’t want to feed into that.” He cupped her cheek. “Don’t worry. I only have eyes for you, but I won’t sleep well until I tell her I didn’t turn her down because she wasn’t attractive. She’s not, to me. I mean she’s not my type, but…Oh hell, Kate. I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m gonna tell her it was because I really like you. Period. Okay?”

  She nodded, caught between feeling like he was the sweetest man on earth and the most naive.

  “Can I see you later?” he asked.

  She nodded again, unable to speak. If she opened her mouth again, she’d likely tell him what she thought. Penelope made her own choice. She is an adult, and nothing you say will change what she did. Shit, she’d probably do it again in a heartbeat. But that wasn’t what she wanted to say to him.

  “You’re a good man, Sage. Too good,” she admitted. Her feelings for him felt like tiny beads of hope sending chills right through her.

  “Not too good. Trust me on that.” He winked and it set fire to her belly.

  Oh my. She watched her alpha badass walk away and swore she saw a little piece of her heart in his back pocket.

  Chapter Eleven

  AFTER A HUNDRED push-ups and a hundred sit-ups, Sage stepped beneath the pathetic stream of water that passed for a shower and finally let out the frustrated breath that had been festering within him. He set his palms against the shower wall and let the water bead the tension from his shoulders. When that didn’t work, he let his mind do it for him. Goddamn Clayton. He’s slime, the lowest of the low. Pathetic. Feeling mildly better, he soaped himself clean, his thoughts drifting to Kate and to the feel of her in his arms, her legs wrapped around him. Just the thought was enough to arouse him. He debated his situation, eyed the impotent drip of the water and his definitely not impotent body part. Well, hell. He rinsed off and tried to think of anything other than Kate. Fat chance at that.

  Twenty minutes later, with his anger under wraps and his desire for Kate simmering, he left his cabin in search of Penelope. He cursed his mother for instilling manners into his thick head. Why couldn’t he be like most men and turn his back on whatever drove Penelope into bed with Clayton and Cassidy? He knew damn well why. Ever since his sister was born, he’d been protective of her. Siena was one of New York’s top models. And still he worried about her. He’d known enough models and actresses to know that beneath the confident, beautiful exterior, there often lurked a weak, insecure individual. He hadn’t ever seen any indication of that from Siena, but he knew how hard his parents had pushed her to believe in herself. Siena was bullheaded and strong in every sense of the word, despite her willowy exterior. Sort of like Kate. Still, his mother’s words from the time he was a small boy resonated in his mind. They’d usually come on the heels of him calling Siena a stupid girl. It’s not your job to tear your sister down. It’s your job to build her up. The rest of the world does enough damage to women’s egos. Don’t be part of that effort, Sage. Swap Sage for any of his brothers’ names. It didn’t matter. His mother’s message was loud and clear, no matter who it was directed to. Respect women and help them respect themselves.

  He blew out a breath before knocking on the door of Penelope’s cabin. She opened the door holding a battery-driven fan in front of her face.

  “You change your mind?” She flashed a seductive smile and arched a brow.

  No chance in hell. He had no idea why women like Penelope turned him off so vehemently, but he felt like he was standing in front of a lioness about to pounce. Oh wait, yeah, he knew why he felt that way. Another one of his mother’s life lessons. A girl who respects herself will always respect you. Leave those who don’t for the men who have no respect for themselves either.

  “Actually, I came to apologize.”

  She opened the door and moved aside to let him by.

  Sage hesitated, then nodded and took a step inside, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. The minute he did, she closed the door, and the walls pressed in on him. She stepped closer, and he took a step backward, slamming into the rough wall.

  “Penelope, please.” He held a palm up between them. “I’m not here for…”

>   “No?” She narrowed her blue eyes, then ran them down his body, settling just below his waist, and drew them back up slowly to meet his gaze. “What, then?”

  Sage felt cheap, dirty, as if he were on display, and vowed never to do that to a woman again. He slid out around her so he was clear of the wall. “I came to apologize. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad the other night. The truth is—”

  “Bad? Is that what you think?” She turned off the fan and tossed it on the bed, then crossed her arms and jutted out her right hip. “You don’t have the power to make me feel bad.” She lifted her chin insistently.

  “Fair enough.” The hell with this. “Then I’ll be on my way.” He turned and reached for the door.

  “Besides, Clayton is more of a man than you are any day.”

  Ouch. Fuck. His neck muscles and jaw clenched. Unwilling to stoop to her level, he turned and said with as gracious of a feigned smile as he could muster, “I’m sure he is.” Then he walked out the door and headed straight for Kate’s cabin.

  Chapter Twelve

  SAGE’S PULSE KICKED up as he ascended the stairs to Kate’s cabin, a handful of freshly picked flowers in his hand. He had no idea what they were, but the reds and oranges were too vibrant to pass up. The wooden door to her room was open, the screen door closed, giving him a clear view inside—of the colorful scarves that had his mind running down a dangerously sexual path. He wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Kate or of everything that had gone on that afternoon, but he felt like a teenager about to go on his first date. Even his damn stomach was fluttering. What the hell was up with that? A seductively fresh, floral scent traveled through the screen, amping up his nervousness.

  He heard Kate humming before he saw her pass in front of the screened door wearing only a towel, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She bent over to pull on her thong, lifting one leg and then the other and flashing Sage an eyeful of her beautiful ass. He needed to turn around, or let her know he was there, but his legs were rooted to the ground, his voice stuck beneath a big tangle of lust. His desire flared, making him hungry for her and hard as a rock. Christ.