Читать книгу Games of the Heart - Pamela Yaye - Страница 11

“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.