Читать книгу Games of the Heart - Pamela Yaye - Страница 12

“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.