Games of the Heart

by Pamela Yaye

  “Looks like I’ll be sticking around a little longer.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Really? And why’s that?”

  Khari waved his hands. “Hello? Back to me. I’m still here.”

  Sage and Marshall laughed.

  “Dad, is it okay if I go to Oakley’s? I promise to be back by curfew.”

  Marshall reconsidered his son’s request. If he said no, Sage would think he was unreasonable, but if he let Khari go and something bad happened, he’d never be able to forgive himself. Weary of Khari’s friends, but willing to trust his son, he decided to call Mr. Chapman to put his mind at ease. “All right, but no drugs, no alcohol and no sex.”

  “I know, I know,” Khari repeated, rolling his eyes. “My friends and I aren’t into that stuff. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you before you’ll believe me.”

  “You can leave after you walk the boys.”

  “Boys?” Sage asked, turning toward Marshall.

  “We have two Alaskan huskies out back,” he explained. “Khari gets five dollars every time he walks them.”

  Sage pinched Marshall’s arm.

  “Ouch! What was that for?” Frowning, he rubbed the tender spot with his thumb.

  “Five dollars? Those are slave wages! I’ll walk them.” Shaking her head, she turned back to Khari, a smile on her lips. The thought of going back outside made every nerve in her body scream out in protest. “You go have fun with your friends and I’ll talk to your dad about raising your allowance.”

  “Thanks, Sage! See you on Sunday!” he called over his shoulder, sprinting out of the room. Seconds later, they heard the back door slam.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Marshall admitted, releasing a deep, troubled sigh. “You don’t know his friends like I do. Oakley’s older brother used to deal drugs. He might pressure Khari to join his gang or something.”

  “Marshall, I know you want the best for your son, but you have to loosen up. He’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.” Sage tugged on her suede gloves. “Trust that you raised him to be a sensible, responsible young man and he’ll be fine.”

  “One wrong move is all it takes. I’ve worked with troubled youth for seven and a half years, and I see kids like Khari every day. Intelligent, young, black men who should be studying for their SATs or getting ready for the prom. Instead, they’re stuck behind bars earning thirty cents an hour.” The expression on his face was grim. “I love Khari and I’m proud of him, but he’s a follower. He needs a rocket to blast him into maturity, and not a moment too soon.”

  “I’m just an outsider looking in, but I think you’re too hard on him. Khari’s got his head on straight. He’s a smart kid.”

  “All he cares about is girls and basketball.”

  “What did you think about when you were his age?”

  Marshall stepped forward. “A better question is what am I thinking right now?”

  “Let’s walk the boys,” she told him, sideswiping the question. “Then you can share all of your dirty thoughts.”

  He dropped an arm around her shoulder. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Chapter 7

  A harsh, bitter breeze greeted Marshall and Sage when they stepped onto Irvington Lane. The wind hissed in the trees, whipping branches, swirling leaves and shaking bushes in its fury. Quivering with cold, her coattail slapping her thighs mercilessly, Sage nestled her face in her cashmere scarf, imagining it was a soft, fluffy, king-size pillow.

  Layered in winter gear made it difficult to move, but Sage snuck a look at Marshall. His bubble jacket added bulk to his already thick frame, a thermal toque protected his head and brown hiking boots made his feet look twice their size. Marshall hadn’t said a word since they left the house, but the silence didn’t bother her. As a child, she’d often lived in solitude for days at a time and had learned how to entertain herself. Like now. She imagined that she was sprawled out on the beach, surrounded by palm trees and sunshine, and a tall, muscular man who looked oddly like Marshall Grant was feeding her papaya.

  It was dark outside, the sky a deep, angry gray, but Sage could still see the troubled expression on Marshall’s face. Tension radiated from his body and his mouth was a firm line. Worried about his son, his overactive mind was likely imagining all the possible things that could go wrong at Oakley’s.

  Unsure of how long they had been gone, but convinced an hour had gone by, Sage rubbed the iciness from her fingers. “How long have you had the dogs?”

  “Three years. Pippen and Malone were a gift from my parents. Khari usually takes great care of them, but he’s got so many things on the go right now, he doesn’t have time. I try to help out when I can.”

  Hearing their names, the dogs barked voraciously, tugging wildly on the leash. Sage was glad she didn’t have pets, especially ones who enjoyed the great outdoors. Pippen and Malone stopped every few minutes to sniff the ground, and moved at a slow, leisurely pace. It was below zero, but the freezing temperature didn’t seem to faze them.

  Chilled to the bone, but intent on bringing Marshall out of his funk, Sage asked him about his family. “Khari mentioned that your dad played professional baseball in the late sixties. Is it true he played with Hank Aaron?”

  Marshall cleared his throat. “Yes, he played thirteen seasons with the Braves before calling it quits.”

  Detecting a subtle shift in his tone, she glanced over at him, hoping to spot the source of the change. Nothing. Confident she hadn’t imagined it, she asked, “Why did he leave the game? Was he injured?”

  “No. The team acquired a younger, more athletic pitcher and decided not to re-sign him.” Marshall tugged on the leash, pulling the dogs away from a metal garbage bin. “My dad didn’t have any formal education, so the years after he left the league were hell. Both of my parents worked, but there was never enough money. Thankfully, they live here in the city and we’re closer.”

  “Is that why you want Khari to go to Harvard? So he’ll have something to fall back on in case things don’t go as planned?”

  “Exactly!” The word burst out of his mouth like a cheer. “Finally, someone who agrees with me.” Marshall looked down at her, his eyes full of gratitude. “As a parent, there’s no greater joy than seeing your child fulfill their dreams. Up until last year, all Khari could talk about was being a surgeon, but now he’s lost his focus. It’s up to me to get Khari back on track.”

  “What does the rest of your family think?”

  “That I should let Khari decide what to do.” He added, “But he’s too young to make the right decision.”

  “And the right decision is to go to Harvard?”

  “Right.” Smiling at her, he said, “You’re a wise young woman.”

  Sage didn’t know what to say. Marshall thought she was an ally. Definitely progress, from a deranged psycho beating up on a vending machine. She wanted him to trust her, but she didn’t want to betray Khari, either. She saw both sides of the argument, but now was not the time to present the other side. “Please don’t start using words like wise and prudent,” she told him with a laugh. “I’m only twenty-eight! You’re making me feel old.”

  Marshall stumbled but didn’t fall. He cranked his head to the right, his eyes the size of tennis balls. “You’re only twenty-eight?”

  Nodding, she favored him with a smile. “You thought I was older, right?”

  “Yeah, I did,” he confessed. In the accompanying silence, he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She was as sleek and as elegant as a fifties actress, but had the buoyancy and youthfulness of a woman half her age. Marshall couldn’t believe she was so young. There was almost a decade of life experiences between them.

  If she was older, even a year or two, he would have no qualms about asking her out. Most men would jump at the chance to date a young girl. Not him. He liked older women, someone he wouldn’t have to explain the significance of the civil rights movement, the purpose of the Million Man March, or why he
lived and breathed seventies music. He was looking for a mature woman. Someone intellectual and well schooled. And as appealing and intelligent as Sage was, she was much too young and much too inexperienced for him.

  Feeling letdown, he abandoned his thoughts and said, “You mentioned that you moved to Las Vegas as a teen. Where’s home?”

  “Sacramento.”

  “Does your family still live there, or did they make the move too?”

  “I don’t have a family.”

  Startled by the edge in her voice, he said, “Everyone has a family.”

  “Everyone but me.”

  “You were raised in foster care.”

  Now it was her turn to be surprised. “How did you know?”

  “I worked in a prison for a while, and troubled youth is my career. You learn to pick up on things.” He smiled, hoping she saw the genuine look of concern in his eyes. “I take it you didn’t end up with the Huxtables.”

  Sage sucked her teeth. “The Addams Family would have been an improvement.” They turned the corner and the pitiless force of the wind almost knocked her over. Sage felt like she was walking on quicksand with stilettos on. The crunch of leaves and snow under her feet brought her back fifteen years.

  Piling up the leaves in the middle of the backyard. Taking turns with Tangela doing back flips and somersaults into the pile. It was one of the few happy memories she had of her childhood, and thinking of her best friend made her homesick.

  “It’s funny. We’ve been talking all this time and I still don’t know what you do.”

  “What I do?” she repeated, her teeth chattering.

  “Yeah. I mean besides going door-to-door.”

  “I’m in marketing.” It was true. She was. Celebrity managers had to market, package and sell their clients to the public. “I travel regularly to promote the organization, acquire new business and I spend a lot of time recruiting volunteers.”

  “Meeting you confirms it.”

  “Confirms what?”

  “Charitable organizations hire the most beautiful women.” His eyes shone with sincerity and his smile was sweet.

  What was meant to be a compliment submerged her in a pool of guilt. Sage had often wondered if Leo hired her because of her drive or because of her looks. Inexperienced in the field but eager to learn, she had talked him into allowing her to intern at the agency. A month later, Leo offered her an entry-level position.

  “I love what I do. Working at World Mission has opened a lot of doors for me, and I feel I’m making a difference in the lives of needy children,” she said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I’d work for free if they couldn’t afford to pay me.”

  “You would? That’s amazing. Few people can say that.”

  To steady her balance on the ice-encrusted sidewalk, she reached out and gripped his forearm. When he stared down at her, his lips shaped into a small smile, her legs turned to mush. Finding her voice, she asked him more about his job. “Do you like running the youth center?”

  “I was born to be a marine. Protecting America and their allies, rebuilding war-torn communities and offering hope to third world countries has always been my passion. If it wasn’t for Khari and all my responsibilities here, I’d still be in the service. So the center seemed like the perfect transition.”

  Skipping effortlessly from one subject to the next, they talked with the ease and familiarity of lifelong friends. They discussed their childhoods, and the positive and negative experiences that had helped shape their lives. Sage was having so much fun listening to all the trouble Marshall and his buddies had caused during basic training, she didn’t realize they were back at the house until he said, “Follow me around back so I can get the boys settled in for the night.”

  “They don’t sleep inside?”

  Shaking his head, he unlatched the fence and led Pippen and Malone into the yard. Among the solid oak trees and snow-covered garden was a wooden deck. Once his pets were inside the doghouse, he climbed the steps and sat down on the bench. The wind wasn’t as sharp and cruel as it had been when they’d first left the house, but it was still cold. Much too cold to be sitting outside shooting the breeze. But when Marshall said, “Why don’t you take a load off?” She took the seat beside him.

  “Are you all right?”

  Sage didn’t want to complain, so she nodded. The arctic wind made her eyes water and her feet felt like two slabs of ice, but she was enjoying his company. Drawn to his conservative nature and engaging personality, Sage wondered why he’d never remarried. Sisters all over the country crammed into churches Sunday after Sunday, begging God to send them a man as tall and handsome as Marshall Grant. A hardworking single father with more stories than the presidential library, he’d packed a world of excitement and danger into his thirty-seven years. Camel trekking in the Thar Desert. Scuba diving in Belize. Running with the bulls. “How will you feel if Khari doesn’t go to Harvard?”

  “Harvard is one of the finest schools in the country and it’s important to me that Khari gets the best education available. If he doesn’t go to Harvard to study medicine, I’ll feel like I failed him as a parent.”

  “Marshall, that’s crazy. We just met, but even I can see what a great father you are.” Her voice was firm, strong, convincing, full of admiration and praise. “You’ve raised Khari single-handedly and you’ve done a kick-ass job.”

  “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “No. It’s the God’s-honest truth.”

  He didn’t say anything for several moments. “You really think so?”

  “Khari’s an amazing kid, and it’s all because he has you as a role model. Few kids can say that their parents are their best friends, but that’s what Khari says about you.”

  “Thanks for sharing that with me.” He hesitated, then after an elongated pause, said, “You’re an intriguing woman, Sage Collins. If you weren’t so young I’d…” The wind snatched the rest of his sentence.

  “You’d what?” she challenged, her voice low and sexy.

  “I’d pursue you until you were mine.” His tone was rife with sensual undercurrents and warmed her from the inside out. Five minutes ago she was convinced she’d freeze to death, and now she was so hot, she could fry an egg on her forehead. Tongue-tied and out of focus, she licked the dryness from her lips. Marshall was talking, but between the wind, the voices in her head and the clattering roof shingles, she couldn’t hear a word. He must have sensed her confusion, because he leaned over. His mouth was just a breath away from her ear. “Let’s go inside,” he suggested, the heat in his eyes exposing his desire.

  “But we’re having so much fun out here.” Sage gave him a teasing smile. “Why ruin a perfectly good thing?”

  “Because if we stay out here any longer I’m going to end up kissing you.” The look on his face was intense. “Is that what you want, Sage? For me to do what I’ve been dying to do since we met?”

  Astonished by his admission, and surprisingly aroused, she racked her brain for an appropriate response. Words didn’t come. Her throat was dry, her tongue was limp and the desire to kiss him was crushing. As uncomfortable as she was, she couldn’t stop her eyes from zeroing in on his lips. They beckoned, called, promising an experience she’d never forget. To keep from reaching out and tracing a finger over the curve of his mouth, she buried her hands in her jacket pocket.

  “I’ve been too busy raising Khari to even think about dating, but you’re hard to resist,” he told her, his sensuous voice ripe with lust. “You’re right, though. It’s better we stay out here because I don’t trust myself inside with you.”

  Sage prided herself on being tough under pressure, but when Marshall brushed his lips across her cheek, her mind went blank. If a police officer had walked up and asked her name, she’d stutter like a fool.

  “This’ll never work,” she announced, forcing her wayward mind to focus.

  “You’re right. It won’t.”

  “I’m glad we agree.”
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  “I do. You’re young. Much too young for me.”

  Sage puckered her lips. “Is that what you think?”

  “I’m nine years older than you.”

  “Is that all?” she scoffed. “I’ve dated older.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah, and he didn’t think I was immature.”

  He edged closer. “That’s not what I said.”

  “You didn’t have to say it. It was implied.”

  “Why did you break up?”

  “What makes you think we did?”

  His eyes probed her face, searching, wishing, hoping. “If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t be here with me.” His breathing was heavy, labored, jagged, like he’d raced up ten flights of stairs. “What happened?”

  “I got bored and broke it off. I told you, I’m a chameleon. I didn’t keep one look or one man for too long. That’s why we’d never work, Marshall, because I’m not into long-term relationships. It has nothing to do with our age difference.” Hurt by his remarks and disappointed in him for the second time that evening, she pretended not to notice the contrite expression on his face. She felt insulted. What did he think she was, a kid? Sage opened her mouth to say goodbye, but before the words left her mouth, he kissed her.

  Heat rushed to her face. All the verbal banter, flirtatious smiles and sly looks had finally done her in. Her eyes instinctively closed, sealing her in the moment. His touch and the tenderness of his embrace stoked her body’s fire. Knowing this was the first and only time they’d ever be this close, this connected, this intimate, she savored the beauty of the kiss. Abandoning herself to the pleasure of his lips, she blocked out all negative thoughts and ignored the knifelike pricks jabbing her conscience.

  Wishing they weren’t wearing so many clothes, but thankful for the physical barriers between them, she inclined her head to the left, teasing Marshall’s tongue from his mouth. Murmuring softly, pleading feebly for him to stop, but unable to move from the comfort of his arms, she slid closer on the bench. Gone was the bravado, the humor, the cheekiness. All she wanted was for him to touch her. Sage had an uncontrollable craving for Marshall, and her feelings quickly veered from tenderness to full-blown lust. She wanted him. Now.