Games of the Heart

by Pamela Yaye

  “Paging Sage Collins to the information booth. Sage Collins.”

  “Shoot, that’s me!” Sage turned to Owen. “I gotta go.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No need. You’re at the front of the line. Go on. I’ll see you later,” she said, slipping out of the line and shouldering her way through the crowd. Her thoughts went to Tangela. They had talked yesterday, and though her friend sounded good, things had gotten worse with Warrick. Her heart hammered in fear. Something was wrong. It had to be. Why else would Tangela call the resort? Was this her punishment for lying to Marshall? Convinced that her best friend had met with an accident and was hooked up to machines and monitors in a Las Vegas hospital, she dashed into the already jam-packed elevator.

  “I’m Sage Collins. Someone just paged me,” she said breathlessly, reaching the information desk.

  The redhead behind the counter pointed to the right. “That guy over there in the bomber jacket was looking for you.”

  Sage did a slow turn. Marshall was sitting in the coffee shop, wearing a sheepish grin. Shock quickly gave way to relief. Her overactive mind had scared the living daylights out of her. No one was hurt and no one was dying. Tangela was alive and well, but could she say the same about herself?

  Marshall was making it increasingly difficult for her to keep her eyes on the prize. First, he’d flirted with her at Champions Sports Bar, then he’d kissed her, and last Sunday at dinner, he’d made her laugh so hard, she’d popped the button on her jeans. How was she supposed to resist him when he kept pursuing her?

  “What was that all about?” she asked, approaching the table. “When I heard my name over the intercom I thought it was an emergency.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Why don’t you sit and take a load off for a while?” He motioned to the mugs topped with whipped cream and the plate of gooey pastries. “I thought you might enjoy a midmorning snack.”

  She inhaled the fragrant aroma of cinnamon and sugar, and right on cue, her stomach grumbled. Eyeing him warily, she took a seat across from him and helped herself to an apple turnover. “You know, I was about to go for a gondola ride when you paged me.”

  Feigning surprise, he selected a multigrain bagel and took a hearty bite. “I didn’t realize you and Owen had made plans.”

  “No plans. He asked and I said yes.” Seconds passed before either one of them spoke. “I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me.”

  “Is Owen the kind of guy you usually date?”

  “I’d hate to think I have a specific type, but I am attracted to educated, ambitious men.” Smiling like she’d just won a million dollars, she said innocently, “Why? Does seeing me with Owen bother you?”

  “That man is old enough to be your father,” he grumbled. “And I bet Mr. Hot Shot didn’t tell you he has a daughter your age or that he’s had a string of trophy wives.”

  “Careful, Marshall,” she warned in a singsong voice, “you’re starting to sound like a knife-wielding ex. You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to answer a question with a question?”

  “I must have missed that lesson.”

  “Remind me to slap you later,” she joked, kicking him playfully under the table.

  Marshall busted a gut. Relieved that she wasn’t angry about the stunt he’d pulled, he moved his chair closer to hers. Twenty minutes ago, paging her to the information booth had seemed like an ingenious idea, but now he saw the plot for what it was: a silly ploy to win the girl. What was it about Sage that made him lose his God-given sense?

  They sat in the coffee shop for the rest of the morning, drinking, eating and swapping childhood stories. A casual observer would have mistaken them for newlyweds and the thought made Marshall smile. Her assertive, gutsy attitude got to him every time, and it wasn’t long before he was reaching across the table and caressing her hands. Wanting more of her sweet, enticing scent, he leaned closer to her over the table. He loved the way she smelled. The feminine fragrance overwhelmed him, but he didn’t pull away.

  “I’m going to need your help with something,” he announced, wishing she didn’t look and sound and smell so much like the woman of his dreams. “I was hoping you could help me plan Khari’s surprise birthday party.”

  “Me?” she asked, jabbing a finger to her chest. “Surely there’s someone else more qualified for the job.”

  “My mom offered to give me a hand, but when she suggested we do a Spider-Man theme, I knew I had to ask you. Besides, I bet you’ve organized hundreds of fund-raising events for World Mission. This will be a piece of cake for someone with your experience.”

  Sage smiled. “I’m flattered.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  “Sure, why not?” Leaning forward in her chair, she put down her mug and asked him about the time and venue. Full of enthusiasm and energy, Sage chatted about the menu, the music and decorations. Marshall was impressed. He’d asked for her help five minutes ago and she already had a wealth of ideas brewing in her mind. “What’s the budget for the party?”

  “How does two hundred sound?”

  “Like a backyard barbecue with fries and hotdogs.”

  “That’s not enough?” he questioned.

  “Make it five hundred and we’re in business.”

  “That’s a lot of money for one night.”

  “You only turn eighteen once, right?”

  As Marshall listened to her, he found himself thinking about that kiss. Desire pulsed through his veins, stealing his concentration. His eyes lingered on her lips, then slipped down to her chest and crept down her legs. Sage Collins was the ultimate femme fatale. She was sexy, erotic and hopelessly naughty. Every man’s dream and every woman’s nightmare. And she was with him.

  Meeting a woman as free-spirited as Sage was a welcome change. Vivacious was the perfect word to describe her, and the thought of making love to someone bold and daring thrilled him. As much as he hated to agree with Eddie, the construction foreman was right. Women his age had weddings, babies and nurseries on the brain. Who cared if she was younger? They were here, together, enjoying each other’s company. Why not make the most of the opportunity? She was only in town to find corporate donors for World Mission, but she had agreed to chaperone Senior Weekend at a moment’s notice. That had to count for something.

  Rising from his chair, he helped Sage with her coat. He concealed a slow-forming grin. This was good, clean, harmless fun, and Marshall had a sneaking suspicion she’d love the chase.

  Chapter 12

  The gondola chugged out of the tower, climbing steadily toward the heavens. Eagles soared boldly in the sky, flaunting their speed and matchless grace. Small, confined spaces usually terrified Sage, but with Marshall beside her, surrounded by the snow-capped mountains, thick fleecy clouds and crystal blue skies, it created a peaceful background.

  Dumbstruck by the breathtaking view, Sage peered out the side window. “It’s gorgeous,” she gushed, pressing her hands against the glass. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “It pales in comparison to you.”

  Sage didn’t dare turn around. His voice had deepened to a rich, silky hue and she could feel the smoke in his eyes. The tantalizing mixture of their fragrances filled the cramped space. Driving out all thoughts of kissing him, she focused her gaze on the twisting hillsides and ice-slick trails. “We’re hundreds of feet up, but everything looks so clear. I can see skiers, a kid eating snow and even—”

  Marshall reached for her, stealing the rest of her sentence with his touch. It was time to step up his offense. He was tired of waiting for things happen; it was time he made things happen. “You’re right. Seeing you with Owen does make me jealous.”

  “Why? I’m a young girl who has nothing going for me, remember?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I can read be
tween the lines.”

  Drawing her to him, his gaze penetrating her anger, he brushed his lips across her ear. His touch set off ripples of pleasure through her body. “Why would I insult such a gorgeous and captivating woman?” He put a hand on her waist. “You’re making a difference in the lives of orphaned children and I greatly admire you.”

  “What happened to us being completely wrong for each other?” she asked, pressing a hand against his chest to ward him off. Despite his bulky jacket and all the layers of clothes, she could feel the strength of his upper body and found herself fantasizing about kissing him from head to toe. “You said I was too young.”

  “You are.”

  “What does that mean?” she demanded, thoroughly confused. “You’re talking in circles, Marshall.”

  “It means I’m not going to fight our attraction for each other anymore and you shouldn’t, either.” He had an urge to kiss her, but something held him back. “You do feel this thing between us, right? This chemistry? I’m not imagining it, am I?”

  Sage sequestered a smile. Could this man be any sweeter? For all his talk, he was as nervous and as confused as she was. Doubt flickered in his eyes and he had a scared-little-boy look on his face. “I agreed to be your date for the awards dinner. Isn’t that answer enough?”

  “You haven’t changed your mind?”

  “Why would I?”

  “I thought maybe you were going with Mr. Hot Shot.”

  She gave him a long, searching look, admiring the thickness of his lips and the delicious width of his mouth. “Marshall, I’m as good as my word. You should know that by now. I never go back on a promise.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Sure is.”

  Marshall stared at her for a quiet moment, then said, “Not messing with my head, are you?”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “‘Mess with a guy’s head and you’ve halfway won the battle,’” he quoted, wearing an easy grin. “Sound familiar?”

  “The rule only applies to scoundrels and jerks.”

  Marshall chuckled long and hard. Their verbal banter was as erotic as foreplay and just as dangerous. “You’re starting to grow on me,” he confessed, reaching for her.

  “What am I, fungus or something?”

  His laughter rocked the cable car. Startled, she reached out, clinging to him like grapevines. “Careful, big guy, you almost sent this thing flying!”

  “You’re not scared, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Releasing him, she turned and pointed out the window. “We’re almost at the tower. Do you still want to check out the Native American art gallery?”

  He answered her with a kiss. A deep, sumptuous kiss that made her head throb and her legs tingle. Her heart was heavy, a pungent cocktail of guilt, lust and fear. But she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. They had a great vibe, laughed easily together, and his kisses left her delirious and desperate for more. Like a gambler enticed by casino lights and slot machines, she was powerless to resist. Stroking the back of his head, she pressed her body against him, swallowing the space between them. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to be swept up in the excitement of the moment.

  Marshall kissed her perfectly, expertly, like they’d been here a million times before. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to hold her, where to grab. Surrendering to her need, she locked her arms around his head, drawing him close. Wishing they were in the privacy of her suite, rather than the tiny cable car, but refusing to deny the pleasure of his touch, she steered his hands around her waist. Their coming together was so intense, so spellbinding, so wickedly naughty that she didn’t realize the gondola had stopped until she heard a knock on the glass. Breaking off the kiss, she glanced over her shoulder, her face wrinkled with annoyance. Everyone on the observation deck, from seniors to toddlers, stood watching them, openmouthed.

  “We should go,” Sage said, pecking Marshall on the cheek, “before we really give them a show!”

  Three hours later, Sage hobbled into the ski lodge. Hair speckled with snow, twigs, grass and leaves, she tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the lobby. Spotting Owen, she ducked behind a eucalyptus plant. The garrulous attorney was standing beside the elevators, chatting with a brunette with fake boobs. Unable to climb the stairs to her suite, and scared Owen might ditch his companion for her, she lowered herself into a cushy armchair. The main floor lounge was dotted with couches, sofas, ceiling-high bookshelves and a cozy fireplace that shared its heat.

  Extracting dirt from her locks, Sage cursed herself for behaving in such a sad, pitiful way. In the hopes of impressing Marshall, she had donned a pair of skis, shot him a saucy smile and took off down the mountain. What was I thinking? Am I out of my freakin’ mind?

  Yeah with lust, she thought, unzipping her jacket. One minute she was watching Marshall do his thing out on the slopes and the next her big mouth was getting her in trouble. A male bystander had challenged her to give it a try, and soon she was flip-flopping all over the place like a straight man in stilettos.

  Getting a bikini wax was less painful. Her arms screamed with pain, her back muscles were wire-tight, and it hurt to blink. She crossed one aching foot over the other, images of her tumble down Black Bear Mountain flashing in her mind like slides on a Jumbo Tron screen. Sage couldn’t believe she had wiped out in front of the entire resort. If Khari hadn’t rushed to her aid, she’d still be face-deep in snow, clawing her way out. Why couldn’t she be graceful like all the other skiers?

  Feeling dejected, and worried what Marshall and the other parent volunteers must think of her, she stared out one of the arched windows. From her seat, she had a clear view of Black Bear Mountain. Spotting Marshall’s orange-stripped ski suit, she leaned forward in her seat, her mouth wet with desire. He was talking to a short, portly man, puffs of cold air passing between them. The temperature had hovered in the high twenties all afternoon, but that didn’t keep the crowds inside. A second later, Marshall flew down the mountain, his arms swinging powerfully, his poles stabbing the snow, his boots slicing the ground like shears. The slopes were chock-full of skiers and several cute instructors, but no one looked better or moved better than Marshall Grant.

  Sinking farther into her seat, she threw her head back and stretched out her legs. It was the first time since they’d arrived in North Hill that she’d put her feet up, and it felt good. So much for pampering, she thought, shaking her head. This was supposed to be a stress-free weekend filled with rest and relaxation. Instead, she’d got busted making out with Marshall and had stumbled down Black Bear Mountain like a damn rag doll.

  If she hadn’t been consumed with thoughts of Marshall and that hot, torrid kiss, she wouldn’t have wiped out on the slopes. Thank goodness she didn’t twist or break anything. How would she look, hobbling into the awards banquet in three-inch heels? Like an airhead, that’s what. She needed ice and lots of it. Ice would reduce the swelling, relieve the pain, and if she was lucky, cool her desire for Marshall. She was playing with fire, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d lose everything she’d worked so hard for.

  Rubbing the sting in her arms, she moaned, wishing her mind would stop tormenting her. Had they really gone at it in the cable car? Marshall had teased her with his smile, then kissed her until she saw stars. His hands had been everywhere, and even now, hours later, she could still taste the sweetness of his lips, the gentleness of his touch, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw his smiling face. How had this happened? How had she gone from thinking he was a horrible dresser to making out with him a thousand feet in the air? And even more troubling, she wanted more. More kisses, more touches, more everything. Maybe tomorrow night after the awards show she’d invite him back to her suite and…and what? Sage let the thought linger, not trusting her feelings, a helpless slave to her emotions. Have you forgotten why you’re here? her inner voice asked. The poignant question circled her mind, stealing her peace and intensifying her doubts. It was time to regroup,
to refocus, to push Marshall’s kisses out of her mind and replace them with thoughts of signing Khari. That was what mattered. That was what was important. Not how great a kisser Marshall was, or how soft his hands were or how damn good it had felt when he’d nibbled on her ear.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sage opened her eyes. Khari. He was standing in front of her, decked out in his red-and-black snowsuit, holding two mugs.

  “No, I feel terrible. I’d kill for a hot oil massage, but the spa’s closed for the day.”

  “That’s a bummer.” He offered her a cup. When she took it, he sat down on the chair beside her. “I’ve never seen anyone wipe out that bad on Black Bear Mountain. For a minute there I thought we’d have to call the paramedics.”

  “Thanks a lot, Khari. Now I feel even worse.”

  “No more showing off in front of Dad,” he scolded, wagging a finger in her face. “I don’t think your body could handle another beating like that.”

  Sage thought of refuting his claim, but if she lied, he’d press the issue, confirming the truth in the end. “Shouldn’t you be snowboarding with your friends?”

  “I told the guys I’d meet up with them later. What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t come check up on my future stepmom,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Stop saying that,” Sage ordered, glancing around. “Someone might hear you.”

  “I don’t care. It’s true.”

  “Khari, I’m hardly old enough to be your mom.”

  “Says who?” She heard the smile in his voice and laughed when he made a silly face. “I don’t care how old you are. As long as my pop’s feelin’ you, I’m feelin’ you.”

  Sage laughed. Khari was a great kid, and when she told him just that, he popped his collar and quipped, “I know, I know. That’s what all the honeys say!”

  Over hot chocolate and sugar cookies, Sage and Khari talked about the awards banquet, his feelings for Destiny and his fears of graduating. When the conversation turned to his plans for the summer, his eyes lit up with excitement.