Games of the Heart. Pamela Yaye

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

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