Games of the Heart. Pamela Yaye
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“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