off guard by his question, Sage racked her brain for a suitable answer. Snippets of her hour-long conversation with Ms. Pittney resurfaced. “World Mission has its headquarters here, and I felt it was important to make the trip out.” Marshall nodded, his eyes kind, and his expression sympathetic. Encouraged by his obvious interest, she went on. “I’m on a multicity tour to drum up more corporate donations. The AIDS treatment center in Haiti is desperately underfunded and on the verge of being closed.”
“Well, on behalf of Mayor Ballard and the entire city council, welcome to Indy.” Smiling, he motioned to the suede armchair to his left. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with your drink.”
“Thank you,” she said, resisting the urge to do the cabbage patch in the middle of the area rug. Sage never imagined it would be this easy getting close to Marshall. Five minutes into the plan, and she was sitting inside the Grant house. By the end of the week, Khari Grant would be her newest client. Confident she’d be thousands of dollars richer, she settled into her seat with the grace of a queen.
The harsh, riveting sound of Marshall’s voice knocked the grin off Sage’s face. He was warning someone named Dale Williamson to stop calling his house. Occupied with her thoughts, she hadn’t even heard the telephone ring. Sage could tell by the hostility in his tone that he was pissed off. It was the same tone he’d unleashed on her when he caught her kicking the vending machine.
Intrigued, she stood and tiptoed across the living-room floor. Holding her breath, she pushed open the kitchen door and peeked inside. Marshall stood beside the stove, his teeth clenched and his fists tight.
“I don’t care what agency you’re from. My son’s future is not for sale. And if you call here again, I’ll have you charged with harassment.”
Sage gulped. Sweat dripped down her back and the knot in her stomach tightened. Those weren’t empty threats. Marshall meant business.
“No, I don’t want you to call me back next week. My answer isn’t going to change. Khari’s going to study medicine and that’s all there is to it. The NBA will not take care of my son in the way he needs. He needs an education first, not groupies and more money than he knows what to do with.”
Filing that piece of information away, she pushed open the door farther.
“I’d prefer if you left us the hell alone.”
Her shoulders sank. So much for a lead! News of Khari’s remarkable basketball skills had gotten out and now offers were rolling in. It was just a matter of time before sports agents from In the Know Management and Legends of Tomorrow and a host of other agencies descended on the city.
“Who are you spying on?”
Sage whipped around so fast, the door whacked her on the butt like a wooden paddle. Khari Grant dropped his backpack at his feet and sidled up beside her. Like most basketball players, he was lean, trim and over six feet tall. Imitating her posture, he bent down and pushed open the kitchen door. He listened for a few minutes before turning back to her. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “That’s just Dad being Dad. He gets like that sometimes.” His lips expanded into a boyish smile. “What’s up? I’m Khari.”
“Hi, Khari,” she greeted, liking the teenager instantly. “I’m Sage.”
“Cool name.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
Khari chuckled. “So you work for World Mission, huh?”
“No, I’m a—” Sage caught herself before she unwittingly blew her cover. “Yes, I volunteer a few days a month. But I have a regular job there too.”
Bending down, he retrieved his backpack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. “I gotta hit the books. Got a paper to write about Hamlet and his boy Horatio. Check you later.”
“About what you saw when you walked in,” she began, feeling the need to explain. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Your dad sounded upset…I was going to go in the kitchen to see what was wrong, but I…I got scared,” she lied, praying he believed her.
His smirk told her he didn’t. “It’s all good, Sage.” He winked. “I do it too sometimes.”
The kitchen door swung open. When Marshall spotted Khari, his entire face came alive. “Khari, you’re home. How was study group?”
“All right, I guess. I’m starting to get the hang of this Shakespeare stuff.”
“Did you get back your physics test?”
Wearing a sheepish expression, he scratched the side of his neck. “I got a B minus, but it wasn’t my fault. Mr. Diefendorf wouldn’t give me extra time.”
“Khari, if you’re going to get into Harvard, you have to bring your grades way up.”
“I don’t want to go to Harvard, Dad. I’m going to play in the NBA. Coach says I’ve got what it takes to make it all the way.”
“No, you’re going to med school.” His voice was firm. “If you get your degree and decide you still want to play professional basketball, that’s fine, but at least you will have something to fall back on if things don’t work out.”
“I don’t know about all that. I ain’t—”
“Pardon me?” Marshall’s words came out in a stern rebuke, not a question.
Khari stared down at his sneakers. “I’m not thinking about medical school right now, Dad. I just want to pass English Lit and graduate with my friends.”
Marshall opened his mouth, but when he spotted the woman from World Mission standing by the fireplace, watching them intently, he swallowed his words. “We’ll talk about this later. I’ll be up in a few minutes to help you with your homework.”
Khari continued upstairs.
“I’m sorry about that. I almost forgot you were here,” he confessed, handing her a glass of water. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Sage took the drink from his outstretched hand and inadvertently grazed his fingers. Her heart pulsed with desire. Their connection was intense, and when he smiled at her, she knew he had felt it too. Underestimating the power of his touch, she stepped back to create more breathing room. “He seems like a good kid. And tall too!”
Marshall chuckled. “I hear that at least fifty times a day.”
“I bet. He must take after you.”
Sensing she had ventured into troubled waters, Sage adjusted her cardigan and slipped back into character. Returning to the couch, she picked up her clipboard and retrieved a World Mission brochure. “Now, if you’ll just fill out your personal information on this sponsorship form, I can be on my way.”
“There’s no rush,” he told her, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Can I interest you in something to eat? A muffin, some chocolate chip cookies, maybe? They’re homemade.”
His endearing half smile and the soft hue of his voice warmed every square inch of her body. I wonder what it would feel like to have those big, strong hands on my—Sage shook the thought
