Games of the Heart. Pamela Yaye

the hard-fought win. But with teachers, parents and students all talking at once, it was hard for Sage to spend more than a minute with Marshall.

      Taking another bite of pizza, she took notes on her competition. The blonde had delicate features and long flowing hair that kissed her shoulders. There was no denying her beauty, and when Marshall refilled her water glass, Sage felt a stab of envy.

      Disappointed that a man as intuitive as Marshall Grant could fall for such a plastic-looking woman, she sighed inwardly. Sitting back in her chair, she allowed her gaze to wander. Sage was surrounded by people, amid laughter, smiles and jokes, but she felt oddly alone.

      “Want me to go over there and tell my dad you want to talk to him?”

      Sage didn’t bother to look at Khari. “No. I already told you, I don’t like him that way.”

      “Then why are you eyeballing him so hard?”

      Stuffing a meatball into her mouth, she avoided the teen’s intense gaze. He was an engaging kid, but his constant queries were more irritating than nails on a chalkboard.

      “You’re feeling my dad. I can tell.”

      Sage choked on her Italian sausage. Rubbing the ache in her chest, she shot a look at Khari, who was slumped back in his seat, chuckling. “Are you trying to kill me?”

      “Admit you like pops and I’ll leave you alone.”

      “Your dad’s too serious for me,” she argued, cleaning her hands on a napkin. “I bet he color codes his socks, irons his boxer shorts and listens to Mozart.”

      “That’s cold, Sage! Pops isn’t that bad.”

      “I’m right, though, aren’t I?”

      His smile was answer enough, but he said, “See, you guys just met and you already know him so well! I’m telling you, Sage, y’all were meant to be together.”

      “Drop it, Khari.”

      “I’m not a kid. I see the way you guys look at each other. I know what’s up.”

      Sage bit back a smile. She’d caught Marshall staring at her a few times, but thought nothing of it. Besides, if he was interested in her, why had he spent all night flirting with Malibu Barbie? “Why are you sitting here with me?” she asked, turning the tables on him. “You should be eating with your friends.”

      “I invited you, remember? I can’t leave you alone. You’re my personal guest.” Khari folded his pizza in half and took a bite. “Besides, it’s fun giving you a hard time.”

      “I can see that.” Sage sipped her drink, the cold, sweet liquid alleviating the sudden tightness in her throat. Anxious to change the subject, she maneuvered the conversation away from Marshall and asked Khari about school. “What are your plans after graduation?”

      His face brightened. “I’m going pro.”

      “But your dad wants you to study medicine.”

      “That’s his dream, not mine. I’m entering the NBA draft and nothing’s going to stop me.”

      Sage was surprised, but kept her tone even. “Does your father know?”

      “I’ll be eighteen soon. I don’t need his approval.” Squaring his shoulders, he thumped a hand to his chest. “I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

      “Khari, it’s not that simple,” she told him. “You’re going to need a manager, an agent, a publicist and a damn good lawyer to make it happen.”

      “I am?”

      Sage nodded. “And the sooner you find representation the better. The draft is still months away, but your first order of business will be to set up a meeting with the NBA’s Board of Directors. The committee will determine whether or not you can handle the pressure of playing in the league. If they think you can cut it, they’ll give you the go-ahead and you can write an official letter declaring your eligibility.”

      “Really?” Eyes wide, Khari scratched the top of his head. “I—I thought I just entered the draft and waited for the offers to roll in.”

      “The NBA is the most lucrative sports organization in the world,” she explained. “Commissioner Stern isn’t going to let money-hungry, high school players destroy the league, no matter how high they can jump.”

      “Shoot! What am I going to do now?”