Stroke of Love (11 page)

“I’m sorry, Luce. I don’t mean to come across gruff. I’m not really sure where I’m going. Away from there; that’s all I know.”

“You really don’t like that attention, do you?”

“You could say that.” Everything about the press rubbed Sage the wrong way. It wasn’t that he was against public relations in general. He was against public relations when it wasn’t deserved. Sage followed the road through town, passing the Internet café and the little bar where they’d gone for drinks, and wound down the path Kate had told him about that led into the village. The town fell away behind them, and the mountains flourished before them. Sage breathed a little easier and slowed his pace.

“Have you been into the village before?” Luce wiped her brow.

“No. Look how beautiful it is. I mean, when you’re in the city, do you ever think about places like this?” Sage had spent his whole life wishing he could spend more time surrounded by nature. When he was a boy, he used to spend hours in the woods with his eldest brother, Jack. Jack was a born outdoorsman. Burly, confident, and ready to take on the world, he reminded Sage of a lumberjack, while Sage thought of himself as more of a nature lover with a softer touch. Sure, he was as masculine as the next guy, but his love of nature stemmed from the serenity of it, the joy of being surrounded by the living organisms and the natural paths of life that fed civilization in so many ways.

“I think more about places like Maui and the white sandy beach resorts of Belize than I do the villages and towns,” Luce admitted.

He let out a long sigh. “Yeah, most people do.”

“But not Kate. She thinks about helping others, no matter where she is.”

Sage had wondered if Luce was going to try to pry him for information about Kate. He glanced at Luce, with her hair clipped efficiently at the base of her neck, and her tan shorts and her sleeveless, white button-down shirt. She looked as if she’d walked off the pages of a tourist brochure. She’d dressed the part of public relations rep today. Sage supposed she’d had to. He liked Luce. He’d known of her before coming to Belize, and since spending time with her, he liked her feisty and forthright nature. He could tell she didn’t put up with any bullshit, and it was obvious that she cared for Kate. That alone endeared her to him.

“So what you’re saying is that Kate has a generous soul.” He already knew the answer, but this was the easiest way of diverting the conversation away from his growing emotions for her.

“The most generous, or so I thought until I heard your speech back there. Did you say that because of Kate?”

Kate
. Sage hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since he said good night at the foot of the stairs to her cabin last night. If he hadn’t forced himself to leave, the stairs wouldn’t have been all he was mounting.

“I would have said it about anyone who work like Kate and Caleb do. They’re selfless in their pursuit of helping others in a way that is genuine and deserves a hell of a lot more recognition than those clowns back there.” A group of small homes came into view. “I’m sorry, Luce. I know your clients are important to you, and I’m sure some are genuine in their efforts. It’s just one of those days.”
Pent-up sexual desires and heat don’t mix well
.

“That’s okay. Well, I’m not trying to pry…or maybe I am. I’ve known Kate a few years now, and I know how she comes across sort of hot and cold. She’s skeptical, but look at what she deals with day in and day out. She’s my friend, and I care about her. Just give her time.”

Sage thought of how right she’d felt in his arms. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

The first home they came to was built from wide-planked boards, with the same thatched roof as the cabins where they were staying. There were two sections to the home. Sage slowed to take in the smoke rising from the back section of the hut.

“Why two sections?” He craned his neck to peer inside. Two women stood before a cooking area, stirring the contents of two large metal pots, smoke billowing around them. One of the women lifted a woven fan and fanned the smoke away. The other said something, causing them both to laugh.

“One’s a cooking house. The other is a sleeping area.”

“Do they have running water? Electricity?”

Luce shook her head. “Not yet. They get their water from the river. They’re really an amazing group of people. If you think people in the States work hard, then you’re in for an eye-opening realization. The families here rise before dawn. The children gather wood for the fires and go down to the river to fetch water for cooking. Then the women prepare breakfast. The men leave for the fields before the sun rises. Sometimes the older boys go with their fathers, if their help is needed. The men return right before sunset for dinner with the family. Then they bathe in the river at night.”

“But we have water just up the road.” Sage was beginning to feel like fate had brought him to Punta Palacia for a much bigger reason than meeting Kate. His mind was wrapping itself around an idea that at the moment seemed a little far-fetched, but as Luce continued, the pieces began to fall together.

“You’re right. Wells are as close as the town and the cabins, but they’d need a separate well here because they’re too far to use the same one. That’s one of the issues Kate’s been working on, getting a well for the village. But funding for such a small community is hard to come by.” She nodded at two women in the cooking house, seemingly oblivious to the sweltering heat. “I could never do what they do.”

The basic necessities that he took for granted began to take on a whole new perspective. Sage glanced at the women in the cooking house and listened to them talking. Their Creole accents were so thick that he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then he thought about Penelope and Cassidy bitching about their accommodations—which had running water and electricity—and it struck him how spoiled they were and how oblivious they were to the things in life that really mattered.
People. Love. Spending time together
.

“We have so much, and at the same time, we have so little.” His mind traveled down a fast and furious path. With Sage’s connections, and the connections of his family, he was sure he’d be able to pull together enough resources for wells for the village. But he couldn’t fund every community, and surely there were thousands in need of the same resources. Sage realized that his idea of creating artwork that reflected the area to sell in the States toward donations for Punta Palacia was small potatoes. He needed to think globally. The idea seeded on their way back to the compound, and by the time the cabins came into sight, the idea had bloomed to a full-blown concept.

Sage was relieved that the press had already left when they reached the compound and he headed into the mess hall for more water with Luce.

“Hey, Sage,” Clayton called from the path.

“Go on in. I’ll be right behind you,” Sage said to Luce.
What the hell do you want?

Clayton sidled up to him and put his arm around Sage. Sage cringed.

“Dude, thanks for last night.”

“Excuse me?”
What the hell?

“Dude, you primed Penelope. She was livid with you, so of course she went to Cassidy’s place to commiserate, and…well…let’s just say three’s definitely
not
a crowd.”

Sage’s hands fisted. He shrugged out from under Clayton’s arm and stomped off toward the building. Clayton, apparently as thick-headed as he was horny, caught up to him again.

“So, if you wanna do the same with that hot little volunteer, Kate, I’ll gladly take your throwbacks.”

The heat of the afternoon and his annoyance at Clayton, Penelope, and the press exploded in a rush of adrenaline. In the next breath, Sage had Clayton by the collar. He lifted him off the ground and slammed his back against a tree, seething between clenched teeth. “If I ever hear you mention her name again in that way, I will tear you apart.”

“Dude.” The veins in Clayton’s neck bulged. He held his arms up in surrender, holding Sage’s stare.

Every muscle tense, every nerve tight and hot, Sage lowered his voice and pressed his face an inch away from Clayton’s. “Shut up. Not one word, you hear me? Stay the fuck away from me, and stay the fuck away from Kate, or I promise you this: I will ensure that not only can you never touch another woman, but you’ll be lucky if you can walk. Got it?”

Clayton swallowed hard. “G-got it. Okay. Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was serious.”

Sage dropped him to his feet, and Clayton stumbled away, cursing under his breath. Sage spun around, blinded by rage. His chest swelled with each heavy breath, his veins protruded from his arms—and his eyes caught on Kate and Luce standing at the entrance to the mess hall, looking at him as though he’d lost his mind.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect
.

“SAGE!” KATE’S EYES locked on him. His shoulders were pulled back, every muscle ripe with anger. His jaw was set tough and tight, his eyes dark and angry. She took a step in his direction and Luce held her back.

“You might want to give him a sec.”

Give him a sec?
What the hell was going on? He looked like he was going to kill Clayton. She pulled her arm free, took a last look at Luce, then ran to Sage as he stalked off.

“Sage, what happened?”

He shot a look at her that clearly said,
Back off,
and stomped through the path toward the cabins.

She pushed the foliage out of her way and kept after him. “Sage, if it’s something I should know about, please, tell me.”

He stopped walking. Kate held her breath, desperate for him to turn around. She had to talk to him, to see his eyes. To know what could have possibly caused the even-tempered Mr. Chill to react so violently.

He finally turned to face her. His massive arms were tense, ready to finish the fight. He closed the gap between them and stared down at her, his nostrils flaring. Kate held her breath. Heat and anger coalesced in his eyes and rolled off his body.
You’re a way-too-sexy badass
. She watched his dark eyes narrow, his lips part, and in the next moment she was in his arms, his lips were on hers, and his tongue—
oh, that glorious, talented tongue
—was stroking away her brain cells again. It was a rough kiss, driven by passion or anger. She didn’t know—or care—which. Every nerve in her body was on fire, and when he put his enormous hands beneath her arms and lifted her up to his height, she didn’t need a single brain cell to wrap her legs around his waist and soak up his heat.

One strong arm slid beneath her, holding her against him. His other hand moved up her back and cupped the base of her head. And oh, the sensations that sent between her legs, where his abs pressed against her most sensitive parts…He pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss. His glorious cheeks scratched against hers. She didn’t care about whisker burn. Loved it, in fact. When he finally drew back, they were both breathless, panting, wanting more.
So much more.

“I really fucking like you.”

It was an accusation, with his piercing stare and his angry tone, but it was more. It was a statement of fact
and
an accusation. He really did fucking like her, and holy hell, what did that mean? How the hell was she supposed to respond to that?

Honestly
.

“I really fucking like you, too.”
Why am I whispering?

He kissed her again, rough at first, then softer, more meaningful, more lovingly.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” His voice still held a thread of anger.

He searched her eyes, and the answer was too obvious. Wasn’t it? What did all adults do when they wanted each other? Maybe the anger had stolen
his
brain cells.

“Um.” She panted. “Go to my cabin?”
Now. This second
.

He rested his forehead against her. “I don’t want you anywhere near that asshole. I know it’s your job, and I have no business telling you what to do or with whom, but the thought of you and him kills me.”

He was still holding her, and she could barely comprehend what he was saying. His body was too close, too hard. Damn hard.

“Me and Clayton?” was all she could manage.

His nostrils flared, as if she’d said,
Oh yeah. Me and Clayton—we’re gonna fuck like bunnies.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he said again.

Shit. His brain isn’t working
. “No, no. Not me and Clayton. I meant—”

He set her down, and she missed the feel of him against her. She hooked her finger in the waist of his jeans and settled her other hand on his hip.

“I know what you meant.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked away for a beat, then trained his eyes on hers again. “I don’t have any claim on you, so you can do what you want. But I want you to know that I really like you. Way more than I probably should.”

His eyes raked over her body, and Kate felt it as if he’d caressed every inch of her with his hands. She shuddered, opened her mouth to speak, and he settled his finger over her lips.

“Just hear me out.” He backed her up against the thick, prickly bark of a tree, giant leaves engulfing them both.

Kate swallowed hard against the thrum of excitement his touch sent through her.

“Kate. I’m trying to do the right thing by giving you time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to lay you down and take you right here. I just want you to know who I am and how I really feel about you.”

Kate was stuck on the idea of him taking her right there. In the path. In the heat of the afternoon.
Yes. God, yes.

“I…um.”
Gulp
.

“I’m not the person you think I am, but I’m not a fucking saint, either.” His breath still came hard and fast, but his eyes softened.

“I…know.”

“No. You don’t, but you will.”

Jesus
,
my heart is beating so loud you have to hear it
. “Okay.”
Okay? What the hell does that even mean?
“I don’t want a saint.”
Better
.

His eyes darkened, and when he lowered his face toward hers, she closed her eyes, ready for another incredible kiss.

“Good,” he whispered in her ear; then he settled his mouth over her neck and pressed soft strokes with his tongue as he sucked just strong enough to harden her nipples…and make her damp down below.