Stroke of Love (3 page)

From his seat on the wooden bench, Sage listened to Kate and cataloged her features. He was careful not to look into her eyes. Something in them rendered his mind almost useless, so he slid his gaze lower, hovering at the most adorable dimple in her chin. It wasn’t significantly deep, just evident enough to warrant a second glance to be sure of it. His eyes slid down her deliciously lean and feminine arms, to her slim hips and perfectly sculpted legs.
Christ, she’s beautiful
. Sage’s eyes traveled back up, soaking in her long, dark hair and following it to her thick bangs. He had an urge to brush them aside. As an artist he knew that the most beautiful faces needed nothing at all to camouflage them—not hair, makeup, or sunglasses. Kate had one of those faces.

Sage realized that Kate was looking at the others as she spoke, but her eyes had yet to move in his direction. Had he seemed like that much of a heel when she’d caught him looking at her on the bus? He watched her glance at Clayton, who had practically visually devoured her on the bus. Surely he didn’t seem like more of a sleaze than Clayton.

A bug climbed up his leg, pulling him from his thoughts. He swatted at the pest and brought his attention back to Kate as she spoke of the local culture and then went on to advise them of their assignments. She spoke confidently. Her eyes conveyed strength and surety, a don’t-mess-with-me quality that could not be misconstrued.

“Penelope and Cassidy, you’ve been assigned to the community outreach division. Clayton, you’re in the elderly outreach project.”

“I thought I was here to sing a little, mingle a little. You know,” Clayton said as he wiped his face with his arm.

“You can sing and mingle all you want. The idea is that you spend time getting to know the people of Punta Palacia. Music therapy is a good thing for the elderly. I think you’ll enjoy your post. Okay, you three will be meeting with Caleb Forman, who will walk you through the duties and expectations of your jobs while you’re here.”

A tall, thin, twentysomething guy with stringy brown hair and skin far too pale for living in Belize came to Kate’s side out of nowhere. Sage realized he must have been standing nearby the whole time, but he’d been so wrapped up in Kate that he hadn’t noticed.

“Sage, you’ll be working with the local kids on art mentoring.”

Sage ran a hand through his sweaty hair, slicking it away from his face. “Will I be working with a teacher? In a school? How does this work?”

For a moment Kate didn’t respond. Her eyes slipped his way for a breath, then dropped to her clipboard. She sighed. “You’ll be working with me, at the school.”

Unable to determine if that was an
aw, shit
sigh or a mildly interested sigh, Sage nodded and tried to quell the stirrings in his stomach.
Great
.
This is all I need
. To follow around a beautiful woman he could not read. The beautiful part was great, but the inability to read her spelled trouble.

Sage watched the others follow Caleb toward town. Kate was flipping through her clipboard as he approached.

“Why don’t you use the calendar on your phone for your schedules?” He nodded at the clipboard, but she never saw it. Her eyes remained trained on her clipboard.

“I need visual stimuli. I tried a smartphone, but I kept forgetting things.”

Visual stimuli. Damn, you’re about the best visual stimuli I’ve ever seen
. The intensity of his attraction to her was vastly different from how he normally reacted to women. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about a woman so much after knowing her for such a short period of time.

“So, it’s you and me,” he said easily, noticing that up close she was even more petite than she first appeared.

“And about thirty kids.” She brushed her hair from her shoulder and finally lifted her eyes to his.

And sucked him right in.

Christ.

Sage cleared his throat, trying to ignore the searing heat that had just gripped him below the waist. “Thirty kids. Great.”

“We focus more on education and literacy than art. You know, give them as much of the important stuff as we can before we lose them.”

“Lose them?” Sage followed her toward the road.

She nodded and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Sage wondered what her silky hair would feel like slipping through his fingers. Then, just as quickly, he reprimanded himself for going there. He was only in Belize for two weeks, and he sure as hell didn’t need to feel like more of a heel during that time.

“The kids don’t always make it to school or stay in school for the whole day when they do show up. Some are needed at home to help with cooking and other chores, or they work with their fathers in the fields. Even the younger kids have to work for their families to survive. They’re up before dawn hauling water from the river and gathering sticks for fires so the women can cook.”

She ran her eyes over his face, sending another shudder through him, which he hoped to hell he was able to mask.

“It’s nothing like you’re used to. These families are lucky to have enough food and water to survive.” She upped her pace as they turned down another dirt road, and a long concrete building came into view.

Sage was surprised at her sharp response. “I know things are very different here, Kate. That’s why I volunteered, to learn about the culture and try to help as much as I can.” He kept his eyes trained on the one-story building, feeling the ping-ponging of her eyes as they bounced from him to the building and back.

She let out a loud, dismissive sigh.

Sage stopped walking. “What is that sigh supposed to mean?”

She didn’t slow her stride or glance in his direction. With her eyes locked on the building, she continued walking at a fast clip.

He caught up to her, annoyed with her attitude. “Look, I don’t know why you’re treating me like this, or who you think I am, but…”

“I know who you are. You’re an incredibly talented artist, and we’re lucky to have you here to help us.” Her tone was friendly, but her determined steps spoke of suppressed frustration.

“Actually,” Sage began, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

They walked in silence for another minute as they neared the building, and Sage was surprised to realize that the noises that he’d stopped to listen to outside his cabin were present everywhere.

“What’s that drilling noise?” he asked.

“Cicadas. You’ll hear howler monkeys, cicadas, birds, all sorts of animal noises during the day; then at night the amphibians come out. You’ll get used to it.”

She reached for the door of the school, but Sage beat her to it and held the heavy wooden door open for her. Kate hesitated, giving him a long, hard stare. Then she walked inside. The air in the small classroom was heavier than outdoors. Three lines of neatly aligned desks filled the small room, and colorful pictures hung on the walls. A dark-skinned man walked into the room, and Kate’s face lit up.

“Oscar. What are you still doing here?”

“Just doing a final sweep up for tomorrow. Might be rain on the way.” He spoke kindly with a thick Creole accent and nodded at Sage.

Sage felt Kate’s eyes on him, and he knew she was watching to see if he was having difficulty understanding Oscar. He smiled in her direction to let her know he was fine.

“This is Sage Remington. He’s an artist from the States, here to work with the kids for a couple of weeks.” Kate turned to Sage. “Sage, this is Oscar. He’s our savior for all things that need fixing.”

Sage shook his hand and sized him up.
Strong handshake, late twenties or early thirties, friendly smile
. “Nice to meet you, Oscar.”

“You too.” His bright white smile reached his eyes. “I’ve just finished. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. We’ll be here.” Kate waited until he left, then continued. “This is one of our classrooms. We have three. We divide the kids up by age: elementary school, middle school, and high school.” She spoke in a short, clipped tone. “Some days we have only a few students in each class, and other times we have full classrooms.”

Irritation gnawed on Sage’s nerves. He wasn’t used to being treated as though he were anything other than a nice guy. Kate was definitely treating him as though she needed to be wary of him. He also wasn’t used to feeling a rush of heat from nothing more than a woman glancing his way, regardless of how unfriendly she was.

KATE WALKED OUT of the classroom at a quick pace. She had to get away from the electricity that radiated from that fine specimen of a man.
Shit
. She’d made it two years without falling into the arms of any of the men who were just passing through, and now, just weeks away from leaving, her hormones decided to wake up? What was up with that? His tattoos gave him a bad-boy quality that she normally stayed far away from, but she found them way too tempting on him. It was his eyes, though—
Jesus, those gorgeous, contemplative eyes
—that had nearly knocked the wind from her lungs when he’d confronted her. Then, when he’d said he was the lucky one to be there, the sincerity in his eyes
and
his voice had thrown her for a loop. Kate was used to actors who could feign just about anything, from being in the throes of passion to sadness, but an artist? Would he be adept at such manipulations? And the way his voice cracked a little when he’d asked what her sigh meant? No way he faked that. She’d have to cinch that barbed-wire fence a little tighter, because the last thing she needed was to fawn over some guy who would soon be gone. She was too smart to be left pining after what might have been.
Nope. I am not going there
. She’d just have to ignore the masculine, earthy smell that radiated from him, the midnight-blue eyes, and the sexiest smile she’d ever seen.

She showed him the other two classrooms and the small room the staff used for the administrative work. She picked up a drawing from the desk and looked it over, then held it to her chest and smiled.

“Someone special?” he asked.

“Javier. He wants to be an artist.” She hung the picture on a corkboard by the desk and they headed out of the building. The less conversation the better.

Sage held the door open for her again.

“Thanks,” she said.

He turned and stared at the building.

“I know it’s dank and dirty, but with only the rain to clean it off…” She shrugged.

“Actually, I was just thinking about how we could breathe new life into it by painting a mural on this wall. You’d be surprised how color can perk up morale.” He rubbed his chin and moved closer, studying the rough texture of the concrete. “We could involve the kids. This could be their project.”

Kate tucked her clipboard under her arm and took a sip from her water bottle. “We don’t really have funding for that. We barely have enough supplies to carry out—”

“I can take care of it.”

She shook her head.
Of course. You’re just like all the others
. “That’s not always the answer, throwing money at problems.”

Sage moved closer to her. “Kate, I’m not throwing money at a problem. I’m offering to lift the spirits of the kids, to allow them to let their creativity flow on a canvas that matters to them.”

“I don’t know. We have very specific programs that we try to run for them.” The sun crawled behind the trees, leaving them in a dusky haze, made darker by the surrounding forest.

“I’m sure you do, but…” He ran his hand through his hair again.

God, you look sexy when you do that.
She cringed. She had to stop thinking about him like that.

“Listen, I was thinking as we drove in this afternoon…Another way that I can help bring resources here is to paint the local scenery, capture the spirit of the community, and sell them back in New York; then the funds can be given back to the community, less the cost of shipping the artwork back to the States, of course.”

She rolled her eyes. “And less your commission, no doubt. We should start heading back.” She turned toward the road, and Sage reached out and touched her arm. Her muscles tensed beneath his fingers. She stared at his big, strong hand. Even after he moved it from her arm, warmth lingered where it had been.

“I’d never take a commission.” He stalked off ahead of her.

Kate caught up to him and they walked in silence, broken only by the sounds of birds chirping, Sage’s breathing, and their footsteps on the dry ground. The clearing fell away behind them, and the compound was still too far away to see. They were encased beneath the umbrella of the jungle as it arched over the road. Kate had conflicting messages playing in her head.
He’s just like the rest of them, a celebrity to the core. Maybe not. He claimed not to want a commission, and he was thinking of the kids
. She wondered what it might be like to be in his arms, to tether that brooding energy and kiss him. To touch that incredibly muscled chest of his. A flutter snaked its way through Kate’s stomach.
Stop it.

“I’m not sure I follow your thinking about the mural.”

His voice brought her back to reality. She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

“You’re here to help these people, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’m offering to help. Why does it matter if I have supplies flown in or if I donate a few thousand dollars and go through a different channel to get it done? There’s more red tape if I have to go the donation route. Hell, you know how that works. There’s even a chance you’d never see the materials. The funds could be appropriated elsewhere.” Sage paused to take a drink of water, and Kate stopped beside him.

“Because a few thousand dollars can do incredible things for them medically, and if it were used for food? Well, you can buy a whole lot of staples for that money.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he drank. He lowered the bottle and licked his lips with an
ahh
that had her stupid stomach fluttering again.

“Then I’ll donate twice as much,” he said softly. “That way they have the money they need for medical supplies and food, and I can do a little art project with the children.”

“And paint other things so you can send them home and make a living.” She tilted her head.
See? I’ve got your number
.