Whisper Privileges (22 page)

Trailing them as they continued on their way
to the office, Sydney was struck by the realization that she had
grown accustomed to happy expressions during these events, faces
filled with joy and pride, bellies filled with giggles and
contentment. But in truth, not everyone won. An obvious fact of
life, yes, but one that tended to be obscured during these events.
Hurt more, too, when reflected in the eyes of these athletes. If
only they could all win...

Which reminded her why she was here. Drawn
back to Clay, she was startled to see him staring at her. With a
quick squeeze of Q’s shoulder, he excused himself and headed toward
her, dodging a few swimmers in his path. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

At the instant smile she received, delight
zipped through her veins. Oblivious to the crowd of swimmers around
them, it felt entirely personal, meant solely for her. She
suppressed a swell of pleasure at the easy compliment. It was
always the same with him. With a cursory glance to the currently
empty pool, she asked, “How were the scores yesterday?”

“Q won.”

She gaped at him. “You’re kidding me...”

He grinned. “Nope.”

Heartened by the unexpected turn of events,
she asked, “So what’s next?”

“Today he’s swimming the freestyle lap of the
group relay and then he’s off for a few days. His final swim is
Monday, when he races for the championship. But he seems a bit off.
I think finishing so close yesterday seems to have thrown him off
his game.” He paused in what felt like a purposeful manipulation.
“Wanna go say hello? He’s been asking about you.”

“Sure,” she said, guilt hammering.
“Congratulations are in order.”

“Maybe you can give him some pointers for his
next race.”

“I don’t know how much help I can be in the
swimming department. I play volleyball, remember?”

“I remember very well,” he said, a hint of
lust deepening the blue of his eyes as he beckoned her to follow.
“But you don’t have to know anything about swimming. Just talking
to a professional athlete will boost his spirits.”

She frowned and took off after him. “I’m not
a professional.”

“You should be.”

She groaned inwardly. Granted Clay was in
full flirtation mode, but she understood what was at stake. If Q’s
mental state was off kilter, he could absolutely lose the next
race. From what she’d witnessed, it was mere seconds between first
and second, gold and silver. And if Clay was right, winning these
games meant a lot to Q. Mulling over her choice of words, she
trailed Clay over to the group. “Hi, Q,” she said in an effort to
catch his attention. “How’s it going?”

Seated several feet away, he whipped his head
toward her and said, “Good. Won yesterday.”

“He’s gonna win the championship.” One of Q’s
teammates piped in, matter-of-fact. “No problem.”

She recognized the signs of Down’s syndrome
in the taller boy. Did he swim as well as Q? Or was he a beginner,
one that was lucky to make it the length of the pool without
drowning? A quiver of angst spiraled through her. Watching some of
the swimmers made her nervous. “I bet he will, too,” she agreed
anxiously.

“It was close,” Q said, but dipped his chin
down and to the side.

“Very close,” the other boy added, then
pulled a pair of black reflective goggles on over his blue
latex-capped head.

“But a win is a win,” she reminded. Both
nodded, but Sydney didn’t like the tension swimming in Q’s eyes.
While he heard the encouragement, she didn’t think it was sinking
in. “Just remember to stay focused on your performance,” she told
him. “Don’t think about the other guys, only yourself and what
you’re
doing.”

He swung his gaze toward her but quickly
swung back to the shelter of his friend.

“Q is very focused when he swims,” his
teammate informed her. “He will win all his races because he tries
so hard.”

“I believe he can,” she said, marveling at
the boy’s sense of compassion, his sturdy sense of duty to his
teammate.

“She’s right, Q,” Clay added. “And she should
know. She wins a lot of volleyball games.”

“Yes, but just like each volleyball game is
different, each lap you swim is different. Concentrate on your
strokes, each and every one.”

He nodded casually, but she could feel his
attention had fully engaged. Though she had to admit it was an odd
sensation, the way he looked just to her side rather than center on
her face. It felt like he was one head-width off. “Count my
strokes,” Q replied, as if reminding her how it’s done.

“Count your strokes,” Sydney repeated, but
had no idea what he was talking about. She cast a glance toward
Clay for clarification.

Clay smiled. “Q counts his strokes. It’s how
he keeps track of his time in the water.”

“Good thinking,” she said to him, and meant
it. Very clever on his part. “Find your rhythm and focus on making
each and every one the best it can be, Q. Every stroke, every
breath…it’s all about you. You swim your heart out for
you
and no one else. You swim like there’s no tomorrow, no other
events, only this lap, this race. That’s how you win. You make the
connection here.” She tapped her head followed by her chest, “and
you’ll be the winner.”

When Q nodded, he held her gaze for a few
seconds, and in his smile she saw more than pleasure, more than
excitement. She saw gratitude, appreciation, as though her words of
encouragement meant everything in the world to him.

Her heart tugged.
You’re already the
winner.

“Rutledge! Greenville!”

Q flashed a glance toward his coach and
exclaimed, “Gotta go!”

Sydney watched him rush to his coach’s side,
his teammate hot on his heels. She turned, surprised to find Clay’s
eyes brimming with affection. “Damn, I could kiss you right
now.”

Caught between the heat of competition and
the heat of his gaze, Sydney started, “Excuse me?”

“You just hit a home run.”

Embarrassed by his audacity, Sydney ear tips
tinged. “Well, I don’t know about all that. I just gave him some
friendly advice.”

“You made him feel like the athlete that he
is. His nerves are still running high, I can tell, but he heard
every word you said.”

She looked at Clay, a surge of satisfaction
colliding with nerves. “We all get nervous. As a volleyball player,
you’re only as good as your last bump. I imagine it’s the same for
a swimmer.”

“It was more than that. He liked talking to
you, athlete to athlete. Most of the time when someone he doesn’t
know talks to him for more than a minute or two, he drifts, dodges.
But he hung with you until his coach called him away.”

She glanced toward Q and murmured, “Well, we
were speaking athlete to athlete, weren’t we?”

“That you were.” Clay grasped her by the
elbow and steered her away from the bench of swimmers. “Now listen,
can I have a minute with you? Not in here,” Clay said, cautious of
those within earshot. “Outside.”

Chapter Sixteen

As in private
? Sydney’s pulse
quickened as she reflexively checked for onlookers. After Javier’s
little chat, she began to fear people were watching them, taking
notes. Were the Special Olympics staff casting a disapproving eye
her way? Were they scrutinizing her interaction with the team from
South Carolina? But scanning the pool deck, she saw nothing out of
the ordinary. Kids, coaches, families, volunteers—everyone was
involved in their own affairs, paying no heed her way. She was
being ridiculous. Still, the instinct to keep her guard up
remained. “I guess,” she replied, uncertain as to where this was
going. She remembered their last outdoor chat all too well.

Clay led her to the exit, briefly stopping to
let Q know they’d be gone for a few minutes. “I won’t miss your
race, buddy,” he said with a reassuring tone. “Promise.”

Q nodded and the two headed out. As they
pushed through a side door, her senses were flooded by a sky full
of sunshine, the glare radiated off of the long line of parked
cars. Clay led the way to a nearby palm tree and stopped beneath
its shade. He turned, and she detected a hint of agitation in his
demeanor. An urgency. Her pulse quickened. Was there a problem?

“I talked to Charlie.” He planted hands to
his hips, setting his weight square center. “He told me that your
boss asked about me. Wanted to know if we were an item. Said he
pressed him on the issue.”

“He did?”

He furrowed his brow. “You didn’t know?”

“Well, I knew he asked about you.” She took a
step back and crossed her arms. “But I didn’t know he pressed.”

He nodded. “The way Charlie tells it, the guy
seemed jealous.”

She looked at him.
Did Charlie tell Clay
about her and Javier
? “Yes, well...” she evaded. “I don’t know
if I’d go that far.”

“It’s okay, Sydney. Charlie told me you two
were once involved.”

She glared.
Remind me to punch him in the
mouth, will you
?

“It doesn’t matter to me. The past is the
past. We all have one. But I’m concerned if his asking has anything
to do with you declining my invitation to dinner last night.”

Staring into earnest blue eyes, the question
so direct and unambiguous, Sydney felt cornered. She could lie.
Tell him the two things had nothing to do with each other, or she
could tell him the truth. Admit she wanted to have dinner with him,
but decided the consequences were too hefty. Until she actually
left JL Conventions, Javier was still her boss. And as her boss, he
had the power to fire her, or at the very least, send her off with
a horrible recommendation. No matter what she thought of the man
personally, his company was well respected in the convention world.
A positive word from Javier would practically guarantee her a job
elsewhere. Or prevent it.

Besides, she mused soberly, the fact
remained; Clay wasn’t here to stay. “For appearance’s sake, he did
indicate it might give the wrong impression.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I’ve never mixed my professional world with
my personal—except that once,” she added, a touch embarrassed.
“It’s not a good idea.”

“What if it meant finding the right
person?”

“Clay,” she said, but stopped. Was he
serious? Her pulse took flight. How did he make that leap?

“I mean it, Sydney. I’ve known a lot a women
and none of them have affected me the way you have. I’d like to
give it a shot. I’d like to at least see if it goes somewhere,
wouldn’t you?” He stepped back, as though struck by the sudden
thought that he may be alone in this sentiment. He dropped arms to
his sides. “Unless you don’t feel the same way about me.”

She didn’t know
how
she felt about
him—except of course that she was one-hundred-percent attracted to
him. But in reality, did she really know him? Though what she did
know, she liked. A lot. Bothered by the sudden clamber in her
chest, the influx of doubt she said, “Clay, I—”

Then dumped her gaze to the ground. She did
know what she felt about his kiss, about wanting more.

“Well, do you?” He tipped her chin up to face
him and fixed her in his gaze. “Is this something you want to
pursue?”

Pursue
? She didn’t know what she
wanted to do! It had been so long since she’d been part of a
“couple,” though she liked the idea of it including him. She
definitely enjoyed being around him, spending time with him...

“Have dinner with me tonight. If it doesn’t
go well, I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”

What if it went great
?

“We’ll eat, we’ll talk, that’s it.”

Would dinner really kill her? Would it risk
her job?

The intrusion of work thoughts annoyed her.
Javier was a hypocrite. He was bullying her and she didn’t like it.
Having dinner with Clay may risk her job, but it was a job she was
willing to give up. The more she thought about it, the more
convinced she was that it was time to move on. Now the important
question remained:
Would it risk her heart
?

Clay stood before, waiting. Was this
something she wanted to try? “I don’t know...” Desire gurgled up
inside her. “Maybe dinner won’t hurt.”

He smiled, relief loosening the knots from
his expression. “There you go again, acting like you’re afraid I’m
going to hurt you.”

The pinprick to her heart was faint but
noticeable.
Would he
? Would she fall for him and he not fall
for her? Would he break her heart? She wasn’t so sure. “But I can’t
tonight. Alana and I are supposed to meet with some sponsors
regarding uniforms and the like.”

He lightly returned hands to hips. “Sponsors,
huh?”

“Everybody wants their name out there and
with our recent win, we’re the current choice.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “I know I’d
sure as hell want you wearing my company logo.”

“It’s about money and visibility,” she
rebuffed with a smile, thankful for the lighter terrain. “I’m
nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to female athletes.”

“You are to me.”

Delight twittered about her breast. The man
could be so infuriating with his constant flattery. But it was an
annoyance she secretly coveted. It was nice to be admired,
complimented.
Did that make her a bad person
?

“So how about Saturday?”

Seized by sudden uncertainty, she swept the
parking lot with a glance. “You don’t have plans with your
family?”

“Nope. Q is finished racing until Monday.
We’ll be here in the morning, but then my folks are taking him to
the Seaquarium in the afternoon.”

“Shouldn’t you go with them?”

“Trust me.” He passed her a sly smile,
shadows from the swaying palm fronds above them drifting across his
face. “Trying to use my family as an excuse won’t work. They’ll be
fine without me.”