Whisper Privileges (23 page)

The breeze blew feathers of hair across her
eyes. It wasn’t an excuse. Not really. Sydney felt bad about
stealing him away. Clay should be spending time with them, not
cavorting around with some strange new woman he met, no matter how
much that woman may want to spend time with him.

“Listen,” he continued earnestly, as though
he fully understood her hesitation, “it’s like I told you before.
These events are a welcome break for Q and me. Spending so much
time together, he’s glad for a taste of freedom from his old man,
believe me
. He won’t even know I’m gone.”

She wanted to believe him, but it just didn’t
feel right. High on her back, the sun seared a veneer of heat
shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t know...”

“He’s in good hands with my parents. If he
needs me for anything, they have my cell number. Remember, I’m at
Disney right now.”

“What?”

He hushed his voice. “These games are a break
for me. Q and I spend a lot of time together, used to be
twenty-four seven. But now that he’s older, it’s different.
Especially now that he has swimming.”

“How does swimming change anything?”

“It’s given him a sense of independence,
achievement. For a while there it was like having an extra
appendage. In the beginning it was weird. I never had a moment to
myself, always worried about Q and what he was doing. I didn’t want
to keep him cooped up in the house, but I couldn’t just let him run
free outside, either. Our house has a pool and I was always so
scared he would fall in and accidentally drown, you know?”

“It’s a real threat,” Sydney said.
“Especially here in Florida.”

He nodded. “We had a baby gate, alarms on the
door, but still... You never know. I heard a story on the news one
night that a kid managed to climb over the gate and get into the
pool. His ball had gone in...” Clay shook his head and she could
tell the memory was vivid for him, as though he were seeing it
replayed before his very eyes. “That’s all it took for me. I found
an instructor willing to come to the house for private lessons and
the rest is history.” The smile pulling on his mouth turned into a
half-chuckle. “At first, he wanted no part of the pool. Screamed
like a madman. It was so bad, I almost called the lesson off.”

Imagining Q’s first days in the pool, Sydney
sat spellbound. It must have been some ordeal. She wasn’t sure she
wouldn’t have done the same thing—yanked the boy out and called it
quits.

“But then, something amazing happened. The
instructor was finally able to coax Q in. The guy swam back and
forth, real methodical like, each time getting closer and closer to
Q. I was in the water, watching, talking him through it until he
agreed to let go of me.” Clay chuckled. “Took nearly two hours but
by the end of the first lesson, I swear he was a changed kid.”

“Wow...”

“Took to the water like a fish from then on
that some days, it was all I could do to convince him to get
out!”

“That must have been a relief.” And she meant
it. Stories of children drowning were much too common.

“Absolutely. Here was a kid who would sit and
spend hours flushing the toilet just to watch the water spin, or
set up his Legos in a straight line only to smack them down and do
it over again. Now, he had another interest to occupy his mind. All
he wanted to do was swim.”

“What a switch,” she remarked, struck by the
toilet story. As usual, when Clay talked about Q, she found herself
curiously intrigued. Did autistic children really spend their time
doing such mindless tasks?

“You don’t know the half of it.” Clay beamed,
oblivious to the disbelief streaming through her. “He was getting
so good in the pool, his therapist suggested we attend a Special
Olympics event to see how Q reacted.” He paused, as though calling
forth that day in his mind’s eye. “He was fascinated, mesmerized.
From the minute the swimmers dove into the water until the last
whistle blew, he couldn’t get enough of the action. So I asked some
of the parents at the swim meet how their kids got involved and
well, suffice it to say, the kid’s never been the same since.”

She looked over his shoulder. In the parking
lot, a group of teenagers popped open the back of an Explorer and
started tossing in towels, folding chairs. “That sure must make you
feel better,” she said wistfully.

“It does more than make me feel better. You
know, it wasn’t that long ago kids like Q were shipped off to
institutions. No one thought they could ever assimilate into
society, could communicate with others and live a normal life. But
it’s not true. The progress he’s made both in the pool and out,
emotionally, mentally... You can’t imagine the sense of
accomplishment it’s given him, one that he can fully claim as his
own. He’s even developed relationships with some of the other kids
on his team. While that may not seem like a big deal for most, it’s
huge for a kid like Q.”

Digesting the enormity of what Clay said, she
no longer felt tense, prickled with guilt. Instead she was charmed
by the story of a “boy who could” and the organization that helped
make it come true.

“Let me tell you,” Clay said. “When he
attends these events, he feels totally on his own, like he doesn’t
need me anymore.” He paused. “So believe me when I tell you this is
a welcome break for both of us.”

Sydney thought she detected a hint of
melancholy at the admission, but Clay’s point remained. “So what
you’re saying, is that spending time away from him is sort of a
win-win?”

Clay smiled, his eyes glittered with
sunshine. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

“I guess I could swing by here tomorrow, and
we could grab a bite to eat for lunch.”

“Let’s say we
start
with lunch.”

The man was certainly persistent. “Will noon
work?”

“If I have to wait until noon, then noon it
is.”

The two smiled, the current between them
pulling strong. Maybe a little flirtatious fun would be good for
her, she mused. It was about time. Since Javier and she broke up,
there had been no one special, no one fun. The sun warm on her
face, her spirits lifted as she considered the prospects of their
upcoming date.
Date
. The squiggle of excitement scurried
right up her spine.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back inside.”

He stepped forward and held out his elbow.
Slipping her arm through his, the underside of her forearm slid
over the smooth, supple skin of his and the contact elicited a
desire deep in her belly. She liked the feel of his muscular arm as
it held her close, the intimate feel of his bare skin against hers.
She liked the strong wall of his shoulder as he took the lead. It
was a chivalry that was new to her. A gallant, traditional mindset
she had not experienced before. When he reached over and lightly
stroked the top of her hand, her insides nearly unraveled. Polite,
courteous, but he remained all man at the same time, constantly
reminding her of his attraction for her. The caress of his fingers
was gentle, yet bold, his touch soft yet intense. Clay had no
qualms about taking liberty in small ways. Would he feel as
comfortable tomorrow?

# # #

Clay stood outside the pool and waited for
Sydney. Closing in on noon, heat radiated from the pavement around
him but it wasn’t unbearable. Located near the water, Miami was
cooler than he expected, the sea breeze keeping temperatures
tolerable, much like it did in Charleston. A hot, humid day could
easily translate into ninety degrees but with the offshore breezes
at work, you’d never know it. Glancing from side to side, he
scanned the street for sight of her hot rod Mustang.

Clay chuckled to himself. Not the first car
he would have pegged her for, but after some thought, he decided it
fit. Muscle car for muscle babe, it made sense. But hot rod red?
She didn’t strike him as the fast and easy type. She seemed cool
and reserved when it came to men. Unless you counted her boss. Good
girls didn’t usually have sex with their employer. But considering
she was only twenty-six, he could have been her first. He could
have seduced her. He could have taken advantage of her.

Shaking the supposition from his mind, Clay
didn’t care. The past was the past. If she were easy, Charlie would
have scored. But he didn’t, that much was certain. And if anyone
had a past to explain, it was him. Lovers were easy to come by in
his world and he’d had his fair share. But Sydney had the potential
to become more, something meaningful. A cause he’d lose if he
didn’t convince her they had something worth pursuing before he
left. There was damn sure no way he’d be able to pull it off with a
thousand miles between them!

No. The time was now. Clay surveyed the
traffic stopped further up the street. Sydney Flores was not like
any of the women back home. She was strong and beautiful, smart and
sassy, yet he sensed a powerful vulnerability in her. She took her
imperfections hard. They ate at her. No one was perfect, yet he
sensed that’s exactly what she sought: perfection.

Part of which bothered him. He’d seen what
the fight for perfection could do to a person. He’d seen how it
undermined everything else turned sweet and sincere to sour and
superficial. Values were replaced by victories and no cost became
too great when it came to winning the envy of others. Trish had
made that clear. Sensitive to what everyone thought about her, she
spent all her time seeking to be admired for her looks, but in
doing so, she forgot to fill her insides with anything other than
fluff. Her parents didn’t help matters. They pushed her into
contest after contest, club after club. It wasn’t “what you knew”
it was “who you knew.”

Old resentments pooled in his gut. The hair
on the top of his head baked in the sun. Perspiration pooled above
his lips. He’d come to believe it was the only reason Trish dated
him. His family had money and good standing in the community, which
made him the perfect prize when it came to husbands. Trouble was,
he didn’t want to be a prized possession. He wanted to be loved by
someone real.

Once more, he swept the street for sight of
her. Today, one way or another, he would make some progress with
Sydney because she felt real. She didn’t know how much money he
had. She didn’t know how many lovers. She only knew he had a son,
an ex-wife, a cad of a friend—and she was still interested. Clay
smiled to himself. If she was still hanging around with all that
“baggage” then he figured he was good to go. His pulse skipped as
he did a double take.

What the...? No—
it couldn’t be
.

Chapter Seventeen

A stunned smile pulled at Clay’s lips.
Well I’ll be damned
... Dressed in white tank top and jeans,
Sydney took the corner with a slow acceleration of her motorcycle.
Headed toward him, here brown hair shone sleek against her head,
pulled back as it usually was and she sporting the same sunglasses
from her volleyball game commandeered the bike with skill and
proficiency. He chuckled. The woman never ceased to surprise.

Slowing to a stop in front of him, she
dropped a black-booted foot to the pavement and held the handlebars
at a slight angle. She smiled, allowed him to take in the sight of
her, then nearly purred the words as she took in the sight of him.
“You’re right on time.”

Pleasure coursed through him and he let out a
slow whistle, his gaze sliding forward and back of her motorcycle.
Shiny chrome handlebars and dual mufflers took center stage,
punctuated by gleaming black tires and leather seat. The body was
painted the color of turquoise and without a cloud in the sky
literally sparkled beneath her. Unfamiliar with bikes, he had to
admit it was a gorgeous piece of machinery. For a girl. He pulled
the sunglasses from his eyes. “I don’t know anything about bikes,
but that one’s sweet.”

Pleased, she replied, “Thanks. It’s a Harley
Davidson Screaming Eagle.”

“Nice.”

“Ready for lunch?”

He glanced around them. “Am I walking?”

“Now what kind of tour guide would I be if I
didn’t offer you a ride?” she asked demurely, save for the sharp
challenge in her voice.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

He spied the slope of black seat mounted on
the rear fender. “You want me to ride on the back?”

She slid her eyes to the seat behind her and
scooted forward. “Where else?”

He paused, scanned the bike forward and back
and ego tugged at him. “You sure you don't want me to drive?”

“What—afraid someone might see you riding
bitch?”

Whoa... Talk about peeling off the gloves and
tossing them to the curb—she didn’t pull any punches, did she? But
he liked it. With a step forward, he regained position. “Sorry,” he
said and moved hands to his hips. “Term doesn’t fit.”

She smiled. “Now that’s the problem with
macho lingo. Not a one-size-fits-all kinda proposition.” She zapped
him with a fiery gaze. “Offer stands.”

Clay glanced around the sidewalk, the street
and considered it. “Hm. Beautiful day, beautiful woman…” And he
liked the sound of the word
proposition
. Reminded him what
this lunch was all about.

Sydney smiled large and bright. “Sounds to me
like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Clay enjoyed the way she was toying with him,
but pretended to hesitate. “What happened to the last guy that did
this?”

“Don't know. You’ll be the first.”

Lingering on her, he second-guessed himself.
She sure seemed awful keen on the idea. Was there something she
knew that he didn’t? He swiped her bike with another glance. “Sure
you can handle it?”

“Why don’t you hop on and find out, tough
guy.”

Clay was a lot of things, but afraid of a
challenge he was not. He walked over, swung his leg up and over and
slid on behind her, grateful for the fact he was wearing jeans and
sneakers. Muffler burns could be ugly. Tentatively, he placed his
hands to her hips and smiled. This was working out in his favor
already! He leaned over her shoulder and was treated to a fresh
drift of perfume—the floral scent that had surprised him after
their first lunch—and noted the fine hairs on her exposed neck were
sun-bleached to a golden blonde. “Where do you want me to hold
on?”