Whisper Privileges (32 page)

Sydney nodded dully, consumed by a sense of
failure as she plodded out of his office. Would he really keep her
in mind? Why would he if he didn’t feel she was suited for it? If
he felt she was better suited for kids, he wouldn’t. He’d just lead
her on.

# # #

Pushing through the garage door into her
kitchen, Javier’s suggestion grated on Sydney. It felt like he was
pulling her out of the big league and sticking her on the bench. He
was encouraging her to be with the kids, because they liked her.
She was more suited for the Special Olympics than edgy technology.
It was a notion she reviled. While she may not look the part of
Morgan or Trish, or act the bimbo, she could damn well do anything
a man could do and better. The fact that her boss didn’t think so
aggravated her. And she thought he knew her, knew what made her
tick, drove her forward, turned her on.

She snipped the thought. Wrong choice of
words. She tossed her keys and phone onto the Formica counter and
yanked open the refrigerator. Her stomach growled in complaint. Old
juice, leftover black beans and rice, wilting fruit. Sydney shoved
the door closed. Clay turned her on, but that was past tense—before
she met the ex. At the sound of her cell phone, she snatched it up
but noting the 843 area code, set it back down. Appetite soured,
mood pinched, she was in no condition to talk to Clay. Though
eventually, she would have to. Last night on her sofa they had
crossed the line, a line she couldn’t pretend didn’t happen. She
couldn’t walk around acting as though she hadn’t let him touch her,
feel her, make her react the way she did. Snippets of the evening
trickled through her loins in a tingle of memory. From their kiss
in the park to the kiss on the couch where he teased her until she
was ready to let him do anything—she pressed her eyes closed.

No. She couldn’t deny it. He knew what
happened. Locking arms over chest, she fell against the counter and
stared out the window. The banana tree she’d planted when she moved
in was huge now, home to fruit in varying shades of green and
yellow, a few lined in brown. These bunches were smaller than the
grocery store variety but no less sweet. She hadn’t picked any
since the tree began blooming over a month ago. Because she’d been
busy. Sydney inhaled deep and full, then controlled her breath as
she expelled the air from her lungs. Busy with work, busy with
Clay...

Trish immediately came to mind and Sydney
tensed. Getting caught between Clay and his ex-wife was the last
place she wanted to be. She’d been there before and would not go
back. She understood that divorced parents could never completely
separate, not so long as they had a child in common. There would
always be times when the two would come together. Whether it was
rare or often, pleasant or bitter, they would always stay
connected. Clay and Trish would always have Q in common. They’d
discuss his events, his future, his triumphs and loss.

It was a conversation she’d rather not take
part in. And the time to move on and away was now. Getting deeper
involved with him would only make the end hurt worse. Considering
the fact that closing ceremonies were only days away, she should
count herself lucky. In a few days, everyone would fly home.
Everyone would return to their lives and pick up where they left
off. The prick to her heart was quick and sharp. Her gaze darted
back out to the tree and tears swamped her lids. Wide flat leaves
swayed in the mild breeze, reflecting golden hues of waning light.
The soft evening glow warned the sun would set soon and she’d be
faced with a solitary evening at home. An evening unlike the one
she shared with Clay only hours before.

Last night she had been fully engaged, fully
in tune with him, his body, his touch. She had toyed with the idea
of them as a couple, the notion they could share more time
together, more conversation, more kissing. Shadows flanked her as
the room went dim, a stray cloud cutting the wash of sunlight. Her
eyes burned as her gaze remained fixated on the greenery, eyes
brimming but not overflowing. Fantasies of her and Clay were silly.
They were stupid immature thoughts from the get-go. He lived a life
of commitment and stability, one that centered on his son. And his
ex, no matter how much he tried to act indifferent, would always
play a role. And Sydney? What did her life entail? Freedom and
independence and...

She whacked the countertop, spilling tears
onto her cheeks. And work. She lived a life of work—work that
wasn’t particularly rewarding at the moment, thanks to Javier and
his “helpful” suggestion. Work in-house for the Special Olympics?
Was he kidding? She absently rubbed the sting from the heel of her
palm, careless to the hot slide of moisture on her cheeks. That was
the last job she wanted.

The phone rang. Sydney eyed it like a cat on
a mouse. If Clay was calling again, she had a mind to tell him just
what she thought about it—him, Trish, the whole damn situation. She
grabbed the cell and checked the number. But it wasn’t. It was Sam.
She pressed the talk button. “Hey.”

“Hey Syd, how’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Fine? What’s wrong?”

Was that the question of the day? What the
hell was it anyone’s business what was wrong? It wasn’t. It was
nobody’s. “Nothing. I’m tired.”

“New man wearing you out?”

“No.”

“Uh, oh. Things end between you two?”

“Things never
were
between us
two.”

The silence on the other end of the line was
deafening. Maddening. To the point Sydney felt implored to confess,
“Things are fine, but they’re ending.”

“Ending, why?”

“The man lives in South Carolina.” Why did no
one see this fact besides her? “Events end, we end.” Sydney didn’t
divulge the part about the ex-wife showing up. Would only
complicate matters and give Sam something to argue about. Knowing
her, she’d deliver some rah-rah spiel about how beautiful she was
and that any man would want her. Well, just because she said it,
didn’t make her feel it.

“I was planning on bringing the kids to Q’s
finals. Is this going to be a problem?”

“Bring anyone you want,” she replied tersely.
“He’s set to win the gold so it should be exciting for them.”

“But not for you, I take it.”

Sydney shook her head. “Whatever.” She pushed
off from the counter and paced the kitchen. “I’m happy for the kid,
alright? I’m just frustrated at the moment, that’s all. No big
deal.”

“Anything you care to share?”

“I had a meeting with Javier today and he
suggested I consider working in-house for the Special
Olympics.”

“Wow... Have they asked for you?”

“No.” At least she didn’t think so. “More
like he thinks I have a way with kids, so that’s who I should work
for.”

“Well my kids definitely loved you—but do you
really think working with kids is your thing?” Sydney resented the
stifled chuckle coming through the phone. “I mean, no offense but
you don’t have a lot of experience in this area. Shouldn’t you
stick to shiny gadgets with bells and whistles?”

“I’d love to.”

“But?”

“But when your boss thinks you work better
with children, he’s not likely to assign you the ‘shiny toy’
events.”

“I see...”

Anger welled.

“But didn’t you mention you may be seeking
employment elsewhere?”

“I did.”

“Then what’s the problem? Seems to me you
should be able to find sweeter pastures with someone new.”

Easier said than done. Without Javier’s
support, she’d be starting from the bottom, cleaning out pig stalls
as opposed to chomping from greener grass. Very few companies out
there were eager to hand out the cush job to a twenty-six year old.
Especially a female twenty-six year old, her subconscious added,
though she refused to acknowledge it. “I may have to bide my time
at this point.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said, with all
the casual confidence Sydney would expect from Sam. “So what time
is he racing, do you know?”

Actually, no. She had no idea. That would
require a call to Clay. She pulled the phone from her ear and
checked her voicemail. Sure enough, there was a message waiting.
From Clay. She pressed the phone back to her ear and said, “I’ll
find out and get back to you.”

“Thanks.”

Sydney ended the call and immediately pushed
the button for her voicemail.

“
Hi, Sydney. It’s Clay. Sorry about this
morning. I didn’t have any warning she was coming and well, I’m
just sorry is all. It’s clear you were bothered.”

He didn’t know the half of it!

“
Q’s racing tomorrow morning. Won’t be
first thing, but shouldn’t be too long after events begin. I’d say
come by around nine and you should be safe.”

Sydney checked her watch. Almost eight
o’clock now she was going to have to call Sam right back to give
her enough time to schedule a pick up for the kids.

“
We need to talk. We can’t leave things
this way. You’re too important to me. When you get this message,
call me?”

Her pulse echoed between her ears.

“
Doesn’t matter what time. Call me. We
need to talk
.”

Sydney deleted the message and hit redial for
Sam. Last thing she was going to do at the moment was call Clay.
You’re too important to me
. How could he say she was “too
important” after only a few dates?

“Miss me already?”

Sydney’s eyes shot to the ceiling. “Sam, Q’s
set to race in the morning, sometime shortly after nine.”

“Oh—thanks for the heads up. I’ll call right
now and make arrangements.”

“Figured your kids would need a little lead
time.”

“Nah. These kids are already geared up and
ready to go. It’s their foster parents who need the time.” She
laughed. “Now, am I going to get special seating with you or am I
forced to fend for myself?”

“I won’t be sitting, I’ll be standing.
Floating around the venue as is my job, but I’ll be there to see
you get seats.”

“Oh, pooh. You’re no fun, Sydney Flores.”

“I’m not the one who took the week off,
remember? I’m working.”

“Working has nothing to do with it.”

“Work has everything to do with it.”

Sam ignored her and said, “You have a few
days left. If I were you, I’d make the most of them.”

“Well you’re not me,” she snipped, regretting
the curt reply almost immediately. Sam meant no harm. And she was
right. Until Trish showed up, she would have made the most of every
last second with Clay. But now...

“Try and ease up, Syd. You’re being too hard
on yourself.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll save you a few seats,
okay?”

“Speaking of which, Vic will be joining me
tomorrow so save an extra one for him, will you?”

“Better get there early. I’ll do my best, but
it’s first come, first served for visitors.”

“What happened to my VIP status?”

“Private events only.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Clay’s pulse quickened the minute he saw her
enter the pool area. Meandering around as if she had no place to go
in particular, he was riveted. And mildly amused. If Sydney thought
she looked aimless, she wouldn’t be too happy. Work, having
something to do, a goal to achieve... Sometimes it seemed to be all
she had. Not the ideal life for a beautiful woman, he thought, but
a life nonetheless. And she was beautiful. Today she looked fresh
and sporty in her white Polo top, white shorts and tennis shoes.
Hair pulled up and away from her face, her cheekbones stood out,
lending an exotic quality to her face, the line of her dark brow. A
young swimmer walked by her and waved. Sydney smiled and waved
back. Charlie walked in behind her and she practically recoiled as
he spoke to her. Clay couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t like him.
Not one bit.

As she ventured further in, she looked around
the deck. Was she looking for him? Hope surged. After yesterday, it
felt like she was trying to end things between them. She left
abruptly, didn’t return his call, like she had second-thoughts.
Clay continued to watch her until she caught sight of him. He
waved. She waved, but hesitated. Clay’s pleasure receded. Was she
not coming over? He moved toward her and the initiative caused her
to do the same. Meeting each other halfway, he ventured, “I’m glad
you could make it.” Her perfume lifted from the V of her shirt
calling forth memories of her skin, their ride, the way she reacted
to his kiss, his touch. It made him want to reach out and touch her
again.

She slipped her hands into her front pockets
and said, “I didn’t want to miss Q’s big race.”

“So your presence has nothing to do with me?”
he asked, wishing he could find humor in her obvious evasion.

“Clay—”

But he couldn’t. Her withdrawal felt real,
not the stuff of trite games that some women liked to play. It felt
final. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. Will you sit with me?”

Noting his ex-wife already settled in with
the family, she replied, “I think it’s better if I remain mobile.
In case anyone needs me.”

He glanced toward his parents, Trish. The
noisy atmosphere adding to the wedge inserting between them. “What
if I need you?”

She looked at him and her withdrawal was
palpable. “Clay, you don’t need me.”

“But you’re wrong.” He touched a hand to her
arm. “I do need you.”

She blinked. “Clay—”

“How’s it going?” Charlie asked, strolling up
next to them. “Q up yet?”

Sydney’s gaze shuttered and Clay dropped his
hand. “Heat six,” he replied, cursing his friend’s timing.

“Cool. Hey, is that Trish I saw?” His
black-haired head bobbed in search of her. “Is she here for the
event?”

“Yes,” Clay said, a distinct chill entering
his voice.

“Damn, she’s still as hot as ever isn’t she,”
he said, shifting his focus to the stands.