Whisper Privileges (41 page)

But too busy admiring the soft layers and
shimmer of color, they never looked further. Anybody home? Anything
in there? Had one of them taken the time for closer inspection,
they would have realized what he already knew. There wasn’t anyone
home inside. No heart, no soul, no nothing. And Clay, for one, was
tired of pretty exteriors with nothing inside. He wanted a real
woman. A woman he could hold onto, make love to—challenge,
disagree, wrap his arms around during the good times, be embraced
by during the bad. He believed that woman could be Sydney.

“I’m trying to be realistic, Clay. Why won’t
you accept that?”

“Because I don’t believe you.”

“What? What don’t you believe?”

“I think you’re afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” she demanded.

“Afraid of me, my ex, Q... I don’t know
exactly, but I intend to find out.” One way or another, he was
going to find out why Sydney wanted to push him away, what drove
her to run.

“There’s nothing odd about not wanting to be
caught between a man and his ex, Clay. Ask any woman. It’s not a
comfortable place to be.”

“I understand.” He nodded, believing that was
a big part of her reticence. “But you’re not any woman.”

“I am.” She stepped away from him, partially
sheltered beneath a cluster of palm trees. “I’m no different than
the average woman. I don’t want to get caught up in old drama and
besides,” she added, as though it just occurred to her, “you never
know. She may have changed. She may have seen the error in her
ways. You two may want to get back together...for Q’s sake.”

His heart spit. Not a chance in hell.

“She’s an attractive woman. I wouldn’t blame
you if you did.”

“I won’t lie and tell you I don’t notice
beautiful women, because I do. I noticed you. But attraction for me
runs more than skin deep. I care about what’s inside, what makes
her tick, what moves her, what inspires her. I think you’re a
beautiful woman on the outside but even more so on the inside. You
care about people, care about doing your best. I like that in a
woman—in a person. And I think you’re strong, know what you want
out of life.” Clay paused, and breathed in the sight of her. Maybe
it was naiveté that held her back. It’s possible she had little
life experience outside of her job and her volleyball. From what he
learned to date, it sure seemed that way. Maybe she wasn’t ready
for a committed relationship. Maybe she was too young, didn’t know
what she wanted. He squirreled away the thoughts. Or maybe she did.
“But who knows? Maybe I’m wrong.”

Sydney visibly gulped.

“You’re right. We haven’t known each other
very long. But at least I was willing to give it some more time.”
When she remained mute, Clay decided to lay down his last card.
“But apparently that makes only one of us.”

“Clay—”

“Do you or don’t you, Sydney?”

She stared at him, the green of her eyes
shadowing in the lamplight. She hugged her arms to her body as
though warding off any advance from him.

But he wouldn’t. It was her turn to come to
him.

“So there it is.” His gaze darted back and
forth across hers. He wanted to kiss her, kiss some sense into her
and set her straight, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. What if she was
telling the truth? Was it possible she didn’t feel the things he
did? But her lips, her reaction...

No. It wasn’t possible—couldn’t be possible.
He knew she cared by the way she responded to him on her couch.
That night she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Clay
stepped away from her, his movement awkward.
Right
? He
hadn’t misread the signs, had he?

But when she made no move toward him, he
second-guessed his judgment. Laying it on the line as he had, Clay
expected her to reach out, erupt in a plea for reconsideration. He
thought she’d cross the line of doubt and come to him.

But she didn’t. Her silence deepened. Her
gaze glistened as she stared, but remained level and measured.
“Okay, then...” He swallowed his disappointment. “I guess that’s
it.”

Sydney reached out for him. “Clay,
maybe—”

He chucked a glance at her hand and quickly
sought her face. “Maybe what?”

She dropped it away. “I don’t know,
maybe…”

But whatever she intended to say dissolved
into nothing. Whatever her problem with the two of them was, she
wasn’t ready to voice it.

“I’m
sorry
.”

“Don’t be.” He met the pity in her eyes head
on. “I’m not.” If all he’d have was a week with Sydney, then so be
it. It was better than nothing at all.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sydney slogged through her paperwork. With
most of the Special Olympics people cleared out of the city, it was
time to clean the papers from her desk, generate the reports for
the event. Javier liked his associates to provide a recap for each
event outlining what went well, what went wrong, including their
budget report, and confirmation that they communicated with
sponsors and vendors involved, wrapping each event into a tidy
package of completion. But she had no interest. Sinking her weight
onto her elbows, she slumped over the forms, catching her chin in
the palm of her hand. She heaved a sigh. Stopping by the airport to
help facilitate the mass exodus of athletes yesterday, she’d hoped
to catch sight of them. Why she wanted to prolong her agony was
beyond her, but still... She wished for sight of Clay, of Q—any
glimpse, brief, in passing...

But after six hours without so much as a hint
of either one of them, she succumbed to reality. Clay was gone.
Time to face the inevitable stack of JL documents. She stared at
them and rued the day she ever met Clay Rutledge. She remembered
the first time she saw him. Standing next to Charlie, watching her
play, he looked like a surfer dude hanging around for the next
wave. No worries, no plans, sandy-blond hair and Puka shell
necklace, he was a natural at the beach. Yet it was so far from the
truth!

She recalled their first flirtatious banter
over drinks, then lunch. His easy way with conversation, his
generous way with compliments. She smiled. He’d been forward right
from the start, making it very clear he wanted to get closer, go
further. She had been certain his play was for sex, nothing more,
nothing less. Friends with Charlie, why wouldn’t she suspect as
much?

And maybe a light-hearted fling wouldn’t have
been all bad. But what really snared her was his sensitivity toward
her feelings. When he took the time to make her feel better about
her failure during opening ceremonies, she knew he was no ordinary
guy—and nothing like Charlie. It was an effort she didn’t deserve,
not after the way she treated him the night before, at the arena.
But that didn’t stop Clay. If he wanted to say something, he was
going to say it. And it was all about her. He didn’t dominate the
conversation with talk about him. No. Unlike most men, Clay seemed
genuinely interested in her, in helping—for her benefit, not his.
If that wasn’t quality male in the purest of forms, she didn’t know
what was—other than the pride he took in parenthood.

Her pleasure faded. Last night he made it
clear he wanted to pursue a relationship with her and she had made
it just as clear she did not. Why? Because of the distance? Clay
didn’t seem to think so. Seemed he thought she was running. Sydney
looked around the confines of her office, her small, unremarkable
and boring office, the calendar on her wall that seemed an outline
of her life.
Was that all she had
? Events, exhibits,
conventions? Add the part where he said he’d move and all bets were
off. Her objection over distance was wiped clean. Like the dry
eraser marks on her planning board, it disappeared in one fell
sweep of decision.

Was he serious
? Would he? Could he?
She imagined that would be very hard on Q. From everything she
gathered, Q was not good with change. He liked consistency. In
South Carolina he had a support network of family and friends. It
wasn’t fair to make him move.

So what if she moved? There still remained
the fact of his ex-wife. It may not be pretty. It may be petty and
small, but it didn’t make her a bad person. It was just her
reality. She’d always think of the two of them together, imagine
that Clay found Trish more attractive, more desirable. Then she’d
always wonder when she’d show up next. If only she’d stayed to work
it out with Q, they’d make the perfect fit. Sydney never forgot the
part where Trish left
him
, he didn’t leave her. If it had
been left up to Clay, they’d still be married.

Sydney blew out a sigh and stared down at her
paperwork. It was unfortunate. She believed Clay was a good catch.
Stabbed by a longing sharper than she expected, a part of her even
believed they could make it work. Whatever the odds, they could
make it work. She realized as much after standing around a hot
airport all day. Six hours was a long time to think and think she
did. But it was too late. Calling him now, he’d think her flighty.
Indecisive. Who’s to say she wouldn’t have doubts and run?

No. Their relationship would never go farther
than a few kisses. A few very smoldering hot kisses, her mind
murmured, immersing itself in vivid memory, the knowledge that it
would have been more, except for the call. Sure as she was sitting
here, she knew that if they hadn’t been interrupted, she would have
let him go farther.
Wanted
him to go farther.

Easing back in her chair, she swiveled to one
side and closed her eyes. Folding hands over her lap, she
envisioned Clay nuzzling in against her ear, her neck, sliding his
hand along the outline of her body until she was so hot and wet she
could have burned holes clean through her panties. It was that
good. The sensation was good. He was good.

They were good
...

“Sleeping on the job?”

Sydney’s heart stopped. “Javier!” She bolted
upright. “No, I’m not sleeping—just finishing up the paperwork for
the events.”

He chuckled and eased further inside. “Sorry
to make you go to all the trouble.”

“It’s not a problem, Javier,” she said,
trying to calm the flush of nerves coursing through her system.
“It’s part of the job.”

“And a job well done, I might add.”

“Thanks.” She inhaled deeply, releasing the
throb in her chest.

Javier sidled up to her desk and smiled.
“Well, you are one of my stars.”

Really
? She glared at Javier. Thick
black hair combed back in long layers, his jaw shaved to silky
perfection, his pale green shirt impeccably pressed, setting off a
tie that reeked of money, he stood smug. Comfortable. She wanted to
tell him exactly what she thought. She wanted to give him a piece
of her mind about his event assignments. She wanted to reveal his
current lover for the two-timing backstabbing fake that she was,
but in doing so would risk the goodwill she needed in the form of a
referral for her next job. Sydney sharpened her focus. Oh, but she
would love nothing more than to smear Morgan’s face in her
infidelity, expose her for the conniving bitch that she was—
“Javier,” she expelled in a rush. “I’m leaving.”

“
What
?”

Sydney wished she could take pleasure in the
complete and total shock on his face, but she only felt sadness.
For herself. She hadn’t meant to quit like this, with no idea where
she was going or what she would do—only that she had to leave. It
had been rumbling in her gut for a while, and now that it was a
reality, she inhaled deeply, it actually brought relief. “I’ve
decided to leave JL and I was hoping you would give me a referral
for my future employer.”

“But why?” He dropped into a seat, stunned.
“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure, yet.” Angst scattered and
popped in her breast. She hadn’t planned that far. “I have some
options, potential openings, but I haven’t settled on the details.”
Liar
. But if Javier knew she had nowhere to go, he’d refuse
her request. He’d try and convince her to stay.

He fell back into the chair. “I don’t
understand.” He lifted the tie from his stomach, then flopped it
back. “Are you unhappy here? Is there something I’ve done?”

She looked at him in disbelief. The man had
no clue how she felt. No idea what she’d been going through in the
last months, never heard her complaints. He saw what he wanted to
see and then railroaded his desires over top of hers. To think
Javier once prized himself on understanding her inside and out, it
galled her. The man was completely out of touch with her true
feelings. “It’s time to move on,” she continued. “I’d like to try
my hand at new things.” Which was true. She did want to try new
things. But they were the same things she was doing here—only
better. Moving to a new company would allow her a fresh start. No
Morgan, no Charlie. Not even you, Javier. There would be no one
there to take advantage of her, undermine her at every turn. No, it
would only be her. She could begin with a clear schedule board and
move forward with her life. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Sydney, if this is about not getting the
shows you wanted,” his voice took on a queer urgency, “we can fix
that. It’s not a problem.”

She shook her head and tried to ignore the
frantic tinge to his plea. More than out of character, it struck a
chord—one that hit too close. She’d seen that look once before.
Lion turned lamb, tiger turned kitten. It was the day she broke up
with him. He seemed upset then, too. Confused, as though he
couldn’t fathom why she would leave him.

Sydney shook her head again and reminded
herself of everything that had transpired since. His flares of
jealousy, his revenge tactics on the job. Early on, he had
attempted to get back together, to do whatever she wanted if only
she’d come back to him. But she had no interest. Once she closed
the door to her heart, it was shut for good. Eyeballing other women
was not a behavior she cared to endure. His petty behavior since
only revealed him for the man he was inside, proving she had made
the right decision. Javier was controlling and manipulative. He
wanted things his way or no way.