Whisper Privileges (42 page)

Javier was entitled to nothing from her. He
moved on. She moved on. “It’s not about the shows. I’m just ready
to expand my horizons, you know?” She folded her arms on top of her
desk. Insulting Javier was not her goal. After all, he’d given her
a chance to work some big shows in the beginning and those were
opportunities she could never repay.

Gazing at him from across the desk, his
pained expression drew snippets of memory, the soft lines of his
eyes as he slept, his quick laugh when she tried to one-up him, the
gentle groan he emitted when she touched him just so. Strange that
she should remember these things now that she was leaving. Yet with
all his flaws, she couldn’t deny he had a tender way about him—when
he wanted. A sweet romantic side that for a while had persuaded her
to believe he was the one. For a time she fantasized about spending
the rest of her life with him.

Until his wandering eye stopped her cold in
her tracks. “Will you give me the referral?” she asked, her tone
purposefully quiet, calm.

“Sydney, you know I will. That goes without
question.” He shifted in his seat. “But I don’t want to lose you.
You really are one of my best. I know you weren’t happy about the
Special Olympics, but they are the big time, the major leagues, as
you call it.”

“So was the golf show, but you gave it to
Morgan,” she spat before good sense had a chance to intervene. “But
that’s your choice, Javier. I’m not angry.” He’d get his due soon
enough when he learned of her relationship with the Mayor. And
eventually, he would. Miami was a big city, but a small social
circle. If Sam spotted Morgan with the Mayor, so would someone
else.

Javier smiled as though he believed he found
his way back in. “Sydney, Morgan couldn’t handle the Special
Olympics. Charlie couldn’t. James couldn’t. I gave it to you
because you were the only one I could trust.”

Sydney wanted to shoot back a response. If
only she had one.

“You may not realize this, but working the
Special Olympics will prove to be a gold star on your résumé. And
you, my shining star, deserve it.” He paused, then assumed a
delicate intimacy with her. “You know I care about you. You know I
still care about you and always will.” His tone dropped to a near
whisper as he reminded, “We’re not together because of you, not
me.”

She looked at him and hated the pull she felt
toward him. There had always been something about him that she
craved. His looks, his personality...

Something. But if she hadn’t broken it off
with him, he would have. Ultimately he would have left her for
someone younger, sweeter, hotter.

“I love you, Sydney.” He shifted in the chair
again and suddenly seemed stiff and uncomfortable. “I know I
probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, but I do.” He tapped his
chest. “From the bottom of my heart,” his voice cracked ever so
slightly. “You’re special to me. You always will be.”

She bit her lower lip, tried to ignore the
pitch in her stomach. Their years together flooded forth in one
last wave, swamping her with emotion. Sydney had loved Javier once,
it was true. But not today. Today she felt nothing but professional
association.

“Maybe you need some time. You might want to
reconsider a move if I can change it up around here. Maybe you’re
right. Maybe I haven’t been assigning you the events you
deserve.”

“Javier—”

He held up a hand. “If you want to leave, I
won’t stop you. I’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

She nodded.

He gathered his dignity into a semblance of
indifference. “And not because of my personal feelings for you, but
because of my professional respect.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Thank you.”

“But I don’t want you to go. We may not have
a chance again, you and I...” Sadness swamped his eyes. “But I want
you to stay. I think it will be better for your career. A few more
years here and—”

“
Javier
.”

“I know. Call me selfish, but I like having
you around.” He smiled, and it was a smile from their early days,
as though...

The realization stung.
As though he still
lived there
.

Hands to armrests, Javier hoisted himself up
and out of the chair. He jerked his head from the tight grip of his
collar and said, “I won’t pressure you, Sydney. I’ll honor your
decision. Just don’t rush into anything.” He paused and held her in
a near fatherly gaze. “You seem like you could use a little time on
this one.”

A tear broke free. “I will. Thank you.” She
wiped her cheek, then picked up her pen. “I appreciate it.”

“Little smile?” Javier coaxed, his eyes
brimming with a loss she hadn’t realized tore at him still. “Just a
tiny one?”

She feigned a quick one, but couldn’t sustain
it.

“I don’t like to see you this way, Syd. It’s
not you.”

No, it wasn’t. But with a little time, it
would all be good.

“Anything I can do, you let me know.”

“I will,” she murmured.

Uninterested in lingering or unable—she
couldn’t tell which—Javier hurried from her office.

# # #

“You look like hell,” Sam said as she slid
onto the barstool next to Sydney.

Several nearby women gave her the once-over
as she sat in the coveted spot saved for her. Friday night at
Olives meant standing room only and they didn’t appreciate being
delegated to the mob of bodies that encircled the oval shaped bar.
If Sydney hadn’t grabbed a seat while the grabbing was good, the
two of them would be standing too, battling elbows and boobs. She
stirred the plastic sword through her drink, whisking pieces of
mint through the caramel-tinted rum. “Thanks for noticing. It’s
been a rough week” she said, comfortably settled in with her first
mojíto
of the evening.

“So you quit.”

“I did.” Sydney set the tiny sword on the
napkin alongside her glass and picked up her drink.

“Well that’s exciting.”

“Depends on how you look at it, but yes, I
find it very exciting.” Sam’s brown eyes held no cheer, a stark
contrast to the sunny yellow suit she wore over a bright orange
camisole. “Or will.” She brought glass to lips and clarified, “At
the moment, I’m not really sure where I’m going.”

“Probably would have been a better plan to
line that up before you quit.”

“Yes, well.” She smiled thinly. “I think
we’ve seen that I don’t always do what’s best.”

“Are we talking work or pleasure, here?”

“Both. Everything. I’m just not feeling very
stellar at the moment.”

“Have you told Clay?”

“Nope.” She hadn’t spoken with him since
Wednesday night. Memories of the evening careened into her mind.
Any other time the Biltmore would have been the perfect place to
spend time with Clay. It was the essence of romance with its
Mediterranean architecture, open courtyards and free-flowing
fountains. Wouldn’t take much convincing for her to spend a weekend
there with him...spa for her, golf for him and then later—

She turned the spigot of thought off. She
didn’t want to think about Clay.

“Has he gone back to South Carolina?”

“Wouldn’t know,” she said and downed a hefty
swallow.

“Well you’re a bundle of information
tonight.” She turned to the bar and summoned the bartender.

“Not here to run the ticker tape.”

“Do you know if his son is okay?”

“Seemed to be.” Seemed to be perfectly fine.
Except for the fact that he could have seizures in the future, he
was great. Sydney felt the pinch of worry. Clay didn’t have an easy
road ahead. If the doctors told Q to stay out of the water, he’d be
beside himself. She didn’t know what they would do. Sydney downed
another sip of rum, the cold liquid firing down her throat. It
wasn’t her concern.

Unfortunately
. It was but a whisper
from her heart, but she knew it was true. Sydney wanted to be with
them, wanted to worry right along with them. She regretted not
throwing herself into Clay’s arms. She should have. Then they could
have picked up where they left off, at her house, on the couch, and
solved life’s problems in the afterglow of lovemaking.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender
asked. Leaning into the bar, his bearing was quick and choppy. He
had a full house tonight and no time to waste.

“Gin martini straight up, three olives.”

“You got it.”

“And make it dirty,” she added, absent the
first glimmer of flirtation.

Because of me, Sydney mused. Pining over lost
love, even Sam was drowning in her misery.

“Coming right up,” he said, then pushed off
from the bar and went to work.

“Well, well, well...”

She turned at the voice cutting through the
din of the crowd, her senses recoiling. Charlie strolled up with a
friendly ease he didn’t merit with her. “If it isn’t two of my
favorite ladies.”

“Bad time, Charlie,” Sydney advised, careless
to the razors cutting through her tone. Curiosity surfaced in the
guy standing next to him, his guard quickly raised as he took note
of their interaction.

“Is it ever a good time with you, Sydney?” He
stood glib, a sharp edge to his demeanor.

“Not usually.”

“You know, that’s your problem. You should
try and be nicer to people. You’d have more friends if you made an
effort.”

“I have enough friends.”

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Sam
intervened.

Charlie turned to Sam, smug as a man who’d
won the lottery but had yet to reveal as much. “Well, I heard my
coworker here quit and I wanted to give her my well-wishes.”

Of course he knew
. If Morgan knew,
everyone knew. “Accepted, now move on.”

“Aw, now—see? That’s what I mean,” he said,
more to Sam than her. “If Sydney had been nicer, she wouldn’t have
run my good friend off.”

Sam warned, “You’re on dangerous ground here,
son. A few more steps and you might get hurt.”

“All I’m saying, is that Syd here missed her
big chance. My friend Clay is the big time.” Slime slithered into
his smile. “He’s worth millions. Money you could use right about
now. But oh no, you blew it.”

She turned to him.
Millions
?
Clay
?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“One beautiful martini for one beautiful
lady...”

Sydney didn’t acknowledge the bartender as he
slid the drink in front of Sam. She only had eyes for Charlie at
the moment—eyes that were spewing flames.

“Sydney doesn’t date men for money,” Sam came
to her defense. “But then again, why would I expect you to
understand something so decent?”

He laughed. “Every woman wants a man with
money, Sam. Fact of the beast.”

Breath held tight in her chest, Sydney
detested Charlie. With every ounce of her being, she detested
him.

“Get out of here, Charlie,” Sam warned. She
turned back to the bar and pulled the drink closer to her. The
bartender disappeared.

“Hey,” Charlie complained, holding his palms
up. “Don’t kill the messenger. I told you, I’m only here to give
Sydney my best for her new future. I’m just sorry to see it won’t
include my pal.”

Sydney glared at him. Black hair gelled back,
the front combed into the tousle of the latest style, eyes bluer
than blue, his skin shaved smooth, his complexion flawless...
Loathing thrashed hot through her gut. “Walk away now Charlie, or I
will not be able to restrain my actions.”

“As her attorney, I heard her,” Sam said over
her shoulder. “She’s given you fair warning.” She tipped her
martini glass back for a methodical sip.

Unaffected, Charlie tossed back, “Don’t have
to ask me twice.” He glanced between the two, and his position was
clear. He felt the same way about her. “Have a nice evening,
ladies.”

“I can’t believe Clay and that man were ever
friends,” Sydney ground out.

“People change.”

“Some don’t.”

Sam squared her shoulders to Sydney. “I
gather you called it quits with Clay as well as your job?”

“In so many words, yes,” she replied, still
trying to digest Charlie’s words. Millions?
She had no
idea...

Sam grunted. “May I ask why you’re on this
suicide mission?”

Fresh anger whipped through her and she
pulled her drink close. “Already told you. I’m not interested in a
long-distance relationship.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with his
ex-wife, right?”

Sydney backhanded her with a glare. “I’m
not
spending the rest of my life having Clay compare me to
that woman.” It was the easiest excuse, the one she could live
with, hang her irrationality on.

“What makes you think there would be any
comparison?”

“Human nature.”

Sam pulled back and grazed Sydney with a
careless inspection. “I’ve never seen you this way. Insecure over a
man’s fidelity I get. Your dad cheated, you think all men cheat.
Illogical, but understandable. Childhood wound. But insecure over
your looks? Why? You’re one of the most attractive women I know,
Syd. Why don’t you get that?”

Disappointment filled her as she stared at
the rivulets of water forming on her glass, the
mojito
dissolving into a mess of ice and leaves. She’d love to believe it.
Life would be so much easier if she believed it. “I can’t compete
with a woman like her.”

“Then don’t.”

“Men want women like her.”

“That’s a load of crap. Men want sexy,
confident women. Women comfortable in their own skin.”

“Men want looks.”

“And women want money?” Sam turned away,
grabbed her martini glass and griped, “Now you sound like
Charlie.”

Sydney met her head-on. “Don’t even go
there.” She was not interested in Clay for his money. Hell—she
didn’t even know he had any until now! But she didn’t want to
subject herself to the barbed wire fence between exes, either. She
wanted white picket. White picket, not wrought iron rimmed with
spikes. Sydney pulled a long swallow from her glass. She only
wished it could have included Clay. “You forget I’m talking from
experience.”