Whisper Privileges (7 page)

Sydney ground her jaw and said, “I’ll see
what I can do, but I can’t make any promises.” Getting tickets
would mean asking Morgan—which she would not do—or Javier, who in
turn would tell her to see Morgan about them. “I’m kinda busy right
now,” she said. “Can I call you later?”

“Sure. Just let me know when they’re
ready.”

“Bye,” she clipped and hung up the phone,
agitation stirring in her gut. No
how are you
, or
what’s
up
? The man only called when he wanted something from her.

“Hey, Syd.”

She whirled around. “What are you doing
here?” she snapped, bothered by the leap in heart rate almost as
much as she was disturbed by the sight of him.

Charlie strolled into her office, his posture
cocky and comfortable. Hair moussed into the current trend, blue
eyes drenched in conceit, the man acted welcome within her midst.
Which he was not. Smacking gum between his teeth, he announced,
“Clay wanted to see if you were interested in having lunch with
us.”

Sure enough, Clay walked in behind him and
Sydney’s blood pumped between her ears. Dressed in jeans and faded
red Polo, collar lifted ever so slightly, blond hair layered in a
windblown sort of way, he looked good. Casual, sporty,
fun...
sexy
.

“Well?” Charlie persisted. “What’s it gonna
be?”

“Can’t,” she returned, avoiding Clay’s hot
gaze. She liked fun and sexy, but she was busy right now.
Especially for the likes of Charlie. “I’m on my way to see Javier.”
She grabbed the notebook from her desk and stood.

“Don’t bother,” Charlie said. “Just passed
him and Morgan on their way out.”

“Out?” She dropped book and hand to her desk.
Both landed with a thud. “To where?”

“Didn’t ask.” His gaze touched upon her
discarded notebook and she swore she saw satisfaction creep into
his eyes. “So anyway, how about it?”

“How about
what
?” she asked, annoyed
by Charlie’s presence in her office and the fact that Javier just
left with Morgan to God knows where and for how long. Now how was
she going to get out of this speaking mess?

“Lunch,” Clay said gently, tugging her back
to the question at hand. “We’d like you to join us for lunch. If
it’s not too much trouble that is...” he pulled out with a
drawl.

“Lunch,” she murmured, drawn in by the soft
insistence in his voice, the mellow undertow in his eyes. After
their evening together, it was an alluring prospect to be sure. She
liked this Clay fellow, she enjoyed his company. Sydney glanced at
her coworker. But did it have to include him?

Charlie’s smile dripped with victory. “C’mon,
Syd. Humor us with your presence, will you?”

Charlie was no stranger to her feelings for
him. She didn’t like him and he knew it. But as with most jerks,
the feelings of others didn’t come into play.

“I’d really enjoy the pleasure of your
company,” Clay pitched in.

The pleasure of her company
? Was Clay
some kind of throwback from a classical movie?

He smiled. “If only for an hour.”

An hour. She expelled a sigh.
Why not
?
She thrust her gaze around the office. Bouncing from the
mural-sized dry erase calendar board on her wall to the stacks of
paper piling up on her desk she decided, nothing pressing for her
here. Until she caught sight of the crumpled square of pink paper,
the one that had landed on her chair. It screeched otherwise. She
turned back to Clay. “Can you give me a minute? I have a phone call
to make.”

“No problem,” he replied, noticeably
pleased.

“How about we head over to Bayside?” Charlie
suggested.

“I’m not eating wings” she said, knowing why
he wanted to go to Bayside. Granted it was close, but his favorite
lunch spot was a wing place Sydney referred to as “wings and legs.”
The only reason he ate there was so he could gawk at the waitresses
in their short shorts and tight tops.

“You’re no fun, Sydney.”

She scowled.

Clay raised the white flag and offered, “How
about we wait for you in the lobby?”

Amazed by the stark differences in their
style, one blond, the other brunette, one cocky the other kind of
sweet, she wondered again how the two were friends. But with no
energy to pursue the thought, she replied, “Sure.”

She made her phone call, happy that Stan was
unavailable to speak with her. Easier to leave a message than
explain matters—matters she had to sort through with Javier first.
Let him make the excuses for her no-show at opening ceremonies. It
was his fault to begin with she mused, and hurried down the
hall.

From the top of the stairs, she spotted Clay.
Alone in the atrium lobby, he stood waiting at the bottom of the
staircase. He looked up and watched her as she made her way down
which made her feel as if she were on parade. Hurrying, she took
the last step and calmed the sudden jitter of nerves. “Where’s
Charlie?” she asked, secretly hoping he’d miraculously cancelled
for lunch.

“Went to get the car,” Clay said.
“Hungry?”

Sydney’s stomach rumbled at the word.
“Starving, actually.”

He grinned. “Me, too.”

Through the glass wall, she spotted Charlie
spin his black Lexus around the circular drive to the building
entrance. Following her gaze, Clay turned and held out an elbow.
“May I?”

Sydney smiled at his show of gallantry. “Why
not?” After working with Charlie, it was nice to finally meet a man
with some decent manners. She slipped her arm through his and
walked the span of the bright and airy lobby, oddly delighted by
the connection of their bodies. Like the streams of sunlight
pouring in, his arm was warm, and he was none too shy about holding
her close.

In heels, she was a good inch taller than him
but Clay didn’t seem to mind. Just looked over at her and smiled.
“Don’t worry. Charlie will behave during lunch.”

She raised a brow in his direction. “That’s a
hefty promise to be making.”

“Trust me. I’ve got it covered,” he said, and
pushed open the heavy glass door, holding it open as they passed
through together. Like a couple. Then he opened the front passenger
door and winked. “Let me know if he bites.”

She laughed, pleased he finally understood
what she had to deal with when it came to his friend. “I will.” She
lowered into the car while Clay slid into the backseat.

Charlie punched the accelerator and the
vehicle responded with a taut lurch forward. “So what did you want
to talk to Javier about?”

She slashed him with a sideways glance. “Work
stuff.”
And none of your business
.

“That Morgan really made some waves with
those golfers, didn’t she? Event’s not even over and I heard they
want Javier to ship her to Palm Springs for their next one.”

Steeling her expression, she turned to look
at Charlie. Black hair combed into neat layers, well-defined
sideburns and clean-shaven jaw, she hated him. Hated him with a
passion. “I’m not particularly concerned with how Morgan is
doing.”

“How’s the fishing around here?” Clay
interjected. “Anything in season?”

“The fishing is wonderful,” Sydney replied
over her shoulder. Turning in her seat to face him more fully, she
continued, “You just missed the bull dolphin migration, but there
are still huge schools of fish that move through our waters all
summer long.”

“A woman who knows fishing?” He glanced
between her and Charlie. “She just keeps getting better and better,
doesn’t she?”

“Leave it to Syd,” Charlie agreed dully and
drove the short distance to the restaurant. Surprisingly, he seemed
content with his exclusion as she and Clay bantered back and forth.
She assumed it was because his friend was here and he was trying to
be polite. She was wrong.

Charlie zipped into a tight parking space,
jumped out of the car and quickly closed his door. Sydney and Clay
followed suit and he pressed a button on his key fob to lock the
doors. “Okay kids, I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

“What?” Sydney gaped at him over the car. She
touched her gaze upon Clay, but sprang back to Charlie. “You’re not
eating with us?”

“No.” His grin was coated in snake oil. “I
think you two have enough to talk about without me. I’ll grab a
quick bite and meet you back here, say one o’clock?” Brows raised,
he glanced between the two of them, as though confirmation were a
trivial detail.

Clay looked to her and grinned. “It’s okay
with me if it’s okay with you.”

Sydney smoked Charlie with a look of pure
contempt. This was a setup. But before she could reply, her belly
audibly growled.

Clay dropped his gaze to her stomach and
smiled. “You need to eat.”

That she did, but staring between the two of
them, she didn’t like the idea of being tricked into a lunch date.
While she found Clay attractive, she wasn’t sure she wanted to have
lunch alone with him and she especially did not like slimy dealings
by Charlie. But they were here and Clay was right. She did need to
eat. “A quick bite.”

“Perfect. Catch you later!” Charlie trotted
off and scaled the first flight of stairs he could find. Of course
he did. The wing place was located on the second floor.

“If it means anything,” Clay said softly,
reaching a hand to within inches of her. “I didn’t know Charlie was
going to pull a fast one on us.”

She eyed him warily, not entirely sure she
believed him. “Leave it to Charlie” she remarked with a tinge of
reticence, “stuntman-extraordinaire.”

“Should I call you a cab?”

Sydney hesitated, as if deliberating his
question. Where it was the last thing he wanted to do, Clay would
do it in a heartbeat. Forcing a woman to dine with him was not
cool. Particularly a good-looking woman he was trying to cozy up
to.

“No,” she said, the moment awkward. “I say we
just enjoy lunch, how about you?”

He smiled and held out his arm. “I’m already
enjoying myself.”

“Actually, I agree with you. I’m enjoying
myself—now that he’s gone.”

“So I gathered,” he said and suspected there
was more to Charlie’s failure with this woman than a mere
difference of personality, the mistreatment of a friend. Exactly
what, he intended to find out.

Located bayside, the restaurant was decorated
more tropical than nautical, the colors bright and crisp and loud.
The carpet was very green, the tables were very white and the
paintings were mostly palm trees done in fiery red and orange,
canary yellow and cobalt blue. It was a colorful play on an
otherwise plain green tree, but a traditionalist himself, the
technique wasn’t quite his thing when it came to art. Walls soared
twenty feet on the marina side, the boats and water easily visible
as they walked to their table. Now that’s what he preferred to
see—water, boats, masts and sails. Birds hanging in the breeze,
boats floating dockside, sails rolled and tucked secure, he could
almost hear the rigging as it clanged off the masts. The memories
it pulled from him were powerful, immediate. He could practically
taste the ocean air, feel the salt penetrate his skin.

The hostess stopped at a table for two,
drawing Clay’s attention from the outside as he pulled the chair
for Sydney, scooted her in and then sat himself. Dropping the cloth
napkin into his lap he watched her do the same, the green of her
eyes drawing him in immediately. Soaked in sunlight, they popped
from the tan of her skin, the golden streaks in her brown hair.
Unlike last night where it fell long and straight around her face,
well beyond her shoulders, today she wore it pulled back, pinned
high up on the back of her head.

He liked it. He found it sexier down, but he
liked the way the faint blonde tendrils bleached from her time on
the beach ringed along her hairline. The style framed her face and
made it appear heart-shaped. Enhanced by full round cheekbones, her
slender nose was near perfect beneath those incredible eyes. Rich
deep green, they reminded Clay of the Atlantic Ocean on a clear
day, the water glittering clear to its depths. “All that talk of
fishing has made me glad you chose a seafood place,” he said and
held his glass as a waiter stopped by to fill it with water. From
the looks of him, it seemed as though his tropical print shirt was
an attempt to match the décor. But this was Miami, where most
everything seemed tropically-inspired.

With a brief glance to the man, Sydney
smiled. “If you’ve never had stone crabs, you should try them.”

“Actually, I had some for the first time last
year and I agree.” He nodded, remembering the plump round claws,
mostly pink but marked by distinct black tips. “They were pretty
good. In South Carolina we have the blue crab. Not as meaty as your
stone crab, but sweet and tender and one of my personal favorites.”
Clay leaned forward and said, “I like mine best when prepared spicy
and served with hot butter.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“How about you?”

“How about me what?”

“Do you like spicy?” he teased.

Sydney hesitated, but seemed content to play
along. “Spicy, of course. Also buttery, creamy and sweet—I like a
wide variety of flavors.”

He smiled, pleased by her response. “You
sound adventurous.”

“I can be,” she said wistfully, then raised
her glass for a sip of water.

Another waiter showed up tableside. “Have you
had a chance to look over the menus?”

“No need,” Clay replied. “The lady will be
ordering for me.”

She looked at him, surprised. “Are you
sure?”

“Hundred percent.”

“Okay.” Sydney ordered and with a nod to the
waiter as he departed, Clay zeroed in. “So tell me about Sydney.”
The feature attraction
. “What do you do for fun?”

“You already know. I play volleyball, enjoy
fishing...”

“Anything else?”

“I work a lot, which doesn’t leave much time
for anything else.”