Whisper Privileges (30 page)

But why? Staring like some kind of lurid
voyeur, Sydney fingered her credential lanyard and mulled the
connection. Why would Clay be revealing these facts to her? Was she
new to the events? Was that the other boy’s mother? Her skin
prickled with sudden realization. Her hand dropped away. Her mouth
fell agape. Oh my God...

Was that Q’s mother
?

Heartbeats ripped through her chest. But of
course—
it had to be
. Why wouldn’t she come to watch her son
in the national games? This was a big deal in his life. And didn’t
Clay say she periodically checked in?
Had he called her
?

Sydney’s legs dissolved into rubbery nothing.
Even from this distance, she could tell the lady was attractive,
arms crossed under her chest as though to bump it up for better
viewing, appearing to hang on his every word. But she was a beauty
pageant girl, wasn’t she? Isn’t that what Clay told her? Sydney
stood transfixed by the pair. Calm and casual, he stood by talking
to her as though she was a friend—not the woman who cheated on him,
deserted his son.

Then he spotted her. His demeanor stiffened.
Clay held her gaze, but he didn’t smile. Angst unraveled in her
stomach. Humidity rose to near sauna status.
Was he unhappy to
see her
? Had she inadvertently intruded upon him and his ex?
Sydney turned away, but stopped. This was ridiculous. She hugged
arms to her body, the plastic edges of her credential pass biting
into her skin. She glanced at nothing or no one in particular. This
was insane. She’d come to ask after Q. She’d come to make sure he
was okay, see if there was anything she could do.

But it was obvious he was okay, or they
wouldn’t be here this morning. Turning back for a peek, Clay
motioned for her to come over. That’s when the woman zeroed in on
her. Slowly releasing her arms to her sides, she frowned. It was
the instantaneous assessment one woman made of another—only Sydney
had made hers first—and the two seemed to share a disappointment.
Clay called for her again and this time, with a half-hearted
smile.

But she didn’t want to go. She had no desire
to stand side-by-side with that woman. Sydney glanced around her
immediate vicinity, her flight instincts flapping at high speed.
Did she have a choice? To walk away now would most definitely make
her the coward in this encounter—something she was
not
.

A young boy hurried by, clutching for the
towel falling from his waist. Exuberance emanated from his eyes as
he smiled. She tried to return the gesture, but her response
quickly lost wind. She wasn’t in the smiling mood. She wasn’t in
the visiting mood. But she had no choice. Clay had put her on the
spot; do or die. With a deep breath, Sydney steeled her defenses
and walked over.

She didn’t have to stay. She’d ask after Q
and profess a busy schedule. Winding her way around a group of dry
swimmers, many still wearing blue T-shirts, she circled around the
edge of the pool. Careful to stay clear of the volunteer
time-keepers at the pool’s end, sweat collided with chlorine in a
mixture that rankled her nose as she closed the distance between
them. When Clay’s eyes didn’t light up at her approach, a chill
sank deep into her bones. Too late for evasion tactics. It was time
to say her piece and move on.

Coming to within feet of them, Sydney found
the woman to be stunning, in a flawless sort of way. Her nose was
slim and perfectly shaped, her lips were full and painted a
shimmery pink. Her hair was straight and shiny, like spun silk
falling in large curled waves about her shoulders. Her breasts were
large and round, the skin of her chest smooth and tanned. Next to
her Clay was dressed casually in khaki shorts and simple red cotton
collared shirt, his beads California-cool. She felt the sheen of
perspiration form across her forehead. Jealousy sliced her in two.
Together they looked like a golden couple straight off the shores
of Malibu.

The woman placed her hand on the back of
Clay’s shoulder as he said, “Hi Sydney.”

Noting none of his usual warmth, her heart
constricted. “Hi.” She forced herself to keep it brief, else he
detect the quiver in her voice. “How’s Q?” That was the reason she
was here. To check on Q and then leave.

“He’s good. Asleep by the time I
arrived.”

She nodded, trying to resist the impulse to
stare at the woman standing next to him. But even from the
periphery of her vision she couldn’t miss her. Particularly her
eyes. Bluer than blue but three shades lighter than Clay’s, they
were striking. Extraordinary.

Removing the hand from Clay’s shoulder, she
extended it toward Sydney. “I’m Trish. Q’s mom,” she thrust, as in
ownership.

So Sydney was right. It was Q’s mother.
Meeting her halfway with an automatic handshake, she replied in
turn, “Sydney.” She squeezed the slender hand and released quickly.
Last thing she needed was this woman to feel the tremble in her
grip.

“I’m sorry,” Clay said, as though poor
manners had betrayed him. “This is Q’s mother. She’s here to see
him swim in the events.” As he said the words, Sydney noted a
scratch of irritation in his voice. Was he bothered the two women
were together? Was it awkward for him that they met?

“Okay, well...” Sydney took a step back and
cleared her throat. She struggled to temper the flush of blood
pulsing between her ears. “I just wanted to see how he was doing.”
Darting a glance toward his female friend, she turned to go,
disturbed by the sense of possession this woman’s eyes held.

“Don’t go, Sydney.” Clay reached out and
touched her hand.

The move sent fireworks through her system.
She shifted away from him and said, “I’m afraid I have to. I need
to see about some drinks.”
See about some drinks
? Not only
are you the third wheel here, now you look like a fool!

“Sydney, wait—” Clay grabbed hold of her
upper arm.

Surprised, she glanced to his hand and then
to him.
What was he doing
?

“I’ll get out of your way,” the woman said.
“Just let Q know I’m here.”

“Will do,” he said, but remained focused on
Sydney.

Sydney trailed the woman’s backside into the
bleachers. My God, the woman was petite—wearing four-inch wedge
heels, her butt was high and tight and half the size of her own
atop legs that bore not a speck of fat—unlike her own.

She turned to face Clay and her confidence
withered. This woman once belonged to him. The two shared a life, a
bed—

They shared a son. To this day, they shared a
son. Fantasies of a life with Clay popped and sputtered. Her eyes
stung as she fought back a sudden surge of tears.

“She wasn’t expected,” Clay said and cast a
spiteful gaze toward his ex-wife. He let go of Sydney. “I don’t
even know why she’s here.”

“Maybe she wants to cheer her son on to
victory,” she mumbled, the mark left on her arm pulsating at his
release.

“More like she wants to share some of the
spotlight,” he said flatly.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” She
hugged arms to her body. Though she wished it were true. She wished
the woman was a she-devil in the flesh. It would make her feel
better about herself at the moment.

“You don’t know Trish. Everything is about
her and I mean
everything
.”

Was that the reason for Q’s sudden illness?
Did his mother show up last night and cause trouble? “Does Q know
she’s here?”

“No. And I’d rather not tell him.” He pitched
another glance in her direction and Sydney thought he might spit.
Clay swallowed and said, “But I’m sure she’ll make that
impossible.”

Sydney wondered if she had come with a
husband, or if she had designs on reuniting with Clay. Fighting the
urge to look at the woman, she stared into Clay’s eyes. The two
certainly looked cozy when she first walked in. But with her
self-esteem flailing in the wind, she wasn’t about to ask. She
already felt like a school girl in love with the football player,
the one who only dated beautiful cheerleaders and not gargantuan
tomboys.

“I’m glad you’re here. Q will be happy to
know you stopped by to check on him.”

“Yes, well...” If it didn’t confuse him.
Dropping her arms, it dawned upon her. What did he think about his
dad spending time with a woman? Did he see Clay with many
girlfriends, or were women a rarity in his life? Sydney shook the
supposition away. He had to see him with women. Clay moved in too
easily for dating to be something of a rarity for him. But of
course she should have thought about asking these questions
before
letting him pull her in and lull her into submission.
Last night she had felt rapture. Now she only felt trapped.
“Listen, I really do need to get to work.” She slid a hand over her
head and tamped back the flutter in her chest. “I’m glad Q’s okay.
Is he competing today?”

“No. Today he has off. Tomorrow’s his big
race.”

“Well, give him my best.”

“What—you’re not going to be here?”

Sydney found the look of shock on Clay’s face
almost heartening. “I, uh...” She had planned on it, but now... She
wasn’t so sure. Being part of a threesome was not her idea of a
good time.

But before she could utter an excuse, Clay
said, “Sydney, you have to come watch him win the gold. He’ll be
crushed if you don’t.”

Crushed was laying it on a bit thick, but
Clay was right. Q would most likely be expecting her. He knew she
was interested in his events. He knew she wanted him to win. How
could she finagle her way out of being caught between Clay and his
ex without disappointing Q? She looked into Clay’s expectant gaze.
She couldn’t. That was the problem. She sighed. “I’ll try.”

Clay took her into his arms and she went
rigid. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She glanced about them. “I have to
work to do, remember?”

Alarm scored his features. “Sydney, what’s
going on?”

“I told you, nothing is going on.” She broke
free from his grasp and wondered who might be taking note of this
interaction. All she needed now was for the Special Olympics staff
to report back to Javier about her mild altercation with one of the
swim parents. “I just can’t give you a firm commitment, that’s
all.”

“It’s not Trish, is it?”

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“Whoa...” Realization transformed his
expression. “That sounded convincing.”

“This isn’t the place for this—” This
what
? Discussion? Lover’s quarrel? What the hell was she
doing? Sydney took several steps away and said, “We can talk about
this later.”

“Sydney, c’mon. What about last night?”

“What about it?”
You copped a
feel
—
great
. Her body reacted with a mix of pleasurable
recollection and horrific mortification. Didn’t mean anything and
if they keep it to last night, it never has to.

“Didn’t you have fun?”

“It was great. I had a nice time.” She
struggled to remain detached, above the fray of the emotion
currently tangling inside her. “But you and I both know this isn’t
going anywhere. You don’t have—”

“I don’t have what?” He stepped toward her.
“I can make it happen.” Blue eyes bored into her. “Whatever you
need, I can make it happen.”

This was absurd! Sydney pressed thumb and
forefinger to her temples. They were talking in circles,
generalities. They were playing games. Neither one of them had the
ability to see this through. She wasn’t moving. Nor was he. He had
a life and a network of support in South Carolina. He had family, a
career. He didn’t need her. Tears threatened to betray her façade,
but Sydney forced them back. She wasn’t doing this. Not here, maybe
not ever. “Can I get back to work, please?”

“That’s it?”

She nodded. Another wave of tears threatened
as she tried to ignore the hurt in his eyes. Yes, that’s it. So
close, yet so far.

Clay exhaled heavy and tight. “I’m not giving
up that easily.”

She turned, but stopped. “Why not? What’s the
point?”

“You’re the point. Only you don’t see it
yet.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sydney rounded the turn for the hall leading
to Javier’s office and glowered at the sight of Morgan. Dressed in
a pale pink vest and floral mini, her stiletto heels wholly
unprofessional, much like the hair teased high and combed out past
her shoulders, she trotted in her direction. Strolling to a stop
before her, she said, “Well, if it isn’t the speech goddess
herself.”

“Not now,” Sydney grumbled, tightening the
grip on her leather binder. She was in no mood for this woman’s
games.

“Tomorrow’s your grand finale, isn’t it?”

Sydney took in the immediate vicinity. Javier
was nowhere to be seen. Associates were out of earshot. Morgan had
no audience. Why bother?

“My computer software show begins next week
and I’m
so
excited,” she chirped, a malicious luster
shimmering in her eyes.

News flash sister: it’s not
your
software show. It’s the Pan-American Expo for software giants
across North and South America—the one she wanted but Javier gave
to Morgan instead.

“Javier and I are having dinner with the
president of Azevedo Tech. You know, the leading software company
out of Brazil? I think he wants us to play a key role in his
organization, maybe represent his exhibits worldwide. Isn’t that
incredible?”

“Amazing,” Sydney replied, irritated that her
path had been intentionally blocked. Though if she had to shove
Morgan out of the way, nothing would give her more pleasure.

“You know he’s dating that actress, Mona
Lynn,” she transferred her weight from heel to heel, quickly
slanting to the side as Sydney made a move to pass. “I’m sure
she’ll be dining with us as well,” she added, angling her head in
an attempt to capture Sydney’s attention.