Free Whisper Privileges by Dianne Venetta Page A

good friend of mine—one I introduced him to—then had
the nerve to act like it was no big deal, as if the woman was the one with the issue.”
    Clay reached across the table, but not far
enough to touch her. Only in town for the events, he didn’t have a
lot of time and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let talk of Charlie
sever his chances. “I hear what you're saying about him, but
Charlie and I have been friends a long time. I'd like to give him
the benefit of the doubt.”
    “Feel free,” she said, bitterness curling the
edge of her words, then plopped the bite of fish into her mouth and
chewed, her jaw rigid as it moved.
     
    Half an hour later Charlie spun the Lexus up
to the front door of their office building. While Sydney gathered
her purse, Clay was up and out of the car, standing by her open
door with an extended hand. Placing her hand in his, he pulled her
up easily, yet remained very close. Face to face, he held her in
his very near gaze. “How about dinner this evening?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Why not? A girl has to eat, doesn’t
she?”
    She smiled in apology. “Thank you for lunch,
though. I had a nice time.”
    “Are you sure? It’s just a harmless
meal.”
    “Why do I doubt that?”
    He grinned. Because you’re a smart
woman . “Okay.” He chuckled, amused by her direct response. Clay
reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. Pearly-smooth olive
skin was deceivingly fresh and floral scented and nothing of the
spice he imagined she’d wear. Placing the most gentle of kisses on
the slope of her wrist, more pat than kiss, more promise than
pleasure, he finished with a sweeping graze of his lips down the
length of her fingers, pausing at her fingertips, sealing the move
with a slight nip. He wanted her to think about this one later.
“I’ll see you around the pool.”
    Mildly flustered, she asked, “The pool?”
    “Q’s events?” he prodded, enjoying his effect
on her.
    “Of course— the pool . Yes, perhaps,”
she replied, more stumble than certainty. “Maybe I’ll see you
around the pool.”
    “I look forward to it,” he said and winked.
“See you later, Sydney.” Lowering into the car, he took
satisfaction in the way she absently rubbed the spot on her hand
where his lips had been. Don’t you worry. We will meet again, you can count on it .
     
    # # #
     
    Early Saturday morning, confident everyone on
site was in place and ready to go, Sydney glanced at the distant
sky. Without a cloud to speak of, she figured it would be easy to
spot the planes as they approached. But cupping a hand to her brow,
she struggled to catch sight of the first one. Was that it ?
The pinprick of black, way in the distance?
    She could barely make it out. But according
to the schedule, the first plane should be landing any minute now.
With over three thousand athletes set to arrive, they expected a
plane full of people to land practically every minute. A plane
every minute ? She was no pilot, but that seemed like an air
traffic control nightmare. More like a crowd control nightmare she
thought, gazing around the cordoned-off section of the tarmac.
Everyone present was hyped and raring to go but at least they all
seemed happy and orderly. From the high school cheerleaders and
band members to the folks dressed in bright orange T-shirts
emblazoned with the words “I am a volunteer,” news media, Special
Olympics staff—everyone was buzzing with expectation.
    Suddenly grateful she had opted for tennis
shoes this morning, the perfect match to her sleeveless white tank
and khaki shorts, Sydney had the feeling this was going to be a
very long day. But with the Cuban coffee still warm in her hands,
she decided she’d be just fine, so long as she had her
espresso . She picked it up on her way in from the enormous tent
behind her. Housing area restaurants as they doled out local
flavors, the scent of which drifted through the morning air
tickling her appetite, it was the place for meet and