“They really are...” he confirmed, leading her a few feet away from the young swimmers.
Absently she followed, watching the kids as she walked. It wasn’t until they began tagging the wall that she could detect a difference in their performance. Some came to a full stop before pushing off the side to begin their lap back while others slowed, their bodies drifting off-course as they turned to head back down their lane.
“This group is swimming for the semi-final in the fifty meter backstroke,” he informed.
She glanced up at the scoreboard. The time clock was zipping through the seconds as it tracked the time. “And Q?”
“He races again later this afternoon.”
“They’re really going at it,” she said, marveling at their energy.
“They’re serious about these competitions, no messing around. Now, how about you and me?”
She turned to him, but only partially. She didn’t want to miss the final tap. “Huh?”
“You and me. Dinner?”
She dodged his question by zeroing in on the race. People were jumping up and down as swimmers closed the final stretch. Anticipation swelled as she watched to see who would hit first. Go, go...she urged silently, rooting for whoever was in the lead. She didn’t have anyone specific to cheer for—other than a member of Q’s team—but at the moment, none of it mattered. She was invested in the lead swimmer.
“How about dinner tonight?”
The horn blew and a slew of energy burst from her. “Yes!”
“You will?”
“What?” She turned and instantly realized her mistake. “No, er—I was talking about the swimmer,” she blurted.
“I’m talking about us,” he said softly. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? It will give you a chance to make up for yesterday.”
The announcer called out names and times and she narrowed in on Clay. “I thought you said it wasn’t a problem.”
“It won’t be.” He grinned. “If you have dinner with me.”
His playful provocation was more than she could resist. And she definitely enjoyed the man’s company. What harm would dinner be? Then she remembered. “What about your parents? Won’t they expect to have dinner with you?”
“Not when I tell them I’m taking the most incredible woman to dinner, they won’t. They want their firstborn to be happy, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” she said, but couldn’t help laughing at his precocious tease. “Oh, but they must be some wonderful parents you have.”
“They are.”
Unequivocal yet tender, his reply gave her pause. She pulled her shoulders back, cleared her throat and considered his invitation. “Well, I guess there would be no harm in dinner.”
“Are you worried about me harming you?”
“Not in so many words, but—”
“Too many words.” He touched a forefinger to her lips.
The move lit fireworks through her midsection.
“One word is all you need for this one.”
As Sydney was about to reply, she caught sight of Javier as he entered the pool area. He was staring directly at them. Even from here, the indictment in his eyes registered. You’re flirting with the customer?
Chapter Ten
The breath was trapped in her chest. She knew it looked bad, his finger on her lips. Oh my God—Clay’s finger was on her lips! Sydney abruptly pulled away. She would have excused herself at once if Javier weren’t so close. Damn it, why did he have to see them together?
Confused, Clay turned to see him approach.
Javier pasted a smile onto his lips and came to a stop before them. “Sydney...” he said, allowing her name to linger as he took them both in. He didn’t introduce himself to Clay and instead, fixed her in the spotlight of his gaze. Apparently, he thought she should do the honors.
“Clay, this is my boss, Javier Lopez,” she said, lifting a hand between them. But feeling the slight tremor, quickly dropped it to her side. “Javier, this is Clay Rutledge. He’s one of the parents here for the events. Actually, he’s a friend of Charlie’s.” She shoved her hands into her front pockets and glanced between them.
Javier digested the connection and extended his hand in welcome. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Clay returned.
“How are the events going?” Javier asked him.
“Great.”
“I trust you’re being taken care of by Sydney?”
“She’s been outstanding.”
Grateful for Clay’s lack of further explanation, Sydney knew Javier wouldn’t dare push. Nor would he mention the personal touch he most certainly witnessed. To speak of it now would mar his reputation of cordial hospitality, though she was certain she’d hear of it later. Javier never missed an opportunity to feign jealousy in regard to potential male interests, as though he still cared.
Clasping hands behind his back, Javier continued, “Anything we can do to be of service and make your stay in our fine city more enjoyable, you let us know, yes? My people are here to be of service.”
Sydney felt the pinch.
Clay slid a sly smile her way and replied, “You bet I will.”
Javier turned to her. “Sydney, have you made it by the track yet?”
“It’s my next stop.”
“Good. Susana tells me they’re short on water bottles. Call the supplier before you go, will you?” He glanced sideways at Clay. “And please don’t make her wait.”
“I won’t,” she replied.
“We don’t want any of the athletes to go thirsty, you know.”
“Not advisable,” Clay put in. “Hydration teams need to be fully-stocked in order to serve.”
Javier smiled thinly at him. Sydney wondered what was running through his brain at the moment, how much damage the interaction caused, but she’d remain wanting. Her boss excused himself without another word. If for no other reason, than he had run out of reasons to stay.
Unhinging his gaze from Javier’s back, Clay asked, “You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“I don’t think so.”
His features softened. “Last thing I want to do is cause trouble for you.”
She snapped a glance toward Javier and murmured, “I know.”
“Now, can we get back to our dinner?” He grinned sheepishly. “Or does that count as trouble?”
Sydney hesitated. Under the circumstances, was that really a good idea? “Are you sure you can leave Q?”
“He won’t miss me. During these national competitions, the kids stay with their team and coaches. The parents become sort of an appendage, at this point.”
She furrowed her brow.
He slid an encouraging smile her way and said, “It’s actually a good thing. Think of it as Disney World for adults. With so much of your normal life spent looking after your child, this break is like a free-for-all as far as time goes. We’re not needed. The kids don’t want us around because they’re having too much fun with their friends, their team... They’re excited about the events in general. Trust me when I tell you it’s a huge weight off a parent’s shoulders to know that your kid is happy and healthy and you have some time to yourself.” He shrugged. “It’s a big deal.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“You have no reason to.”
When Sydney’s eyes lowered, Clay touched her forearm. “That’s not a bad thing, Sydney. It’s just reality. But I’m still waiting on my answer for dinner.”
She peered at his hand on her arm and wondered. Would dinner cause her any trouble? Would Javier care if he knew?
Perhaps. A smile eased onto her lips and she raised her gaze to meet Clay head on. But that was his problem. “Dinner would be great.” And it would serve Javier right. There was only one reason he had interrupted the two of them and it had nothing to do with business. She glanced around the pool deck. Swimmers passed by in groups, volunteers clustered near the stands, assisting fans and families. Clay’s connection a
s a client was minimal at best. There would be no reason a dinner date with him would bring shame upon the reputation of JL Conventions. It wasn’t like she was cavorting with someone from the Shriver family!
“Pick someplace quiet, will you?” The glimmer of anticipation in his eyes unsettled her as he withdrew his touch.
“Quiet?”
“While I don’t bite, I do like to savor my company.”
Yes, I imagine you do. Thoughts of his finger on her lips remained seared into her brain.
# # #
On her way home, Sydney stopped by the office to check on supplies for the week. All American had really underestimated the number of people who would show up at the events, particularly the volunteers. There were hundreds of them and they kept coming! Kept showing up, kept looking for something to do, some way they could help. Sydney chuckled as she recalled one in particular. An elderly gentleman—who had to be pushing eighty—arrived on site at the basketball courts and insisted on warming up with the athletes before the game. While the coaches were wary, they allowed it. One confided to Sydney she was worried the man would have a heart attack if they let him play. But as Sydney watched him, she thought their concern was for naught. The man was in good shape. Quick and agile, he scored some pretty nice shots, performed a few dribble tricks in between even! The kids loved him, but the staff? She was sure they had 9-1-1 pre-programmed into their cell phones.
Spotting Morgan down the hall, Sydney quickly dodged into her office. Already running late for her date with Clay, the last thing she had time for was that woman’s trivial nitpicking. Circling around her desk, she sat and pulled out a drawer. She grabbed a pen. Besides water, the venue could benefit from a little extra sunscreen. Some of those kids looked downright pink today. She smiled to herself and jotted down the note. But gleefully so.
At the knock on her door, Sydney ground her jaw. She didn’t bother to look up from her desk. She knew who would be standing there. “What do you want, Morgan?”
“Hello, Sydney,” she purred, waltzing in uninvited. Through her peripheral vision, Sydney followed her as she made a wide slow arc around the room, taking her time as though this was a leisurely visit.
Sydney set her pen down with a purposeful smack and slowly looked up. She homed in on Morgan. Wearing a plunging, yellow neckline today, pink cuffs rolled up on three-quarter sleeves, her skirt falling well above the knee, Sydney mentally shook her head. Did she have her clothes tailored to fit so tightly, or did she simply buy a size too small? Did she think she looked good? Granted the woman was thin—and busty—but did she need to make sure people could see every indentation of her bra and underwear? If you asked her, the dress was totally inappropriate for the office, let alone walking down the street.
Morgan sauntered up to the edge of her desk and looked down her nose at Sydney. Her over-painted lips curled into a malicious smile. “Don’t you want these?” she asked with a sneer and withdrew several slim tickets from an inside pocket.
“Yes,” she replied and grudgingly took them from her. Dear Old Dad would owe her for this one. When she remained, Sydney asked, “Is there something else?”
She cocked her head full of blonde hair to one side. “Only that I told Javier you didn't have what it takes for the big time,” she said in a snide tone. “That you would screw it up and make an ass of yourself.”
Sydney bristled at the blatant insult but held her temper in check. She slid the golf tickets under her desk blotter. “I really don’t have time for this—”
“And that choosing me for next year’s international tech show is a no-brainer.”
“Well, when it comes to no brains, you should know.”
Morgan smiled, and flicked a glance at Sydney's chest. “Javier isn't interested in my brains.”
Sydney kicked back a bust glance of her own, grazing the slice of cleavage filling the V of her top and said, “No, doesn't seem to be what you're selling, does it?”
Morgan smiled sweetly. She rubbed her glossy pink lips together and said, “You might want to check the want ads Sydney, because if I get my way—and I usually do—you won't be working at JL Conventions for much longer.”
Is that the best she had? Trivial threats? “You have nothing to say about my job security.” Reaching for her pen, she returned to work. The woman was going to have to sling a whole lot harder than that if she intended to leave a mark.
“Oh don't I? Mayor Manny and I are close, personal friends,” she said, accentuating the close and personal.
The name fired through her brain, but she kept her head down. Manny? As in, Mayor Cortez?
“Don’t think he doesn’t have just as much to say about who gets what convention as Javier does. And to tell you the truth, he didn't think any more of your opening ceremonies performance than I did.”
She slowly lifted her head. And glared.
Morgan’s lips curled into a smile yet her eyes remained cold. “Probably wondered why I suggested you in the first place.”
“You suggested?”
“Yes. I tried to help you but alas...” she blew out the words with a satisfied sigh. “There’s no helping someone as incompetent as yourself.”
“You suggested that I speak at opening ceremonies?”
She snickered. “Yes darling, it was me.”
The spectacle of nerves, embarrassment, humiliation and failure came tumbling around her, burying Sydney in a fog as she digested what Morgan said. It was her? It was one thing to manipulate vendors and make Sydney look as though she’d forgotten appointments—a trick revealed to her a week later by one of the secretaries, which gave her enough lead time to manage the fallout before it became serious. But it was quite another thing to make her look bad in front of the entire city.
“Now I’m not even sure the dear man will ever speak to me again.”
Anger streamed through Sydney’s veins. “Why?” she demanded. She already stole the golf event. “What was the point?”
Morgan chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
It was all she could do not to punch her in the mouth. She ground her jaw and said, “Fill me in.”
“I wanted Javier to see you for the inept fool you are and not some—” she cut herself off and glanced away.
Sydney discarded the reference to Javier as meaningless. “And the Mayor?” He was the piece she didn’t understand.
Morgan returned to face her full on, a mask of a smile pasted on her lips. “Like I said, we’re close, personal friends. He was more than willing to oblige my request and now he and everyone else know what a fraud you are.”
Javier entered Sydney’s office and placed a light hand to the small of Morgan’s back. “Hi Sydney,” he said in casual greeting.
She barely acknowledged his presence.
“Are you ready?” he asked Morgan, oblivious to the knives flying between them.
She slipped him a glance over her shoulder. “I am.”
Javier leaned in close. “Good. Because I’m in a hurry.”
Sydney glared at the intimate gesture. Javier was so close to her, it felt like he was about to kiss Morgan’s cheek.
“Let me know if you need any more help covering the games, Sydney.” Morgan winked. “You know I’m always willing to pitch in for the team.”
Javier cast an appreciate gaze toward Morgan, then said to Sydney, “See you tomorrow.” He ushered Morgan toward the door.
See—nothing! Sydney couldn’t see a thing while this witch stood there, acting like the picture-perfect employee.
“Bye, bye!” Morgan trotted out the door and slipped her hand in Javier’s, a gesture from which he pulled free as he followed her out. A withdrawal that was pronounced.
Was that for her benefit? Sydney mused sarcastically. Because any more goodwill from either one of those two and she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. The fiasco of opening ceremonies steamrolled fresh and hot through her blood. That bitch set me up—again!
Chapter Eleven
Sydney pushed through the front door of Mallorca, the sounds of traffic and music from the street and nearby bars drowned out completely as she entered the second set of double doors. Inside, warm hues of yellow and red drenched the interior of the Coconut Grove restaurant, accentuated by dark wooden beams. The scent of roasted pork and garlic permeated the air and instantly transported her mind to the kitchen and its savory delights. She had memorized the menu and tonight was in the mood for a plate full of sumptuously moist paella. Her stomach growled. She could almost taste it, she was so hungry.
Located front and center in the Coco Walk plaza, Mallorca offered up an authentic serving of Spanish food and entertainment. Flamenco dancers took center stage on the weekends but tonight would be quiet and cozy, just like Clay had requested. A shiver of anticipation scurried up her spine as she searched for sight of him. Several men and women mingled around the bar, brown veined marble over paneled mahogany backed by a wall of mirror and layered with tiers of alcohol bottles. The dining area was comprised mostly of booths with a small section of tables and chairs tucked in and around ferns, wrought iron chandeliers dousing the room in shades of gold.
With no sight of Clay, she exhaled heavily. Seems she was here first.
“May I help you?”
“Table for two.”
The gal scribbled something on her dry erase board, grabbed two menus and instructed, “Follow me.”
Sydney trailed her to a table, mulling over the anxiety coursing through her limbs. Why so nervous? Taking her seat, her eyes immediately sought the door. Clay was kind and sincere, considerate and well-mannered. He was intelligent and good-looking and downright flirtatious. A rise of pleasure swelled in her belly. He definitely seemed interested. Why the nerves?
She glanced at a couple near the bar, the man leaning toward the woman, she smiling, batting her lashes as she made him work for her attention in another game of predictable cat-and-mouse; he wanted her, she enjoyed him wanting her, but how long would he chase? How far would he go? Was he in it to win it? Or was it just another mark on his bed post?
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