“Clay—”
But he couldn’t. Her withdrawal felt real, not the stuff of trite games that some women liked to play. It felt final. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. Will you sit with me?”
Noting his ex-wife already settled in with the family, she replied, “I think it’s better if I remain mobile. In case anyone needs me.”
He glanced toward his parents, Trish. The noisy atmosphere adding to the wedge inserting between them. “What if I need you?”
She looked at him and her withdrawal was palpable. “Clay, you don’t need me.”
“But you’re wrong.” He touched a hand to her arm. “I do need you.”
She blinked. “Clay—”
“How’s it going?” Charlie asked, strolling up next to them. “Q up yet?”
Sydney’s gaze shuttered and Clay dropped his hand. “Heat six,” he replied, cursing his friend’s timing.
“Cool. Hey, is that Trish I saw?” His black-haired head bobbed in search of her. “Is she here for the event?”
“Yes,” Clay said, a distinct chill entering his voice.
“Damn, she’s still as hot as ever isn’t she,” he said, shifting his focus to the stands.
Clay noted the bitter curl in Sydney’s gaze as she filed in on Charlie. She swallowed, then turned to him, a question in her eyes. As though somehow it was his fault Charlie was ogling.
“Is she married?” Charlie asked.
“Wouldn’t know and don’t care,” Clay said, purposefully directing his answer to Sydney.
He wiggled his brow. “How about I go find out?”
“Why don’t you go do that,” Clay told him. “I’m trying to talk to Sydney, if you don’t mind.”
“You staying for Q’s swim?” Charlie asked her.
She bristled. “I work the event, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Sucks to be you.” And with that, Charlie walked off.
Visibly riled, she replied, “I do not like that man.”
“I know what you mean.” His gaze drifted after Charlie. “I’m seeing a different side of him since I’ve been in town. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“Odd. He’s been that way since I met him.”
He turned back to her. “I don’t want to talk about Charlie. I want to talk about us.” Instinctively he wanted to reach out and grab hold of her arms, pull her to him. But he knew that might make her uncomfortable. Like she said, she was working the event. And her boss had put her on notice regarding the same.
“There’s really not much to talk about,” she said, filling the space between them.
“Why? Because I’m leaving in a few days?”
She lifted her shoulders as if to ask the obvious. “Well? Aren’t you?”
“Why didn’t you return my call last night?”
“I was tired, Clay. I’ve been working this event for almost two weeks straight now with no break. It caught up to me, is all.”
“You don’t call our trip to the park together a break?” Because it had been a hell of a lot more to him that that. It had been an excursion. A mini vacation.
“You know what I mean...”
“Or how about our dinner? Or the time at your house afterward...” That had felt like a lovers’ getaway in paradise. A frickin’ thrill of epic proportions.
“Okay, I had a break. What do you want me to say?”
Why did she seem so frustrated? So angry? “The truth.” He pushed. “I want you to tell me the truth.” That it meant as much to you as it did to me. And why it is you’re suddenly trying to brush me off. What changed?
“Look,” she said, glancing around as if concerned someone might see them. “I like you, Clay. Okay? Is that what you want me to say? But it doesn’t mean anything if it can’t go anywhere.”
“It can go somewhere, Syd.” He grabbed hold of her arms despite himself. “You just have to give it a chance.”
She reverted back to the seats and Clay followed her gaze to see Trish leaning into Charlie, playing to his advances. She pulled away from him with a measured tug. “Don’t worry about my ex. She’s nothing to me.”
Green eyes bored into him. “She’s something to Q.”
He expelled a heavy sigh and dropped a glance to the cement deck. “She hasn’t been in the past and I suspect once the media tires of him, she will too.”
Sydney crossed both arms over her chest. “That’s an awful thing to say, Clay.” Her focus jumped at a passing volunteer. A Hispanic male, Clay noted in dismay.
“But it’s the truth. He hitched his chin in Trish’s direction. “You watch. She’s missed his last three birthdays. You think she’s going to stick around for the hard work it takes to get to the next event?” He paused, disgust rolling through his chest. “She won’t. She’ll come up with some excuse, just like she always does.”
She shook her head. “The issue remains. We live in two different states. We have different lives. We’re kidding ourselves if we think this will turn into anything different.”
Clay tried to smile. “Have you always been such a pessimist?”
“I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. I accept reality for what it is.”
“Hm.” He lowered his gaze and took her hands into his. Warm and soft, he gave them a light squeeze and released. “I’ll accept what you say if you promise me one thing.”
“What?”
Clay lifted his head to face her and inhaled the sight of her. A man could tell a lot of things about a woman’s kiss. He could tell if she was engaged in the moment, lukewarm, or simply going through the motions with mechanical boredom. He could tell if she liked it as much as he did by the way she responded. Staring into the depths of Sydney’s eyes, pools filled with emotion and angst, he knew it meant something to her. She wanted him. He didn’t care how much she tried to claim otherwise, she felt the same things he did. Convincing her of as much was proving to be the challenge. “After closing ceremonies tomorrow night,” he leveled his gaze, locking her in, “you give me one hour of your time.”
She balked, a sudden flight of nerves swooping into her voice. “After closing ceremonies? But they won’t end until at least nine-thirty—ten!”
“I know,” he replied calmly, suppressing his urge to fight. “It will be late. But I can’t do anything tonight because we’re set to have dinner with Q and his team. We could change it to lunch tomorrow, if that works better for you.”
“I can’t do lunch tomorrow. I’ll be swamped, closing out the events with each of the venues.”
“Then tomorrow night it is.”
Sydney seemed on the verge of refusing and he grabbed hold of her hands again and pressing his thumbs to their tops. “One hour.”
“Let me think about it.”
She tried to pull her hands from his grip, but he refused to release her. He glanced at the scoreboard, then back to her. While he didn’t like the idea of pressuring a woman into meeting with him, he had little choice in the matter. As it was, Q’s race was about to begin. “There’s no thinking about it. Tomorrow night is all we have.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll call your cell and we can meet.” One last squeeze and he let her go.
Yes, he mused. A man could tell a lot about his own kiss with a woman, too. Well-versed in the art of seduction, Clay knew that if he didn’t feel nervous during a first kiss, it wasn’t going to get any better for him. It was nothing but lips, mouth and tongue. But with Sydney? A wave of nerves fired through his midsection, down through his groin. It had been borderline nerve-racking, much like the thought of never seeing her again. Pining for a woman, searching for the moment she entered a room? It wasn’t his style and certainly not good form. But with Sydney, he had been on high alert for sight of her, drawn to her the minute she arrived, impatient for her nearness. “Wanna go say hi to Q before his race, let him know you’re here?”
She sighed. “That was the plan.”
As Sydney followed Clay over to the South Carolina team,
she felt strangely alone. Despite the people milling about, Clay close by her side, she felt isolated. Adrift. And it hurt. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be part of something, part of a team—part of Clay and Q’s team. But why did it have to be tainted? Sydney fought the urge to look in Trish’s direction, discouraged by the rising tide of jealousy. Why did it have to include her?
“Q,” Clay called out ahead of their approach.
The boy looked up and his recognition was instantaneous. Sydney saw that he smiled, but it wasn’t quite as full as usual and she could tell he was keyed up—as well he should be. This was a big race for him. Staring down a major volleyball game, she second-guessed her commitment in the absence of nerves. You’re not nervous, you don’t want it that bad. She imagined it couldn’t be much different for others.
“Hey, Q,” she said as they neared, pumping her smile with encouragement. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” he replied, then glanced away. Sitting on one end of the metal bench, he fidgeted with the edge of his towel.
“Your dad tells me you’re racing this morning.”
He nodded.
“Q is racing today!” a young girl next to him squealed. “He’s gonna win the gold!”
Q rolled his head, mildly embarrassed by the vote of confidence.
“That’s what I hear,” Sydney replied, still unaccustomed to speaking from a distance. But rules were rules. Athletes there, spectators here.
“I’m going to try,” he said, his speech marked by an unusually slow, thick cadence.
Sydney was struck by his sudden timidity. “Remember, Q, it’s what’s up here that counts,” she said and tapped a finger to her head. His fellow athletes had cued into the conversation, quiet now and on the edge of their seats. “You’re as good as any swimmer here. If you believe you can win, then you can win.”
He looked at her as though he wanted to believe her, but wasn’t quite sold on the concept.
“I’ve seen you swim. You have the strokes, you have the count, you have the speed. You have this race. If you want it, it’s yours.”
A smile crept onto his lips as he peered into her eyes. “I’m pretty fast.”
She smiled back at him. “You’re very fast. Very straight. Very fast.”
His smile grew. “I count my strokes.”
“I know you do and that’s all you have to do today. Count your strokes, stay focused.”
“She’s right, Q.” Clay leaned near her shoulder. “You’re the best.”
“I’m the best,” he repeated, looking up to his father.
The girl beside him prattled. “Q’s the best! Q’s the best!” She bumped bodies with him. “Q’s the best, best, best!”
Sydney laughed, the release welcome. “And look at that—you already have your own fan club!”
Q’s cheeks turned bright red as he swiped his younger teammate with a hasty glance.
“Q’s the best! Q’s the best!”
Sydney gestured toward his teammate and said, “No worries, Q. Stay on target and you’ll do great.”
He nodded.
“We’ll be cheering you on, buddy. Just do your best.”
Q nodded again and this time, Sydney felt like he was beginning to believe it himself.
“You’ll take the gold, Q,” Sydney added. “I can feel it in my bones.”
“Do your bones hurt?” the girl asked, suddenly concerned.
Sydney smiled. The sheer innocence of the question pulled at her heart. “No, it’s just an expression. A saying,” she clarified. “It’s something we say when we really feel sure about something.”
“Oh, good.” She nodded happily and her concern evaporated.
Sydney suppressed a chuckle. She didn’t want the girl to think she was laughing at her, when in fact, she found her refreshing.
“We’re with you, kid.”
Q smiled at his dad.
She and Clay left and walked half the length of the pool. Standing between the bleacher seating and the pool he stopped. “How about we watch from here?”
A volunteer scorekeeper dressed in yellow passed close behind them. Sydney took a step forward to avoid contact and caught sight of Sam, Vic and the kids near the pool office. “Oh, Sam is here.” Relief swept through her chest. “I need to show her where to sit.”
“You’re a slippery one, I’ll give you that,” he said.
“I’m not trying to be slippery, Clay. She doesn’t have a clue where she’s going. I need to show her.”
He ushered forth a small smile. “I know. But remember, I’ll be waiting for you right here.”
Sydney looked at him and knew she wouldn’t be back. Now that she had her excuse, anyway. No sense in torturing herself with his nearness in full view of his ex. Forcing herself not to scan the crowd for her, she replied, “Okay,” then hastened to meet Sam on the other side of the pool. She hoped she didn’t wear heels. The deck flooring was overly-wet today. But with finals going on, the number of people had grown to the largest she’d seen since the events began.
“Right on cue,” Sam said as she drew near. “Seeing as how I’m not on VIP status today, I was wondering if you’d escort us at all.”
“Pipe down. I’m here aren’t I?” She turned to Sam’s boyfriend and said, “Hello, Vic.”
“Hi, Sydney.” Victor Marin cocked his head toward Sam and said, “Sorry the Queen over here is driving you crazy with special requests. If you’ll tell us where to look for Q’s team, I’ll take it from here.”
The kids giggled and whispered. “Vic called Sam the queen!”
Sam snorted and Sydney smiled. She enjoyed watching Vic take the reins away from Sam and apparently the kids did, too. Usually the woman was like a director filming her own movie. It was a nice change to see someone else take over—especially a tall, dark, handsome someone else. At six-four, Vic towered over both of them and the broad expanse of his chest only added to his size. Jet black hair and chiseled jaw, he was built like a block—a well-defined perfectly tapered block. Yet surprisingly his body was not the work of a gym. Sam claimed it was simply Mother Nature’s gift to her.
Well, she had to hand it to Sam. She had good taste. Vic may be the complete opposite of Clay in both coloring and size, but was equally attractive.
“How about I take you guys over myself,” Sydney offered.
“You sure?” Vic asked.
“You heard the woman—she’s escorting us over!” Sam pronounced. Corralling her kids ahead of her, she said, “C’mon, guys. Follow Sydney.”
Sydney steered clear of Clay and his crew and led the way high into the bleachers on the opposite end. The higher they sat, she figured, the better the view. Mounting the stairs, she could feel the reverberation as the kids pounded up behind her.
“Slow down, guys. We’re not on a jungle gym!” Sam dashed an apologetic smile to seated spectators.
“They’re okay, Sam,” Sydney assured. “Most of the kids I’ve seen around here are pretty high energy. I think these parents are used to it.” Though Sam was no stranger to kids. As the oldest of six, she had her fair share of experience with the feisty tykes. She stopped at the top row and stepped aside. She extended a hand and said, “Here we are!”
Vic went first and the kids filed in behind him while Sam brought up the rear. “Anyone have to use the bathroom?”
“We just went!” a chubby little brown-haired girl protested.
“Just checking.” When she lowered to the metal seat she asked, “You sitting with us, or hanging out with Prince Charming?”
Vic glanced down over the row of small heads, as though he, too, were interested in her answer.
“I think I’m going to float.”
“You can float?” the older Latino boy asked in amazement.
“Hector.” Sam gave him a light elbow. “She means ‘hang around,’ not that she’s actually going to float.”
His enthusiasm fell. “Oh.”
Sydney chuckled. She wasn’t s
ure if he was more disappointed over the fact that he asked a silly question or that she wasn’t actually going to float.
“So how will we know when it’s Q’s race?” Sam asked.
“Listen for the name Rutledge and then watch the board.” She pointed to the scoreboard overhead of the pool. “They’ll give you his lane number and then post times after the race.”
“Got it.”
Satisfied Sam and her troop were settled in, Sydney jogged down the stairs and took up residence on the opposite side of the pool as Clay. She doubted he’d walk over and stand by her, though when it came to Clay, no move seemed too bold for the man. In between heats at the moment, she looked up at the scoreboard to see the names lighting up. No Rutledge. Swinging her gaze back down, she landed square on Clay.
He was watching her. She glanced away, but unable to ignore him, returned to face him. He smiled, and she found it to be an I-know-what-you’re-doing smile. Well what if he did, she mused. She didn’t have to play on his terms. She could play on hers. Though she felt a bit stupid as she turned away once more, walking like she had somewhere to go.
Sydney checked her watch. She contemplated the venue, the crowd. Excitement had crested to new levels. The games were winding down and energy was winding up. She knew no one needed anything at the moment but felt like she needed something to do. Standing idle wasn’t helping. But uncertain as to exactly when Q’s race was set to start, she didn’t want to walk off and miss it.
She stopped and crossed her arms. She surveyed the pool deck, the entrance area. She shifted her weight from heel to heel. And despite her intentions otherwise, her gaze drifted back to Clay. His family sat in the stands behind him, they appeared stately figures among a backdrop of Middle America. Charlie and Trish were next to them, yapping about who knows what. Clay’s parents on the other hand were subdued as they chatted between them. Then there was Clay. He was standing like her. His arms crossed, like hers. And staring—at her, like she was staring at him.
She groaned inwardly. This was awkward. But when he smiled, it became downright ludicrous. They were two grown adults standing on opposite edges of the pool making eyes—or who knows what—at each other across the proverbial crowded room. And why? Because they liked each other? Had the hots for each other? She whipped her head away. This was insane. Immature. Memories of their kiss tiptoed into her mind, creating a jumble of want, unease and longing. His mouth had been so warm, so moist, his touch so tender... When he slid his hand up her thigh, she reacted. When he grazed over her underwear, she reacted.
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