Because of Sydney

by T. A. Foster

“Yes. Exactly. The little things.”

  “You see, Miss Paige, I always notice the details. It’s what makes me so successful, I believe.”

  “That’s your big secret to success?”

  I laughed. “You could say that. And never give the competition any ammunition. Two rules I always live by.”

  “I think you forgot one.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stay away from the press,” she added.

  I winked. I liked her sense of humor.

  “I thought that was a given.”

  She lowered her eyes to the menu. “What do you recommend here?” She had placed her napkin across her lap, covering her knees.

  “Why don’t we try one of the specials? I think the filet sounds tempting.” It was how I always judged a chef. The specials would be this man’s signature.

  “All right.” Her eyes scanned the page. She leaned closer and whispered, “but where are the prices?”

  I spoke low. “There aren’t any. Order whatever you like.”

  I dated different of types of women. Some came from families with money. Not my kind of money. The kind that was so much a part of their genetic code I knew they bled green. Those women were hard to please. Then there were they type who knew what was in my bank account and couldn’t wait to add it to theirs. They were easy to please, but I knew their game. They liked restaurants like this one.

  And now I faced a woman like Sydney. She didn’t fit into either category. She didn’t seem to care about the money. If I was honest, I thought it made her a little uncomfortable. I looked around the restaurant. Everyone talked in hushed tones. There was candlelight. The waiters wore gloves.

  The matitre d’ was planted near the mahogany pillar, stealing glances at us. Anxious for me to approve of the wine and the menu.

  Sydney’s brows were almost knitted together in concentration.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” I pushed back from my chair. Suddenly, I realized this didn’t fit into my definition of fun. Not with her.

  “But we haven’t even ordered,” she protested.

  I stood next to her, offering my hand. “Come on. I’ve got an idea.”

  I could tell she was trying to hide a smile, but her eyes gave her away. “Ok. Where are we going?”

  I tucked her hand in mine and led her through the restaurant. “I spotted a place I think you’ll like.”

  She paused. “This is your dinner, though.”

  “And I want to take you somewhere else.” My voice was firm.

  “Mr. Lachlan, is something wrong?” The matitre d’ met us at the door.

  “No, something has come up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that sir. Please call us again. We would love to have you dine with us.”

  “I’ll do that.” I nodded at the man. He was clearly distraught we were leaving.

  Sydney’s hand was soft against my palm. We turned the corner and took the brick steps that led to the terrace below. I walked slowly, making sure she had her footing. I opened the iron gate, leading to the boardwalk. Lights floated above us, tied between trees and awnings. One of the gondola drivers was singing in the distance. I wondered if it was the same one we had this afternoon.

  “I don’t think they were very happy we left.” She giggled.

  “No, probably not. But I think they’ll manage without us.”

  We stopped in front of one of the cantinas. I looked at the sign and then at Sydney.

  “What about this place?” I asked.

  A woman greeted us on the patio. “Table for two?”

  Sydney nodded. “Yes.”

  We sat close to the sidewalk. The tables were strewn in no particular pattern. It looked as if they moved throughout the day, and at the end of the night the staff would put them back together.

  The woman returned with menus. “Can I get drinks for you?”

  “A pitcher of margaritas,” I instructed.

  “Isn’t that how we got in trouble last night?” Sydney giggled.

  “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  I saw her blush. I knew exactly how it sounded and it had the effect I wanted. It wasn’t often I met someone who had the same sexual appetite I had. But I might have met my match. She liked to play. She liked to argue. But God, what she did in bed blew my mind. As soon as we were done, I was ready to take her again.

  “Thinking about something serious?” she asked.

  “Sorry.” I focused on her. “So, tell me, Miss Paige, why did you want to be a journalist?”

  “That’s kind of a heavy question.”

  “Is it?”

  She began to fray the edge of her napkin. Little shredded pieces drifted through the slats in the iron table. I thought I might have touched on something.

  “Have you told me all the real reasons why you decided to get into development and acquisitions?” Her head tilted to the side.

  “You had your chance to ask questions.”

  “I did. But did I really get all the answers?”

  “Your boss was happy with the story wasn’t she?”

  “That’s not the same thing.” Her hazel eyes gleamed.

  I sat back as the pitcher and glasses arrived. “Are you two ready to order?” the server asked.

  “Not quite.” I smiled, wanting to be alone with Sydney.

  “Ok, I’ll give you a few more minutes.” She hurried into the restaurant. There were a few tables she was tending inside, but we were the only ones sitting on the patio.

  I grabbed the handle and poured the lime mixture into the glasses. “Try this. I bet these will be the best margaritas on the Riverwalk.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” I tasted the drink, brimming with strong tequila.

  “Change the subject like we weren’t talking about something important and make it seem completely natural.”

  “Maybe in order to keep our arrangement we’re going to need to respect that some topics might be off limits.”

  She frowned. “Off limits?”

  “Yes. With your curiosity I suppose that’s going to be difficult for you.”

  She shook her head. “No, maybe it’s for the best. We’re keeping things light, right?”

  “Very.”

  The waitress returned and we ordered a heaping plate of nachos, tacos, and an extra bowl of guacamole.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to walk back in those things?” I pointed to her shoes when dinner was over.

  “Yes, I want to walk. It’s completely different down here at night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It sounds silly, but it’s more magical. The lights and the music. It feels different.”

  She was right, I had noticed how the air had changed since we left the restaurant. The stuffiness was gone. The pretentiousness of the priceless menus. The perfect dripless tapered candles. All of that was staged elegance and romance.

  The jars that flickered with lobbed over candles. Colored lights that hung on whatever hook was in the path. Music that came from the radio. It was real here.

  We strolled in the direction of the hotel, stopping along the way to watch the boats pass under a bridge.

  “I’ve never seen San Antonio like this.” My fingertips stroked her shoulder. I had almost memorized the freckles on her skin here.

  “Why not?” She studied my face.

  I turned her, so her back was pressed against the stone railing of the bridge. The tree branches barely stretched out this far.

  “I’ve been asking myself that all night.”

  “Maybe you work too much,” she scolded.

  “Now you sound like Eden.”

  “I think she’s right.” Her hand snaked around my neck, and my breath almost stopped.

  I leaned into her, aware that I was getting ready to kiss her. I didn’t give a damn about the street cleaner or the couple strolling behind us. I saw her lips and wanted to feel the firmness of her mouth, taste the margarita
on her tongue.

  I bent toward her. She tilted her chin and for a second I felt like I was tumbling off the bridge. Her mouth was sweet and warm. My hands circled her back, pressing her against me. She aligned her body, fitting her curves into the open spaces against me. I wanted her. She started to purr and I knew I had to get her back upstairs.

  “Come on.” I tucked my hand around her waist, walking next to her.

  “It’s really beautiful down here.” She stopped in front of the gate that took us through the lobby entrance of the hotel.

  “If I haven’t said it enough, I think you’re beautiful.”

  “You might have mentioned it.”

  “I’m probably going to mention it again.” I unlocked the gate, and offered her my hand. The steps were uneven and some were covered in moss.

  “I wish I could rewrite my feature article on you.”

  “What do you think you left out?” I pulled her into the shadows of the courtyard. As much as I wanted to get to the suite, my need for her was strong now. I cradled her face between my hands.

  “I left out the charming part. And the gentleman part. And then there’s the thoughtful part. I need to rewrite the whole thing. There’s more to you than demolition.”

  I smirked. “I don’t think I want people to know that. You’re going to make me sound like a philanthropist or something awful.”

  I could smell her perfume when the wind picked up her hair. “Afraid your competitors will think that’s weak?”

  She was driving me wild. Stalling, talking, pressing her hands against my chest, then backing inches away.

  We were completely covered in the darkness. The fading sounds of the Riverwalk behind us. “No.” I buried my head in the curve of her neck, blistering rough kisses along her throat. “I take what I want.”

  She kicked her head back, and a soft moan slipped through her lips. My hand was under her skirt, rubbing between her legs, feeling the heat from the motion.

  “You have to stop,” she breathed.

  “Why? No one can see us.” I moved the lace fabric out of my way. My fingers sank into her, and she groaned.

  She panted harder as I pushed against her. I kissed her, knowing things were getting out of control.

  “Please, Mason.”

  I moved my hands reluctant to stop, when suddenly her hand landed on mine.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  My chest tightened. I felt her fingers twine between mine as she moved my hand where she wanted it under the cover of her dress. I nestled my nose in the curve of her neck, listening to her breathing change over to quick pants. She moaned my name as my fingers moved faster, spreading wider, finding ways to take her to the edge. Her hands locked around my neck and a long moan escaped her lips, then she was still.

  She pressed her forehead against mine. I felt the dewy perspiration of her skin.

  I helped straightened her skirt. We both took a breath, before walking into the lobby.

  As we rode the elevator to the suite, my hand rested on her lower back. I could feel the heat of her skin through the sundress. I had no intention of her wearing it past the living room.

  She stood next to me, while I grabbed the key card from my wallet. The tequila making both of us feel relaxed and eager. Her fingers ran along my arm, I couldn’t get the door opened fast enough.

  I pushed on it, drawing her with me into the dark room. My hands ran through her hair. Her mouth was on mine. Hot and fierce. One of my hands trailed along her shoulder, down her chest, cupping her breast. I squeezed until I heard her groan. Her tongue lashed wildly.

  As I reached for the zipper on the dress, her phone began to ring. She paused for a second, but ignored it.

  “Probably a pocket dial or something,” she breathed. Her fingers began to work the buttons on my shirt.

  The ringing started again, and her eyes flashed to mine. “Sorry, I better check it.”

  “No problem.” I sat on the couch, while she dug through her purse looking for the phone.

  Before I knew what was happening, she answered, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door.

  I waited. A few minutes passed, and I walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water from one of the bottles on the counter. The hotel had delivered a fully stocked basket of snacks and drinks. I could hear her voice, muffled by the door. I sat the empty glass on the bar and stood in front of the door. She was still talking.

  I took a pack of cookies and sat on the couch, flipping on the TV. It was instinct. I always searched for the business channel. I didn’t register the stock report when the numbers scrolled across the bottom of the screen, my attention was on the bedroom door.

  This was damn ridiculous. We had been in the middle of something I didn’t think needed to be interrupted. I turned off the TV and walked to the bedroom.

  “Sydney?” I tapped on the door. When she didn’t answer, I opened it. “Syd?”

  She was sitting in the center of the bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, the dress crumpled at her hips. The phone was still in her hand.

  “Everything ok?” I was afraid to ask.

  “I just need a minute.”

  I sat next to her. “You’ve been here for half an hour. Have you been on the phone the whole time?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  I took the phone from her hand and laid it on the bedside table. “What’s going on?”

  She shook her head. “I-I just need a second. I’ll be back out.”

  I saw the forced smile on her face. Damn it. Part of me wanted to walk out of the room and pretend she could pull herself together and we’d start off where we left things when the phone rang. Then the other part of me looked at her. Mascara smudged, eyes red, and I knew spending the night with me was the last thing on her mind.

  I kicked off my shoes, and laid down next to her. At first she was reluctant to move, but I managed to pull her against my chest. Her head rested over my heart. I ran my fingers through her hair. I didn’t know if I should try to get her to talk, or wait for her to say something.

  “Did you get some bad news?”

  She was silent. I don’t know how many minutes ticked by before she finally spoke.

  “It’s my sister.” Her voice was almost too quiet to hear.

  “Did something happen?” I didn’t expect it, but there was a knot in my stomach. A sense of dread moved in. I stopped playing with her hair and my hand pressed deeply against her hip.

  “Yes and no.”

  I was out of my element. I kept my mouth shut while she talked.

  “Something happened to my sister.”

  “Is she ok?”

  “It’s been almost five years since she’s been gone.” Sydney talked slowly. Slower than I had ever heard her.

  I had no idea what to say. There was a lump in my throat. “Did she? Is she?”

  “She’s not dead.”

  “Oh.” I was confused.

  “She ran away. I haven’t seen her in five years. Or my niece.” She straightened her back, until she was sitting up, looking at me. “She’s in hiding.”

  “Darlin’, I’m not following.”

  Sydney sighed. “It started when I was in high school. She’s older than me. She was dating this guy. Not a good guy. We thought he was hanging around with a bad crowd, you know? Making bad choices. Doing stupid stuff. But Hailey couldn’t see it. She thought he was going through some things and he would change. But he didn’t. He got more involved, and it made him unpredictable. Angry.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “He worked at the train station, at the ticket booth.”

  “Well, that sounds legit.”

  Her head turned, so her eyes were locked on mine. “It wasn’t. He used it as a way to sell stolen merchandise. Eventually, it led to drugs. At least that’s what we think.”

  “I’ll stop asking questions. You tell me what happened.”

  “
Anyway, Brian was running this side business, and it was taking over his life. Then Hailey found out she was pregnant. She swore he would marry her and they would raise the baby together and everything would work out.” She closed her eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “He blamed her for getting pregnant and told her she did it to get money from him. She was devastated. She ended up moving back in with my parents. It was my senior year of high school. She had the baby at Christmas. A little girl she named Gracie. That was the picture you saw on my dresser.”

  I remembered how she had quickly yanked it from my hand.

  “Anyway, it seemed like she and Brian were finished. He didn’t even come to the hospital when she had the baby. We all thought it was over. But then he started showing up again, and he was threatening Hailey. He said she owed him money. He threatened her saying he would get the money from her.”

  “What about your parents? Did they get involved?” I could feel my pulse starting to pick up.

  “Yes. My dad called the police. He confronted Brian. They filed a restraining order. They did everything they could legally do. But Brian seemed to find a way to Hailey, if she was at the park with the baby, or if they were at the mall. It didn’t matter—he was watching her constantly. Until one day, she came home.”

  Sydney stopped. Her eyes fell. I couldn’t tell if she was going to keep going.

  “She came home, and her clothes were ripped, she was crying. She had a black eye and a cut on her arm. He had attacked her when she was leaving work. He said it would be worse the next time if she didn’t pay him.”

  “God. What did the police do?”

  Sydney shook her head. “Nothing. The next morning she and the baby were gone. They left in the middle of the night. We never heard her leave.”

  “She took off?”

  “Yes. She left a letter saying it wasn’t safe for anyone. She took Gracie and started over somewhere Brian couldn’t find them.”

  I sat forward. “Tell me the guy went to jail.”

  “No. Without Hailey to press charges for the assault there wasn’t much they could do.”

  “That is insane. The guy should be behind bars.” I felt the heat rising in my neck.

  “My parents tried. They filed harassment charges. He was out of jail after thirty days. Nothing seemed to stick. It didn’t help that Hailey disappeared.”