Whisper Privileges by Dianne Venetta Read Free Book Online

nights ,” she
underscored, signaling she knew this was nothing more than a ruse
to push her together with Clay.
    Sam’s smile turned devilish grin. “I will.”
She extended her hand to Clay and said, “Nice to meet you,
Clay.”
    “Same here.”
    “Take good care of my friend, will you?”
    “You can count on it.”
    She chuckled. “Oh yes, I like him already,
Syd.” Sydney turned her face up for the expected kiss goodbye. Sam
leaned down with a whisper, “You owe me one.” Then pecked her
cheek.
    “Yes I do,” Sydney said, loud enough to be
sure Clay heard.
    “Ta-ta!” Sam blew a kiss to the bartender as
she hurried off, her long legs and frilly skirt quickly consumed by
the throng of young professionals.
    Clay lowered into the seat vacated by Sam and
his eyes danced with pleasure. “Looks like it’s just you and
me.”
    “Yes,” she replied, uncertain as to where
this was going. While she enjoyed the company of handsome men, she
had no interest in taking this one any further.
    “Can I buy you a drink?”
    Sydney looked down and was surprised to see
her glass near empty. She looked at him, looked around and debated
whether or not she should stay. The lounge had grown to standing
room only, bodies packed in around the bar, noise level ratcheted
up. Stress levels were falling, conversations were rolling, libidos
were heating... The atmosphere was certainly conducive to
lingering. She peered over at Clay and he smiled, his gaze
expectant.
    Why not ? What else did she have to do?
Sure as hell beat sitting at home alone, sulking over her current
assignment. “Sure,” she replied, then suddenly remembered Clay was her assignment—or part of it, anyway.
    Pleased, he ordered the drink, took a sip
from his beer and commented, “Your friend’s quite a pistol.”
    “Yes, among other things.” Sydney smiled. “A
real live wire, that one.”
    “She work with you and Charlie?”
    “No. She’s a lawyer. Works with my cousin,
Diego.”
    “He was the guy who stopped by the other day,
right?”
    “Yes,” she replied, noting that someone has a good memory.
    “So how did you fare in the tournament?”
    “We won.”
    “Way to go.” He brightened and raised his
drink in cheers.
    Sydney gave a hollow clink from her glass to
his bottle and added, “My teammate sprained her ankle during the
last set, so it was a good thing it was our final match or who
knows. Things could have ended much differently.”
    He grimaced. “Bad?”
    “Nothing that won’t heal.”
    He shook his head in admiration. “You two are
some amazing players.”
    “Thanks.” She smiled, warmed by his vote of
confidence, though she doubted the man even knew what constituted
“good” when it came to volleyball. But did it matter? Sometimes it
was enough just to hear the words. She glanced at his left hand and
saw no ring. “So where’s your son?” She looked around, as though
she’d somehow see him. “Is he here?”
    “No, not yet. He’s with my parents back home.
He comes down with his coach and the team on Saturday.”
    “They fly in on private jets, don’t they?”
she asked, accepting her drink from the bartender with a nod of
thanks.
    “That they do, the day before opening
ceremonies.”
    Responding to the bartender’s questioning
glance, Sydney slid the twenty dollar bill toward him. “She said
this was for you.”
    The man took it without hesitation. “Let me
know if I can get you anything else,” he offered, his previous
animation gone. Dutifully, he cleared Sam’s martini glass from the
bar and moved on to the next patron.
    Sydney learned that the special flight
project that transported the athletes to the events started with a
couple of planes volunteered by Cessna and over the years had
blossomed into a major undertaking. But like most things associated
with the Special Olympics, it seemed volunteers signed on in
droves. This weekend they were expecting hundreds of private jets
to fly in, all provided free of