CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FRIDAY MORNING, HER MISSION WAS clear; give a cute-on-steroids interview with Brett, support him in his skating and secret romance, and avoid any contact with Daniil. There was no need for an honest conversation because there was nothing to have an honest conversation about. He had his life; she had hers. They’d had fun, but it was time to move on.

The interview turned out to be a no-pressure love fest, with softball questions fielded by the same CBC reporter who’d interviewed Daniil and Yelena. Brett was adorable and flirtatious, Tabitha swatted his arm.

The reporter’s bright smile softened. “Now Tabitha, you’ll be retiring at the end of this season, while Brett plans to continue with his competitive career. Do you intend to return to your studies at Harvard, or attend school in LA, to be closer to Brett?”

Back to her pretend life. The memory of how good it had felt to be free of it threatened to crack her composure. She took a deep breath and squeezed Brett’s hand. “I have a lot of big decisions ahead. But I love Brett and that will never change. We have each other’s back, no matter what.”

The hurt lingered even through her afternoon yoga class. Posed in a downward dog, she seethed with frustration and jealousy. Tonight she had to watch Mia Lang be amazing on the ice. But Tabitha was tough. She’d weathered worse and come back strong. This was no different.

She arrived at the arena at 6:30 and was surrounded by fans that had seen the interview when it aired that afternoon. She posed for photos, signed autographs and headed to her seat, just as the ladies’ short program was about to begin.

The perky blond Canadian teenager making her International Series debut delighted the hometown crowd, and the judges, with a clean skate. Yelena Baryatinskaya turned in a strong skate to Adele’s “Skyfall” and Tabitha applauded grudgingly. Caitlyn Wayne, an American skater whose career had peaked when she skated in the Oslo Games, fell three times during her two-and-a-half minute program. Like Tabitha, Caitlyn had delayed retiring; hoping for a shot at Grenoble though it was clear her time had passed.

Exactly what Tabitha didn’t need to think about as Mia Lang took the ice.

Mia, the daughter of a former skater, had an innate grace that infused even the smallest movements. Her program music was youthful, but introspective. As good as she was artistically; her technical skills were just as impressive. Her program began with a triple axel and ended with a blazing fast spin that showed her amazing flexibility.

At the end, the crowd rose to its feet, as flowers and stuffed toys rained down on the ice. The judges awarded Mia the evening’s highest score, giving her a comfortable lead going into tomorrow’s free skate.

It wasn’t a surprise, but it wasn’t good news either.

Tabitha stayed in her seat during the break between the ladies’ and men’s competitions. Going out to the concourse and hearing fans gush over Mia would do nothing for her morale. She flipped through her program, spending too much time on the page with Daniil’s photo.

A group of women and girls in matching Maple Leaf Classic t-shirts made their way over. As Tabitha chatted with each fan and signed her program, the men’s competitors skated out for their warm-up.

Though Tabitha tried hard to keep her attention from drifting toward the ice, it was impossible. Daniil’s gray and black costume hugged his body like a second skin. In the first row, a noisy group of young women cheered and squealed every time he skated past. One of the Maple Leaf women frowned her disapproval. “Such a show-off.”

Tabitha nodded in bland agreement, and when the women left, she hid behind her own program, in case he happened to glance her way. But as she peeked over the top of the page, he didn’t seem to show off at all. He wasn’t smiling or acknowledging the applause. His focus was on the ice, his expression was dead serious.

Canadian champion Mitch Hastings was favored going in, but Brett’s Broadway-themed program to music from 42nd Street, put him in first place...at least until Daniil took the ice.

Though she’d seen him practice his short program last week, tonight his skate to Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” was more melancholy than before. Even as he executed a flawless quad toe/triple toe combination jump; the audience’s applause was subdued, as if they didn’t want to break the spell of this voyeur’s view at a tormented soul. Though he finished the night in first place, he seemed haunted and sad.

For the third night in a row, he haunted Tabitha’s dreams.

Bright and early Saturday morning, Brett called from the arena. “I forgot something.”

What else was new? She smiled at his endearing absent-mindedness. “What now?”

“My red bowtie. Could you bring it over here?”

She hesitated. Going to the early practice meant she might run into Daniil. Not at all what she wanted. But during a major competition, something as trivial as a missing costume piece could really mess with your mind. Brett needed a flawless skate today. She wouldn’t risk ruining it because of her own discomfort.

“I’m on my way.”

Tabitha arrived to find the arena doors still locked, leaving her no choice but to enter through the skaters’ entrance. She flashed the all-access ID Peter had arranged for her and entered the concrete tunnels that snaked beneath the arena. A navy blue sign pointed toward the men’s locker room. Too close for comfort. She should text Brett and tell him to meet her by the ice.

She headed in that direction when a door at the opposite end of the corridor swung open. And there was Daniil, headed toward her.

Confronted by what she’d both dreaded and longed for, she froze. Her pulse quickened with intense attraction that was all too real, even if he didn’t share it. A part of her wanted to turn away, but pride kept her walking. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She wasn’t the one who’d hidden the fact there was someone else. They were on a collision course, and when they reached the middle, he stepped into her path, blocking her way.

“Hello Tabitha.” There was low menace curled in his voice.

“Excuse me, I need to get past.” She tried to side- step him, but he braced his hands against the wall on either side of her. Trapped, her heart pounded. She wasn’t afraid of what he might do, though. No. As heat prickled her body, and her gaze fell on the tempting swell of his lower lip, Tabitha was more afraid of what she might do.

“Not so fast. First, I have questions.”

The silky accent coiled around the words, and a frisson of excitement jangled her nerves. She fought it, summoning the shield of righteous anger. She tilted her chin and offered a disdainful laugh. “Ask away. I have nothing to hide.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your fiancé? Instead, I find out from chatty TV reporter who said she would interview you and Brett Stafford.”

“The same reporter who interviewed you and your girlfriend?”

His stiff posture relaxed as his shoulders dropped and he sighed, shaking his head. “Yelena is not my girlfriend. It’s true we were involved last year, but it’s over now.”

“That wasn’t how it looked on TV.”

“She was nervous about facing Western press, which you may have noticed, isn’t kind to us. I tried to put her at ease, and that reporter assumed there was more to it. But in reality, Yelena is in love with Ruslan Chernin, who you met in Chicago.”

She remembered Samara commenting that Ruslan had a serious girlfriend. She also thought of how the press had seized on her and Brett’s alleged romance. Daniil could be telling the truth.

“But you still haven’t answered my question. You say you don’t trust men, when all the while you’re deceiving not only me, but him too. Did you tell him about Chicago? Has he met Hildegard Snarski?”

She couldn’t bear for him to think she was a cheater. Yet, revealing the truth could compromise Brett. “It’s not how it looks either. Brett’s also just a friend.”

He leaned closer, his nearness overwhelming, and his breath fanned her cheek. “We seem to have complicated friendships.”

“Yes.” Tabitha’s mouth felt dry, and she flicked her tongue across her lips.

“We need to talk.” He brought his hand to her face and dragged his finger across the slick moisture on her mouth. The sensation set her nerves tingling, and he leaned in further, so that his mouth brushed her cheek. Their gazes locked together, and the corner of his lips lifted in a sexy little smile. “But first, you should be kissed properly.”

“To get me into character?”

“To get you into something.” He claimed her lips in a kiss that took her breath away. He wasn’t gentle, he was demanding. Hungry. The heightened sensation lured her in as though she’d been drugged. She dropped her head back against the wall, giving into the delicious heat. She looped her arms around his neck, and arched against him, crushing her breasts against the hard plains of his chest. He drew her in, arms wrapping around her waist, hands cupping her ass. In her mouth, his brazen tongue explored every soft crevasse, taking his sweet time. When he broke contact, Tabitha sagged against the wall, breathless, and her knees trembled like jelly.

“Can you get away tonight after the competition?” he whispered.

“Yes. Late.” She rasped, as he nuzzled her neck and she caught the seductive essence of Polo Black.

“Midnight,” he said. Once more, he kissed her, and his fingertips teased the hem of her short sweater, slipping beneath to touch her bare skin. His touch feathered against her belly, and his thumb traced lazy circles around her navel. She sucked a breath, and her center grew warm and damp. Her tight jeans rubbed against the sensitive little nub of her clit in a tantalizing way. “Wait for me at the bench outside the hotel. And wear that short skirt you had on last night.”

She blinked. “How did you know what I had on?”

His gaze melted into heart-rending tenderness, “Just like the little fan-girls saw you, so did I. Did you think I wouldn’t be looking, krasavitsa?”

“What did you call me?”

“I call you beautiful. Which you are. Like golden sunrise or finest crystal.”

He put his hand to her cheek and gazed into her eyes. Warmth and acceptance radiated out from him, and made her feel safe, even as her emotions spun in a whirlwind of confusion. Once more, he brought his mouth to hers and she drank in the sweetness, succumbing to a rare moment of sheer pleasure.

This was broken by the sound of footsteps and someone clearing their throat. Startled, they both turned to see Anton Belikov, who had come from the rink. He wasn’t smiling. “Hello, Tabitha.”

“Hi.” She swallowed hard, and her cheeks flamed hot.

Anton and Daniil spoke in Russian. She couldn’t tell if the coach was angry, or if it was the alien, harsh sound of the language. The only word she understood was “da.” Yes. Then Anton walked away.

She grimaced and looked back at Daniil. “Are you in trouble?”

Daniil waved her concern away. “He doesn’t stay mad. But I have to go. The ice is waiting.”

Tabitha hoped that was all it was, but if so, why hadn’t Anton spoken English? She’d heard him do it enough times. “Good luck this afternoon.”

“Even though I’m skating against your friend?”

She grasped the open front of his red and white training jacket. “You’re my friend too.”

He chuckled. “Is that all?”

She rolled her eyes at his cockiness, even as it made her smile. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Midnight,” he said, making the word sound like a seduction. “Don’t be late.”

At 11:45, Tabitha slipped out of the hotel, staying in the shadows. She didn’t want to risk being seen at midnight, wearing a pencil skirt and stilettos, her supposed fiancé nowhere in sight.

After going out with the other U.S. skaters to celebrate Brett’s silver medal and Mia’s gold, her friend had slipped away to meet Sergei. Now it was Tabitha’s turn for an illicit rendezvous.

Seated on the concrete bench beside the driveway, she tugged the hem of her skirt. He hadn’t said where they were going. That he might take her to some out of the way motel was both thrilling and terrifying. She wanted him, but her emotions were still raw. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. She checked the time; 11:55. She could message to say she’d changed her mind. The rumble of an engine pulling up said it was too late.

His gaze raked over her short black skirt, fitted white t-shirt and towering red high heels. “That skirt looks even better tonight.”

She laughed. “Listen I was going to duck upstairs, to um, change clothes.” Her cheeks flamed hot. “It’s kind of chilly, and—”

“You can borrow my jacket.”

Apparently, they were going someplace where she’d need one, not a cheap motel where her clothes wouldn’t be a concern. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace you’ll like, trust me.”

She tugged at her skirt as she got in the car. His gaze lingered on her legs, and something about the way he was devouring her with his eyes, bolstered her confidence. She had power here. She sat up a little straighter and tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

They sped through the glittering midnight city and then followed a winding road through a large park. The park ended at a towering bridge that led to a coastal highway. Just past a sprawling marina, he pulled into a parking lot. As they got out, he removed his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

A pier stretched out into the dark bay, past rows of anchored sail boats and small yachts. She walked quickly at his side, taking care not to catch her spike heels on the wooden planks. At the very end was a small, clapboard building illuminated with soft lights. Daniil held open the door.

Inside, angled tables with white tablecloths and flickering candles filled the small main room. A few were occupied. A handful of customers sat at the bar. In the corner, a pianist and an acoustic guitar player performed on a small stage. Daniil touched her back. “Choose a good table and I’ll get our drinks.”

She liked the one in the corner facing the water. Daniil joined her a few moments later, with their drinks. Vodka and tonic for him. A chocolate martini for her.

“This isn’t what I expected,” she said.

He gave her a sly look. “And what were you expecting? Mirrored ceilings and dirty movies on pay TV?” She laughed, and dropped her forehead to her hand, hoping he didn’t notice the color rising in her cheeks. He’d read her thoughts pretty well. “We might get to that, but for now?” He gazed around the room. “When I found this place, I thought of you.”

She held up her glass. “To lovely places and gold medals. Congratulations.”

He touched the rim of his glass to hers. She sipped her drink, which was sweet and decadent. “Your program was excellent. “I think it’s interesting that your short program is the serious, classical one, and your free skate is to a rock song. Most people do it the other way around.”

“I do it the way I enjoy, and for me it works.”

“Was Anton angry about me?”

“No. But we had a lot of work to do, and not much time.”

“If it needed work, I couldn’t tell. It’s like you were born for this sport.”

“It’s funny you say that, since it started as punishment for punching Dima Balankov during hockey practice.”

“Why did you do that?”

He shrugged and sipped his drink. “Because he made a stupid comment about my father dating a teen-age model. But I never liked hockey much. My dad put me in because I was a good athlete, and he thought it would make me tough. Mostly, it made me mad. So after this, he and my coach decided that going into figure skating class with girls would straighten me out.”

“And it turned out you loved it?”

“Not at first. I wanted to defy him by taking something he’d used to hurt me and making it mine. By doing that, I won.” He sipped his drink. “Except I was still fighting him. I’ve always been fighting him.”

“That’s why you sabotaged yourself.” She sipped her drink. “I know it’s hard to break from him, but if you did, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to fight anymore.”

In a strange way, it made sense. Still, it wasn’t realistic. At least not now. “If I make the team for Grenoble and prove to the Federation I’m worth the investment, maybe.”

“You’re making good so far.”

“You inspired me.” He gazed into her eyes and smiled.

“I did? How?”

“In Delaware, when I was waiting to go before the judge, I saw you on TV. It felt like as long as I kept watching you, everything would be okay. You were beautiful, yes, but more than that, I saw your strength, your courage. I didn’t know you then, but now that I do, you inspire me even more.”

She stared, her lovely red lips parted. “I thought all the things I’d told you about my life had scared you off.”

He put his hand over hers. “I know you’ve been hurt. I know you learned to expect the worst. I want to show you I’m different and that happy endings aren’t bullshit. You and I could have one.”

“I’m complicated.”

“I’m up to the challenge. Let’s start with Brett Stafford.”

She smiled a tight smile. “That’s hard to talk about.”

“Brett is gay.”

He’d guessed the truth, she confirmed he was right. “His dad’s a minister, and Brett’s afraid of his family’s reaction. His dad might even lose his job if the truth got out. And now, Brett’s met someone who has his own reasons to keep his sexuality a secret.”

“So you must keep the secrets of two people, including one you didn’t ask for.”

“Brett’s a private person, just like me. I totally understand not wanting the world to know your business.”

“But it’s hard because you have to consider how everything you do affects someone else.”

She looked down at her hands. “Story of my life.”

“It’s like ice dance. Every movement affects your partner, and the same thing in reverse. Could that be what you loved about it?”

She smiled. “I’d never thought of it that way, but maybe you’re right. I skate alone, but it doesn’t mean I want to live that way.”