Ice Games

  “Important stuff.” He looked up and sneered. “Nothing more important than avoiding me, right? Can’t be seen with Ty the MMA Biter. Heaven forbid.”

  My brow wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”

  He ripped at his laces, and then stood up, one skate halfway off. “Quit acting like this, Zara. We both know.”

  “Actually, I don’t know,” I told him. “So why don’t you go ahead and share with me?”

  “You snuck out of my bed that night. I didn’t hurt you. We didn’t fight. So the only thing I can think is that you’re embarrassed by the fact that you let a guy like me into your pants.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Yeah. I’ve heard it all before. Gee, I like you, Ty, but you’re one of those guys. I can’t be seen with them. Gee, Ty, not right now. Gee, Ty, can you go stand over there on the red carpet?”

  “Are you kidding me? You think I’m dissing you?”

  He gave me a fake smile and spread his arms wide. “You tell me. You’re the one that ran away and refused to come here even though you knew I was here, all alone and without a partner. I must really embarrass the shit out of you. Why else would you nail and bail?”

  “That’s not it at all,” I choked out, horrified.

  “Then maybe you tell me what it is,” he said caustically, and he bent to rip at the laces on his other skate.

  Nail and bail? I’d tried to make things easier on him. The last thing a guy needed was an emotional virgin falling all over the dude that took her virginity. And Ty had said he didn’t want more than a casual relationship. How could I possibly assume anything else? I left because I was in love with you, I wanted to say. And you didn’t want that, so I thought I’d spare us both.

  But the words stuck in my throat.

  “Got nothing to say?” Ty glanced up at me and yanked at a knot on his skates, and then cursed.

  “You want to hear the truth?”

  “I think I deserve it, don’t you?”

  The truth is that I fell for you, Ty Randall. That’s right. I fell hard. The stupid, naïve virgin fell for the big, sexy jock. Her partner. Stupid, huh? That’s rule number one that you don’t break in skating—you don’t fall for your partner. It was more than just sex to me, and so that’s why I snuck out and I left. All because of your stupid ‘no-strings-attached’ concept. Me being a virgin just made it ten times worse. So I left, because that’s not fair to you and what you want.

  But none of that escaped my throat. Instead, big, fat tears began to slide down my face. Horrified, I swiped at them with the back of my hand.

  He stood up now, wobbling on his skates. “Don’t cry, Zara—”

  I shook my head. “The routine’s good enough. I have to go.”

  “Zara—”

  “Nope,” I said, tears sliding down my face. I pushed away from him. “I don’t want to talk. I just want out of here.”

  And I fled the room.

  “Zara, wait,” Ty called after me. But he didn’t come after me. He couldn’t—he was stuck in a pair of half-laced skates. Which was fine with me.

  I raced out of the building, my bag retrieved from the costume room, and hailed a cab. If the cab driver thought it was weird that a chick was hailing a cab in a poofy dress and a pair of skates? He didn’t say a thing.

  This was Hollywood, after all. Weirder shit happened every day.

  ~~ * ~~

  I could have gotten the taxi-cab driver to take me back to the cottage I’d stayed at with Ty. That would have been a free room and dinner…but it also would have meant staying in a private cabin with Ty, and I didn’t want to hear him apologize for hurting my feelings.

  I knew that was what he wanted to do. It’s what any decent human being would do. But an apology didn’t matter. Not really.

  What would happen if he apologized? Nothing.

  What would change if he apologized? Nothing.

  What would I do if he apologized to me?

  Still nothing. He’d still be Mr. No-Strings-Attached and I’d still be the big, dumb virgin that fell in love with the guy. I hurt just seeing him. It wasn’t our argument that made me so upset. That could have easily been talked out. We could have explained everything away and walked out as buddies.

  But I didn’t want to be buddies with him. And that was the part that was punching a hole in my heart. I was desperately in love with the guy.

  So I got a hotel room in LA. It wasn’t cheap, and it wasn’t a nice room, but it was Ty-free, and that was the only qualification I had at the moment.

  ~~ * ~~

  Melody sent six frantic text messages to my phone the next day, seeking reassurance that I’d show up for the finale, and that I’d bring my costume and skates with me. I texted her back, saying I would.

  Truth be told, I didn’t make the final decision on whether or not I’d show until the last minute. I figured—what would be the worst that could happen if I didn’t show up? They’d threaten to ruin my career? Already handled by me, thanks. Take back their thirty-grand paycheck? At this point, I was ready to give it back if I didn’t have to skate with Ty and have him embrace me and think for even a second that it was the real thing and he really wanted me in his arms.

  If I didn’t show up, they’d just cancel our portion of the number and find a way around it. Or Ty would skate alone.

  It was the thought of Ty skating alone, looking foolish, that made me climb in a cab and head back to the studio for the final beating on my ego. After all, I loved Ty. I didn’t want to fuck up this last thing for him. Didn’t want to make him look stupid.

  I could suck it up and be a big girl for a few hours. I’d smile for the cameras, do my routine with Ty, and then get on the next flight home and drown my sorrows in celery and organic hummus.

  I felt a sense of dread as the taxi pulled into the studio. I had my dress tucked under one arm, the skates in the other, and I headed in to meet my doom. I was immediately trapped by the costume people, who were freaking out that I might have wrinkled my dress overnight or stained it. They swept it out of my hands, and then the makeup artist ran forward. “There you are!”

  Just as soon as she did, Ty turned a corner. When he spotted me, he stopped in place. “Zara.”

  “Can’t talk, Ty,” I said, letting the makeup artist run me off like a chicken. “Gotta get hair and makeup done!”

  I barely heard his muttered curse as the door to the makeup room slammed shut behind us, and I was deposited in my chair.

  An hour later, my face was made up to the nines, my lips a perfect red bow, my long black hair had been curled into a bouncy, reasonable facsimile of Baby’s hair from the movie, and I was in my costume and skates, waiting to go out onto the ice and trying desperately not to get panicky. My stomach was tied in knots. There was no sign of Ty. Either he was in hair and makeup himself…or he’d had the same thought I had and bailed out.

  The show went to a commercial break and a production assistant grabbed me by the elbow. “You’re coming onto the ice over at the right-hand entrance,” she said. “Follow me.”

  “We are?” Guess I should have gone to practice. “Okay then.”

  Bewildered, I did as she asked, and I sucked in a breath when I saw Ty standing there in his black shirt and tight black pants, skates on and ready to go behind the curtain.

  The assistant held her hand out. “One minute before the number starts, and then you guys are the third pair up.”

  I knew that. But I nodded and handed her my blade guards. Then I stepped into place next to Ty.

  He held his hand out to me as if nothing was wrong, and I took it automatically. Then, his grip tightened on mine. “Good. Now I have you, and we’re going to talk.”

  I sighed. “Do we have to? We’re about to go on.”

  “I think there was a misunderstanding between us,” he said slowly. His gaze searched mine. “Why did you leave without saying good bye that morning? I thought I did something wrong. That maybe I’d hurt you somehow. Do you
know how fucked up that made me? Especially when you wouldn’t come back?”

  I would not feel guilty. Would not. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Let’s blame that on the virginity.” Man, being a virgin had turned out to be a huge pain in the ass. At least I was done with it.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t nice to you when you came back. I…just don’t understand.”

  I thought for a minute. “Okay.”

  That had clearly not been the answer Ty was expecting. As the music swelled and the first couple took the ice to start their routine, he moved closer to me so we could continue talking. “What do you mean, okay?”

  “I mean, okay. Thanks for apologizing.”

  “You going to tell me what made you avoid me?”

  “I’m not sure that I will. I mean, it doesn’t change anything.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t change anything?” He exploded. “What are you talking about?”

  Someone shushed us from nearby.

  “Look, can’t we talk about this later?” I held my fist out. “Let’s just do your lucky handshake so we can go out on the ice.”

  “No, we can’t talk about this later. We can talk about it now.”

  “Lucky handshake first,” I told him, wiggling my fist. “We can’t go out on the ice without it.”

  He looked down at my fist and then at me. “You do realize I made that shit up, right?”

  I gasped. “You what?”

  “I made it up. You were freaking out.”

  “Oh my god!” I felt sick to my stomach. He’d lied about his mojo? “I can’t believe you! No wonder we lost!”

  “SHHHHHHH,” someone in production said.

  “It doesn’t matter, Zara,” Ty told me. “It’s not about mojo or juju or luck or anything like that. You have to make your own luck.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said worriedly, eyeing the ice. Maybe I’d have time for a quick kneel and kiss before we had to skate out…

  Ty grabbed me by the arms. “Fine, you want to make some luck? Here’s a lucky kiss.” And his mouth planted on mine.

  I was so startled that I couldn’t say a thing at first. But then his mouth licked at my own and my lips parted to let him into my mouth. I moaned as the kiss became quickly deep and passionate, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He broke away from the kiss, though, and gazed down at me. “Now, why won’t you talk to me?”

  The next song queued up and began to play. “Get ready to go onto the ice in thirty seconds,” production told us. “You need to be in place.”

  “I’m not going until Zara talks to me and tells me why she’s avoiding me,” Ty said calmly.

  “I’m not avoiding,” I said anxiously, eyeing the curtain. “We should go out on the ice.”

  “Not yet,” Ty said. “I want to hear what the deal is. You cried yesterday. I made you cry. I want to know what I did.”

  I gave him a furious look. “Do we really have to go over this right now?”

  He put his hands on the sides of my face and kissed me passionately again, silencing my protests. When I was dazed again, he released me. “Tell me what’s going on, Zara.”

  “Tell you?” I murmured, staring at his mouth with fascination. It looked dark in the shadows.

  “Go out on the ice,” the production assistant hissed again. “Right now!”

  “Zara.” Ty crossed his arms over his chest.

  Oh god, this was making me twitchy. “It’s not you, all right? It’s me. I got all goofy over you, and I didn’t want it to mess things up. I’ve been falling for you ever since I met you. It’s not your fault I’m a lovesick virgin, okay? You said you wanted no strings attached, so I was giving it to you. I left because leaving without saying goodbye meant no strings attached, at all. That was what was fair.”

  His jaw dropped a little.

  “And as for coming back?” I rushed ahead, my words tripping all over themselves. I gave a nervous laugh. “Come back and spend two more weeks in your arms? Falling in love even more? It’d destroy me, Ty. I felt like if I were around you too much, I’d just fall even harder. So I went home to try to forget you. Give you your space. But I’m doing a shitty job of it.”

  Before Ty could reply, production came forward.

  “Go,” the production assistant said and shoved us out the curtain. “Get in place now!” The other song—from Moulin Rouge—was winding down, and I grasped Ty’s hand as we skated forward onto the dark half of the ice rink. The others were on the far end of the ice, and their routine would end away from ours. The spotlights would cut to us when our music came on.

  We moved out into position, Ty standing behind me and me in front of him. I bit my lip as we stood, waiting, facing forward in the darkness.

  I felt him lean in, his lips brushing my ear. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

  “What?” My nipples hardened in response to his body so close to mine, and I prayed that my arousal wasn’t visible through my costume.

  “I said…maybe I changed my mind. I liked what we had…and I missed it when you were gone. Maybe we could give this another try. And attach a few strings.”

  My heart thudded in response. Soared.

  Ty…wanted me? Wanted more with me?

  Really?

  The music changed. The entire ice went dark. It was time for us.

  Oh shit, they had the worst timing ever.

  The spotlight shone on me and Ty, and to my surprise, a ripple of laughter fluttered through the audience. Odd. The music keyed up, and I lifted my arm, caressing Ty’s neck, and he began to drag his fingers down my arm, just like in the movie. It sent ripples of pleasure moving through me. Then his hand grasped mine, and he twirled me outward onto the ice.

  And I saw why the audience had laughed. My red lipstick was smeared on Ty’s mouth.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I’m back on track for now. Probation. That’s pretty good, though I admit that I almost wouldn’t have minded if I’d gotten booted. Maybe I’d check out Ohio, see what it has to offer. Open a sports bar or something. Zara’s in Ohio, so it can’t be all bad, right? — Ty Randall, to his manager

  ~~ * ~~

  Our routine seemed to last forever, but we did everything perfectly, even the lift. The audience cheered wildly when the stage went dark, and then Ty and I skated off. We were done with Ice Dancing with the Stars. For good.

  As soon as we got to the curtained area, I grabbed the hem of my skirt and began to dab at Ty’s mouth. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. My lipstick was all over you.”

  He chuckled. “Well, I guess that’s one way to keep my man-card. Make out with the chicks backstage.”

  I laughed at the absurdity of it all, shaking my head at him.

  His eyes gleamed at me, and he pulled me close. “Now, you and I need to finish our conversation—”

  “Zara Pritchard?”

  I turned at the sound of my name, and gasped at the sight of the man standing off to one side backstage. It was my old coach, Edgar Maximoff. He’d grown older—and grayer—since I’d last seen him, but the mustache and the helmet of thick hair were impossible to miss.

  “Edgar! Oh my god. What are you doing here?” I pulled away from Ty’s arms and went to hug my old coach.

  “I’m here to see you,” he told me, his accent thick.…

  I frowned. “How did you know I was here?”

  He chuckled. “You are on TV, Zara.”

  Oh. Duh. “I know. I mean…why?” Why after all these years would he look me up? He’d fired me when I’d walked off the ice during the Olympics.

  “I got a tip from an old friend of mine—Penelope Marks.”

  I made a face at the hated name.

  He waved a hand at me. “I know, I know. It is all an act for the show. She is actually a big fan of yours.”

  I gave him a puzzled look. “She is?”

  “Yes. She is the one that called me and sent me DVDs of your performances here. You fired your chore
ographer?”

  “Two of the performances were mine,” I admitted.

  “They were brilliant.” He beamed at me, clearly proud. “I saw an artistic spark in you long ago, but it was buried under all of your, ahem…”

  “Brattiness?” I filled in. “You can say it. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “Youthful exuberance,” he corrected, and smiled. He held a business card out to me. “I want you to call me. I am the production manager of an ice show in Las Vegas at one of the arenas, and I’m looking for a head choreographer with a sense of style and an idea of doing something different. Someone that wants to take risks but knows what they’re doing.”

  I clutched the card against me. “I…okay. I’ll call you. Of course I will.” Shoot, I’d call him as soon as we left here. A job in Vegas? With one of the big, glitzy shows? Choreographing? It’d be a dream come true. And Penelope Marks had set it up?

  I peered around, looking for cameras. Was this sincere or was this some sort of weird TV set-up? But no one was around except Edgar.

  This was real.

  “Good. Good. You call me.” He patted my shoulder. “Now go see your young man. He looks as if he wants to carry you away from me.”

  I glanced over my shoulder where Ty lurked in the background. Sure enough, he was pacing, and he hadn’t even bothered to put the blade guards on his skates, which meant he was going to destroy them. And it was clear he didn’t care. I gave Edgar another quick hug and a promise to call, and then raced back over to Ty.

  “Did you hear that?” I said excitedly. “A job in Vegas!”

  His mouth curved into a smile. “Maybe there’s something to this mojo shit after all. I’m in Vegas too, remember?”

  I did. My heart thudded loudly in my chest at the reminder, and I gazed up at him. “So what were you saying to me on the ice?”

  He glanced around, then spotted a door nearby—the makeup room. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me there and then shut the door and locked it. We were the only ones in there.