“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 choreographer?”
“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?
“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 choreographer?”
“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?
