Saving Katya
SAVING KATYA
by
Sandra Edwards
Saving Katya
Copyright © 2011 Sandra Edwards
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from
Sandra Edwards
.
Published by Amazon KDP
Seattle, WA
Electronic KDP Edition: February 2012
This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.
Olympic Gold Medalists Kate Peterson (U.S.) and Alexei Petrova (Russia) haven’t seen each other in eight years—not since their teenage affair ended after Alexei was forced back to Russia. But in the here and now, they’re about to be reunited at the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics in Squaw Valley, California.
Kate’s agreed to participate in the Torch Lighting Ceremony because she’s on the verge of losing her eyesight to a mysterious illness,
and she can’t afford the experimental surgery that could restore her vision. With a little luck she just might land an endorsement deal at the Olympics—her only shot at funding the surgery.
Alexei’s living in the States now, where he’s made a fortune selling “himself”. He’s also made enemies with a U.S. senator who wants him deported. But his plight becomes secondary after he runs into Kate at the Olympics. Clearly, she’s hiding something, and he’s shocked when he finds out what.
Once Alexei learns of Kate’s illness, saving her becomes his top priority—but will he save her only to be forced, once again, from her life?
CHAPTER 1
OLYMPIC CHAMPION
Kate Peterson dreaded the inevitable, the day her sight faded for good. The doctors had promised that her remaining senses would pick up the slack. Their assurances offered little comfort. She didn’t care if her sense of smell perked up when her eyesight diminished.
The Winter Olympics in Squaw Valley, California, was a hell of a place to test those theories. But since she was here, she couldn’t resist testing her sense of hearing. She clutched the ice rink railing and closed her eyes.
The blades gliding over the ice hummed in her ears. Kate envied the skaters. Soon enough, her own skating would be reduced to cruising around the rink, but only with someone else’s guidance.
Kate’s eyesight had been fading for the past year. She’d lost thirty percent of her peripheral vision in one eye and twenty-five percent in the other. According to the doctors, she had about a year left before she hit one hundred percent.
She could see it now. She’d turn into one of those pathetic has-beens, living solely in the glory of the past. Her life would be reduced to reminiscing about the days she used to sail through the air in an axel or a loop, knowing she’d never again pull off anything so basic as a simple waltz—the easiest of jumps.
She leaned against the railing, her eyes still closed, and “listened” to the latest round of Olympic hopefuls. The whipping and snapping of skaters taking to the air was followed soon after by the sound of blades crashing onto the ice. Kate envisioned a perfect landing.
Wisps of chilled wind caressed her face and she let her memories fuel her imagination. Thoughts filled her mind of Alexei tossing her into a double axel and then racing to catch up to her. Remembering his whispering praises breezing against her ear, she sighed longingly.
A familiar scent filled the air. Kate’s eyes shot open. Her memories—so clear, so real—she swore she smelled him.
Get a grip
! She shuddered.
“Katya...?” A familiar voice uttered in a broken whisper.
Icy fear twisted around Kate’s heart. Alexei was here?
She must be nuts. In what world had she thought she could avoid her ex-lover at the Winter Games, where figure skating’s gold medalists were supposed to light the torch at the opening ceremonies?
Who else would call out her name—in Russian?
“Katya?” There it was again, Alexei Petrova’s voice sneaking up from behind.
Damn. What had she been thinking? Dread knotted in her gut, wouldn’t let her turn and face him. In truth, she’d assumed that if she ran into him he’d shun her after the way they’d ended. He was, after all, the one who’d initiated the break-up.
So much for assumptions.
He called her name again, louder this time. “Katya?” His questioning tone insisted she confirm her identity.
No, it’s not me
. Her heart fluttered and her head spun with the denial. She tightened her grip on the cold hard steel of the ice rink railing, not knowing if vertigo or the prospect of seeing Alexei fueled her fear of falling.
Kate’s vision faded in and out and stalled into a blur.
Oh, no.
Please, not now
. This wasn’t the time for her illness to exhibit its nasty side-effect.
She blinked, but her impaired view remained. She prayed it was short-term, like the doctors had promised.
Her fear of coming face-to-face with Alexei died away. It was replaced by a quick and disturbing thought. What if she never
saw
him again?
Did he look the same? Did he still command that tall, athletic presence she remembered? Was his hair still golden-brown? And—if she could see them clearly—would his electrifying blue eyes still capture her affection with a simple glance?
Curiosity made her turn to face the blurry shape. Her cool reserve shattered, trapping her in limbo where making decisions—much less acting upon them—was impossible.
“Katya? Is it really you?” His Russian accent, while discernible, was not as prominent as she remembered. Perhaps eight years had a way of distorting reality.
Damn it to hell. Denial was an option. Not a good one, but still an alternative. Claiming mistaken identity had its charms. There was also something to be said for honesty. What—she didn’t know.
The truth in one simple word sputtered from her mouth. “Yes.” She dangled one arm behind her back and steadied herself against the railing.
Keeping her impaired vision a secret would take some finesse, and a bluff or two. For starters, she painted on a practiced smile. She didn’t need to see it to verify its effectiveness.
The shadowy figure got bigger and blurrier. Great. He was coming toward her, and then he touched her, igniting fear and a familiar yearning inside Kate. His hands lingered and she cursed her bad luck. Why had her vision picked this moment to abandon her?
Alexei drew her into his arms, surprising her. The shock didn’t last long, chased away by an overwhelming sense of self-betrayal. She longed to wrap herself around him. Common sense deserted her and she surrendered to the familiarity of his touch.
Images of tangled naked bodies flashed in her mind and the mental picture got stuck.
Stop that
.
But it didn’t stop. Thanks to her double-crossing heart and her sell-out body, she relished in the contact.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, Katya.” His faint whisper penetrated her thoughts.
She detected the sincerity in his tone but longed to see his face. It was the only way to know if her desires hadn’t tainted reality. Besides, why would he be happy to see her?
“Y-you too,” she said, a chill shimmering across her shoulders.
A flicker of light, the only thing visible during her sightless episodes, flashed off to the side. Instinctively, she turned toward it. The arena’s stands, hazy and distorted, gave nothing away.
Damn. This sporadic blindness thing—a consequence of her illness—had a way of making an inconvenient entrance.
She leaned back and pretended to peer at his face. A mannerism she’d mastered over the past year. His hands crept down her arms and tangled with her fingers. The chills spilled over her back. She faked a smile, hoping he didn’t catch on to her predicament.
To Kate, he was nothing more than a blur. Still, she recognized him. She’d never reacted to any man’s touch the way she had Alexei—then and now.
“Katya, where have you been?” His tone changed, hardening. She didn’t need to see to know he was mad. But why?
If anybody had a right to be angry, it was her. She refused to get into it in the middle of the skating arena. Talking openly in public about private matters was out of the question. But her faltering sight made it impossible to walk away.
“Alexei...” She paused, and tried to find some placating words. Ones that would satisfy his curiosity, at least for now.
“Kate.” A recognizable feminine voice interrupted.
Thank, God
. Debra Schilling, Kate’s boss at the restaurant where she’d been waitressing for the last three years, knew how to barge in with style. For once, it was welcomed.
Kate released Alexei’s hands, pivoted around and stumbled. His strong, familiar embrace—one she’d know anywhere but preferred to forget—caught and steadied her fall.
She stiffened, her body frozen by icy sheets of denial. Denial that she couldn’t
see
. Denial that Alexei could be forgiven. Denial that Debra’s crazy plan was somehow going to work.
Fear of discovery motivated her awkward nose-rubbing gesture. After all the trouble Debra had gone through to dream up the scheme, Kate hoped she saw the signal.
“It’s time for that appointment. Are you ready?” Debra’s words of affirmation calmed Kate’s choking, pounding heart.
She’d believed Debra was being paranoid, making up all those private clues; signs that only the two of them understood. Maybe she’d been wrong about that but she’d never admit her mistake.
“Yes, of course.” Kate took a couple of steps toward the direction she’d heard Debra’s voice come from and then hesitated, her thoughts getting sidelined by Alexei’s cologne. The exotic and seductive spices had never smelled the same on any other man. She pushed the reminiscing and the scent aside, and turned as if looking over her shoulder. “Alexei, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
“If you need a moment…” Debra’s voice showed Kate the way.
“No, Deb, that’s fine.” Kate stepped toward her voice and unwittingly stopped between her boss and her former lover. “Debra Schilling...Alexei Petrova.” She did the polite thing and introduced them. “We skated together,” she told Debra. “Briefly. A few years ago.” A thin, ice-hard wall of vigilance settled around Kate and she hoped it hid the pressure building inside. “Alexei...Debra is a friend of mine.”
Debra’s laughter echoed through Kate’s shaky countenance. “Don’t let her fool you. I work for Kate. I’m her private secretary.”
Kate’s sense of right and wrong told her to object, but her pride wouldn’t let her. It might lead to the truth coming out. If that happened she’d go from being a reclusive gold medalist, who was the darling of the Olympics eight years ago, to a pathetic figure worldwide.
“Alexei, it’s nice to meet you,” Debra said, her voice full of appeal.