Whispers on the Ice (26 page)

“Crappy! You know I hate to fall,” Megan complained, wiping away tears on her cheeks.

“Do we need the stretcher?” George asked, reaching their side, Nick right behind him.

“How’s the knee feel, Megan? Do you think you can move it?” Jordan asked, remembering the number of times she’d found the ice with her knees and knowing how black and blue Megan’s would be shortly.

“Lay her down on her side and have her try to straighten it first, she shouldn’t wrench the joint from side to side if she can avoid it,” Nick’s deep voice suggested from behind, out of her line of vision.

Jordan looked at George, kneeling beside her and raised her eyebrows in question. “He’s had enough surgery on his knees to make me listen to him,” George offered on a shrug.

“Okay, Megan. Let’s lay you down then. George, we need a blanket or something,” Jordan stated, flinching when a still-warm flannel shirt fell in her lap, it’s spicy scent teasing her senses.

Jordan spread the shirt on the ice beneath Megan and helped her lay down; lifting her hips slightly while George slipped the tails of the shirt beneath her. “Okay, sweetie, whenever you’re ready, see if you can straighten your knee.”

Megan looked at the three adults surrounding her, their faces filled with concern and smiled tentatively. Slowly she straightened her leg, expecting to feel shooting pains but instead only felt a minor throbbing. “No sweat,” she stated, a nervous giggle escaping as she sighed in relief.

“All right, that’s great!” Jordan stated, releasing her own held breath. “George, help me get her up, please,” Jordan requested, slipping under Megan’s left arm and crossing it over her shoulder and watching as George did the same on Megan’s right side. “Okay, on the count of two, lift straight up. Megan, I don’t want any weight on that left leg at all,” Jordan instructed.

“No problem there,”Megan agreed, looking from Jordan to George. “

“Hang on, Megan. George, slow and easy please,” Jordan stated calmly. “One, two, lift…” Jordan counted and the two slowly lifted Megan to her feet.

“How you doing, Meg?” George asked, moving slowly forward on Jordan’s command, careful not to jostle Megan too much.

“Great,” Megan sighed, casting a longing glance at George.

Jordan smiled at Megan’s wistful gaze, still wondering how George could be so oblivious to Megan’s obvious feelings for him. For the past three months she’d always brought cookies or his favorite cake into him every time she came to the rink, which was almost daily. Jordan was beginning to think the only way George would realize Megan’s crush on him was to hit him over the head with his hockey stick and tell him. Still, it was awfully cute to see Megan’s eyes light up whenever she saw him, her shy smiles and accidental bumps against him making her sigh in pleasure. Jordan remembered feeling the same way about Aleksei all those years ago, when she’d been twelve, only Aleksei had literally knocked her on her butt—no gentle nudge for her. Briefly she wondered if she’d ever feel that way again.

Tingles ran up her spine again, making her shiver and drew Megan’s attention. “You okay?” Megan asked, her arms still draped across Jordan and George’s shoulders.

Jordan nodded yes. “Just a chill, sweetie,” She answered with a smile. “How about you? How are you doing?”

“Fine, honest. My knee hardly hurts at all,” Megan answered softly as they reached the exit off the ice, and stepped carefully onto the rubber flooring. Megan cast another shy glance toward George, who, as usual, was oblivious.

“I’m glad to hear that. Still, I want George to help you to the office. When I get there, I want to see your butt down, your leg up and a pile of ice on that knee. Got it?” Jordan stated, tapping Megan’s nose.

“Yes, ma’am,” Megan replied, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t ma’am me. I’m not old enough to be a ma’am,” Jordan complained teasingly.

“It’s a sign of respect,” Megan offered.

“Well, I don’t want that much respect—yet,” Jordan fired back, slipping out from under Megan’s arm and holding her steady while George pushed the forgotten hockey gear away from the door.

“Nick, give me ten—make that fifteen—minutes. Why don’t you go get something to drink? I’ll meet you at the snack bar,” George called to Nick as he crossed the ice, returned to Megan and lifted her into his arms, cautious of her left leg and backed through the door. Jordan smiled at Megan’s beaming face as George carried her toward the office, shaking her head in amusement.

“No problem. I’ll be here,” Nick’s deep voice answered behind Jordan, startling her and making her twist as she sought its source. Her toe-pick caught the rubber mat, stopping her feet even as her body continued it’s forward motion toward the pile of bags that George had just kicked away from the door. Her arms flailed wildly as she tried to break her fall, unsuccessfully and she landed in the pile of hockey gear with a thud.

Nick moved as quickly as he could, the remaining feet off the ice, to view her landing face first into the pile of bags and hockey sticks. His first thought, when he saw her lying across the bags was she had a nice ass, a
really
nice ass. His second thought was how to go about the business of getting her untangled from the mess of sticks and bags on the floor.

“You okay?” Nick called to the small figure lying on the pile before him.

“Just dandy!” came a mumbled reply tinged with heat. “When I get hold of George, he’s going to wish he’d never heard of hockey.”

“I hate to ruin your plans to kill, maim and destroy, but this gear’s mine. George was just helping me with it when—is it Megan?—fell and we came to help,” Nick explained haltingly, wondering why he felt so nervous around this slip of a girl.

“Ah. Then I guess my actual target to
kill, maim and destroy
is you, isn’t it?” Jordan questioned, her frustration mounting when the blade on her right skate got caught on a strap and she couldn’t roll over. “Would you please get that damn strap off my skate? So help me God, if these blades are nicked you’re dead meat for sure!”

Nick removed the tangled strap and watched as Jordan rolled to her back, her bottom sinking between two large bags and effectively trapping her.

Briefly she struggled to lift her bottom up over the bags, but her movements did nothing more than cause her hair to fall into her face and wedge her deeper into the offending hockey gear. Heaving a sigh of exasperation, she expectantly held out her hand, anticipating an immediate hand to pull her out of the mess that seemed to be swallowing her. In frustration she brushed her hair from her eyes and looked up hoping to see the
never seen before Nick
with his hand ready to pull her up. The sight that greeted her was overwhelmingly male, broad shoulders, gorgeous face and the same sexy smell that had assailed her from the shirt he once again wore, despite the wet spots from the ice.

Nick froze as Jordan swept the shades of copper waves from her eyes and looked up at him expectantly, her deep green eyes blazing in anger. “You’re not a kid!” He accused huskily.

“Who said I was?” Jordan fired back heatedly, her eyes held captive as she watched his go from sky blue to deep sapphire.

“You looked like one on the ice.”

“Well I’d suggest you get your eyes checked, because obviously, I’m not! Are you going to help me up or not?” Jordan fumed, holding her hand out and wiggling her fingers.

“Shit!” Nick growled, taking her hand and hauling her to her feet, groaning when he pulled too hard and she fell heavily against his chest, the top of her head only reaching the top of his shoulder.

“Gee, thanks,” Jordan hissed, trying to step away from his towering form and the heat that seemed to pulse from him, nearly falling back into the pile until Nick grabbed her arms and pulled her back against him, groaning as he felt the fronts of their bodies meet.

“I thought you wanted out of the pile?” he growled, taking a step back to give her some room, his hands still holding her arms, searing her with their heat.

“I did, but I didn’t expect to be mauled on the way out!” Jordan complained, pulling from his grasp and attempting to step around him, her breath catching when her breast brushed against his muscular arm, her skin tingling in response. “I’ve got to go see to Megan,” Jordan offered weakly, her blood suddenly rushing through her veins, feelings long buried struggling to surface.

“It’s always nice to be appreciated,” Nick stated sarcastically, stepping aside and bowing gallantly despite his desire to throttle her. “Later, brat,” he stated softly, his deep voice a velvet caress.

A wave of long remembered feelings washed over her at his words, making her dizzy and flushed, made her heart pound so quickly she could barely breath. “What?” she asked softly, holding the door for support when her legs threatened to give way beneath her.

“I said I’ll see you later,” Nick answered, his sapphire blue eyes memorizing her face; a face he felt he knew, but didn’t know.

“What makes you think that?” Jordan asked, her mind refusing to clear away the dizziness that made her slightly light headed and off balance, like one too many glasses of wine made you heady.

“I’m the new hockey coach,” Nick stated simply, walking forward to stand before Jordan where she still leaned against the door. “Nicholas Devon, nice to meet you,” he stated, offering his hand to her in greeting.

Jordan looked at his hand, large and long-fingered, calluses on his palm, a working man’s hand. Slowly she slid her hand into his, gasping as his fingers closed around it, stunned at the jolt of electricity that ran up her arm at his touch. Leaning her head back, she looked into his face, noted his own stunned look and gazed deeply into his eyes, sapphire blue and forest green meeting. “Jordan Jamison. Welcome,” she voiced softly, swaying toward him as if drawn to him magically before fighting the urge to lay her cheek against his chest and close her eyes. Memories of Aleksei swamped her, filling her eyes with tears. With a last look, she slid her hand from his, sighing wistfully when their fingers brushed apart and walked quickly, and a bit unsteadily, toward the office.

Nick watched her departure, completely baffled and confused by their encounter yet still appreciative of the view she presented as she walked away from him.
Save me!
He muttered to himself and the silence around him. This made no sense at all. Three years ago his life had changed when he’d undergone simple knee surgery—or what should have been simple knee surgery. Only after the fact, was he told that he’d had a nearly fatal reaction to the anesthetic they’d used. He had, in fact, been officially dead on the table for two and a half minutes before the doctors had managed to bring him back. And it was during that two and a half minutes that things had gotten really
weird
. He remembered flashes of pictures, like a slide show gone amuck, and snatches of words—maybe names—but he couldn’t be sure. Vague images of a young man with dark hair and flashing eyes, a ready smile. Feelings of something left unfinished, unfulfilled. The whole thing made absolutely no sense. But after the surgery, when his knee had fully recovered, all he wanted to do was get on the ice, something he hadn’t done in ten years, not since he was sixteen years old. But there was an overwhelming drive deep inside him that pushed him toward that cold, slick surface. Hockey had called to him and that’s where he’d spent the last three years of his life, living, breathing, feeling hockey in every sense of the word.

He wondered why this overwhelming desire to play hockey had surfaced after his surgery. He still wondered, and now today, the same weird sense of being in the right place washed through him. He didn’t like being out of control and this certainly felt as out of control as one could be. There had to be some sort of sense to all of this. But what the hell was it?

Never in all his life would he have believed his life could change in one day, but it had, three years before, on January ninth.

CHAPTER 19  

“Is he cute or what?” Megan whispered in enthusiasm as Jordan walked through the doors into the office, a dazed expression on her face.

“What?” Jordan asked, trying to slow her still swirling mind and concentrate on checking Megan’s knee which, as instructed, was elevated and covered with an ice pack. Gingerly, she poked and prodded, asking if it hurt when she did this or that, gently and slowly straightening Megan’s knee as Megan jabbered on about how
cute
he was.

Flustered, Jordan sat on her heels, running her hands through her thoroughly mussed curls. “Megan, I am perfectly aware of how cute you think George is. Do you think you can put a lid on this crush you have on George long enough to answer my questions about your knee?”

“My crush on George? J.J. you’re nuts—I don’t have a crush on that goon! I’d have to be crazy to have a crush on some ape like George. Jeez, he likes
hockey
for heaven’s sake. Everyone knows figure skaters and hockey skaters are at opposite ends of the spectrum. They never get along. Why, that kind of relationship is doomed from the very beginning,” Megan stated firmly, her tone dictating she truly believed her statement.

“It worked in
The Cutting Edge,
” Jordan offered, referring to the movie about such a match up.

Megan rolled her eyes in exasperation. “J.J., that was a movie, this is real life. That kind of relationship would never work.”

“You must be speaking from years of experience. Where else would you get such an idea?” Jordan teased, continuing to poke at Megan’s knee.

“Not experience, obviously. As you keep reminding me, I
am
only twelve years old. But it doesn’t take a genius to see that the mentality difference between figure skaters and hockey skaters is monumentally different. We’re thinkers—they’re…” Megan waved her hands in circles as if looking for the perfect description, flinching when the office door slammed open and George barged in, grabbed a stack of hockey pucks and banged back out. Jutting a thumb toward the door George had just exited, Megan stated without pause, “They’re apes with sticks and an excuse to demolish each other.”

Jordan smiled, despite Megan’s serious expression. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But admit it, some of them are pretty
cute
apes.”

Megan’s eyes sparkled in animation. “Yeah, especially that cute guy with George. Damn, he’s big. Oops,” Megan covered her mouth with both hands, aghast at the comment that had slipped from her usually proper lips.

Jordan laughed at Megan’s disbelieving look. “Why, Miss Megan, what would your mother say if she heard such profanity coming from that well-mannered mouth of yours?” Jordan asked in a perfect imitation of Megan’s mother’s deep southern drawl, her smile growing as Megan stuck her tongue out at her.

“Before or after she fainted dead away?” Megan asked straight-faced, her mouth making a small moue.

“Why, after, of course.”

“Well, her first response would be to ground me for a month but then she’d realize I was around too much and that might hamper her style with her latest
friend
. So, I’d probably just have to be here that much more often and be subjected to more profanity and get into more trouble and have to skate more and, jeez, this could go on forever.”

Jordan watched Megan’s eyes, felt sad when she saw the acceptance in them. Megan was too old for her twelve years and more often than not, Jordan wanted to shake Megan’s mother in the hopes it would make her realize just how special her daughter was. Typical—there were always those who had no business being a mother and those that wanted nothing more than to be a mother and couldn’t be. Sometimes life sucked!

“Well then, Miss Megan, I suppose I’ll have to let this little indiscretion slide, but don’t let me hear such words coming from that pure little mouth of yours again. Got it?” Jordan stated, struggling to look like she meant business.

Megan laughed and hugged her coach hard. “J.J., you couldn’t be mean if you wanted to. But thanks for the thought anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. So how’s the knee?”

“It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you saying that if it’s killing you. The last thing you need is to ruin your knee at your age.”

“J.J., you could make a saint nuts. My knee is fine,” Megan answered, straightening and bending her knee to prove her point.

Jordan watched Megan’s eyes as she moved her leg, sighed in relief when there were no visible signs of pain and pushed her leg back down and reapplied the ice bag. “Okay, fine. I believe you. Still, please stay off it for a couple of days,” Jordan held up her hand, forestalling the objection she knew was coming. “Don’t quibble with me, Megan. I don’t want you on the ice for two days.”

“Jordan, I can’t live without the ice that long. Don’t torture me so,” Megan complained dramatically.

“I’m saving your knee, not torturing you. I don’t want you looking back in ten years and wondering if you’d stayed off the ice for those two days if your knees would still be there. Don’t fight me on this one, Megan—you won’t win.”

Megan pouted, her lower lip jutting forward noticeably, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “Can I still come here and be with you?” she asked quietly.

Jordan looked at the sad expression in Megan’s eyes, felt the loneliness emanating from her small form, and knew exactly what she was feeling. The ice was home to her and without it she felt lost. Jordan’s heart cried for Megan’s lost expression and felt a kinship with the small skater beside her. Once, long ago, Jordan had found her happiness on the ice with Aleksei, had never wanted to leave it until January ninth when her life had changed completely. Now, Jordan struggled everyday to find her happiness where she could. Her days on the ice were both happy and heartbreaking, she still listened for the whispers that Aleksei had alluded she would find him in. Still, she refused to give up hope that he was beside her and would find a way back to her. Jordan firmly believed a soul as strong as Aleksei’s could never be silenced completely and so she waited for the whispers that had not yet found a voice. For the time being, she would occupy her time with Megan, teaching her everything she knew, sharing everything she could. Perhaps, the two of them together, could be a family to one another.

“Megan, I said I wanted you off the ice—I didn’t say you couldn’t be here. I fully expect you to be here and believe me, I’ll work your butt so hard you’ll wish you were skating instead of what I plan on having you do.”

“And what, exactly, do you plan to have me doing?” Megan asked, her eyes lighting up in anticipation.

This child eats, sleeps and breathes skating Jordan recognized. “You’ll see. Just be prepared to go home tired,” Jordan answered cryptically, flicking Megan’s nose tauntingly.

“No fair, J.J., you’re a tease,” Megan complained, her eyes joining Jordan’s as the door banged open again and they watched both George and Nick enter the small office, their large forms filling the majority of space.

Both females’ eyes widened at the view of muscular male forms before them. George had always looked big to Jordan, but standing beside his friend, he stood several inches shorter and his shoulders weren’t nearly as wide. George had yet to attain the mature male stature of his friend and, instead, looked a bit lanky beside him. The look in Megan’s eyes when she looked at George told Jordan she thought he looked just fine, in fact, better than fine.

“Jordan never teases,” George offered in an off-handed manner as he began to rummage through desk drawers. “She’s the most serious person I’ve ever met in my life and that ain’t necessarily a good thing,” he finished, casting a disapproving look directly at Jordan, to which Jordan quickly stuck her tongue out in response.

Nick’s deep chuckle of amusement turned Jordan’s cheeks a becoming pink. “That didn’t look too serious to me.”

“That’s about as excited and belligerent as she gets,” George returned, digging through yet another drawer and slamming it closed when he failed to find what he sought.

“Don’t be a shit, George. J.J.’s plenty of fun,” Megan offered defensively.

“Megan,” Jordan gasped, amazed at the words that seemed to be pouring from her mouth, courtesy of obviously too much time around George.

“Well he is being a shit and probably doing it just to show off for his friend. It probably makes him feel all macho and stuff,” Megan suggested.

“Stuff it, Meg. I don’t remember hearing that kids could enter this adult conversation,” George growled, casting her a fiery glance.

“Don’t call me Meg—my name’s Megan. How many times do you have to be told that before it sinks into your fat head you ape?”

“Fine, Megan, this is an
adult
conversation. No
kids
allowed!” George gloated.

“I’m not a
kid
! I’m more mature than you’ll ever
think
of being! Megan fired back, getting to her feet, her small hands settling firmly on her nearly non-existent hips as she glared fire at George.

“Yeah, right. Go play with your dolls, baby. You’re bothering me,” George taunted, returning his attention to search yet another drawer.

Megan’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous sign Jordan recognized all to well, and without further thought, Megan heaved the ice pack at George, and hit him squarely on the side of the head. The bag ripped open, spilling cold water and ice down his neck and chest, his roar of surprise turned to outrage and echoed loudly throughout the small room. Undaunted, Megan lifted her chin and proudly announced “I don’t play with dolls—I haven’t in years. Unlike you, I don’t need imaginary friends for company.”

George looked ready to explode, despite the water dripping off him and slamming the drawer, he walked around the desk to stand before Megan, his tall, lanky body so close she had to tilt her head back to look into his dark eyes. Despite the fury emanating in waves from him, Megan held her ground, her chin lifting defiantly. “I have a tough time believing anyone would want to be friends with a little shit like you, but hey, if that’s what you want to believe—you go for it. I, on the other hand, have more friends than you’ll ever dream of having and unlike you, I feel no need to be inflicting myself on people who only tolerate your presence because they feel sorry for your
domestic
situation!” he stated nastily.

“George, that’s enough!” Jordan demanded firmly, her voice low and edged with anger as she watched Megan’s eyes fill with tears at his hateful, hurtful words.

“It’s time the ice princess grew up, Jordan. It’s time she faced reality. She’s not damn royalty who can walk over anyone, anytime she feels like it, and not worry about the shit she leaves behind,” George yelled, furious with the emotions Megan brought out in him and furious with himself for hurting her so deeply.

“George, I said that’s enough!” Jordan’s voice growled loudly, her tone demanding immediate obedience. “I suggest you leave this room or I’ll move you out of here myself,” she vowed, pulling him the short distance to the doorway and pushing him through the portal then slamming the door firmly behind his retreating form. “Shit!” she hissed, running her hands through her thoroughly mussed curls then leaned her head against the door frame, shaking her head in confusion.

Megan’s soft whimpers drew her attention and she spun around to find herself staring at Megan as Nick enfolded her in a comforting embrace. Jordan stared in disbelief as she heard his deep voice whisper words that soothed Megan’s sorrow, heard Megan’s whimpers turn to little sighs and hiccups and then finally cease altogether. Nick bent down to quietly ask Megan a question, then at her positive nod, helped her back to the sofa where she had been resting her knee before. Carefully he propped her knee back up with pillows and after slipping the flannel shirt from his broad shoulders, gently covered her upper body with it, tucking the long sleeves under her slight form.

Rising, he crossed the floor of the small office in three strides and stood before Jordan where she leaned against the door’s handle, her mouth slightly open in amazement. Gently he reached up with one forefinger and pushed her mouth closed, then without thought, brushed his thumb across her full lower lip, his touch, warm and rough, against her skin made her breath catch. “Wouldn’t want bugs wandering into that lovely mouth of yours, would we?” he questioned, a small, knowing smile lifted the corners of his sensuously full mouth, as her dazed expression seemed to intensify. Jordan’s eyes widened in confusion, her pupils dilated as the urge to lean toward the muscular, broad chest only inches away intensified. She felt drawn to him in an inexplicable way, could almost hear him silently beckoning her into his arms. With everything in her she fought the urge to lean into him, refused to accept that she could possibly be drawn to him physically, mentally or any other way. It wasn’t possible. She’d promised Aleksei she would love him forever. She would be true to her promise and wait for the day she would join him and they’d be together forever.

With an abrupt shake of her head she cleared her dazed mind and stepped aside to let the tall man before her leave the small office.