Whispers on the Ice (4 page)

“Better than the boards, though, right?” a reporter asked.

Jordan looked up at Aleksei, their eyes catching and holding, hers pleading softly for safety and his acknowledging her unspoken question.

“Jordan’s days of crashing into the boards are over. You all are going to have to find another pair for those pictures,” Aleksei promised, his voice deep and sure.

Jordan smiled in appreciation and prayed he could keep his promise.

“If there are no further questions, we have a cake to celebrate the new pairing of Jamison and Rocmanov and we’d be thrilled to have you join us in wishing them well,” Dee offered, moving cautiously around the camera equipment spread around her living room, into the kitchen.

Everyone expressed their agreement and began gathering up equipment and electrical cords to make moving around the small room safer and easier. In short order, most of the cords were neatly wrapped and piled near the front door.

“Whittaker, give me a hand would you?” Dee called from the kitchen.

“I’ve got it,” Jordan offered, rising a bit unsteadily to her feet, still not completely comfortable in the heels.

Whittaker nodded his thanks and sat on the arm of the couch she just vacated. Whittaker and Aleksei watched as she walked around the couch and into the kitchen.

“Girl’s got a great set of legs,” Whittaker stated in appreciation.

“Her ass isn’t bad either,” Aleksei added.

“Remember, Aleksei, she’s sixteen. We don’t need that kind of trouble.”

“I said she had a nice ass, I didn’t say I was going to jump it,” Aleksei scowled at his coach, his voice full of disgust.

“Just so long as we understand each other,” Whittaker re-emphasized.

“Whittaker, what would I want with a sixteen year old? My leg may be in a cast but that doesn’t mean I have to go begging scraps if I want a woman.”

“Jordan isn’t ‘scraps’ and at this moment, she doesn’t look sixteen. I just want you to remember this is a business arrangement and it’s in both your interests to keep in that way.”

“I thought there was intimacy involved in pair skating?”

“There is, but it’s more a blending of skating styles, personality compatibility, and the physical capability to skate together. Occasionally you get lucky, and reach a point where you’re hearts, souls and minds meet and then you’re unstoppable! It doesn’t mean your goal should be necessarily getting into each other’s knickers, not that it doesn’t happen with a lot of skaters. But in this case, that particular thought better not even cross your mind. That’s one scenario I don’t even want to contemplate, if you get my drift? You’ve got a lot to learn, and a short time to learn it, son. I’d suggest you do your thinking with your brain!”

“And I suppose Jordan’s going to do the teaching,” Aleksei scoffed, remembering both sides of Jordan, the kid in the baggy sweats and the vixen in black. For some reason, he felt safer with the kid in sweats.

“Jordan’s been a pair all her competitive life. She can teach you a lot if you let her.”

“It doesn’t seem right somehow that a kid can teach me about intimacy. I’ve been intimate with plenty of women.”

“There’s a difference between being intimate with a woman and having intimacy, Aleksei. And I think that kid is going to show you the difference,” Whittaker decided, nodding his head in affirmation as he watched the subject of their discussion come through the kitchen door with a tray full of cake.

Aleksei watched his new partner push her way through the door, bottom first, stepping to the side and letting the door close behind her. Carefully she held a tray full of slices of celebratory cake. She looked at him tentatively, a small smile gracing her soft lips. His expression was dark, a scowl causing his eyes to narrow and the corners of his mouth to pull down slightly. Her smile slid away to be replaced by teeth that worried her full lower lip. Still, she remained motionless, until Dee pushed unknowingly through the door and shoved Jordan, and the tray of cake abruptly forward. With a shriek, the tray flew forward as Jordan tried to catch her balance on her overly high heels, failed miserably, and fell toward Aleksei.

People dodged flying cake slices, knocking over the few remaining light reflectors and assorted suitcases of equipment. Aleksei, at the mercy of his broken leg, could only wait for the dust to settle. As he watched, Jordan sailed toward him, tripping over one of the reporters who had had the misfortune of stumbling over his video camera, and now lay shielding it from destruction, Jordan hurtled past him and directly into Aleksei’s lap.

Aleksei grunted as Jordan landed across his lap, one elbow dangerously close to his groin. Jordan’s breath caught at the hard impact, and she dropped her forehead to the cushion as she regained her breath. The sudden realization that she was laying across Aleksei’s lap had her face turning three shades of red and she slowly slid from his lap until her knees rested on the carpet, then finally cast a glance up at Aleksei.

“Is this your typical landing or are you just having a bad day?” he asked, his tone serious, but his eyes sparkled devilishly.

“I’ve had better,” Jordan stated softly.

“Landings or days?”

“Both,” Jordan answered, the hint of smile gracing her soft mouth.

“Glad to hear it,” Aleksei answered, one eyebrow raising sardonically. “So, where’s my piece of cake?”

Jordan shook the remaining cobwebs from her mind and glanced about her, her eyes widening as she viewed the scattered pieces of cake all about her. With a final look at Aleksei’s arrogant smile, she plucked a piece of cake from where it landed on the ottoman beside Aleksei’s cast leg, held it in her opened palm and sweetly stated. “Here’s your cake!” and smeared the sticky cake over his face. Cameras clicked and flashed as pictures of Jordan Jamison on her knees before Aleksei Rocmanov smearing chocolate cake over his face joyfully was captured forever on film.

Aleksei’s deep growl caused Jordan to push to her feet and take a quick step out of his reach. Bravely she stood three feet away from him, hands on her hips, chin raised defiantly, her eyes flashing fire and glared at Aleksei, silently daring him to say something.

“Fire and Ice,” Frank whispered to Dee, shaking his head in worry as he thought about the road ahead of them. It didn’t promise to be an easy one.

“Finding gold has never been an easy journey,” Dee stated confidently. “When was the last time you saw a miner not covered in mud?”

“Trouble is, my dear, we won’t be wallowing in mud. It’s starting to look like blood is going to be our chosen cover.”

“Just in the beginning,” Dee stated with finality, smiling at the look of surprise Whittaker threw her. “They’re establishing boundaries. They’ll come to an understanding.”

“Boundaries, huh?” Whittaker’s look was one of pure skepticism.

“Give them a week,” Dee offered.

“He’s off the ice for at least six,” Whittaker reminded her.

“He’s off skates for six weeks! He’ll be on the ice with Jordan, in a chair if necessary. But he will be on the ice. He needs to learn the way she moves. He can start to learn that by watching her. In six weeks there shouldn’t be anything he doesn’t know about her,” Dee finished, moving forward to further separate the new ‘partners’ and thank the media for their patience and expertise.

Whittaker stood back and watched as Dee whispered something to Jordan and urged her toward the kitchen. Jordan cast a final haughty look at Aleksei, who now sat casually wiping the cake from his face and onto a plate someone had handed him. Under Dee’s instructions, suddenly everyone had a job to do and couldn’t do it fast enough.

It was only seconds later that a sopping wet dishtowel flew threw the air with unerring accuracy and hit Aleksei smack in the middle of his chest. Ice cold water from the towel splattered everywhere and Aleksei let out a battle cry of surprise that had everyone turning toward him in fright, then stepping back when he slowly got to his feet. With deadly intent, he limped the short distance to the kitchen door in which Jordan stood defiantly, drying her hands with another dishtowel.

Everyone in the room held their breath as they watched Aleksei come to stand directly before Jordan, towering over her by a good foot, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. Jordan unflinchingly held her ground, despite having to tilt her head back to see his face.

Silently they studied each other; deep green eyes meeting flashing black, their chests rising and falling as Aleksei fought the urge to wring her neck and Jordan fought the urge to run for her life. Jordan’s tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips, the motion immediately drawing Aleksei’s attention to her full, soft lips. Slowly he leaned toward her, his eyes returning to hers and holding them captive. Closer and closer he came, causing her breath to catch and hold. Towering over her, he took the forgotten dripping wet towel he held and wrapped it around her neck, the ends trailing over her chest and dripping wet trails into the ‘v’ between her breasts. The abruptness of his movement and the sudden coldness of the wet towel caught her by surprise and she gasped at the sensation, despite his heated words as they caressed her upturned face.

“Don’t think you can win at this game, little girl. You’re out of your league,” he hissed, his voice deadly.

“You’re wrong, Aleksei. You’re in my league now. And you can’t win without me. Like it or not, if we want to go to the Olympics, we’re stuck with each other,” Jordan countered. Pushing the wet towel off her shoulders, she ignored the thud it made as it fell to the floor behind her, sprinkling the backs of her legs with cold drops of water.

“I didn’t ask to be your partner,” Aleksei argued.

“Ditto,” Jordan agreed.

“I don’t even like you.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“I won’t bow to your ‘Ice Queen’ status. You’re no better than I am and I won’t be a baby sitter,” Aleksei stated.

“And I won’t let you bully me. I know more what we’re doing that you’ll ever know but I’m willing to share that information if you can quit being such an ogre. This is a business partnership and nothing more. If you can agree to that, you’ve got a partner. If you can’t—get your ass out of my house!” Jordan stated firmly, her voice steely, despite it’s softness.

Aleksei watched her, admiring her courage and tenacity and stepped back, giving her room to breathe easier. As everyone watched the pair, Aleksei offered his hand to her.“Looks like you’ve got yourself a partner.”

Jordan accepted his hand, her fingers wrapping around his and shook hands in agreement. She was surprised at how soft and warm his large hand was, she would have thought it would be cold at least from the wet towel he’d held, but his palm felt hot. The current of warmth that passed between them as they touched was not lost to either of them and Jordan quickly took a step back.

“Remember, our partnership isn’t cast in stone yet. You may still be out on your ass if you can’t keep up,” Jordan reminded Aleksei.

“I’ve got stamina to spare,” Aleksei countered, smiling arrogantly at Jordan’s flustered frown at his double entendre and then wondering if he’d wasted the effort and she hadn’t understood his small attempt at a joke.

“I’m only interested in your stamina on the ice. What you do off the ice is your business, but you’d better have your legs under you when they’re supposed to be,” Jordan stated without humor.

Obviously Jordan had understood Aleksei’s comment, and found little humor in it. Whittaker smiled at her statement and turned to Dee, whispering, “Girl’s got balls, I’ll give her that!”

Dee smiled at the statement and nodded in agreement.“Now,let’s see if Aleksei’s got balls to match!” and proceeded to clean up the disaster area that was her living room.

“Damn, this is gonna be fun!” Whittaker exclaimed, clapping his hands in anticipation and following Dee’s example, began helping her clean up.

CHAPTER 3  

The first week Aleksei sat center ice, on a hard, metal folding chair, watching Jordan literally skate circles around him. Jordan refused to make eye contact with him, let alone speak to him, still thoroughly embarrassed at the debacle their announcement had caused. After the infamous news conference, pictures the following morning showing the gentleness of Aleksei as he held her, Jordan smearing cake over his handsome face and then their heated face-off and eventual hand-shake, landed them on the front page of every newspaper across the country. Questions arose in abundance as to the possibility of such an obviously mismatched, volatile pair managing to make it through a breaking-in period let alone a simple competition. The concept of them as Olympic hopefuls was too much to imagine. Even Jordan’s ex-partner had made comments insinuating that the breakdown of their partnership had been due to Jordan’s volatile temperament. Aleksei had spent the better part of an hour howling in laughter over that remark. As far as he was concerned, anyone known as the ‘Ice Queen’ didn’t have a ‘volatile temperament’ to be worried about. And if nothing else, she was true to her nickname. The air of indifference she directed at him came straight out of Canada.

Jordan had numbly skated through her practice sessions, hitting every jump and spin without fail, edging with technical perfection, but failing to bring any life to her skating. It was like watching a lifeless doll skate a program. Dee watched in patient silence, mentally taking notes of the behavior of the two skaters toward each other and pondering what format their first pairing should take.

Week two continued on in the same manner, with the exception that occasionally Aleksei would wickedly taunt Jordan, his remarks mean and cutting. Jordan, sensing his game, refused to respond in kind and that caused Aleksei’s mood to grow even darker; his temper and patience reaching their limits.

By the end of week three, Jordan and Aleksei threw all common sense aside and were openly battling verbally; aspersions pertaining to their heritage, skating abilities and physical appearances topping their hit lists.

“You know, Aleksei, you don’t look any where near as
big
as all the girls in the dressing room constantly bragged about,” Jordan insinuated slyly, gracefully gliding past him in his hard, metal chair.

Aleksei smiling in warning, reaching muscular arms over head as he stretched, his chest swelling as he took a deep, calming breath, trying to lose some of the tension the days of sitting and listening to her barbs had caused. “Believe what you hear in that regard, little girl,” He called confidently, his eyes glaring dangerously. “But I would like to know why you look so much smaller lately than when you had that little black getup on for the interview. Lose part of your anatomy with the blouse?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Not particularly. I generally tend to lean toward women with real curves and more particularly, those of legal age.”

“Only generally?” Jordan chided while executing a perfect sit-spin six feet away from him, her spin causing his dark hair to blow softly in the breeze she created.

Aleksei’s only response was a dangerously, dark scowl.

Jordan continued to skate circles around him, each pass getting daringly closer, ignoring his words of caution that she ‘back off ’ or he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions making her taunt him even more.

Patiently he waited for her to make that pass that would put her within his reach, imagining what would best put her in her place. The mental picture of her laying helplessly over his lap, screaming in outrage, as he smacked her shapely rear-end made him smile dangerously in anticipation.

Sure enough, as he’d imagined, he was able to grab her arm as she started past him. In surprise, she tried to jerk away from him, actually surprising him when she pulled him out of the chair to his feet, making him slide several feet before he gained his balance. With virtually no effort, he pulled her screaming in outrage against his chest and lifted her into his arms.

“You bastard, put me down!” Jordan railed, twisting as she sought her freedom, the razor sharp blades on her skates flashing brightly through the air.

“Weren’t you ever taught any manners?” Aleksei growled, easily controlling the ninety-five pounds of squirming body in his arms while balancing on his good foot and wondering briefly how to reach the chair several feet away. “It isn’t nice to call people names, brat!”

Jordan screamed in frustration, the sound echoing off the high, metal ceiling. Still she thrashed wildly, one blade coming dangerously close to Aleksei’s good leg when she managed to twist and actually free one leg. For a brief second, she felt her freedom was imminent, only to be spun about abruptly and tossed over his broad shoulder seemingly without effort like a sack of potatoes, both her legs now held completely shackled against his broad chest by one muscular arm. The sudden motion and hard landing as her stomach met his shoulder made her both dizzy and breathless. One moment she was upright, the next she was hanging upside down and looking at the ice. The stinging slap as his large hand landed on her unprotected bottom got her attention and she pushed against his back, trying to slide down the front of his body and out of his grip. Despite her frantic efforts, she was unable to escape his muscular grip. Frustration and anger guiding her, Jordan continued to scream her outrage to the world, adding words that Aleksei was surprised she knew, let alone considered using.

Without a word, Aleksei abruptly released her legs, catching her around the waist just before her feet hit the ice, his breath catching as her body slid down the front of his, astonished at the sharp stabs of awareness her small, firm figure caused.

Their breaths caught when Jordan’s sudden stop caused her to fall against Aleksei as she sought her balance; her sharp nails digging into his muscular arms as she slipped slightly on the ice.

Aleksei looked down at Jordan, seeing only the top of her head, shaking his own in bewilderment as he wondered how they would ever skate together. The top of the little brat’s head barely reached his shoulder, but her shining copper-colored hair bewitched him and even now he could smell the light fragrance that surrounded her. Still, how would they ever match their strides, despite her extraordinarily long legs? The only advantage he could readily see was it would be nothing to lifting her. Hell, he’d hoisted heavier beer kegs. And, despite her attitude, she was decent enough to look at when she cleaned up, unlike now, after their little disagreement.

Jordan couldn’t draw her eyes away from his chest; immensely wide, rock hard and covered with dark, curling hair that peeked out the ‘v’ of his shirt; couldn’t make her hands release the muscular arms so warm beneath her fingers. Her knees still felt like jelly; refusing to support her and the creep hadn’t even struggled when he lifted her despite having one leg in a cast. And why did he have to smell so damn good? Jordan shook her head trying to clear the dizziness from her numb mind. She had to restore her thoughts to the rational and reasonable, and stop thinking about how Aleksei felt against her.

“This won’t work.” She stated suddenly, abruptly releasing Aleksei’s arms and turning to skate away, only to catch her toe pick against Aleksei’s cast and find herself falling backward to land flat on her butt.

Aleksei could only watch her legs fly from beneath her and keep clear of the flashing blades. Crossing his arms over his massive chest, he cast an amused look her way and stated tauntingly. “Not if you can’t stay on your feet around me, it won’t,” Aleksei offered.

Jordan narrowed her eyes, clearly understanding his insinuation about the Canadian incident. “That wasn’t my fault.”

Aleksei shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe it was—maybe it wasn’t. Doesn’t matter much, since you’re still the one on your ass.”

“You’re a shit, Rocmanov!” Jordan stated firmly, swatting away Aleksei’s offer of a hand-up and gracefully getting to her feet. “You’re mean, and you’re irritable and you’re definitely obnoxious and you think entirely too much of yourself!” she ranted.
And you’re gorgeous, and you smell wonderful and you feel so damn good! she thought to herself.

Aleksei listened patiently, enjoying the way her eyes flashed in her fury, the way her hands never stopped moving, remembering their warmth as she had held him moments before and wishing she would touch him again. Hearing her voice, musical and sexy despite her anger. “Fine, I think too much of myself and you’re a spoiled bitch,” he countered, “That should make us a great match-up.”

“According to whom?” Jordan stormed.

“All the great pairs had moments of dissension. It’s a part of the process of bringing differences together to make one perfect blend.”

“What a bunch of bull shit!” Jordan choked out, laughter escaping despite Aleksei’s serious expression. “We aren’t making a meal. We’re two people so obviously wrong together that it will never work.”

“The ‘Ice Queen’ has spoken,” Aleksei taunted, and bowed deeply despite his broken leg.

“Don’t even go there, Rocmanov,” Jordan warned, her eyes darkening dangerously.

Unperturbed, he shrugged well-built shoulders. “I told Whittaker babies shouldn’t be allowed to compete, but he convinced me otherwise. You’ve just proven I was right. You’re not ready to handle a man for a partner. You’d better go find yourself another boy, someone you can push around.”

“You didn’t think I was a baby when you copped a feel during that press conference,” Jordan stated dangerously.

“I was just trying to figure out what parts I’d have to worry about tripping over on the ice when they fell off,” Aleksei answered tauntingly, turning around and carefully limping across the ice toward the doorway.

“Don’t you turn your back on me, you coward. I’m not through with you yet,” Jordan demanded, following after him.

“I’ve got better things to do with my time than baby-sit the likes of you!” he told Jordan, then shouted to the ceiling, “Whittaker, this fiasco is over!” and continued to limp slowly toward the boards.

Jordan screamed in frustration and picked up her pace to skate around him and come to a quick t-stop before Aleksei, causing him to look down at the ice particles she threw against his ankles. “I am not a baby!” she stated emphatically, poking his chest sharply to make her point. “I’ve skated since I was four; I hold several titles, I’ve been through more partners than I care to admit and after the last three weeks I refuse to start breaking in a new partner all over again.”

“You’re sixteen—a baby,” Aleksei repeated, somehow managing to hold his arms at his sides despite his urge to wrap them around her small, shapely form. What was wrong with him? She was just a kid.

Jordan growled in frustration, ran her hands through her already tussled hair and angrily placed her hands on her hips. “If I wasn’t sixteen, what would your answer be?”

Against Aleksei’s better judgment, he surrendered to his raging testosterone. The little girl before him certainly didn’t look sixteen, her curvaceous figure and knowing eyes didn’t number her sixteen. Without a word, his hands slid into her hair, his palms carefully, yet firmly held her face as he pulled her mouth to his, his warm tongue pushing determinedly into her mouth and sweetly mating with her own. Surprised at his sudden movement, Jordan’s hands grasped his forearms as their lips met, her nails digging in as Aleksei plundered her mouth. Sound thundered in her ears, blocking out all outside interference, the blood rushing through her body and her own labored breathing was all that reached her.

As abruptly as he’d pulled her against him, he released her. His hands swiftly moved from her head to her waist to steady her. The only outward sign of any shared passion was the sensual fire burning deep in his dark eyes. “Fine – we’ll give it a try. But don’t ever expect me to bow to the “Ice Queen!” He warned dangerously, releasing her and limping the final distance off the ice.

Jordan wrapped her arms around herself, hot and cold at the same time. Something had changed between them, she wasn’t sure just what yet but she needed some time to analyze things and regain control. For the moment she was satisfied in simply having the last word and as haughtily as possible stated, “Agreed. Nobody leaves. But you’re still an arrogant bastard, Rocmanov.”

Aleksei turned, treated her to a brilliant smile and gracefully bowed. “Thank you, your highness. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

Smugly, and with a look that took her breath away, he answered in the most sensual tone she’d ever heard. “Yes it was!” Without another word, Aleksei limped toward the locker room.

* * * * *

Whittaker watched, unknown, from the bleachers, sensed a tentative truce and looked forward to the next battle of wills. They certainly weren’t the calm serenity of Gordeeva and Grinkov but who knew, time could make all the difference in the world. And God knew Aleksei and Jordan looked damn good together.

It was a start!