Whispers on the Ice (8 page)

“No shit, Sherlock. I’ve fallen more times that I care to admit, but I’ve never been the direct cause of someone else being hurt.”

“I’m not hurt,” Jordan stated, straightening up then weaving slightly as bright flashes of light exploded in her head.

Aleksei rushed to her side, easily brushing Dee out of the way and caught Jordan from the back as her knees began to give way. Her back rested against his chest, the muscles of his forearms brushing against the undersides of her breasts. “Right—you’re not hurt,” his voice stated in a disbelieving tone over her head.

“Rocmanov, shut the hell up,” Jordan complained weakly, her hands ineffectively pushing against his arms where they rested around her waist. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“That’s it—you’re going to the hospital!” Aleksei stated, sweeping her into his arms then staggering as his leg again refused to hold him and they both hit the padded floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

“God dammit, Rocmanov. What are you trying to do, kill me?” Jordan raged, untangling herself from his still clinging arms and sitting beside him.

Aleksei had the grace to look embarrassed and raised himself to his elbows, trying to ignore the pulsing pain surging through his weak leg. “So much for chivalry,” he suggested, his eyes flashing impishly, then wincing when Jordan punched him in the shoulder in frustration.

“The next time you decide to be chivalrous, be sure you can keep from dropping the lady. I didn’t ask for your help, in fact, I didn’t even want your help!” Jordan fumed.

“You said you had a headache.”

“I said ‘you’re
giving
me a headache’. There’s a difference.”

“You could have a head injury,” Aleksei suggested.

Jordan looked at Aleksei in disbelief. “You’re right!” she suddenly agreed. “I’d have to have a head injury to believe we could ever skate together successfully. Whittaker, take me to a fucking looney bin. I’ve obviously lost my mind!” she screamed, frustration turning her eyes a fire-filled emerald and her cheeks a deep rose. She rose to her feet, willing herself to stand tall and steady.

Aleksei followed her up, favoring his good leg but still towering over Jordan. “Jordan, I’m just worried about you,” He allowed, refusing to believe it was any more than concern over their skating partnership, he didn’t dare consider the aspects of a personal relationship.

“Well, don’t be,” Jordan stormed, pushing his arm away as he reached for her. “So help me, Rocmanov. You try to
help me
again and you won’t have to worry about the next time you drop me—you won’t have the arms to get me up in the air in the first place!” She vowed, lifting her chin challengingly and walking away.

Aleksei appreciated the view as she stormed away from him, despite her anger her shapely bottom still swayed enticingly and he smiled a wickedly appreciative smile.

Whittaker caught the look and shook his head knowingly. “That boy’s a slow learner when it comes to that little girl,” he commented to Dee. She still stood silently next to Whittaker trying to make heads or tails out of the little scene that had just played out before them.

“Did any of that make sense to you or have things changed to the degree that we’re somewhere out in left field without the new rule book?” Dee asked in a bewildered tone.

“I was kind of hoping you had all the answers,” Whittaker countered semi-seriously.

“We’re in deep shit, Frank!” Dee stated, chewing on her lower lip as she pondered their predicament.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m digging out my old waders,” Whittaker stated, moving forward to meeting Aleksei as he limped toward his coach.

“Now what?” Aleksei demanded, absently rubbing his shoulder where Jordan had punched him. It hadn’t been a hard hit but she’d known exactly where to do it and he could feel the knot beginning to form.

Whittaker looked at Dee. “The pool?” Dee agreed with a nod.

“We’re going swimming?” Aleksei asked in disbelief.

“Something like that,” Whittaker acknowledged and urged his skater slowly out of the workout room.

“Terrific, first she beats me up and now she’s going to get the chance to drown me. I don’t see how my day can get much better,” Aleksei growled.

“Give it a chance. I’m sure there’s a way,” Whittaker suggested, lightly punching his already sore shoulder and walking forward to join Dee.

“I’m holding my breath,” Aleksei mumbled darkly, rubbing his sore shoulder and doing his best to ignore the knot he could feel growing beneath his fingers. Maybe the pool wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He could only hope.

Fifteen minutes later, after downing four Advil and changing into his Speedos, his belief that a training session in the pool wouldn’t be such a bad idea was shot to hell when Jordan emerged from the locker room wearing a simple scoop-necked black leotard and black bicycling shorts. Despite the fact she was fully covered, as she climbed into the water, the material seemed to shrink, emphasizing every nuance of her shapely figure, leaving virtually nothing to his imagination. The skin-tight fit immediately ignited his imagination and his body and he was grateful he was already waist-deep in the semi-cool water.

He listened to Whittaker and Dee explain what they planned to do and how they wanted the training session to go, and when asked about questions, received none. Jordan already knew the drill. It would be simple. The lifts would be learned, without the fear of landing on anything harder than the water and the water would aide in supporting Aleksei’s weak leg. Everyone had a job to do and got ready to do it.

Jordan stood before Aleksei, the water reaching just below her breasts, teasing her already taut nipples, trying to ignore the fact that Aleksei’s gaze kept wandering to her breasts. “Keep your mind on your job, Rocmanov.”

“I am,” Aleksei growled, his voice deep, husky.

“Put your palms on her hip bones. You’re going to have to get wet Aleksei.” Whittaker called from pool side. “You have to lift her with your legs which means you’re going to have to get under her.”

“Christ,” Aleksei groaned, doing as he was told and sinking into the water until it reached his neck, placing his palms against her hip bones, his fingers wrapping around the softness of her hips and holding her securely. Her skin felt hot despite the coolness of the water and the two layers of thin cloth separating his skin from hers. It was sheer torture and he was dying.

“Jordan, put your hands on his shoulders, for now. When he gets you up…”

“If he gets me up,” Jordan interrupted, ignoring Aleksei’s snort of disagreement.

“When he gets you up…”Whittaker repeated,“you can let go of him.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jordan grumbled.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Aleksei warned.

“Don’t drop me!” Jordan shot back, her eyes widening at the suddenly dangerous glint lighting Aleksei’s ebony eyes.

“Shall we try it?” Whittaker suggested, casting a look at Dee for any further ideas.

“Looks good to me,” Dee replied. “Let’s do it.”

“All right, children. On the count of two,” Whittaker stated and counted off.

Jordan pushed lightly off the pool floor and Aleksei lifted her effortlessly, despite the water pouring off her sleek body. Locking his elbows, he held her steady over his head, nearly ten feet off the ground, his weak leg secure beneath him with the support of the cool, crystal clear water.

“Spread your arms, Jordan,” Dee called out and she released her light hold on his broad, muscular shoulders, her hands suddenly cold after the heat of his skin. Automatically she spread her arms wide, arched her back, crossed her shapely legs at the ankles and held her position. Perfect, as expected.

“That’s the position, Aleksei. How’s she feel?” Whittaker asked, looking to Dee for agreement and receiving it.

Aleksei looked up, the water from her body dripping into his eyes and he shook his head to clear his vision. “Like a seal.”

Whittaker smiled at his description and Jordan’s snort of offense.“Well that’s got to be the prettiest looking seal I’ve ever seen. Count yourself fortunate you’re not having to lift a manatee over your head,” Whittaker offered, quickly ducking away from Dee’s censoring expression.

“Other than that, how does the position feel? Is your leg holding okay?” Dee questioned, taking over the questioning.

“Yeah, no problems, at all,” Aleksei answered, bending his elbows slightly and shifting Jordan forward and backward to get the feel of her weight shifting over his head. He’d been right—she didn’t weigh as much as a full keg of beer.

“Good, then you can bring her down,” Dee stated, turning to say something to Whittaker.

The sudden shrill scream and loud splash echoed loudly off the high ceilings as the two coaches turned to see Aleksei stepping away from a thrashing Jordan. As she gained her footing on the pool’s bottom and stood, she pushed her clinging hair from her face and screamed in rage at her antagonist. Aleksei stood a short distance from her, his arms crossed against his muscular, broad chest, his expression clearly stating he was more than ready to continue the battle of wills between them.

“You moron,” Jordan sputtered, wincing when her fingers tangled in her hair and pulled.

”They said, ‘bring you down’. They didn’t say
how
,” Aleksei offered smugly, his eyes flashing mischievously, his lips twitching as he fought to control his urge to laugh out-loud.

Whittaker wasn’t so controlled and laughed uproariously, ignoring the scathing gaze of contempt she directed at him. “You find this Neanderthal behavior acceptable, even funny?” Jordan fumed, wading through the hip deep water until she reached the side of the pool. Her mind whirled madly as she tried to imagine ways to torture Aleksei, without stooping to his level of physical theatrics. She knew there was no possible way to out maneuver him physically. As much as she’d like to push him under the water and sit on his chest—for say two or three hours—the prospect of finding yet another partner and starting all over was enough to slow her urge to maim and destroy. No, there had to be a better way to put him in his place and make him see he’d picked the wrong person to play ‘anything you can do, I can do better’. She had no intention of playing his ‘male superiority games’. She may only be sixteen but it was time he learned she wasn’t going to tolerate his ‘macho attitude’, he’d made the mistake of picking on the wrong member of the ‘weaker sex’!

“Dee, would you take these please?” Jordan asked, wriggling out of the clinging bicycle pants and tossing them up to her coach, winking bravely at Dee’s astonished expression. Her leotard may have had a simple scooped-neck, but that’s where any attempt of it being conservative ended. The legs were high-cut, fashionably called a
French-cut
and left much of her skin visible. The shape of her legs and bottom were such that the back of the leotard could have been a thong, for as much of her bottom remained covered. When she glanced over her shoulder at Aleksei, she almost lost her nerve. Never had she seen such a look of hot, blatant desire on a man’s face. But it was time to stand her ground and show him he couldn’t push her around. If it meant stooping to such measures, then so be it. After all, as the saying went, ‘all is fair in love and war’ and this was most definitely turning into a war. “Are we going to continue this training session, Rocmanov, or are you not up to it?” Jordan taunted, walking toward him slowly through the swirling, crystal water.

If you only knew how up for it, sweetheart
, his body screamed ferociously despite his silence. “Whenever you’re ready,” Aleksei managed in as bored a tone as he could manage, despite his tongue feeling like cotton and his body hardening painfully in response to her near nakedness. How had the tables shifted so suddenly? How could he be standing in thousands of gallons of water and still feel as if he were about to burst into flames and turn to dust? Why couldn’t the water be another twenty degrees cooler? That would take care of any carnal thoughts. But then again, he knew he could be chest deep in snow, naked, and still feel the sensual fire that flamed in Jordan rage through him and set him ablaze. His only chance to survive the balance of this training session was to concentrate fully on the job of learning to lift Jordan and ignore the fact she was a semi-naked, child-siren, set on bringing him to heel. The fact that at the moment it looked more and more as if she’d won this skirmish, didn’t sit well with his ego. Thankfully, it made him all the more resigned to ignore the thoughts that urged him toward forbidden territory and prove to Jordan that her body didn’t tempt him at all. And if he managed to pull this off, he had beachfront property in Arizona he was interested in selling. Casting a quick glance skyward and silently asking for divine intervention, he walked deeper into the cool water, concentrating on everything but the small amount of fabric that made up Jordan’s suit.

Whittaker watched the pair, shaking his head as he watched them come together, glance tentatively at each other, then look away when their eyes met. Definitely time to turn up the burner a bit, he decided and threw caution to the wind. “Okay, kids. Next lift on the agenda is what I like to call the layback…” Whittaker began, ignoring Jordan’s gasp of dismay and holding up one hand to stop any additional comments. “Now, Jordan, take your position.”