Medal Up

by Nicole Flockton

  His leg began lifting up and down again as her score of 150.94 was put up on the screen. When the combined score of 224.89 flashed up, a roar resounded from the crowd. The camera returned to Arielle and her parents; they were all crying.

  She’d done it. His girl had won gold.

  When Arielle broke from her mom’s embrace and returned to the ice, Brady didn’t think, he only acted. He made his way past Maybelle and Bohdan, skipping down the stairs until he reached the rink surrounds. Arielle’s smile widened when she spied him, and she skated over to him, ignoring the flowers being thrown on the ice. He reached over the barricade and pulled her into a tight embrace before kissing her soundly on the lips. “Congratulations. You were fantastic. Flawless. I’m so proud of you, Ari. I love you.”

  She laughed and hugged him tighter. “I love you, too. I’ll treasure this medal. But I’ve already won the best prize.”

  Brady brushed his thumb across her cheek and whispered in her ear, “We both have.”

  Acknowledgments

  To my fellow writing partner in this duology, Fiona Marsden, thanks for making this experience a fun one. It’s crazy how a simple twitter conversation ended up leading to a book contract! Here’s to many more for the both of us.

  Tara and the entire Crimson Team, thanks for believing in our Olympic Duology, and to Julie for her editing insight to help us make our stories stronger. It’s always a pleasure working with you all and I can’t wait to do it again.

  To Abigail Owen, my writing sister, you buzzing me to word sprint helped me to get started back into this story. I value our friendship and our sprints!

  Jennifer, thanks for your help when I call out and need teasers made or covers. You are an important part of my team.

  To my readers, I hope you enjoy returning back to the Olympics. Brady and Arielle’s story was fun to write and I hope you fall in love with them the way I did.

  This book was written when I was laid up because I thought stepping off some bleachers and spraining my ankle was a great idea. Five weeks of not being able to move off the couch, except for important things like food, drinks, bathroom, gave me ample time to get this story written. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my friend Adrienne Sloane, who drove my kids to and from school when I couldn’t. To my kids for getting me things when I asked and not complaining too much. I love you guys.

  Finally, to my wonderful husband, Jason, who loves me unconditionally and whose support is the reason I can live this dream. Love you, babe.

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author Nicole Flockton writes sexy contemporary romances, seducing you one kiss at a time as you turn the pages. Nicole likes nothing better than putting her characters into unique situations where they fight to find their true love.

  Find Nicole Flockton at www.nicoleflockton.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/NicoleFlockton/, and on Twitter @NicoleFlockton.

  Man of Ice

  Fiona Marsden

  Avon, Massachusetts

  To my husband and family who’ve supported me in this journey to publication. I’d also like to acknowledge Nicole Flockton and the Crimson Romance team for giving me this opportunity.

  Chapter 1

  He was scowling.

  Again.

  Bohdan Ihor Dovzhenko might’ve been the hottest thing to hit figure skating this decade, but it wouldn’t hurt him to smile for the cameras. Instead, he had this sullen bad boy thing happening that was very disconcerting.

  He was an Olympian.

  Again.

  Couldn’t he at least pretend to be pleased about it? So what if the last time had been a disaster? He was here, wasn’t he? At times, he was so stiff and formal, Belle could hardly believe he was only two years older than her own twenty-four years.

  The press had been waiting at Incheon International Airport in Seoul to catch the influx of athletes for the Winter Olympics less than a week away, and the team was supposed to put on a good front.

  She fixed a smile on her face as the photographers waved to the group to close up. Bohdan obligingly tucked her against his body, and she sucked in a taste of his scent, spicy with a hint of bite. So appropriate. So tantalizing.

  Damn pheromones. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  On his other side, Danielle Faulkner, one of the new singles skaters, was snuggling up, and he didn’t seem to mind that at all. Brady Thompson completed the group, looking a little uncomfortable as he leaned in to Dani, his attention elsewhere. He was a snowboarder these days, so he didn’t know many of the skaters.

  Belle readjusted her smile before it slipped entirely. History was a bitch.

  “Maybelle, are you and Bohdan looking forward to your first Olympics as a couple?”

  They made it sound like it was a romantic thing. Belle glanced at Bohdan, but he was glaring at the reporter. She turned up her smile; hopefully, it would dazzle and make up for her partner’s lack of enthusiasm. “We’ve been working hard since we finaled in the World Championships. We hope to take home a medal, but it’s really about the Olympic spirit, isn’t it?”

  “Australia doesn’t have a strong record in figure skating.” The reporter clearly didn’t think much of their chances of making it to the finals.

  “The team is building in strength,” Bohdan responded, his deep voice with its delicious accent resonating through his ribs where they touched her shoulder. “Maybelle Li has won the pairs gold at the junior world championships with her partner at the time and has performed well in singles at home and at international level. Several others on the team have won medals at the international level, including several past Olympians.” He even named some of them, demonstrating a detailed knowledge of his teammates’ accomplishments that Maybelle hadn’t expected. It was less than twelve months since he’d arrived in Australia under an agreement with the ruling skating body, and he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sociable.

  Belle shut her mouth quickly, before the cameras caught her gaping like a goldfish. Not a good look. She hadn’t expected his quick defense. Maybe of the team, but not of her in particular. Despite their synchronicity on the ice, he had showed no real interest in getting to know her personally.

  The reporters seemed restless. If they’d been hoping for some scandal and excitement, they weren’t getting it here. She could see them shift their attention to Brady. Luckily, they hadn’t linked him with Bohdan’s comments about her winning gold at Juniors. She needed to talk to Brady before the journalists picked up on their previous connection. Make a plan. They didn’t need negative hype at this stage.

  “Brady Thompson. There was some talk about you not making the team after that incident in Alta when one of your teammates was hospitalized.”

  “It was a minor injury.” He flexed his leg, bending the knee as if to prove it, his face expressionless. “I’m in peak condition.”

  Another group of athletes entered the concourse, and, to Belle’s relief, the press contingent moved off. She didn’t want Brady being attacked the first time in years they were in the same location. She turned to speak to him, but he was already striding toward the exit. He obviously couldn’t wait to get away.

  Bohdan let her go with a suddenness that sent her reeling until he gripped her arm, steadying her. She was so tired she just wanted to go to the hotel and sleep. It was only just after lunch here in South Korea, but back in Vancouver, where they’d been training, it was past nine o’clock at night. Bohdan had insisted on a last training session before they headed for the airport. Tomorrow, they would join their coach and the rest of the team flying in from Australia for the train trip up to PyeongChang and the Olympic village that would be home for the next few weeks.

  There was the usual crowd of fangirls wanting selfies with Bohdan near the luggage pick-up area. Seemed like even in Korea, they’d heard of him. It didn’t hurt that he could be mistaken for a male model, all blond and blue-eyed with cheekbones to die for, on top of his athlete’s body. She watched as he focused his smol
dering gaze on a dozen or more smartphones and cameras. He’d be lighting up the Internet for the next hour. Not that she would be checking out hashtag BohdanID. At least not until she was in the privacy of her own room at the hotel.

  She looked away, hoping to catch sight of Brady. In the scurry to collect their luggage and make for the taxi rank, she didn’t get a chance to seek him out. She’d hoped they would at least be able to arrange to meet and catch up. His family lived close to her parents, but there hadn’t been any contact through that avenue. His dad hadn’t approved of Brady’s skating ambitions, so the connection had lapsed.

  Forced into close proximity by the reporters, Brady had seemed uncomfortable, barely acknowledging her. The breakup of their partnership had been all about him, so he didn’t have any reason for resentment. Maybe he thought she still blamed him for ducking out on her just when they had a shot at the Olympics. It was old news now, and with Bohdan as her partner, she had the best shot ever for a medal. Brady had been getting almost too tall for her, anyway, shooting up those last few months before he turned eighteen.

  Even Bohdan was a fraction tall for her at almost six feet, but he made it work. She hurried after him as he strode to the exit. He made hauling the big case with their costumes and equipment and his own smaller bag look easy, leaving her to juggle her personal luggage in a wheeled suitcase, her on-board case, which held her digital tablet and other bits and pieces she liked to have handy when traveling, and her shoulder bag with her passport, makeup kit, and purse. He raised his brows when she caught up with him at the taxi rank, still struggling with a recalcitrant bag or two. If he said, “I told you so,” out loud, she would whack him with her handbag. If she could disentangle it from the handle of the wheelie case.

  The black maxi-taxi took them to the Park Hyatt in the center of the city, the driver chatting about the Olympics and reminiscing about performing at the Seoul Olympics as a child. His English was good. Belle had grown up speaking Mandarin at home, and her aunt had taught her a little of her southern Chinese dialect, but Belle hadn’t studied languages at school, preferring the science- and math-based curriculum.

  She hadn’t been to Seoul before. The city looked much like any other city at first glance. The difference was in the details. Too bad one night wouldn’t give them any time to look around; tomorrow, they would be at the village, ready to do the final prep.

  Bohdan was busy on his iPhone, his brows drawn together, a lock of hair falling forward over his eyes. He looked gorgeous, in a severe, no-nonsense way. At a guess, probably not texting a girlfriend. If he had one. She wouldn’t know. When they were practicing, it was all business, and she had no idea what he did in his limited leisure time. Danielle had been all over him at the luggage carousel, and he’d seemed mildly interested. Not that it was anyone’s business. Least of all hers. She hadn’t even made it to the friend zone in all these months.

  “It looks like Black Mountain.”

  Bohdan looked up at her abrupt comment and stared in the direction she pointed, to the north of the city. “You mean the one in Canberra? This tower is larger.” He looked back at his phone, and she stifled a sigh.

  “You’ve been here before?”

  This time, he put the phone into the pocket of his jacket. “I was here for the Korean skating championships last January and stayed on for the Four Continents. It was an interesting stopover on my way to join the team in Australia.”

  “Did you compete?”

  “I was not eligible at the time. I did meet the Australian representatives and coaches at the Four Continents, which was very good.”

  “You would have had plenty of time for sightseeing then.”

  “I went to PyeongChang and Gangneung to have a look at the facilities. They are excellent, as you would expect, and the competition and practice rinks well set up. There was still a lot of building activity at that time in the village and precincts.”

  Trust him to be all about business. She turned her attention back to the view. “Is that the tallest building in Seoul?” The narrow pinnacle stood beyond the bulk of the city center.

  “The Lotte World Tower. Yes. In the top five tallest in the world, I believe. Unless something else was built since last January.”

  Already, the building was vanishing as the taxi turned into the city streets, the office buildings on either side blocking the view. So much for doing the tourist thing. The Park Hyatt was just ahead, and Bohdan was checking his phone. Again.

  • • •

  Belle could get used to this level of luxury. The hotel room, freshly decorated in subdued browns and tans with white accents, was way nicer than what she could expect at the athletes’ village. The giant rectangular bathtub overlooked the city through large tinted windows. She was so going to try that out. Her skin felt icky from the long flight, and a warm bath would help unwind some of the knots. Bohdan had his own plans, heading for the gym as soon as they’d finished checking in. His luggage had been delivered to the suite along with hers.

  She eyed the connecting door. Should she put his bags straight in his bedroom or let him collect them himself? The thought of him arriving while she was in the bath sent a warm frisson up her spine. So stupid. It wasn’t as if she even liked him in that way. Not now. He’d stifled that initial attraction with his indifference right from the start.

  Respect, yes. He worked like a demon and was a superb partner, generous with praise even when he was tough about practicing and putting her all into everything.

  It had been his drive that put them into medal contention at the last world championships at Helsinki and earned them a spot on the Olympic team even though they’d only been working together for a few months at the time. They’d missed out on a medal, but it had been close enough for the Olympic selectors.

  She stripped her clothes off while the water was running, adding a generous dollop of bath gel supplied by the hotel, and placed her wrap nearby, leaving the door open so she could hear if Bohdan came back. Not that she planned to be still bathing by then. She had to have a nap if she was going to make it through the evening.

  The tub was perfect, deep and wide, and the bubble bath filled the room with herbal aromas that soothed her mind while relaxing her body. It was nice to lie back, eyes closed, and let the warmth do its job on her tense muscles. Bohdan had gorgeous muscles. If she were honest with herself, which she preferred not to be around him, he was seriously hot. Not bulky but long and lean with well-developed thighs and strong shoulders. Perfect for figure skating. He still looked elegant while having plenty of strength for the lifts. Right now, he would be working up a sweat in the gym. He even smelled good when he was dripping with perspiration after a hard workout. Probably those pheromones doing their job. Just a chemical reaction she was particularly susceptible to for some reason.

  It was weird being so intimate physically and mentally with no emotional rapport. On his side, anyway. It had been eight years since her last partnership—with Brady. The coach had tried her with Brady’s friend, Simon, briefly, but it had been better for him to concentrate on his singles program, which had paid off with multiple medals. Not like her own efforts. She’d done well enough as a singles skater, but nothing like when she’d been partnered with Brady. Maybe if she could talk to Brady, she could get some understanding of the dynamic they’d had so she could better handle what was happening with Bohdan.

  Granted, one of the reasons she hadn’t been as focused doing singles was because she wanted to do well academically in her last year at school, to get the results she needed to study biomedical science at university level. Especially if she wanted to do research into pediatric blood diseases later on, once she finished with skating. Even when she was able to return to training full-time, singles skating after years of pairs didn’t give her the same buzz. In those last months with Brady, there had been the added excitement of their secret ambition. In a way, that had hurt more than the loss of the chance at the Olympics. She’d thought he was committed, bu
t not enough, as it turned out. Go figure.

  Both Simon and Brady had been her friends, unlike Bohdan, who acted more like an employer. He welcomed her opinion, but he would arrive for their practice time on the rink, work out the choreography, usually in consultation with the coach, run through the routines, and then vanish into his secret life.

  • • •

  Bohdan could smell the flowery stuff before he stepped into the suite. It was nice enough but a bit girly. Hopefully, his room didn’t smell like a florist’s shop, too. At least Belle didn’t drench herself with the heavy scents Svetlana had used constantly while they were together. Sometimes it gave him a headache, and it had taken months to rid his apartment of the stink. He’d been glad to move out when he left Moscow for Kiev more than three years ago.

  The bedroom was empty, and the door to the bathroom was open, explaining why there was no answer to his knock. Only both sets of luggage and the smell indicated someone had used the room. He’d been gone more than an hour, running himself into a sweat to loosen up. Even though he was used to traveling, the cramped quarters on the plane had stiffened everything over the long flight. Surely, Belle wasn’t still soaking.

  He moved his personal luggage into the adjoining room and returned to Belle’s room. He eyed the large case with their equipment. It was only one night; it might as well stay where it was, tucked into the corner of the room, out of Belle’s way. They wouldn’t need anything out of it until they started practicing at the rink in Gangneung.

  There was still no noise in the bathroom. Had she gone out, despite saying she didn’t intend to leave the suite until they went out to dinner with his former coach? With slow steps, he approached the bathroom door. She wouldn’t welcome his intrusion, but he was compelled to check.

  The bathroom reeked of the herby flower smell, and Belle was still in the tub. Her long hair was piled up in a messy bun on top of her head, the blue-black gleaming in the late afternoon light coming through the window. She reminded him of a gold-and-black tiger butterfly he’d seen once. She acted like one, too, a lot of the time. From the awkward angle of her neck, she must have fallen asleep. He saw her slip a little deeper into the water, but even that didn’t stir her.