Medal Up

by Nicole Flockton

  “She wants to pick up where you left off.”

  “I know.”

  “She is very pretty.”

  “You said that before. There are many pretty girls in the world. She let me down once. Why would I want to team up with her again? Would you want Brady Thompson to return to you?”

  “That’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “She was your girlfriend. Brady and I were never more than friends.”

  “And we are not friends, da?”

  “Not really.” She was finding it hard to breathe. He was so close now, the taste and scent of him was in her mouth. She looked up. “You never wanted to be friends.”

  He tilted up her chin with a forefinger. “You want to be friends?”

  “Why not? We spend more time with each other than with anyone else. It would make sense.”

  “Friends is complicated. This makes things difficult.”

  Difficult? The man was all over the place. Maybe he really wanted to be friends but didn’t know how. She stared up at his face, trying to read behind the perpetual frown. Was it worth the risk to poke the bear? It might be interesting to find out.

  • • •

  Bohdan straightened, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. He had forgotten to keep his distance. He was already unbalanced after the disturbing incident in Belle’s bathroom that afternoon. Then, to be confronted with his ex-partner, ex-girlfriend. Not really an ex-lover. It had not been love that sent them to bed together. It had not been love that persuaded him to let her move into his apartment. Lust, perhaps, a little loneliness . . .

  Belle prodded his chest with a sharp finger, dragging him back from the past. “I don’t see why it has to be difficult. I have a lot of friends.”

  “But you do not spend hours of every day with your friends.” Propinquity. Too much togetherness. That had been the problem with Lana. She was there, in his face, all the time. Pushing. Looking back, he hadn’t even liked her much. Which is why Maybelle Li was a problem. He liked her. She was a bit too nice. All that niceness could be annoying, but somehow, it wasn’t with her. She came from a nice family. She had to have faults, but after nearly a year, he hadn’t discovered them. Maybe she was a bit controlling, but so was he. Although, intimacy might make a difference. She probably turned into some kind of whiny two-year-old in a relationship. If she’d had any relationships. She was popular at parties, but he never saw her give any one guy more attention than any other. Always, she fluttered from one thing to another. Even her job she treated casually. Only on the ice did she show determination to succeed.

  He looked down at her beautifully arched brows drawn together, the pout on her smallish mouth. He had a horrible feeling that what you see is what you get with her.

  “This is not a good idea, Belle.”

  “Why not?”

  Hands on hips, she was like a fairy trying to put on attitude. A sexy fairy. That dress showed too much chest and tantalizing glimpses of the curves of her perky little breasts. The pulse at the base of her throat tempted him to kiss it.

  Kurva blyat! Fucking hell.

  He wanted to kiss everything, do everything. Every time he touched her it sent a charge of something right through him, usually settling around his cock. Which was reacting in a very normal way at her proximity.

  He pushed out an unsteady breath. “Because it can only lead to trouble.”

  “Trouble?”

  He was deep in it. That provocative look and tone was something he hadn’t heard before. Had he called her a fairy? She was a fucking temptress. A siren luring him to his doom. And not being nice at all. “This kind of trouble.” He stepped forward, looping one arm around her to draw her tightly against him. “Feel that, Belle? That kind of trouble.”

  He nudged her stomach with his cock, and her eyes widened. But she didn’t draw back. Instead, she stretched her arms around his neck to pull herself higher.

  “I like trouble.”

  Damn the consequences. He had to taste that lush mouth. He brushed his lips over hers, dipping his tongue a fraction to taste her. She responded by pressing herself closer, parting her lips to let him in. She tasted sweet. Cannoli and cream against the bitter bite of his black coffee. He could do this forever. Wanted to do it forever. Except he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. They didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk.

  She swayed when he let her go, and he resisted the temptation to help her regain her footing. Touch her again, and he was a goner. Her lids drooped over her eyes, giving her a dazed look. He probably looked out of it too. He’d known it would be dangerous to let her get close.

  He glanced at his watch. “We should go to bed.”

  She flushed.

  “Not together,” he added.

  The color faded, and she looked tired. “I appreciate that. We have an early start for the train station.” Her mouth, still damp from his kiss, tightened. She looked like she’d swallowed something unpleasant.

  He fumbled for words. “It was a mistake.”

  Not the kiss. Not really. He didn’t regret it. Though he shouldn’t have done it. The mistake was coming into her room. Wanting to be near her. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction. Lately, he’d scheduled extra practices simply to have the excuse of being with her. So fucking stupid. Something he’d sworn would never happen again. Seeing Lana tonight should have screamed a warning. Especially as Belle obviously didn’t feel the same way, despite responding to his kiss.

  Propinquity again. It had a lot to answer for.

  She stood with her head tilted up, her brows rising to a perfect arc over her dark eyes. “A mistake? Really? You surprise me. I thought you didn’t make mistakes.”

  “Is that meant to be sarcasm?”

  She sighed. “No. I’m tired. Just go.”

  He wanted to do something to take that droop from her mouth, but he’d already made enough mistakes for one day. Despite her sarcastic rejoinder.

  “Good night then. See you in the morning.”

  Turning away, she picked up her wrap from the bed, dismissing him. He left, closing the door carefully. Something he would have been better off doing twenty minutes ago.

  Chapter 3

  So. Business as usual. Belle stared out the window of the train. What was so all-consuming on Bohdan’s phone? He’d kept his nose down from the moment they settled opposite each other on the comfortable seats. Dani Faulkner and Davo McPherson, the speed skater, were chatting across the aisle. Luckily, the train wasn’t anywhere near full despite the influx of athletes. The gleaming new carriages would be chockablock for the two weeks of the Olympics and the Paralympics straight after.

  The country was changing to a vista of snow-clad mountains. Brady’s events would be somewhere there. Belle probably wouldn’t get to go watch, even if he’d wanted her to. A lot of their events were the same day.

  “Who are your parents’ friends?”

  Belle blinked, turning away from the dazzling whiteness outside. “Friends?”

  “You said your parents would have friends with them. Last night.”

  “Simon’s parents. They’re flying over with John. They’ve all booked a place south of Gangneung. Some fancy resort that looks like a ship. John is staying in a place close to the rink right in town to be near Simon.”

  “I didn’t realize your parents and Simon’s were that close.”

  “Believe me, if Simon had shown a spark of interest in me, we would have been married to cement the friendship.”

  “And you, were you willing?”

  She could feel heat rising up her throat. “When I was about twelve. I had the biggest crush. What’s not to love? We bonded over Lycra and feathers. He was every tweenager’s dream guy.”

  “He’s into that stuff? I know he’s gay, but he doesn’t strike me as effeminate.”

  “His parents own a chain of dry cleaners, with a side business making dance costumes. They do ballroom dancing costumes, and when Simon took up ice skatin
g, they branched out. His dad does a lot of the designing. His mum is the business side of things.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Why they are so accepting.”

  “It’s just a pity Brady’s dad wasn’t the same.”

  Bohdan looked puzzled, but there were other ears in the carriage. With a shrug, she turned back to contemplating the view. “We must be nearly there.”

  She could feel his eyes on her. Was he remembering the kiss? The mistake. It had been so good. She didn’t have a lot of experience to compare it to—a few stolen kisses at the rink as a teenager. She’d been head down, tail up with her study, trying to fit everything around her skating program those last few years. Since she’d finished uni, the part-time job doing blood testing at the prestigious research laboratory attached to the medical school had filled any spare moments. Eventually, it would become her career.

  Competitive sport was an expensive luxury, even with government scholarships. She hated relying on her parents, and she wasn’t successful enough to attract big sponsorships. Her boss was good about letting her take unpaid leave when she had to travel. It’s not like any other newly graduated intern couldn’t do her job. But it was a placeholder until she quit skating and really started to build toward her goal to work in research.

  So, relationships were pretty much out for the duration. Unless she had a relationship with her skating partner. For about three minutes last night, she’d thought maybe, just maybe. But his reaction had squashed that hope an instant later. So what if they were with each other all day? If they added the nights, would it be too much togetherness? That much intensity might burn hot and fierce for a while but fizzle out quickly.

  Like what happened with Svetlana . . . ?

  It had been four years since the blowup at Sochi, and Bohdan still seemed shy of relationships. Or was he just shy of relationships with his skating partners? Was there some girl he dated who wasn’t part of the skating world?

  Risking a glance back at him, she saw he was still absorbed by his phone. “She must be pretty special.”

  “Special?”

  “Whoever you’re texting.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “You think I am wasting bandwidth on a pretty girl.”

  “Maybe.” It was provocative, but she hadn’t anything to lose. It wasn’t like Bohdan was even willing to be friends.

  “I am researching stats. For our competitors on the ice. I think we have a reasonable chance. Not so good in the team event as a whole, but if you and I score well, perhaps we will make the other pairs a little nervous for the individual program.”

  “It’s always business with you. Don’t you have a life somewhere?”

  He stiffened. “Skating is my life. I do not need other things.”

  “Don’t you miss having a girlfriend? Do you miss Svetlana?”

  He tucked the phone into the pocket of his tracksuit jacket. “I do not miss the trouble she makes. I do not miss the mess and the too-strong perfume.” He eyed Belle through narrowed eyes, a curl to his lip. “Perhaps I miss the sex. Is that what you want to know?”

  The train slowed as it pulled into their station, and she turned away to pack up her things. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see her red face. He seemed to be making her blush all the time. Something had changed between them. Was it her awareness of him, or was he different? Less guarded?

  • • •

  It was a relief to arrive at the high-rise apartments in the athletes’ village. She and Bohdan were on different floors of the same building, which made things a little easier. Dani was her roomie, which was fine. The younger girl was easy to get along with, and this being her first Olympics, and first competition without her parents hovering, she would probably be out a good deal taking advantage of the social life in the village.

  After dropping his luggage off on the fourth floor, Bohdan followed Belle up to the sixth. He looked around the small space. There was no sign of Dani, apart from her luggage on one of the beds in the twin room.

  “My apartment is larger, so I will keep the equipment case.”

  “When do you want to practice?”

  “I planned on early tomorrow. We can settle in, greet friends, and get to know our way around.”

  That made a nice change. Belle had expected him to want her on the rink before sundown. Not that they weren’t confident of the routine, but three days off the ice was enough to lose your edge at this level. “When you say we . . . ”

  “I thought we could look around together. Maybe have a meal later.”

  He really did mean we.

  “Okay. I’ll unpack and freshen up. Do you want to meet somewhere? What time?” She wanted to jump up and down and dance around the room. Hopefully, it didn’t show. She didn’t want to court another rebuff like last night. That damned kiss. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. What would he taste like today? On the train, they’d eaten sushi in little packs they picked up at the station in Seoul. So he’d be salty, like soy sauce. Maybe a little fishy. But no, he’d been chewing on a mint after that and shared the pack with her. Mint was good.

  Pity the kissing thing wasn’t likely to happen again.

  He was still standing at the door, and it was obvious from his fingers tapping at the timber frame that she must have missed something. “What time?”

  “I said about an hour. That will give us time to explore before eating.”

  “Great.”

  He left almost reluctantly, with that little crease between his brows that seemed to live there. He’d have a permanent wrinkle one day if he wasn’t careful.

  She showered and dressed quickly after unpacking her luggage into the narrow cupboards. It wasn’t an occasion when she would have to wear the team uniform, so she picked out some leggings and a sweater and a bright-red-and-black ski suit she’d bought in Canada. She would probably be mistaken for a Canadian if there had been any white trim.

  With luck, she might see Simon. He’d come down yesterday, his flight arriving at dawn from Europe, where he’d been training with the rest of the men’s singles team. It would’ve been way too early for him to hang around waiting for anyone else to arrive. She’d met some of the other skaters over the years, naturally. Elite skating was a small world. She’d seen a bit of the Canadian champion Arielle Baldwin at other comps when she was doing singles, but not to speak to. The girl seemed genuinely nice, if a bit put upon by her mother. Belle could only be grateful her parents were mostly hands-off on the actual skating, happy to let the team coaches do their thing.

  • • •

  Bohdan had to admit, showing Belle around had been fun. Some things had changed since last year, mostly shops and food outlets, and, of course, many of the buildings in the athletes’ village hadn’t been finished back then. They took the bus and did the circuit between PyeongChang and Gangneung. The stadium was at PyeongChang, but the ice skating rink was in the neighboring town of Gangneung, near the ocean. They didn’t have time to go into the mountains to see the ski runs and snowboard courses where Belle’s friend Brady would be competing.

  He knew of their past connection because her medal wins were a matter of record. She hadn’t won many at international level since breaking her partnership with him, though she’d had plenty at home in the last couple of years before the skating body had brought Bohdan to Australia. It showed loyalty that she still had a fondness for Brady, but considering they hadn’t spoken for years, it was a little strange.

  Bohdan himself had not escaped bitterness and resentment after the disastrous breakup with Lana and the resulting embarrassment in the Olympic competition. Belle had not even competed, and he couldn’t decide if that was better than watching your hopes crash in front of an international audience.

  Now, on the eve of her first Olympic Games, Belle was building a snowman with her friends Simon and Dani. Apparently, to an Australian, fresh snow on the ground never got old. A few years in his hometown would soon cure her of the romance. It was cold and wet and mudd
y. He preferred to watch from the cafe with a cup of hot chocolate to keep his hands warm.

  She looked up and smiled, waving a gloved hand, and his heart lurched. So fucking friendly. Like a puppy wanting to be petted. The frustrating thing was his desire to do just that, starting with those pert little breasts and moving down her slender body to her narrow hips. Kissing her the whole time.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. Now that he’d experienced how good she tasted he wanted to kiss her every time he saw her.

  With a word or two to the others, she came over, her smile showing her small, even teeth.

  What would they feel like on his body?

  Layno.

  He had more than one reason to be grateful for his long sheepskin coat.

  “I need to shower and get changed before we eat,” she said. “Is that all right?”

  She was going to kill him in slow degrees. He didn’t need visions of her naked body stirring things up. “Da. I said you would get drenched if you start playing in snow.”

  “I know, Mr. Always Right. We had a great time. You should have joined us.” She gave him a sly grin. “We could have paired up for a snowball fight.”

  He groaned out loud. “How old are you people?”

  She tucked one arm through his as they walked back to the village. “You grew up with snow. I didn’t see snow until I went to Canberra to the Institute of Sport and we did a trip to Mount Kosciuszko.” She stretched her arm wide. “I have years of snow to make up.”

  “We spent two months in Vancouver. There was snow.”

  “How often did I get to go outside?”

  “Granted. You worked hard.”

  “And I went home for Christmas so I missed the holidays.” She was humming something as she skipped along and finally burbled, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.”

  She had a pretty voice but nothing special. It was almost a relief to find she wasn’t perfect at something. Maybe if he spent more time with her, he might find out more faults, and that should technically make it easier to resist her. Or that rational could be an excuse for doing exactly what he wanted to do. Not that he was going to start anything serious. But it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly. If he could keep it at that.