Fighting Their Attraction

by Nicole Flockton

  For the first time in all the years she’d known Tina, her friend looked uncomfortable. Her gaze flicked up, and her lips tightened into a thin line.

  What the heck is up with her?

  “Hey, Arielle, how’s it going?”

  Arielle jumped from her perch on the couch and squealed in surprise. “Simon!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “When did you get in? Is John with you?”

  Simon laughed. “Not yet. He’ll be arriving the day before the opening ceremony.”

  Arielle unlocked her arms from around his neck. “Fair enough. I bet he’s excited to see you compete at the Games.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  Her fellow ice skater looked a little tired, and she didn’t mean the exhausted type. He looked emotionally tired, his shoulders hunched and his eyes lacking their usual twinkle. He reminded her of one of those inflatable snowmen deflating when the power was shut off. “Do you want to join us? We’re having some hot chocolate.”

  “No, I just popped over to say hello. And, uh…” Simon flicked his gaze up to the ceiling before dropping it back down to hers. “Have a good Olympics. I’ll see you around.”

  With that, he walked away.

  “That was weird. What do you think that was all about, Tina?”

  Her friend shrugged and went back to talking to the girl next to her, as if she’d forgotten they were in the middle of a conversation before Simon turned up. Arielle was getting tired of being treated like a helpless little girl. This was her second Olympic Games. Sure, she may have been a naïve twenty-year-old the first time she’d competed, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the competition. Now she was older, a champion of her country. The time had come for everyone to stop treating her like she would break at the slightest mention of something scandalous.

  “I’m going to take a walk,” she announced. Who cared if anyone was truly paying attention?

  “Do you want some company?” Tina asked.

  Arielle controlled the urge to roll her eyes again. “No, I don’t need company. I’m perfectly capable of taking a walk. By myself. I’m a big girl. Later.”

  She grabbed her jacket and shrugged it on. In all likelihood, she would end up back in her room, but she’d be taking the long way around. There were still a couple hours of daylight left. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen to her if she took a walk around the village. In fact, it was probably a good idea. Get the lay of the land and all.

  You don’t have to justify your actions to anyone.

  She wasn’t going to let this opportunity to compete in another Games go to waste. At twenty-four, she was almost at the end of her competitive days. Younger girls were already nipping at her blades.

  The cool air hit her in the face the second she walked out. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out her beanie and gloves. Once she had the accessories on, she stuck her gloved hands in her pockets and began her trek around the village.

  Behind one of the main buildings was a small park. Out of place but a perfect spot to stamp out her pent-up frustration. Her boots sank into the layer of snow. As she got closer, she noticed someone else had the same idea. Only they were seated on one of the benches scattered around.

  Brady Thompson.

  The bad boy player who came with a “you can’t handle him” warning.

  She’d caught a fleeting glimpse of him talking to the group of reporters that had pounced on them the second they’d walked through immigration. And again, in the athletes’ lounge, when she’d spied the look of regret that turned his luscious mouth downward and made his shoulders slump.

  She was drawn to the man. It made no sense. Bad boys had never tempted her. Then again, she’d never given them a thought. Had she been missing out?

  Not giving herself a second longer to talk herself out of how stupid this could be, she strode over.

  “Hi, I’m Arielle Baldwin,” she said brightly, cringing at her perky cheerleader greeting. She’d never been a cheerleader. Her parents hadn’t allowed her to try out. They hadn’t wanted her to injure herself. Cheerleading was the one high school tradition she’d wanted to experience.

  Brady lifted his head, and her breath caught in her throat. From a distance, she hadn’t been able to determine his looks. Within touching distance, he was breathtaking. He had eyelashes any woman would kill for, and they framed his hazel eyes lovingly. His hair was covered by his knit cap. But the lips she thought luscious from afar were even better up close: red, plump, and perfectly kissable. Her tongue darted out to her own lips and quickly swiped across her top one. His eyes widened.

  “What do you want?” he asked. Well, she had, after all, invaded what was clearly a bit of downtime for him.

  Heat suffused her cheeks as he raised one eyebrow. Maybe Tina was justified in her attitude. Maybe he was out of her league and the best thing to do would be to walk away and hope to God their paths never crossed again.

  Chicken, her inner devil taunted her. So many times she’d walked away from taking what she wanted. All for the sake of keeping people happy. The time had come for her to follow through on an action instead of retreating.

  Straightening her shoulders, she took a second to compose her thoughts. No point in saying something silly and giving him the impression she was an airhead. “I saw you in the athletes’ lounge. You looked sad.”

  “So you thought, what? That you should follow me and cheer me up? Just how were you planning on doing that, princess?”

  Yep. Okay. Whatever happened before he ended up here still burned through him. But she’d come this far; she wasn’t about to let a little abrasiveness scare her away. This was going to be one conversation. Nothing more. Nothing less. It wasn’t like she was going to jump his bones, no matter how good-looking he was. Brady looked like he needed a friend. She could be that person for today. Come tomorrow, when her mom arrived, training would begin, and all that would matter would be getting picked for the team event, winning her singles event, and getting that gold medal placed around her neck.

  “Well, not what you’re thinking, that’s for sure.” Damn, she impressed even herself with that sassiness.

  A second of silence lingered between them before he burst out laughing. Little laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes, his irises sparkling. A tiny dimple appeared in his left cheek. He really was too good-looking for his own good.

  “Fair enough.” Brady swept some snow off the bench and indicated she should take a seat.

  She brushed more of the white powder away, grateful her jacket was long and her butt wouldn’t get wet. As it was, the cold air was already seeping into her leggings. Probably not the brightest idea to go for a walk. Something Tina would no doubt take great pleasure in reminding her of when she returned to their room.

  “So, you know my name. How about you tell me yours?” she asked, even though she already knew it.

  “Brady Thompson.” He held out his hand. A bare hand, at that.

  “Don’t you have any gloves? Are you insane?” The minute the words spewed out of her mouth she wanted to take them back. She quickly ripped off her own glove and grasped the hand he held out, not wanting to be rude and ignore the gesture. The second their palms met, it was like a fission of energy sizzled between them. Her hand warmed, and she didn’t think it was leftover warmth from her gloves. The way Brady ripped his hand away from hers, she had no doubt he’d felt the same sensation.

  Arielle laughed and put her glove back on. “Whoa, that was one heck of a static shock.” As far as reasoning out a reaction went, it was a pretty good one.

  “Right.”

  One word. Hard to decipher a reaction from one word. Right, as in, yes, you’re right. Or right, as in, you’ve got to be kidding me.

  Silence descended around them, and Arielle searched her mind for a conversation starter to break the ice quickly building between them. They were at the Olympics. He was a competitor. What had Tina said he did? Snowboard, or something like that?


  “What events are you competing in, Brady?”

  “How do you know I’m competing in any?”

  Great, he was an answer-a-question-with-a-question type of guy. Yeah, this conversation was totally going to be fun. “Because you’re staying in the athletes’ village. And, besides, you look like an athlete.”

  “That’s a broad, sweeping statement. I could be a retired athlete coaching someone.”

  Why he was being so difficult was beyond her. If he hadn’t wanted to talk to her, he shouldn’t have indicated it was okay for her to join him. But she was determined not to let him get the better of her. No way was she going to turn tail and scuttle off. If he wanted to be surly, she’d see him and raise him one determined bitch. “Okay, Brady, are you a coach, or are you an athlete?”

  You can’t forget the end game. Gold is the reason you’re in South Korea.

  It was like her mother was standing on her shoulder, reminding her of the end purpose. Why she trained for eight to fourteen hours a day. Why she’d foregone going to college so she could make one more attempt at Olympic glory.

  “I’m a competitor.”

  “Huh? What?” She’d been so focused on her thoughts she wasn’t sure what Brady meant by his comment.

  “I answered your question—you know, the one where you asked if I was a coach or an athlete.”

  “Yeah, right. Yeah. I’m an athlete too.”

  “I kind of figured that. Bet I could name what sport you compete in.”

  Of course he could. Her slight frame gave away exactly what she did. But she decided to humor him. “Go for it.”

  He tapped a finger to his chin, like he was thinking really hard about it. “I think you’re here to compete in…” He paused before bestowing on her a smile that highlighted his dimple and made her wish they were meeting under different circumstances. “The luge.”

  “What? The luge? How did you guess?” She laughed. She’d play along no matter how dangerous it was. It had been a long time since she’d had some fun in her life. If ever. Perhaps the time had come to start. After all, she’d managed to tease Brady into a better mood. Guess bad boys weren’t so hard to deal with. If she saw him again, she’d be able to start a conversation, proving to Tina that Brady wasn’t out of her league and that she could handle anything he threw at her.

  Hopefully.

  Chapter 2

  He should end it now. Walk away before the situation led him down the road of no return. Simon had been right—Arielle Baldwin wasn’t his type.

  Problem was, he couldn’t deny he was enjoying this conversation they were sharing. Up close, she was stunning, her facial features as delicate as a rose petal. Her high cheekbones flushed a slight pink from the cool weather, and her blue eyes were a striking contrast against her dark hair, which was still secured in a side ponytail. A residual burn lingered in his palm from their contact, a sensation he’d never experienced before.

  “So how fast do you go down?” he asked. Arielle’s eyes widened, and the blush on her cheeks deepened at the double meaning.

  “Faster than you think.”

  Now it was his turn to be shocked by her quick return. After the way she’d reacted to his comment, he’d expected her to stammer a response or ignore him all together. Damned if she didn’t come right back at him.

  “Want to get something to eat? We can continue this conversation in a place that isn’t so cold.” Although, to be honest, the cool air was helping keep his body’s reaction to her proximity from being embarrassingly obvious.

  For the first time since she’d approached him, she appeared nervous. Her white teeth dug into her plump bottom lip, stretching it. He wanted to reach out and brush his thumb across the soft flesh to soothe the damage she was doing to it.

  A split second later, as if she’d beaten the doubt demons away, her teeth released her lip. “Yes, Brady. I’d like to get something to eat…with you.”

  “Great. Let’s go find food.” He stood and held out his hand toward her. When her gloved fingers connected with his, the lingering tingle in his palm amped up and spread through him, warming his blood. This visceral reaction to her was crazy.

  And dangerous. Walk away now.

  Brady ignored the little voice in his head. He’d walk away after dinner. Once tomorrow came, he’d be training eight hours a day with Dirk, his no-holds-barred coach, and getting used to all the little nuances of the courses he’d be competing on.

  It was only dinner.

  The organizers of the Games had created a village within a village, with restaurants offering cuisines from all over the world.

  They rounded a corner, and Brady spied familiar golden arches. “Oh, now here’s a classy restaurant. I could go for a Big Mac and large fries,” he teased and canted his head toward the building.

  She lightly punched him on the arm. “You do know I can get McDonald’s in Canada.”

  “Fiiiiiiine.” He laughed when she rolled her eyes at him, then he pointed to the restaurant two doors down. “How about French food?”

  “Definitely works for me.”

  Being with her was so easy. Which made it even more imperative that he restrict their interaction to this one night.

  They were seated at a table in the corner. Arielle pulled off her beanie and removed the band confining her hair. He mourned the loss of the side ponytail.

  The café served French food, so the décor had a decidedly chic feel about it. Posters depicting iconic French architecture were dotted around the walls: the Eiffel Tower lit with lights, shining brightly against the night sky; the Arc de Triomphe with a stunningly bright daytime backdrop.

  “Have you been to France?” Arielle asked as she laid the menu down on the cream tablecloth.

  “Yeah, I visited Paris after I competed at an event in Tignes, France. Paris is a beautiful city.” He reached over and picked up his water glass, taking a swallow of the cool liquid. “Have you been?”

  Arielle shook her head and then sighed wistfully. “No. I was due to go for the Worlds when I was eighteen, but my par—um, coaches—decided I wasn’t quite ready.”

  Brady had caught the correction. Were her parents her coaches? It wasn’t his business, so he had no plans to delve into her relationship with her parents or coaches. That was a few years ago. She could’ve changed coaches by now.

  “That’s a shame. You should go one day.”

  “I plan to,” she said, hardening her tone, like a football coach at a press conference. “There are a lot of things I plan to do once the Games are over.”

  He opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut. Just like asking about her parents, asking about her future was on the no-go list. Time to switch it back to the lighthearted banter they’d exchanged at the park.

  The server arrived at that moment to take their order. Once they’d given it, Brady leaned back in his chair and loosely clasped his fingers together on the table.

  “Tell me, how does it feel to be sliding down an ice tube on a small slab of fiberglass with razor-sharp blades and no protection other than a helmet?”

  Arielle laughed, the sound light and full of life...

  Holy shit, I’m losing it. Get a grip, man. One dinner. That’s it.

  He needed to repeat that mantra over and over. Sure, he’d been attracted to women the second he’d laid eyes on them before. But he’d never wished he could touch their hair to see if it was soft. Or think poetic thoughts about their laughter. It had to be the jetlag messing with his sensibilities. Yes, that totally made sense. Jetlag was screwing with him. Come tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, these fanciful thoughts would be brushed away like cobwebs in the corner of a dusty room.

  “Brady? Are you okay?” Arielle’s voice penetrated the cocoon he’d fallen into.

  “Yeah, sorry. Jetlag. I zoned out for a minute there.” He threw a smile in her direction, hoping it would be enough for her not to delve deeper into what he’d been thinking.

  Focus, man. Eat, then get th
e hell out of here, back to the room.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? We can skip food and head back to the village so you can sleep. I imagine you had a long journey from Australia.”

  “I flew in from Utah, via Japan. I’m good.” Her eyes dimmed a little at his brusque tone. He didn’t know how old Arielle was, but he pegged her to be in her early twenties—too young for him. He was only twenty-six, but he’d been around the world a couple of times and had seen a bit in his travels. An air of innocence cloaked Arielle like a warm coat. It would be far safer for her to keep away from him.

  “Okay, good.”

  “So, before I zoned out, we were talking about luging.”

  Arielle eyeballed him from across the table. “I think we both know I do not compete in the luge.”

  Brady laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, let me try again.”

  “Give it your best shot, stud.”

  Stud? What the hell?

  It would be safer for all involved if he let that comment slide on down the hill, like a runaway snowboard after its rider falls off.

  “You’re a speed skater, right?” He still didn’t want to say the words.

  “Well, you’re half right. I am a skater. But a figure skater. Current Canadian women’s single champion.”

  Okay, so the time for joking had passed. If he was going to walk away at the end of the evening, it was probably for the best that their conversation became more real than jokes.

  “Congratulations. Winning a national title isn’t easy. Especially in figure skating.”

  “Thank you. I’ve worked hard. But I want Olympic gold.” The glint of determination turned her ocean-calm eyes as hard as the rink she skated on.

  “I hear you.”

  “What about you, Brady? What do you compete in?”

  Their food arrived, coq au vin for him and beef bourguignon for Arielle. Once the server had placed the two steaming dishes of aromatic food in front of them and walked away, Brady answered. “I’m competing in two snowboarding events, the slopestyle and half pipe. I’m the current X Games half pipe champion.”