Love and Other Games (20 page)

"I've heard at least a dozen rumors about its history, but everyone says if you're in possession of it while you compete, you'll win gold. On the other hand, if you keep it for more than a day, really bad things happen."

"What kind of things?" Lia asked, eyes wide. She leaned closer and closer to Brandon as he told the story.

"Failed post-win drug tests, injuries, disqualifications, that sort of thing."

He was closely watching her reaction, but Lia didn't care.

"And how does an athlete get it?" She had a full day before finals, she couldn't practice the
entire
time.

"It simply appears in the Village during every Olympics. You have to find it, hope another athlete doesn't have it stashed somewhere."

"Do you know if anyone's found it yet this year?" She was already formulating her search route in her head.

"Not that I've heard, but it's not something people advertise. At least not until their event is over."

Lia rolled the idea over and around her mind. She probably didn't need the thing, but it wouldn't hurt. And it would help her keep her thoughts away from any other distractions.

Speaking of distractions … Brandon's eyes searched hers and Lia searched them right back for any hint that this was a joke or trick. But his eyes were entirely sincere when he said, "Do you want to go look for it?"

"Yes," she answered even before the question had entirely escaped his mouth.

They both laughed at her enthusiasm. Lia realized she was bouncing on her toes and stopped, embarrassed. She was acting like a little kid who'd just been told there was a free candy store.

"Now?" Brandon asked, offering his arm and turning toward the exit.

Lia nearly choked on her swig of the American beer. She hadn't realized he had meant if she wanted to go looking for it
with him
.

"Don't you have to work?" Lia gestured to indicate the rest of the party.

He shrugged. "I am working."

A thrill rushed through Lia's stomach at his words. She thought only half of it was because a rep had just indicated she was a potential spokesperson for the biggest athletic supply company in the world. The other half was the man himself, asking her to leave a party and go on an adventure. Lia stared at his proffered arm, his charming smile, then scanned the room for Del. She was standing with Kassandra and two men in suits, the four of them in serious conversation. Well, she
had
wanted Lia to find the Nike guy.

She slid her arm through his and beamed. "Let's go."

Brandon pointed at the miniscule cactus sitting by the dorm front door Lia had just opened. "What's that?"

"It's a cactus."

"Well, yeah," he said. "But why?"

"It's a Greek luck thing," she explained, turning away from him.

She had asked if she could change before they went looking for the torch. While Brandon would be sad to see the silver dress that clung to her every curve go, he couldn't really expect her to walk around Switzerland in February wearing nothing but a scrap of silk and high heels. They'd had to split up to get into the Village, as Brandon couldn't enter through the athlete entrance.

"How are you going to get in?" Lia had asked, biting her lip.

"Don't worry," he'd said. "I have my ways."

Brandon kicked off his shoes, halfway through the action before he realized it probably wasn't necessary. But his mom had raised him with a firm hand and this was one of her pet peeves. The second shoe flipped over and landed top-down next to the first. Lia spun back to him and stared at the shoes, frowning. Shit. She probably thought he was being presumptuous by making himself comfortable.

But she just gave him a shy smile, leaned over, and flipped the upside-down shoe to rest on its sole. "
Skorda
," she spat.

She raised her eyes to him again and, discovering his confused face, said, "Another Greek luck thing. Upside down shoes are omens of death."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

This girl was insanely superstitious. That was good for him. He could use the torch rumor to keep her interested, giving him time to get the real story from her. At the party, he'd been ignoring some boring story trickling out of the mouth of the twelfth athlete to approach him when he'd overheard Lia and her manager talking about her superstitions. As soon as he'd overheard the bit about her family, he had quickly dismissed the spoiled snowboarder and prepared to interrupt the Greek women. But luck had smiled on him, leaving Lia alone.

"I'll just be a minute." Lia walked to her bedroom and gave him once last glance before shutting the door.

Desperately trying not to think about how she was currently shimmying out of her dress at that very moment, he studied the room. He'd never seen the inside of an athlete's dorm before. He stood in a small living room with a couch, a chair, and a coffee table. On the opposite wall were two doors. One was the door Lia had just disappeared behind. The other led to a bathroom. It was a shame she didn't have her own bedroom, he thought. He gave himself a good mental slap at the thought. He was in search of a story, nothing more. He shouldn't be thinking about her bedroom at all. But, in a matter of minutes, the Greek aerialist had drawn him in with her shy smiles and quirky humor. On their walk to her dorm, he'd had to continually resist the urge put his arm around her waist or shoulders, especially when she shivered against his side. He needed to remain professional. He didn't know much about Evangelia Milonas yet, but he had a hunch about the girl. It told him she had the story he needed.

She emerged from the room in about ten times as much clothing as she'd entered it in. He would've been disappointed, except the confidence the new outfit gave her somehow made her even sexier, despite the layers. She was obviously much more comfortable in a track jacket and matching pants, much more herself.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

She seemed to think for a minute. The way she bit her bottom lip mesmerized him. He found himself wondering what her lips tasted like, what her lip would feel like between
his
teeth.

Lia spoke, breaking his trance. "I'd say the plaza, but that seems too obvious. Let's try the perimeter of the dorms first."

He didn't disagree as she locked her dorm door. He wasn't really concerned about a torch that may or may not exist, after all. It was just an excuse to spend some time with Lia. For his story, of course.
Yeah
, his conscience interjected.
Because world-class journalists always interview hot Olympic athletes while wandering around the Village – where you're not even supposed to
be
—alone with them at night.

Lia's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"In the stories you've heard, where do people find it?" Lia’s steps fell at a brisk pace as she made her way outside.

"Everywhere. Anywhere," he said.

Her lips twisted and she glared at him. "Thank you."

"Out in the open, usually," he clarified, eyes smiling. Her ire amused him, she could tell. Though she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. "On top of fountains, tables, resting on a statue."

Brandon followed Lia to the north end of the village as they made polite conversation. He asked a few questions about her family, but she'd dodged them carefully. That subject was off limits – even to sexy representatives of the top athletic supply company in the world. Even to men with blue eyes so deep she felt like she was drowning every time she stared into them.

They reached the north tip of the village and Lia stopped, resting her hands on her hips and looking around. The entire scene was blanketed with six inches of snow, except for the sidewalks, which had been shoveled and salted so that the concrete was dyed brownish-gray by water and dirt. If the torch had been placed before the snow, they'd never find it.

"We'll go this way," she said, pointing to the building on their left. "Circle each dorm building. You look high, I'll take low."

"Yes ma'am." He saluted her, but a grin stretched across his face as they began their careful stroll. "You take stuff like this pretty seriously, huh?"

Lia felt heat prick her cheeks. She looked at the base of the dorm building, glad for the excuse to face away from Brandon. Her family had always been superstitious, but she'd been in high school, competing in international meets, before she realized it was out of the ordinary for most people. Her competitors had teased her about it mercilessly, one even going so far as to break into her locker and turning her shoes upside down.

She smiled like it was a game, tossing a glance sideways at him. "Why take the risk?"

"You don't have to pretend with me." Brandon's voice had gone soft, and he slowed to a stop, turning to look her in the eyes. He raised a hand and placed it gently on her elbow. "I'm not judging you, Lia."

Even through the thick layer of her jacket, she thought she could feel the warmth of his hand seeping into her skin. Her arm tingled. A twinge of excitement shot through her belly.

But he was wrong. She did have to pretend with him. She had to pretend with everyone. She just wasn't good enough at it; that was the problem. Stuffing her hands deeper in her pockets, she turned and continued their search, eyes focused on the ground around the dorm.

"It's bad luck to talk about luck," she said. While it was true, it was more of an excuse to get away from the thick, bafflingly pleasant tension that had formed between them.

Brandon's hand fell to his side and he stood still for several seconds before double-stepping to catch up with her.

They finished the building and approached the second before either of them spoke again.

"How'd you get into aerial skiing?" Brandon's breath created small puffs of steam in front of his lips, drawing Lia's eyes to them. "I'm no wimp, but the idea terrifies me."

She knew the answer she was supposed to give by heart – the one Del had practically written on flashcards and made her memorize. But something made her tell him the truth. Most of it, anyway.

"My grandma used to do it. She was incredible. I've seen videos of her, I mean, and she was amazing – probably the best the world has ever seen."

"Did she go to the Olympics?" Brandon kept his eyes scanning for the torch, his manner controlled and careful.

"No." Lia barely got the word out of her mouth. She took a deep, steadying breath. "No. Her family didn't approve of it. It wasn't appropriate for a girl to be playing a man's sport, running all over the world to compete in the few competitions they had back then. They … put a stop to it."

Brandon pressed his lips together in thought. Dread filled her as she wondered whether or not he'd ask her exactly what that meant. He didn't, but simply waited for her to continue her story.

"It doesn't matter," Lia said, attempting a lighter tone and failing. "It wasn't recognized as a real sport until late into the seventies. Aerials weren't an Olympic sport until 1994."

They rounded the corner of the dorm building, boots crunching in the snow as they had to walk off the sidewalk to get where they wanted to be.

"You didn't answer the question," Brandon finally said. "I asked why
you
got into aerials, not why your grandmother got out of it."

Lia shrugged. "It's the same answer. I saw what they did to her – how they killed her dreams. I wanted to do it for her. She'd watch me when I was younger, before she died, her face alive in a way that it never was at any other time." She stopped walking as the memories rushed over her.

"But you kept doing it? After … that?"

Lia could tell he was burning to ask her exactly what "that" was, but he didn't want to pry.

"Yeah," she forced a laugh. "It turns out, I'm pretty good at it."

"When did you start training seriously?"

Lia cocked an eyebrow at him. "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

He nodded, unembarrassed. "My mom always used to say, ’The greatest virtue of man is perhaps curiosity.’ She was quoting somebody, but never told me who. It's a good quality to have for my job."

Brandon's lips twisted for a second, his eyes going out of focus. The look made her uneasy.

"Brandon, I have to ask. Why are you helping me? Don't you have a thousand other, more important things to do?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

She was not letting him get off that easily. Except for athletes who had already competed – and lost – no one at the Olympic Games had time to kill.

She crossed her arms across her chest and did her best impression of Del's no-nonsense face. "I don't believe that. You don't even really believe in the lucky torch; I can tell."

Brandon held up his hands in supplication. A hint of a smirk and the low light of the security lights transformed his face into that of a dangerously handsome rogue. "Alright, alright, I confess. A beautiful, smart, funny, talented woman asked me to leave a party with her. That's the kind of invitation I'll never turn down for work."

Lia's stomach did so many flip-flops, it could have tried out for the summer Olympics in gymnastics. She wondered how much of his compliment was the charmer she'd glimpsed earlier in the night and how much was truth. It didn't matter. She had to focus on winning, no matter how much those sapphire eyes set against brown skin made her want to forget everything else.

"Hey, you asked me to leave the party!" she objected. She didn't point out that she'd agreed before he even had a chance to complete the question. Details.

His smirk exploded to its full strength and he winked at her – actually winked. Who even winked at women anymore? "Oh, did I? That's not how I remember it." His voice was false innocence and teasing.

Laughing, Lia punched him in the arm. "This torch better exist. It better not be some cheap trick you used to get me alone."

"Cheap trick?" He put a hand over his heart, feigning injury. "Honey, look around you. It's thirty-two degrees and dropping rapidly. I don't even have proper snow boots or a jacket on. If I just wanted to get you alone, I'd tell you the torch was in my hotel room underneath my bed covers."