Love and Other Games (28 page)

Matias, standing just behind their coach, was grinning like the proverbial cat with a canary. “Yeah, Erik, that sounds like a good idea you should absolutely do whatever you did this morning again. Remind me though—what were you doing this morning?” He tapped his gloved finger over his lips as though he was struggling to remember. “Whatever were you doing?”

Tobias, one of his other teammates chuckled loudly. “You mean whoever.”

The clouds cleared slowly. Who? The girl. Amy. She was the one. He’d known she was special when he saw her. The party had been a disappointment. It had an edge, almost desperate, as though everyone was trying too hard because they’d heard that Olympic Village parties got crazy and felt pressured to ensure the phenomenon themselves. But she’d stood out—too bright and alone. He’d had to meet her … because she was for him, brought there by fate or maybe just chance. She was a
lykkeamulett
. Amy was his personal—and very sexy—good luck charm. Erik Andresen had another shot at the gold … as long as she was by his side.

“Eww. What is that?” Amy placed her tray down on the table and slid onto the bench across the table from Robin.

“It’s meant to be fondue. I figured since we’re in Switzerland, right?  But this is like fast food style or something.”  Robin poked the clumping, off-white substance in her paper cup with a wooden stick that looked like a coffee stir. It shifted slightly, allowing a thin layer of grease to ooze up. Robin wrinkled her nose and pushed the cup away. “The bread was okay.”

Laughing, Amy pulled the lid off her yogurt and filled her spoon. “You should have guessed based on how short the line was over there.”

Robin shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Do you wanna get out of the village tonight—see if we can find a real restaurant?”

“I don’t think so. I have a lot of emails to catch up on, and—”

“Lexi’s off tomorrow. Come on. Don’t make me go out by myself.”

Amy snorted. “You’re not going to get me with that one again. And Lexi is kind of the point. I’m here for her. I should be setting a better example, not … 

“Having uber-sexy fun?”

“That we’ve agreed never to speak of again.”

Robin chuckled and shook her head. “Fine. Ooh did you hear that one of the speed skaters from Spain found the torch?”

“I didn’t know they’d lost a torch.”

“No the mystery torch—the lucky one—how could you not know about this? The year I competed, the whole team was obsessed with finding that torch.”

Amy grinned. “I was just a child then, so … ” She couldn’t help herself. Robin’s dismay at her soon to arrive thirtieth birthday was just too funny.

“Haha … so was I really.”

“Yeah, but you were a much older child.”

“Do you want to hear about the torch or not?”

“Okay, tell me about the torch.”

Robin leaned toward her, resting on her elbows and grinning. She loved telling stories. Amy often wondered if she’d missed her calling when she decided to stick with skating as a coach after her competition years were through. “There’s this torch and no one knows where it came from. Some people say it’s a torch that went out but was relit before anyone found out, but really there’s no proof. Basically if you can get it on the day you compete it’s good luck, but you can’t keep it more than twenty-four hours. If you do … ”

“It is very bad luck.” A deep voice finished Robin’s sentence. “If you believe that story. I don’t think so.”

Startled, Amy glanced up. There were thousands of people at the Olympics. What were the chances that she’d run into the Viking again in less than forty-eight hours? The odds had to be slim, and yet there he was, all six and half feet of him looking cool and slick and far too handsome.

He smiled and ran a hand through his dark blonde hair. “You are not an easy girl to find.”

“Why would you try to find me?” Okay, she hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “I mean … we had our fun, so—”   Uggh. She was only making it worse.

Erik chuckled. “No. We had some fun. I am certain we could have more fun.”

“No.”

His eyebrows shot up, drawing attention to his sharp cheekbones. “No?” He met her gaze and held it for a beat.

Amy shook her head. Her cheeks were getting hot already. No. He’d already humiliated her plenty. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her blush red like an over-ripened tomato.

“I’m Robin.” Amy’s friend announced perkily. “In case anyone was wondering.”

“Robin.” He turned, grinned at her. “It’s very nice to meet you.” He stepped over the bench, sat down beside her and held out his hand.

Amy narrowed her eyes and tried to get her friend to snub him by the sheer power of her will. She failed.

Robin shook his hand and smiled widely. She was clearly enjoying Amy’s discomfort. “So, Erik, you know ditching in the morning was a pretty douche move.”

Erik’s startlingly blue eyes widened, he turned back to Amy. “I didn’t ditch. I had to go jump. Didn’t want to wake you.”

“Right. Look we had … fun … the other night, but I’m really not the crazy fling kind of girl and I’d like to forget the whole thing happened.”

“Forget it?” He looked stunned and maybe a little hurt. It wasn’t her intent. Honestly, she hadn’t expected to ever see him again. She wasn’t prepared. “You mean that?”

“I’m here for my sister. She’s a skater. I should really be focusing on that.” Her father really couldn’t handle things on his own.

“I see.” He lowered his eyes, drummed his fingers on the table.

Why did it suddenly feel like she was dumping him? As if girls like her dumped men like him. It was almost too silly to even consider, but there was something in his expression that squeezed her heart.

Erik pulled something from his front pocket and placed it on the table. “I found this … for you.” He shrugged and stood up.

A small bit of painted metal rested in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat. “Quatchi? It’s a snowboarding Quatchi. Why … I mean, you remembered that?”

Erik smiled. “Call me, American Amy. I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I really should be focusing on—”

“My number is in your phone.”

It was? When did that happen? “How?”

Erik chuckled deeply. The sound brought a flash of memory, a hot naked skin touching naked skin memory, and more than Amy’s cheeks warmed at the thought. The man standing on the other side of the table was barely more than a stranger. Having these memories seemed wrong but she couldn’t say she wanted to be rid of them. She glanced down, afraid her eyes would show her thoughts all too clearly, and settled her gaze on his hands. Dear god, he had big hands. He could circle her waist almost completely. Her own hands clenched tightly. A painfully large part of her wanted to leap over the table and tear off his clothes.

“Call me, Amy.” He shook his head and walked away, still chuckling quietly.

Robin leaned in. “You need to call that guy. Hell, if you don’t, I might.”

“I’m not—” She couldn’t trust herself around him. He was too appealing.

“Quatchi. Amy. He brought you a snowboarding Quatchi pin.”

She twisted the pin between her thumb and forefinger. “I thought it was a one-night thing. Like a crazy Olympic fever fling. We’re only here a couple weeks. We live in different countries. There’s no reason to—”

“The Viking seems to see things differently.”

“The air is probably really thin that high up. Hypoxia messes with perception.”

“Amy.”

“I know. I’ll … I’ll call him.

“Is this good?” Erik asked as a hostess seated him and Amy at a small wooden table. Getting a reservation at one of the few romantic establishments within walking distance of the athlete’s village wasn’t easy, but his teammates had helped. Erik hadn’t asked Mattias what he’d promised the hostess in return for squeezing them in. He probably didn’t want to know.

“It’s nice.” She sounded surprised, like she didn’t think he was capable of taking a girl to a nice place. It stung. Things had gone too far too fast the other night, but it was mutual. He’d barely set his lips on hers and she’d moaned. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, so they’d both gotten a little carried away. No big deal. They were adults. No one was hurt. Except she was. Obviously, Amy was hurt by his absence in the morning. But was leaving in the morning to avoid being disqualified from the Olympics really such a crime? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. She had to forgive him.

“Maybe we could start over. Right now.” He tapped the table hard enough to make the small glass candle holder bounce. The flame inside flickered but continued to burn. “I’m Erik. You’re Amy. I believe you’re from America.”

She laughed. “And you’ll pretend that you haven’t already seen me naked?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “But I won’t pretend I don’t want to see you naked.”

She blushed, a charming wash of pink over her creamy pale skin, and shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Taking a pretty girl on a date?”

She sighed and leaned in, effectively lowering the neckline of her top. Nice breasts. They were even nicer pressed against him. That needed to happen again, but they should eat first.

“No. Or maybe yes. Why all the fuss? We’ve already … you know.”

Her face grew redder and she turned away. Intriguing. She was shy. He’d noticed the other night, but had expected it to evaporate after the nocturnal activities. Why did that make him want her even more? “You are dating the wrong men.” He placed his hand over hers on the table. “I just want to know you. Tell me—what do you do? I know your sister is a skater. But you are not?”

“Right.” She pulled her hand away and pressed it against her thigh. “Lexi’s the skater. Not me. I mean, I can skate … just not like that. I quit competing when I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and considered her words. He took the moment to enjoy her face. She was lovely—fiery hair, pale skin, and perfect lips. “Typical story I guess. I wasn’t good enough. Lexi was better. Lexi was almost four years younger and already better.”

“It was sad for you? Giving it up.”

“A little, but probably not as much as you think. I was tired of the early morning practices, the missed birthday parties and camping trips, the bruises.” Those perfect lips curved upward. “I fell a lot.”

Erik trained a great deal as a teenager, but it didn’t compare to the schedule of many ten year old figure skaters. “What do you do then?”

“School. I was always better at school anyway. I finished a business degree last May. I’m basically Lexi’s manager right now, but I’ll find something else—soon, I think.”

“A business lady? In an office?”  She nodded and he shook his head. “I don’t see that. You need something more fun.”

Amy raised her eyebrows. “You’re awfully focused on fun. Are you ever serious?”

“I am. Of course, I am. You have a very poor opinion of me, but you don’t know me yet.”

“I don’t really—have a poor opinion of you.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds. “I should tell you that I looked you up online.”

“Ah, you Google and now you think you know everything?” He’d Googled too. Amy had left out that her mother was an Olympic skater. She’d taken home a Silver medal before settling down with Steven Pierce. Erik had found a photo of Sandy Pierce and her very small daughters all wearing skates and little dresses. It had accompanied her obituary. Leaving her mother’s sport had to have been difficult, but he didn’t press.

“I wouldn’t say that, but I did—I read about your accident.”

“Yes.” It was bound to come up eventually. He’d nearly died at a competition a few years back. Would she think he was brave for getting back on the hill or simply insane?

“You were really good, right? World records and all.”

“I am very good. Now—I am very good. But, yes, I was better.”

“And you still compete.”

“Yes.” Here it came. Was he an inspiration or a fool?

“That’s … interesting.” She was chewing on her lip again. Some woman did that intentionally, a cutesy flirting maneuver that he’d never understood. Amy seemed unaware of the habit, and that made it oddly endearing. It also made it hard for him not to stare at her mouth.

“Is interesting good?”

“I guess so, but—”

“No.” He held up a finger to stop her. “Good is good.”

She laughed. “But it’s another mystery. I still haven’t figured out how you got me to leave with you the other night. That is so not like me. But it happened. You—we—did that. And I thought it would be the end of things, and yet here you are. I can’t figure you out. What are you after here? Or—here’s some sports terminology for you—what’s the goal?”

He couldn’t tell her the truth, that she was his luck, his
lykkeamulett
. Not yet. He’d probably sound as crazy as his grandfather did when he talked about sprites and gnomes. She might take it wrong. But he wouldn’t lie either. He’d tread carefully. “Why do I have to be after something? Can’t I just want to spend time with you?”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

She shook her head. “No way that’s good enough. You went out of your way to get me to come out tonight. You’re not just chatting me up at a party.”

“Okay. I lied. I can’t forget seeing you naked.”

“You’re funny.” She laughed even as her face turned pink.

“I have many talents.”

“I’m aware. Dancing. Skiing. Charming nice girls out of their panties.”

“So you think I’m charming?” Erik grinned. He had a few more talents he’d like the opportunity to show off, but he’d bide his time. He couldn’t afford to scare her off again.

“I haven’t done this since I was—actually, I don’t know if I ever did this.” Amy patted the side of their snowman, pushed in a twig to serve as a nose and moved back to survey their work. Shiny red berry eyes stared back at her. They needed something for his mouth. The cold burned through her knit gloves and stung her fingers, but she was enjoying herself too much to care. On the walk home they’d come across an impromptu snowman building contest and joined in. Olympians were a competitive bunch and Erik was no exception. Their creation towered over both of the nearest snowfolk.