Page 11 of Shining Through

“Yes, Katia.” His gaze held hers. “And others.”

Her smile faded. “Viktor Domachev?”

“I suppose. Why? Are you a fan?”

“No. This morning he said something to Katia that seemed to upset her. I called him on it, and then he said something to me. It was in Russian, so I don’t know what it was.” She lifted one shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe he was complimenting my earrings.”

“Doubtful.” Daniil’s mood darkened as he imagined the ugly possibilities. “But whatever it was, I’ll make him damn sorry he didn’t keep his mouth shut.”

She drew in a breath. “No. Please don’t. I’d hate to see you in any more trouble.”

That Domachev had acted like apridurokwasn’t exactly a surprise, but her concern for Daniil’s well-being, was. Other women would have encouraged him to fight for their honor. But Tabitha was thinking of him. Though she couldn’t have known about the vow he’d made to stay out of trouble, she encouraged him to keep it. For her, he would.

He nodded. “Domachev’s an ass. No one likes him.” Well, almost no one. Bogdanov and the rest of the federation seemed quite enamored. Daniil skated in lazy circles beside Tabitha. He ought to start his warm-ups, but didn’t want this to end. “And he pads his dance belt.”

Her eyes widened with momentary shock, and then she laughed. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve shared a locker room with him enough times. You watch at tonight’s competition. See if you don’t notice an abnormally large package.”

“Oh my God. Are we really having this conversation?” Her gaze dropped from his face to below his waist and the curve of his tight black skating pants. Was she curious about what was inside his dance belt?

“No padding, all me.” Daniil grinned, then added. “Covered in the flag of glorious Mother Russia.”

She let out a laugh, even as color rose in her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, looking skeptical. “Your dance belt has the Russian flag on it?”

He liked the sound of her laugh, echoing in the deserted rink. He winked, and did a quick spin, showing off a little. “Care to see?”

She continued to give that arched-brow narrow-eyed look, but she seemed to enjoy this as much as he did. “Another time, perhaps.”

She was nothing like the chilly ice princess he’d seen in her Antigone program. The sexy attitude she’d shown while skating to the song about love with strangers hinted there was plenty below the surface. But across the rink, Misha had finished his call and stepped onto the ice. Time to put Tabitha Turner out of his mind and focus his thoughts where they belonged, on skating. He wasn’t optimistic.

She too, seemed to sense it was time to say goodbye. She glided away as her session ended and his began. He called to her as she skated toward the gate. “Good luck in the competition, Tabitha.”

“You too. In the next one, I mean. Nice meeting you.”

Just before she stepped off the ice, she turned back. Her eyes locked on his.

“Poka,”he said.

“What’s that mean?”

“See you around.”

She smiled. “Poka.”

~

Unfortunately, Daniil didn’t see her around. He didn’t expect to since competitors usually laid low until after their events and Tabitha’s wouldn’t conclude until Saturday afternoon.

He looked for her anyway.

It was weird, the effect she’d had on him. Women rarely stayed in his mind this way, especially women he had no business thinking about. Tabitha Turner was the golden girl of figure skating. A star. A role model. He was... well, not that. Reason number one to steer clear.

Reason number two, they both had other things on their plate. Big things. Things they’d been working toward their entire lives. He’d made a vow, unspoken, but still a vow, to keep his eye on the prize—skating in the Winter Games. There was no question of Tabitha’s rock-solid discipline, either.

Friday evening’s ladies short program drove that reality home. Her skate to Swan Lake was flawless. She’d ended the night in second place only because of a stunning performance by a lower-ranked Japanese star in the making. On the ice, Tabitha was cool and collected. If she noticed him in the audience, she gave no sign.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. They were day and night, champagne and whiskey, a straight smooth road, and one with broken pavement, twists and turns. Any spark between them wasn’t going to grow into a flame, much less a bonfire. Better to seek a little uncomplicated fun with the friendly blond or brunette who gave him the eye whenever he passed their vendor’s fair booth.