the camaraderie that had blossomed these past few days.
“No,” he said softly. “You weren’t.”
Their eyes held and Carrie’s heart pounded. Maybe
comfortable
and
nice
weren’t quite accurate.
Seriously aroused
described the feeling better. A flush rose in her cheeks as she thought back to the day in the pool, the feel of him beneath her hands. The warmth of his chest against her back. He was as strong and alluring as an ancient conqueror from a distant land. At the same time, his smile was so sweet and disarming, it was impossible not to smile back.
On the subway home, he pretended to forget the way, and made her navigate through the stops. When they came out into the familiar bustle of Taganskaya, he gave her a high five. “Think you can you find your way around now?” he asked, as they walked to her apartment.
“Yes. It’ll be nice to explore some places besides my neighborhood.”
“Stay around city center, it’s safest there. Not that there’s anything to be afraid of, but it’s like any big city. Use your head.” He paused and slowed his pace. “You should have my phone number. In case you need anything,” he added quickly.
“All right.” She tried to hide her surprise. To be polite, she programmed it into her directory, though she couldn’t imagine ever using it.
He took his phone out. “What’s yours?” She gave it to him. Though Galina regularly sent email, it was reassuring that another person in this huge city had her phone number.
They’d reached her building. It was dark now, but traffic still streamed past, busy as ever. “Do you have big plans for weekend?” he asked.
“Not really. If the weather’s nice, I’ll go sightseeing. If not, I might cook.”
“Cook? Really?”
“I like cooking. Nothing fattening, I promise. But I’ve learned my way around the supermarket, so why not? Maybe I’ll try making borscht. How about you?”
“I can’t cook anything except pancakes.”
She laughed. “I meant your weekend plans.”
“I’m going to see Olga.”
The jealous twinge returned. She quickly squelched it, but hoped Olga appreciated her handsome, devoted boyfriend. The only man in Carrie’s life at the moment was a fame-hungry D-lister. And Dad, who hadn’t replied to her emails in almost a month. “Is that what you do every weekend?”
“Sometimes she comes here, but mostly I go to Lake Shosha.”
In his voice was the same resignation she’d heard when he talked about giving up hockey. Something here wasn’t quite right. She hesitated, wanting to him to stay, knowing he couldn’t.
If you invited him, he’d come upstairs.
She had a vision of them naked in her bed, making passionate love, then falling asleep in each other’s arms.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
She would like it. Down to her very soul, she’d like it. But it would only create terrible problems, cause terrible guilt. She forced a smile. He had a girlfriend waiting. She had laundry.
Chapter Ten
She spent the next three days haunted by regret.
Not regret for spending time with him. The best pairs had an off-ice rapport that infused their skating. What she regretted was the long-ago morning in the Amsterdam airport when she heard the final call for a flight to Moscow two gates over.
She hadn’t gone to say goodbye, exchange addresses or make plans. She had a boyfriend, a football star whose father was one of Dad’s closest friends. She could hardly dump Mike for a boy figure skater—worse, a Russian boy figure skater. Her parents would have had heart failure and things at home were bad enough already. She stayed hidden among the Silverettes, but watched the crowd, aching for one last glimpse. If she’d gone to find him, would he have been there for her when life fell apart six months later? Could she have turned to him and poured out all the guilt and pain? Would he have heard the awful story and loved her anyway? The dangerous questions plagued her all weekend.
But there was
“No,” he said softly. “You weren’t.”
Their eyes held and Carrie’s heart pounded. Maybe
comfortable
and
nice
weren’t quite accurate.
Seriously aroused
described the feeling better. A flush rose in her cheeks as she thought back to the day in the pool, the feel of him beneath her hands. The warmth of his chest against her back. He was as strong and alluring as an ancient conqueror from a distant land. At the same time, his smile was so sweet and disarming, it was impossible not to smile back.
On the subway home, he pretended to forget the way, and made her navigate through the stops. When they came out into the familiar bustle of Taganskaya, he gave her a high five. “Think you can you find your way around now?” he asked, as they walked to her apartment.
“Yes. It’ll be nice to explore some places besides my neighborhood.”
“Stay around city center, it’s safest there. Not that there’s anything to be afraid of, but it’s like any big city. Use your head.” He paused and slowed his pace. “You should have my phone number. In case you need anything,” he added quickly.
“All right.” She tried to hide her surprise. To be polite, she programmed it into her directory, though she couldn’t imagine ever using it.
He took his phone out. “What’s yours?” She gave it to him. Though Galina regularly sent email, it was reassuring that another person in this huge city had her phone number.
They’d reached her building. It was dark now, but traffic still streamed past, busy as ever. “Do you have big plans for weekend?” he asked.
“Not really. If the weather’s nice, I’ll go sightseeing. If not, I might cook.”
“Cook? Really?”
“I like cooking. Nothing fattening, I promise. But I’ve learned my way around the supermarket, so why not? Maybe I’ll try making borscht. How about you?”
“I can’t cook anything except pancakes.”
She laughed. “I meant your weekend plans.”
“I’m going to see Olga.”
The jealous twinge returned. She quickly squelched it, but hoped Olga appreciated her handsome, devoted boyfriend. The only man in Carrie’s life at the moment was a fame-hungry D-lister. And Dad, who hadn’t replied to her emails in almost a month. “Is that what you do every weekend?”
“Sometimes she comes here, but mostly I go to Lake Shosha.”
In his voice was the same resignation she’d heard when he talked about giving up hockey. Something here wasn’t quite right. She hesitated, wanting to him to stay, knowing he couldn’t.
If you invited him, he’d come upstairs.
She had a vision of them naked in her bed, making passionate love, then falling asleep in each other’s arms.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
She would like it. Down to her very soul, she’d like it. But it would only create terrible problems, cause terrible guilt. She forced a smile. He had a girlfriend waiting. She had laundry.
Chapter Ten
She spent the next three days haunted by regret.
Not regret for spending time with him. The best pairs had an off-ice rapport that infused their skating. What she regretted was the long-ago morning in the Amsterdam airport when she heard the final call for a flight to Moscow two gates over.
She hadn’t gone to say goodbye, exchange addresses or make plans. She had a boyfriend, a football star whose father was one of Dad’s closest friends. She could hardly dump Mike for a boy figure skater—worse, a Russian boy figure skater. Her parents would have had heart failure and things at home were bad enough already. She stayed hidden among the Silverettes, but watched the crowd, aching for one last glimpse. If she’d gone to find him, would he have been there for her when life fell apart six months later? Could she have turned to him and poured out all the guilt and pain? Would he have heard the awful story and loved her anyway? The dangerous questions plagued her all weekend.
But there was
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