Playing for Hearts (62 page)

In a blue suit with white stripes, Juan was merely a dot on the hillside. Dana accepted the binoculars Bruce handed her. She peered up the slope. T.T. was on the ramp, and Juan stood off to the side, bouncing in place. His arms stretched in the air.

She wanted to stop looking, but she couldn't turn away. Whether Juan stood in front of her laughing or strutted around the hotel naked, he never failed to grab her attention. The same went for when he was in his zone. She found him irresistible.

The air horn sounded. She lowered the binoculars and gazed at the ramp. Her heart raced. The USA team was up. T.T. moved into position. She passed the binoculars to Bruce and grabbed Crista's hand. This was so exciting.

The next signal blasted. She stared intently as T.T. moved, afraid to blink in case she missed anything. One second he was speeding down the ramp, and the next he was in the air. She gasped, barely taking in the twists of his airborne body, and he landed.

T.T.'s left leg slid out to the side, and he was down. Dana gasped, leaning forward. But before she could worry, he was sliding to a stop and raising his arm in a show that he was all right. Everything seemed to happen within a few seconds, and then his event was over.

“It's okay. He's okay. That was only the first run. He has two more.” She ripped the binoculars out of Bruce's hand. “Oh my God. Juan's up.”

Crista took the binoculars. “He better win, or I'm going to slug him. I have a thousand bucks in the pool saying he'll come in first.”

“What?” She glanced at Crista before looking back at Juan. “You're betting on the outcome?”

“Don't worry, we all put money on him, but I bought the top square,” Crista lowered her arm. “Six grand to the winner. It would've been seven, but we couldn't talk Diana into giving us any of her money. That girl thinks splurging on a thirty-dollar pair of sneakers is wasting money despite having a boyfriend who was more than willing to loan her enough to buy a square. Hell, even Shauna pitched in.”

“Seven is Juan's lucky number and the one I ordered put on his suit,” Dana said.

The first warning boom went off behind them. She jumped, turning to Crista. “Count me in. I'll pay you when I get back to the hotel room. I don't care what square, but Juan needs all the luck he can get.”

Crista put her arm around Dana's waist. “I knew I liked you.”

The discharge shot rocked the area. The time clock started. Juan pushed off the launching pad.

Dana's focus centered on her husband. Her whole body shut down. Breathing in air escaped her capabilities. Numbness froze her to any movement and touch. The only thing she absorbed was the growing
shhh
from the cut of Juan's skis, as he grew closer to the edge of the ramp.

Juan crouched, tucking his poles, and lifted. His body horizontal with the ground, he soared. Dana's eyes burned from the cold, but she refused to blink. As if suspended in air, Juan twisted once, twice, three times.

Then he was falling. Dana screamed inside, though she wasn't aware of moving an inch or hearing any noise. The crowd had grown deathly quiet, and everyone held their breath, waiting for Juan to touch ground.

Then, after what seemed like the longest five seconds of her life, Juan landed. Dana's throat closed. Cheers deafened her, and she finally recuperated enough to sag against the fence.

“Sonofabitch, he did it,” Bruce yelled. “Did you see that? Near flawless dismount.”

She understood perfectly what Juan had accomplished. Adrenaline surged, and she clapped, giving her best that's-my-man scream. He'd pushed his way into first place going into the second round.

Ten feet away, Juan skied to the fence. He smiled for the camera, stopping to say a few words to the reporters who held microphones over the barrier. All over the world, viewers would hear what Juan's first reaction was over his impeccable jump. They'd celebrate with him.

One woman worked her way to the front. Dana leaned forward, watching her progress. The woman grabbed the front of Juan's jacket and pulled him closer, until Juan leaned over the fence.

The woman, head to toe in a red snowsuit, looking fabulous with her puffed out hair and bright red lipstick, then threw her arms around Juan's neck and kissed him on the mouth. Dana's heart sank when Juan pulled out of the kiss and raised his arm in victory.

The crowd ate him up. They loved him, and he obviously appreciated their support.

Dana's heart pounded, and the energy from moments ago fled. Heavy hearted and banned from being with him, she couldn't help feeling like the third wheel.

She wanted to be the person congratulating him.

She wanted to share in his excitement.

She wanted to be the only woman to kiss him in celebration.

Instead, she turned around and spoke to Crista. She wasn't aware of what she said to make her excuses, but Crista and Bruce let her leave alone to go back to the hotel. She'd seen enough for the day.

The only thing pushing Juan toward the hotel room after midnight was the thought that he'd see Dana. Weary and exhausted, he couldn't wait to catch up with her and unwind. He'd barely had five minutes to himself all day, and the adrenaline rush from the event had plummeted an hour ago.

Every country wanted an interview. There were translators to wait for, autographs to sign, and Coach Lindhurst to deal with. Talk about on the edge. All he wanted to do is collapse in bed and hold Dana to his chest.

If he heard Coach lecture one more time about his behavior — after being the model athlete — he'd break out a six-pack and chug them all down in front of him. The hell with the baggage of being in front of the public. He wanted to ski.

That's all he ever focused on. Skiing came first. He paused outside the hotel door. At one time, he'd flourished under the attention from the fame.

Dana changed everything for him. It wasn't the crowd and excitement that had boosted him today; it was winning for Dana. Skiing was a whole other event, knowing he not only wanted to win, but he wanted to impress his wife because she was watching and expecting him to do well.

He removed the keycard from the pocket of his jacket, slid it through the slot, and opened the door. The Olympics had become about more than just winning the gold the day he'd stripped Dana out of her wedding dress. This year, he wanted to win his wife.

He flipped on the light, threw his duffle toward the wall, and walked across the room. Halfway to the bedroom, he stopped and turned around. Warmth flooded him. Dana slept curled in the corner of the couch.

Still clothed, with her jacket covering her shoulders, she had her hand tucked under her cheek. He strolled over and squatted beside her, noticing she'd kicked off her boots at least. She'd had a busy day.

From the rumors circulating, Reese Company was the showcased skiwear company this year. Although he'd had no doubt she'd succeed in landing new contracts, he also knew how hard she worked for her father. But he hoped her stint working in her family's business would come to an end tomorrow.

He wanted her to have everything she desired, and working for Colton Reese put a weight on her shoulders, holding her back from achieving her dream.

“Babe?” he whispered.

She wiggled deeper into the couch. He brushed the piece of soft hair out of the corner of her mouth. She was exhausted. Tomorrow would be an even bigger day, and she needed her rest.

The toll of doing business and trying to keep up with his schedule had caught up with her. He leaned closer and kissed the end of her nose. She'd supported him, not only emotionally, but would rub his back and pamper him when he dragged himself inside the hotel every evening.

He picked her up, groaning when his shoulder protested the movement. Today's runs had gone smoothly, and the only thing he could think of that would be causing his shoulder to act up was the stress he was under, the constant tension. Nothing that a little ice wouldn't help, but it gave him one more thing to worry about.

Dana snuggled her face against the crook of his neck. His whole body calmed and today slipped away. This was where he wanted to be. Right here. Holding his wife.

He laid her in the bed, kissed her nose, and walked back out into the kitchen. He put some ice in a Ziploc bag, and returned to the bedroom. Too tired to strip out of his clothes, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed on the bed, laying the cold pack on his shoulder.

Dana rolled over and threw her arm across his middle. He stroked her hair as he closed his eyes. His life had changed directions when she told him she was leaving. He'd panicked, thinking she'd walk away from him and he'd never see her again.

He'd used the only excuse he had to make sure she came to Germany. Her commitment to her father and the Reese Company never wavered during their time together. Her own life in turmoil, she always put her commitments and responsibilities first. He relied on that redeeming quality of Dana's to buy himself more time with her.

A month spent together wasn't enough time to fall in love. That was what he'd told himself whenever he started to let himself think of her more than a temporary wife. He even had himself convinced that what they were experiencing was a flirtationship.

But the threat of losing her scared him to death. He was no longer fooling around. He'd fallen in love somewhere between her wearing his sweatshirt and her failed attempt to seduce him with the worst toddies he'd ever had. And, because Dana had made them, he'd drunk the whole thing just so she'd smile.

Tomorrow, he'd let her know that he was in love with her.

He yawned. Tomorrow, he'd do things the right way. The way Dana deserved, and needed. Then when the Olympics ended and he stood upon the gold medalist platform, Dana would be his wife in the true sense of the matter. And only then would he achieve
his
dream.

The phone rang. Juan jolted awake and looked at the clock.
Shit.

He'd slept the whole night.

Dana removed her leg from over his. He hardened, wanting the time to make love to her and knowing he couldn't. His second event was today. If he nailed his scores, he'd seal his spot on a platform. If he screwed up, he'd have to fight for his life in the final event and there was always a chance that one of the other guys would have three average runs, pushing him out of his position.

“What time is it?” Dana snuggled down into the covers.

“Five in the morning.” He rolled out of bed and stood. “I feel like I could sleep all day.”

“Jet lag.” She lifted her head. “And maybe that whole thing about you kicking ass on the slopes in the freaking Olympics.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that might have something to do with being tired.”

“Smart and sexy.” She stretched and rolled onto her back. “No wonder women throw themselves at you. They see the perfect man who can charm, ski like a boss, and can bring them a secure life if they rope the Olympian. You're the whole package and you come with your own poles … and goggles.”

He stilled. “Goggles are important?”

“They are when they come from the Reese Company,” she said, pulling the blanket up. “God, it's cold in here.”

He groaned and looked at her. Rumpled, her hair spread over the surface of the pillow, she presented a temptation he wasn't sure if he could walk away from, even when the gold was at stake. He wanted to crawl under the covers with her, and warm her up.

He ran his hands over his face. “I need to get downstairs for a press conference, but it shouldn't last very long. Then I'll be able to come back and spend an hour or so with you before I have to prep for today's event.”

“Don't worry about that, I'm going to be busy myself.” Dana slid out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her body, despite being fully clothed. “I'm going to grab a hot shower. I have two meetings this morning. You can come back and have the suite to yourself and rest. It's important that you catch as many catnaps as you can to gather your energy. You wouldn't want to wear yourself out.”

“Hey.” He tagged her waist and dragged her back against him. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” She pulled away from him. “Just trying to get business done before I go watch your second event.”

“You're sure?” He studied her. “You seem kind of distant.”

She shrugged. “I told you, we're suffering from jet lag. I crashed last night. It makes me feel disconnected and groggy.”

He cupped her face. “I don't like you not feeling well. Can I get you a couple Tylenol or a coffee?”

“No, but thanks.” Her smile never reached her eyes and she patted his chest. “I better get ready.”

She'd snubbed him. He walked around the bedroom, not understanding what had happened. It was as if Germany had invaded their lives, and Dana now avoided any form of intimacy with him. Hell, she hadn't even spoken to him about how he'd done yesterday or pointed out anything that would help him in the next event like she usually did. When he'd finally worked his way over to where he knew Bruce and Crista were standing with her yesterday, Dana had left.

Yet she told him how perfect and smart and sexy he was? He shook his head. Now that he thought about it, she wasn't teasing him the way she usually did. She was serious. He let his chin drop to his chest and he stared at the bedspread falling off the bed. She'd turned his talent into an insult. He wasn't a sex object.

Dana came back out of the bathroom. “I forgot, but your mom wanted me to tell you she loves you and she's crossing her fingers and toes for you.”

He scratched his chest. “I was busy yesterday and meant to find her and Maria. I told them they'd be better to watch from home, but Mom was determined to come and support me.”

Dana frowned. “She's proud of you. It's important to her to be here and show the world her support. You can't deny her that.”