Playing for Hearts (64 page)

She'd even second-guessed her stupid life schedule, and had decided to throw away her pre-conceived idea to follow a timeline for Juan's much more spontaneous life.

“I loved him,” she whispered. “For the first time in my life, I wanted him more than anything else.”

Crista held her hand. “What makes you think he doesn't have the same feelings?”

“I just do.” She handed Bruce her empty glass. “Would you mind if I had a little more?”

Bruce glanced at Crista, who shrugged. “Sure. I'll be right back.”

Once Bruce left the room, Dana turned to Crista. “I know you're friends with Juan, but as a woman, please understand I'm not going to hurt him. I just need to leave.”

“But what happened?” Crista frowned.

“Amante Español happened,” she said.

“No … ” Crista slouched on the couch. “He wouldn't.”

“He totally did. I saw them.” A shiver crawled up her spine. “She was in
my
bed, on
my
pillow, with
my
husband.”

“I'll kill him,” Crista muttered.

Calmer and stronger, Dana patted Crista's leg. “Let him finish the Olympics, and then you can do whatever you want to him. I'm done. I can't keep doing this.”

Bruce returned with two glasses and passed one to Crista too, who readily shot all of hers down in one swallow before turning to Bruce. “Men are assholes.”

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Then you're really going to be pissed when you find out I called — ”

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. Juan stood in the room, shirtless, frazzled, and staring intently at Dana.

Without missing a beat, Dana chugged her second glass of vodka back in one shot. Maybe he'd disappear and she wouldn't feel like rushing into his arms and begging him to take her back.

“Come on, we're going to our room and talking.” Juan marched toward her.

“No thanks.” She eyed the empty glass and frowned. “I've overstayed my month, our fake marriage is over. So is our flirtationship.”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Oh, shit,” Crista whispered, shaking her head.

Dana, for the first time since they'd started the stupid charade to fool everyone, felt like talking. “It all started when I got stood up at the altar by a guy named Jace. Totally screwed up my life schedule. I was devastated … and pissed. Juan showed up and helped me strip out of my wedding dress — God, such a waste. It was beautiful and lacy with a deep scoop, baring my back. My dream dress — and then I used my mouth on his zipper, and … ”

She smiled as she kept talking. It really was an interesting story when she thought about it. She looked around the room, blinking to stop the room from spinning. Crista and Bruce stared at her in fascination. Juan glared at her. Determined to come clean, she continued.

She wasn't aware of when she stopped talking and Juan started. His voice lulled her into a comfortable place, and Bruce's couch was really cushy. She closed her eyes and listened.

Juan paced the room, ignoring the time. In a half hour, he was supposed to be at a team meeting to pick up his time slot for tonight. Then he was to go immediately to the slope for the second of three events. By the end of tonight, he'd know the outcome of where he placed.

“She's waking up,” Crista whispered.

Juan rushed to the couch. Dana yawned, looking around the room.

No matter how many times he'd ordered everyone to leave, his friends and family had set up camp, determined to help. He wanted no one's help. He wanted his wife to believe him, and look at him as if he could do no wrong.

Earlier in Bruce's room, he'd relayed the story of the woman in the bed until he couldn't think of another thing to say and when he was done, Dana was conked out on the couch oblivious to what really happened. Damn Bruce for thinking a drink would fix Dana's problem.

Like vodka would straighten out his life, and get his wife back. She couldn't even handle a hot toddy — of course two cups of vodka on top of jet lag would put her right to sleep.

“Babe?” He sat on the coffee table and stroked Dana's arm. “Can you wake up, and listen?”

She blinked at him. He saw the moment everything came back to her, because she moved fast to get off the couch and away from him. He held her in place.

“Listen to me for a second. It's time for me to leave, but that woman … I don't know who she was.” Juan brought her face around when she looked away. “I was in the bathroom, going to jump in the shower, and I heard the door open. I thought it was you. I hurried to finish washing, because I wanted to talk to you and find out what was going through your head the last several days. But when I went into the bedroom, I found the woman in our bed. You came in right afterward. Nothing happened,” he said.

Dana stared at him. “I have a headache.”

“Yeah. I bet you do. You can thank Bruce for that.” He scowled at Bruce. “I talked with security while you were sleeping. They're going to put a security guard at the elevators, and make sure nobody without a pass makes it past the lobby. That should've been done to start with, but there will be no more fans allowed onto the upper floors without approval.”

Dana frowned. “You really didn't know her?”

“Hell, no. You know me, babe. Have I given you one reason to doubt that I'm with you?” He moved over and sat beside her on the couch.

“No, but you are Amante Español. Women throw themselves at you. Like the woman after your event that kissed you. You never stopped her.” She lifted her head at his mom's gasp. “Oh God, I told everyone what happened between us, didn't I?”

“Look at me.” He hooked her neck and brought her eyes around to him. “I'm your Amante Español. Only yours.”

Her chin trembled. “Everyone knows we're not … we aren't … that it's all fake.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and chuckled softly. “Yeah.”

“I probably shouldn't have done that,” she whispered.

“It's okay. Bruce was the only one who hadn't heard. I'd already confessed to Mom and Maria. Crista knew from the start.” he said.

She pulled back. “What? But they were so nice to me.”

“They love you.” He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry you had to come in our room and see that woman. I'd never bring someone to our room. I hope you know that.”

She nodded. “I feel better knowing you weren't sneaking her by me when you knew I was working.”

“Never,” he said.

“I'm sorry I told everyone the truth.” She kissed him softly. “Today sucks.”

“Yeah, it does, but it's over. Right?” He waited for her to nod and kissed her again. “I hate to do this, but I need to leave. Will you be able to come to the second event?”

“Yeah.” She inhaled deeply. “You better go.”

He studied her, not wanting to leave. “Are we good?”

She nodded.

He whispered, “Promise?”

“Promise,” she whispered back.

Dana seemed shaky, as if what he said wasn't soaking in. He stood, kissed his mom, and walked out of the hotel. He needed time for just Dana and him, and between now and the end of the games, he barely had time to eat, much less tell her he loved her in a way she'd remember for the rest of her life.

The next hour, he went from meeting to meeting, and finally he suited up for the second event. In the dressing room, he called Dana. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Better. Your mom, sister, and Crista made me eat, and that helped.” She paused. “Are you nervous?”

“Not anymore.” He lowered his voice. “You're going to watch me ski, right?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Okay,” he said on an exhale. “I better get ready.”

“Juan, wait … ”

“Yeah?” He dropped his chin to his chest.

“Good luck,” she said.

He smiled. “Thanks.”

He disconnected the call. Feeling more positive that he managed to buy himself more time, he dressed in his Reese gear, and followed his manager outside to a waiting car, which would drive him five hundred yards to where he'd ride the chair up the mountainside.

The routine never changed, whether it was practice or the Olympics. He used the interval to meditate, to clear his mind, and relax all his muscles. He focused on the jump, imagining the entire run repeatedly in his mind until he could see how it'd turn out.

He rode the chair up the slope by himself, preferring solitude to a pep talk from his trainer. Today, he needed to put his mind at ease after a day of total chaos and facing his greatest fear.

He searched the crowd for Dana. She always wore her bright pink down jacket with the fur-lined hood covering her hair. Every time she wore the coat, he wanted grab hold of her and kiss her. He warmed. God, she was beautiful.

Just looking at her kept him satisfied, and he wanted to spend the remainder of his days gazing at her. The way she wrinkled her nose when she was irritated, or the way her eyes widened when she tried to hide her reaction when he touched her. He doubted he'd ever get bored spending the rest of his life with her. She simply fascinated him.

It'd killed him to see the hurt and disappointment on her face when she spotted the woman in their room. Who he was and what he did for a living had put her in that situation, and he took responsibility. He should've foreseen something like this happening, and made sure the hotel was secure enough to protect her.

He'd changed since he'd met her.

At the beginning of their plan to fool the coaches and the board into believing he'd given up his playboy lifestyle for married life, he thought he'd miss the women, the parties, and the attention. He hadn't. Not one tiny bit.

Despite the rumors, he was selective in his bed partners. He enjoyed a good time, but he preferred to know who he was sleeping with when he did decide to have sex.

The lift came to the end and began to loop, and he slid off the chair. Coach Lindhurst waited for him. He skied over to the waiting area.

“You're first up.” Coach tapped his clipboard. “You've got the prime, headlining spot tonight to come in and win this thing. All you need to do is give a steady jump. Don't risk anything, because we can throw this score out. Make a solid landing, and you're in perfect position to bring home the gold.”

“Got it,” he said.

Coach slapped him on the back. “Focus.”

“Right.” He pushed away, and raised his arms above his head to stretch.

Keeping his muscles warm and loose, he jumped in place on his skis, constantly moving, and keeping his body ready. He ignored the other men coming up the lift. He'd ski, finish, and make his exit. No one expected him to wait around in the cold for the others to take their turn.

He had no desire to know where he placed. One of the coaches always called and kept him abreast of the results.

For him, skiing was an individual sport. He supported and cheered his teammates from the U.S. on, but when the scores came in, it was him against the clock. Exactly how he preferred it.

“Santiago to the platform,” the announcer spoke over the speaker.

He skied over to the gate, and nodded at the guy manning the entrance. In precise steps, he climbed the platform and stood behind the flyaway gate that was remotely controlled by the clock. He rolled his head to each shoulder, loosening his neck muscles.

Then he studied the ramp. The first event on a clean surface came with advantages. He had a smooth entrance and he'd gain speed faster. But there was always the worry that his foot would slide. Because the other skiers' markings were absent, he could easily misjudge the jump point. Too early, and he wouldn't gain enough height. Too late, and he'd shoot too far.

He had to leave the ramp at the perfect spot, timing everything to the perfect dismount or risk injury to himself. He'd be lucky to walk away with a low score. Alpine skiing was an unforgiving sport. Precision meant everything.

Unaware that he'd even been looking, he spotted a pink splash among the red, white, and blue below the landing on the other side of the fence. Adrenaline fueled him and he knew without a doubt Dana had come to watch the way she'd promised.

He let his poles hang from his wrists, grabbed the railing, and slid back and forth, tracking the snow pack to give him enough traction and side support to push off. Once his tips tilted, he was on his own.

“Thirty seconds,” the loudspeaker said.

He gripped the handles of his poles held them in front of him, points back, and forced himself to look away from Dana and eye the ramp. He would look neither down nor up, but straight ahead. From here on, his eyes stayed in front of him.

“Ten seconds. Set.”

He crouched. His heart raced, but his muscles stayed loose. He'd done this a million times. It was time to fly.

The crowd was bigger, louder, and more tense than the last time Dana had stood at the fence, but she came prepared. The hot coffee in her gloved hands kept her warmer. The fact that Crista and Bruce acted as if she hadn't had a meltdown earlier or duped them into believing she was married for real helped her feel better.

She believed Juan was innocent, and he hadn't taken the woman to their room. The security guard promising to keep their suite safe enforced the emotional toll Juan went through when fans went to great depth to meet him. She wasn't the only one who'd been compromised. But Juan had come after her, and given her hope.

She'd heard something in his voice that made her believe there was something more he wanted to tell her. For that reason alone, she'd concluded that she had to tell him the truth the moment they both had time to talk more than five minutes.

She loved him.

Today was one of the worst days of her life. To believe, even for a short period, that Juan could forget about her so easily hurt. She didn't want to go on with her life wondering if things would end differently if she'd confessed to having fallen in love with him.