Whispers on the Ice by Elizabeth Moynihan

Whittaker stated, as they watched training films of World and Olympic champions Gordeeva and Grinkov in a small room off the main office. “Watch where he places his hands, the position of his hips and legs as he lifts her. It doesn’t get any better than that,” he murmured, shaking his head in both wonder and sadness at the loss of such a great skater. “Makes you wonder what God’s got in mind when he calls someone that young and talented home.”
    “Don’t go soft on me now, Whittaker. We’ve got a job to do,” Aleksei stated firmly, his eyes never leaving the tape as he watched Sergei Grinkov lift his young, beautiful partner through various lifts and throws, seemingly without effort.
    Jordan watched Aleksei as he absorbed every nuance of the training tapes, mentally and literally taking quickly scribbled notes on a small pad before him, moving his hands as he imagined the positions of the different lifts. Occasionally she would state her opinion regarding a specific hold or difficulties she had experienced on a specific lift or throw. Aleksei would acknowledge her comments, nodding silently, his eyes never leaving the video screen.
    The next day they agreed to try their first lift, a fairly simple platter lift. Aleksei stood facing Jordan, his hands on her waist, listening as Whittaker fired instructions at him.
    “If you’re both ready? On the count of two, Jordan, help him out with a small jump, keep your hands on his shoulders and let him get you up and over his head. You know the drill—but this is for his benefit.”
    Jordan smiled as Aleksei rolled his eyes at Whittaker’s dig and then winked reassuringly at her.
    “One…two…” Whittaker counted off, holding his breath as Aleksei easily lifted Jordan over his head, his elbows locking into position as she arched her back and lifted her legs straight behind her.
    “How’s the leg, Aleksei?” Whittaker asked, noting his sudden shift of weight to his good leg.
    “Nothing I can’t manage,” Aleksei answered tensely, looking up into Jordan’s concerned eyes.
    Jordan’s eyes reflected his pained expression. “Whittaker, get the harness ready.”
    “No!” Aleksei refused, determined not to be the one to hold their progress up. Cautiously, he unlocked his elbows and brought Jordan safely to the ground, walking slowly on his healing leg to stop the muscle spasms that shot shards of pain to his hip. “We already agreed the harness wasn’t for us.”
    “Then we’d better come up with another idea because I won’t have you ruining your leg for the sake of a stinking medal. It’s not worth it as far as I’m concerned,” Jordan stated hotly, flinging her arm at Aleksei as he limped in small circles. “Have we all lost our minds? He’s risking his career for something he didn’t even want and we’re letting him. I can’t believe I ever agreed to this madness.”
    “Nobody forces me to do anything I don’t want to do!” Aleksei growled at Jordan, catching her hand as she tried to stalk past him and pulling her forcefully against his tall, muscular form and holding her arm behind her back to keep her against him when she tried to pull away. “I thought you knew me better than that?” He asked softly, the warmth of his breath stirring the wayward strands of hair at her temples.
    Jordan sighed shakily, her forehead coming to rest against his chest, the blending aromas of his after-shave, the earthy seductiveness of well-warmed muscles through his shirt and the spiciness of his soap making her too aware of him as a man. How could she be so torn between wanting to ravish him and yet protect him as a lioness would her cub? When had she lost sight of the Gold medal she had spent her life reaching for? When had her priorities changed from wanting to be the world’s best to wanting what was best for Aleksei, despite what it could mean to herself? “I’m beginning to think I don’t know much about anything anymore,” Jordan murmured softly,