Reflections

Chapter 1

Who ever had coined the phrase, 'Never work with children or animals!' should have included figure skating superstars in the list!

Roger Moorefield, the owner/manager of one of the most loved, and profitable, professional figure skating shows in the United States, sat between his two highly-paid choreographers and watched the fifteen very highly paid 'Olympic Medal winners' figure skaters turned professional run through their opening number. The thought he would have gotten more pleasure watching his money swirl in tiny circles as he flushed it down the toilet than he was getting watching the fiasco on the ice passed through his mind and he could practically feel the acid in his stomach setting his ulcers dancing!

He'd never seen anything so miserable!

Casting a disgusted look toward the ice, and the professionals before him, he couldn't believe it could get any worse. He was wrong! Right smack dab in front of him, he watched as one of the skaters caught a toe pick, went down hard and before he knew it, half the others had followed suit and there was a pile of bodies on the ice screaming and cursing at each other. There was absolutely nothing like watching a few million dollars worth of prime athletic flesh heaped like discarded chicken fat to make your day complete!

The music came to an abrupt halt, and the screaming on the ice intensified as the finger pointing and assigning blame became louder.

"Care to give me a tally as to how much money we have piled up on the ice right this minute?" Roger growled, looking at each of the choreographers flanking him.

"It's still very early yet. We've got eight weeks before opening night. We'll be ready!" Marcie Reitman chirped optimistically, sending her co-choreographer and partner a look entreating his assistance, pleading for a favorable word that would make the boss happy.

"Marcie's right; we'll be ready. It's just been one of those mornings where no one's feet seem to be under them. Everyone has those days where the smartest thing to do would be to simply stay in bed flat on your back!" Nigel murmured calmly, patting Roger's forearm comfortingly and sending him a condescending smile.

"Do I look like I just fell off a damn turnip truck? They look like shit!" Roger growled, pointing toward the ice and the pile of skaters that were still struggling to untangle themselves and scramble back to their feet.

"It'll come together," Nigel offered again, a bit more enthusiastically.

Roger looked at him in disbelief, and tried to ignore the scattering of glitter that reflected from his cheekbones. Over the years he'd gotten used to men wearing make-up 'on stage'; it still disconcerted him, a bit, when they wore it every day. But that was Nigel; he wasn't happy unless he 'shimmered'. Shaking his head slightly, he once again wondered how he'd ever found himself in the entertainment field. It would have been so much easier being a CPA! It wasn't that he was homophobic, he'd gotten used to the fact that, in the entertainment field, there were those whose ideas about sexuality didn't follow his own. Other than the occasional times when Nigel went out of his way to shock him, just for the hell of it, he didn't have any problems with the man.

And regardless of his sexual preferences, his choreographic skills were not only astonishing; they were legendary! He still considered himself lucky to have stolen him away from the competition when he'd gone hunting for a new choreographer. Casting another derisive eye toward the ice, despite Nigel's beliefs, he had a hard time believing his optimistic words.

Nigel caught his disbelieving look and huffed arrogantly. "Tell you what, Mr. Moorefield. If you're not happy with the way things look in four weeks, you don't have to pay us for the season," he suggested calmly, waving his hand toward his co-choreographer and including her in his offer, before offering his hand to Roger.

Marcie nearly choked at Nigel's words and Roger blinked a bit in surprise but with a slow look of consideration, finally agreed to their bargain and slid his hand into Nigel's, exchanging a firm handshake.

"Four weeks you say?" Roger mumbled, watching as the last of the skaters finally got to their feet again and the cursing and finger pointing continued as they milled around awaiting further instructions.

"Yes and I&ldots;" Marcie coughed to get his attention. If she was in this up to her eyebrows, by God she was going to have a say in things too! "we, get complete creative control and don't have to clear everything through you first," Nigel stated, lifting his chin in challenge as Roger looked like he was about to argue the point, but decided not to.

Roger's gaze became speculative and one finger tapped against his lips as he looked at Nigel in consideration. "Fine, but I still have the ultimate decision making power as to whether or not a program stays or goes. I don't want to find myself getting letters from angry parents because their children were subjected to what they considered tasteless programs!"

Nigel lifted his head arrogantly. "I have never choreographed a 'tasteless program' in my life; I don't intend to start now!"

Roger nodded. "Good, then we understand each other," he murmured agreeably, rising to his feet. With a final painful look at the skaters on the ice, he sent Nigel and Marcie a look of skepticism. "If you can figure out a way to make that motley group of skaters work together, and look good doing it, not only will it be a miracle, it'll get you a guaranteed contract for the next five years and a nice bonus to boot!" he offered temptingly.

For thirty seconds the two watched the group on the ice, their gazes filled with disgust and disbelief at the professionals they saw before them. Eleven year-olds in a beginner's class looked more together than the skaters on the ice did at the moment!

"A guaranteed contract for five years; wouldn't that be nice?" Marcie repeated Roger's parting statement on a wistful sigh, her chin resting in her hands as her elbows rested on her knees.

"Yeah it would! And I don't intend to let it slip through my fingers because of a bunch of prima donnas that can't figure out their right foot from their left! Mount up, Marcie! It's time to kick some ass!" Nigel growled; reaching for the wireless microphone that sat on the seat beside him. A click of the switch had his voice echoing through the huge building and interrupting the tirade on the ice.

"Listen up, boys and girls. As cute as you all looked in a pile on the ice, the boss wasn't too impressed and even I have to admit, I was looking for something with a little more style! So, since you've obviously skimped on your practice time, we're going to start all over. Wipe out whatever you have left in your unused brains pertaining to this number and prepare to work your shapely asses off! I'm giving you one hour to get your feet under you. If you're not ready to skate by then, take yourself off the ice and leave a check for thousand dollars with Marcie. We're working under a penalty clause now! If you're not prepared to skate, you're going to pay for the privilege of being off the ice!"

"Nigel!" Marcie gasped in surprise.

Grumbling and complaining could be heard from the ice, along with comments pertaining to agents, attorneys and asshole choreographers.

"Pissing and moaning and lawsuit grandstanding isn't going to get this show put together in four weeks. You all have signed contracts stating you are being paid to provide a service; namely skating. So far I haven't seen a whole lot of that. And since we're all working under a deadline&ldots;"

"Which you just shortened by four weeks!" one of the skaters yelled out.

"Shit happens; deal with it!" Nigel argued flatly, sending the skater a looked that dared him to make any further comments. Receiving none, he continued. "Since this deadline has been moved up it means we're going to be spending more time on the ice and less time swirling it around in a highball glass!"

Some knowing laughter and accusing glances ensued. It was no secret there were some heavy partiers in the group.

"And with the additional practices, and rehearsals, I suggest you accustom yourselves to my sleeping schedule, because I can assure you, if I'm not sleeping, none of you will be sleeping either!"

"This isn't fair!" someone yelled from the ice.

"Yeah, I know, life sucks and then you die!"

"How much of the choreography we've already set will stay?" Another skater asked.

"It's hard to say. We might be able to salvage some of it, but we're going with a new idea - a new theme," Nigel stated.

Grumbling rumbled across the ice.

"What new theme?"

Marcie looked at Nigel, her eyebrows lifting questioningly. "Yeah, Nigel, what new theme?" she asked in a frustrated whisper.

"Reflections," he stated calmly. "We're going to skate the reflections of life: passion, hate, joy, love, sorrow, etc. There's plenty to choose from!"

Marcie's eyes began to sparkle as all the creative possibilities started to spin through her brain. "I like it," she murmured and sent Nigel a wide smile.

Nigel winked at her. "I thought you might," he countered her softly, his hand covering the microphone as he spoke to her, before bringing the mic back up to his mouth. "We're going to show the world our souls, boys and girls. And we're going to start in an hour, so don't waste your time or mine!"

More mutinous sounds erupted from the ice.

"One hour boys and girls. Be there or have a check for a thousand bucks for the kitty!" Nigel repeated, and clicking off the microphone, pulled Marcie to her feet and headed up the steep stairs, talking as they went.

"I am not girl nor boy; I am man! How can he say I am boy when he wears sparkles like girl?" Nicholai Fedorov growled, watching the two choreographers disappear into the darkness high above the ice.

Yuri looked at the huge man beside him, dressed in snug black pants and a black T-shirt that did nothing to hide, but instead, emphasized his muscular physique, and calmly offered, "I don't believe he was speaking to you directly, Nicholai, but rather to all of us in general."

Nicholai brushed aside his friend's remark with a harsh comment, in Russian, about the now absent choreographer's heritage, and found his friend's eyes widening in surprise as he cast a speculative look his way.

 Nicholai Fedorov was the most emotionally controlled man Yuri had ever met, let alone come to know. Why the man was practically a statue when it came to showing emotions - except when he was on the ice. Then the passion for the sport he loved that raged through his blood showed through clearly and left people breathless as they witnessed the perfect blending of power, grace and speed that had been honed over his lifetime and left him a skating icon at the age of twenty-six.

"You complain like an old man, my friend," Yuri teased his friend, his blue eyes gleaming wickedly.

"And you look like a boy hoping to become a man one day," Nicholai countered, sending Yuri a taunting look that took in his slim, much less developed body, but did nothing but make him laugh.

Spreading his arms wide, Yuri simply shrugged his narrow shoulders and laughed, "Not all of us are meant to be imposing. Some of us must use finesse, instead of brute strength, to survive the idiocy of youth!"

"Then 'tis good you have over abundance of finesse!" Nicholai taunted him in Russian.

Yuri nodded in agreement and added in his native language, "That I do. Of course, 'tis also good to have friends who have an over abundance of brute strength!"

Nicholai couldn't help himself, and the deep laugh that escaped his broad chest echoed across the arena had several of the other skaters looking his way curiously.

It wasn't often Nicholai Fedorov laughed.

But the laughter didn't last long before Nicholai was back to scowling. "The others, they look at me as if I am ogre," he mumbled, his dark look sending the others eyes skittering away in uncertainty.

Yuri looked at the other skaters who suddenly seemed extraordinarily busy avoiding Nicholai's attention, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps if you did not act like an ogre, they would not look at you so," he suggested calmly.

Nicholai lifted his chin imperiously, looked down his nose at his good friend, and stated flatly, "I do not act like ogre!"

Yuri's snort of disagreement had Nicholai's eyes flashing hotly. "Pardon me, you are right, you don't act like an ogre. You only look like one when you're scowling and arrogant and thinking about throwing a tantrum!"

Nicholai's eyebrows lifted in astonishment. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Granted, he could be demanding, condescending, and arrogant occasionally; but then who wasn't - occasionally. But he had never thrown a tantrum! "I do not have tantrums!" he growled dangerously.

Yuri looked unconcerned at his friends growing temper and once again shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Oh, that's right. In America, they call them 'creative disagreements'," he stated drolly.

"Is it wrong to uphold my standards? I will not skate less than perfect programs. I will not let skate less than I can!" One of Nicholai's hands splayed across his heart. "I will not skate programs that are drivel and passionless. If I cannot feel them in my heart and soul, I will not waste my time with them!"

"I understand, my friend. But few skaters hold the same values, regarding skating, that you do." Yuri's hand waved toward the small gathering of skaters that were still complaining. "Most of the skaters on this ice are here for the money. They have proven all they need to prove to themselves and the world. They have won their medals, and now their only expression of success is money. Face it, my friend, when everything is said and done, and it comes right down to it, it's all about the money!"

"Not with me; never with me!" Nicholai's dark brown eyes speared his friend's. "Nor with you!"

"You are right, but we are but two of the few who feel that way." Yuri stated quietly. It saddened him to acknowledge so many of skatings' best athletes let their talents fade away to former shells of greatness. Grace and style and silent edges were becoming a thing of the past; replaced by sheer athleticism and fancy tricks that often tore a skater's body apart years too soon. Surely there had to be a happy medium ground where skating didn't have to be about quads and death defying lifts and throws. Surely there was room in the sport for style and finesse and the ability to inspire emotion on edges that were pure and didn't require one risking their very life!

Nicholai shook his head sadly. "Is there no one that feels passion in their soul when they skate? Is there no one willing to push the limits of their body, their skill; to fly in a way they never have before?"

A flash of movement, in solid black, whizzed passed the two men. The woman moved nearly soundlessly, drawing their attention to her perfect skating form. "She does." Yuri stated succinctly, nodding toward the quickly retreating form of Madison St. Austin.

Nicholai's scowl said he disagreed with his friend's comment. "She is but a child."

"Look again, Nicholai, and this time forget she's American. Believe it or not, nationalities other than Russian can skate!" Yuri suggested truthfully, and with a final nod for emphasis, left his friend's side and began his own warm-up.

Nicholai watched the girl as she moved, and silently admitted his friend might be partially correct, she covered the ice almost silently, her strokes picture perfect, her long legs eating up the ice. "'Believe it or not, nationalities other than Russian can skate,'" Nicholai grumbled in Russian, mimicking his friend, and sent hostile looks to all who came within eye range of him. Within seconds, he found himself alone on one end of the ice, and watching as all the other skaters began to practice their moves on the opposite side of the ice from him - all but one.

In surprise, Nicholai watched as the skater circled the far end of the ice, and skated back his way, sliding to a stop, nearly soundlessly, only a few yards away from him. With a defiant lift of her chin, she challenged him to say a word about her being on his ice, despite the fact his arrogant stance made him look as if he owned it!

Nicholai simply lifted one eyebrow and allowed his gaze to sweep over her arrogantly. Yuri was right. She was no child! Her skin looked as soft as satin and as pale as thick cream, her high cheekbones, flushed and rosy from her exertions. She had large eyes, the color of deep chocolate and fringed with impossibly long lashes, which she kept casting cautiously his way. Her lips, full and only hinting of what might have once been covered in a soft peach colored gloss, now looked swollen as if they'd recently been ravished in a passionate kiss or simply been nervously chewed on. He hazarded a guess it was the latter versus the former. It was a mouth that had him wondering how soft her full lips would feel beneath his own; what she would taste of if he sank his tongue deep into the warmth of her mouth, and a jolt of fire raced through his body at the thought.

The sudden fire that lit his eyes had her breath catching and her lips parting slightly as she tried to ignore his eyes on her mouth, and the wicked look in his eyes, as her breathing began to return to normal. How could the man steal her breath away with a simple look? Not a word had ever passed between them. And other than the expected polite nods, or brief meeting of eyes, as they worked on the ice or happened to pass in hallways, they were still strangers. And yet, today, a single heated look from him had her breath being stolen away. Why were things any different between them today than they had been six weeks ago when the entire cast was introduced to each other and finally took to the ice together? Why did testosterone practically ooze from the man today when she'd paid him no attention before? And how long could she control the urge to run her fingers over his gorgeous shoulders and muscular arms that was practically overwhelming her? So many questions, and what was worse, his eyes seemed to mock her. He knew how she felt; she could see it in his smoldering eyes.

She wanted to smack his smug face! Instead, she stated coldly, "It's impolite to stare!" and sent him, what she hoped, was her best 'Stay away from me or die!' frosty look.

He was neither impressed, nor concerned by her warning, and couldn't help the knowing smile that curved his full lips as he took in her rapidly rising and falling breasts as her breathing became shallow and her eyes glazed slightly. She obviously wasn't as unaffected by his presence as he'd originally thought and his arrogance reasserted itself. Splaying his hands in supplication, he shook his head back and forth, his voice was soft, seductive. "Prasteetye. Ya nee paneemayoo."

She looked at him with wide eyes, not having understood a single word.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand," he murmured in his native tongue. He did of course, perfectly, but for some reason he couldn't name, for the time being, he didn't want her knowing just how much English he did understand.

 The look she gave him was skeptical at best, and her brow furrowed as she turned her back on him and began to stretch carefully, doing her best to ignore him.

In silent appreciation he watched her as she stretched her body, and practiced moves in what appeared to be effortless grace. Tiny tendrils of auburn hair had escaped her French braid, and teased her damp forehead and temples, and were another indicator of her work ethic. While others had been standing in one spot complaining, she'd been constantly moving, keeping her muscles warm and limber, which brought his eyes to her lovely body. Small feet covered in immaculately kept boots lead to gloriously long, beautifully shaped legs that melted into a curvaceous bottom that had his hands itching to touch the tempting flesh. Her hips were narrow, yet shapely, and blended into a tiny waist that seemed to make her ample breasts look even more bountiful. With a tiny frown, he felt his body respond to what his eyes saw and with a growl of frustration, began to skate small warm-up circles.

He didn't like the emotions she made him feel, didn't like the fact his heart was suddenly making his brain stop and wonder if everything his grandfather had drilled into him for so many years was true.

'Americans are evil; they cannot be trusted. They will lie, cheat and steal to win. They have no ethics or morals, and will happily use you and then discard you when they have stolen every ounce of your being. Beware the Americans, Nicholai. They are monsters bent on changing Russians into malleable allies. They will destroy you and never look back!' How often had he heard his grandfather mutter those words? How many times had he listened as his grandfather blamed the Americans for losing his only son, and Nicholai's father, to the wiles of an American skater? How many times had he cursed his son's foolishness and stupidity for turning his back on his mother country, and even going so far as to marry an American woman, only to be lost in an automobile accident? Nicholai had been too young to remember his father, although looking at old pictures, it was clear to see he'd taken after his father in physical appearance. As for his mother? There were no pictures to signify she had ever even existed. Dying shortly after his birth, he had had only his father, and grandfather, to rely upon. When his father had become 'bewitched by the American', as his grandfather constantly reminded him, he had been barely a year old, and had thought it better to leave him home with his grandfather, than traipse about the world with an infant in tow. A world class gymnast, having just won Olympic Gold, he had been touring with a group of elite athletes when the accident had occurred. It had been a sad day for the world when eleven of the best gymnasts in the world had died inside the tour bus they had been traveling in. Who could have ever imagined a freak icestorm could possible occur in April? But it had, and the bus had crashed through the guardrail, rolled down a mountainous incline, and into the river below. Nicholai's father had been thrown from the vehicle. His 'American wife's' body had never been recovered.

It was that day Nicholai's grandfather truly came to hate American's and passed on that hatred to his grandson!

Madison watched the man silently and didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until it had slowly hissed through her teeth as he'd skated away! As much as she hated to admit it, this was the same damn reaction she'd had to him when she'd seen him for the first time six weeks ago, and wondered how she'd managed to keep her physical reaction to him to herself. If anyone had been able to sneak a peek into her imagination, they would have been shocked to see the images that swirled sensuously through Madison's mind, so much for the shy, quiet, self-controlled, unassuming little girl who did her best to separate herself from the crowd. In her mind, she wasn't afraid of failure or rejection, but instead a temptress luring a mortal man into sensual delights, and she could just imagine the delights the gorgeous Russian might be willing to share with her. But here, on the harsh, cold reality of the ice, she'd watched as he'd become friendly with two of the other female skaters in the cast and felt her fantasy dissipate like fog on a hot day. Obviously his tastes ran toward the more blatantly sexual, well-endowed personalities of the other girls, and she cast a downward look of disgust at her less-endowed attributes, wondering why she'd been short-changed in that department as well. With a wistful sigh, she watched Nicholai's magnificent form cover the ice; commanding it, and wondered if she would ever be able to watch him without her breath catching in her lungs and her blood boiling in excitement.

"Amazing isn't he?" Anna Marie's sultry voice spoke from over her shoulder and Madison blinked in surprise as she realized she hadn't even heard the other girl approach her, so lost in the mesmerizing effect Nicholai had over her. Casting a quick look over her shoulder, her eyes widened as she took in Anna Marie's even redder-than-normal short hair. The woman loved to be noticed!

Madison shrugged nonchalantly and pulled her mind away from the Russian. "He's an arrogant jerk who thinks he owns the ice. Simply one more male skater who believes he's the best."

Anna Marie's sultry laugh was one that made you immediately think she was laughing at a wickedly delicious joke. "I've got news for you, kiddo, he's not only amazing on the ice, he is truly amazing off it!" she offered, lifting one arched eyebrow and licking her bright red lips as if she'd just tasted something sinfully delicious. "Those magnificent thighs of his are good for more than just skating!" she stated blatantly.

Madison swallowed the automatic response of denial, deciding she didn't want to get into a pissing match with Anna Marie over whether she spoke the truth or was simply making outrageous comments, hoping to get a rise out of Madison and break through her too-controlled demeanor. Madison was a closed book when it came to her emotions, whereas most of the other skaters were out there, in your face, ready to spill their guts at any moment, and frequently did. She was sure it irked them when she wouldn't reciprocate with wild stories of her own when the bragging started. But when one didn't have any wild stories to share, what were you supposed to do, make them up?

"If you say so," Madison countered in a bored tone.

"Don't tell me you don't think the man's gorgeous?" Anna Marie asked in a voice filled with disbelief.

"I didn't say I didn't think he was handsome; obviously he is. But I prefer someone with a bit more depth; someone interested in how I feel and what I think instead of how long it might take to get me out of my clothes and flat on my back!" Madison stated flatly.

"Who said you have be flat on your back or out of your clothes to appreciate a lovely set of thighs?" Anna Marie asked silkily.

"Who indeed?" Madison countered in a sultry whisper of her own, one eyebrow lifting sardonically, her eyes hinting of secrets she was unwilling to share, but silently insinuated.

Anna Marie narrowed her eyes and looked at the other woman skeptically. Madison simply returned her gaze steadily, until without another word, she simply whirled around and skated away in a huff.

Breathing a sigh of relief at having averted a disaster in the making, Madison found her gaze once more mesmerized by Nicholai as he silently moved over the ice. Simply speaking, the man was huge! Broad shouldered and sculpted in muscle, he was built more like a gymnast than a skater, thanks to years of working out with weights and gymnastic equipment. Hair the color of caramel, that waved softly over a perfectly shaped head, only made his blue eyes seem that much bluer, and it was easy to read whatever was going on inside his head by simply looking into them. High cheekbones, that spoke of royal ancestry added arrogance to his look, but it was his mouth that was truly bewitching. Full lips, and naturally straight teeth, he didn't smile often, but when it did, it was truly devastating to female species and rumor had it, his smile had landed more women on their back than anything else. All in all, he was a pure source of devastatingly sexual male, in a body designed to both torment and pleasure women and he knew it.

Thankfully, there had only been a few times she'd found herself close enough to him to have to worry about his overwhelming presence and well known sex appeal. Then, the only thing she'd had to deal with was how much she hated the fact that she had to look up to look into Nicholai's face and shining blue eyes. It's not that she was short, by skating standards she was almost tall, standing close to five foot five in her stocking feet. It's just that Nicholai was six feet tall without his skates! And, he seemed to take great pleasure in looking down his imperial nose at her, standing even taller than usual, broadening his shoulders and making her feel even more dwarfed beside his imposing form. He seemed to get great pleasure out of reminding her of his superiority, even if it was only physical and the very fact he went out of his way to do it when he got the opportunity made her want to scream in frustration. But she refused to allow him even that much insight into her personality and instead, thickened her defensive wall and looked through him as if he wasn't even there.

He hadn't liked it; not even a little bit! His arresting blue eyes had darkened to a deep sapphire blue and clearly told her he was unused to being ignored by a woman. Her cold treatment of him hadn't set well with his ego and so he hadn't approached her again - until today.

And with everything else turned topsy-turvy, this meeting hadn't gone any better than any of the others had. And so the game of cat and mouse continued.

"They cannot do that to us!" André, France's most medaled skater demanded, sending him the darkest scowl he could manage.

American Olympic Gold Medalist, Bradley Jerome, simply laughed at André's attempt to be a tough guy. It was hard to project the image of being a hard ass when you were barely over five feet tall, skinny as a rail and weighed less than a hundred pounds wearing a wet towel! Add to the fact he was wearing what looked suspiciously like blush, and any delusions of macho disappeared immediately. Still, besides being one of the best spinners in the skating world, the kid had a heart of gold, and always had a tacky joke to share with everyone every day! With a consoling pat on his back, he laughed. "Doesn't look that way to me, André! And if I were you, I'd start carrying your Gold Card. No point wearing your hand out writing check after check!"

"I was not the only one to fall!" André argued.

"No, but you were the one to start the whole damn avalanche!" another skater stated, joining the argument.

And so it went, half the skaters arguing over who had caused the predicament they were in and what to do about correcting the situation, while the other half of them busied themselves with the business of skating.

And when Nigel and Marci returned an hour later, three skaters found themselves busy writing checks, pissing and moaning about the unfairness of it all, but scribbling their signatures nonetheless and handing over the penalty fine.

"Thank you all for your contribution," Marcie offered the two men, and one woman skater sweetly, stuffing the checks into her jacket pocket and zipping it closed for good measure. "We'll try this again after lunch!" she stated, ignoring their looks of disbelief.

"After lunch?" one of the men complained.

"That's what I said."

"What if things don't go any better?" another skater asked.

"Then it will cost you another thousand bucks!" Marcie said with an easy shrug of her shoulders.

"This is not fair!" the woman argued.

Marcie sent her a look filled with fire, but countered her calmly. "Neither is wasting our time by showing up on the ice so hung over you can't skate! Get your act together or stay off our ice." Marcie looked at the two men standing silently. "That goes for you two also."

Without another word, she left the three and headed for the ice.

"So, now what?" one of the men asked.

The other two shrugged and cast questioning looks at each other. "I don't know."

Debating whether or not to drown their sorrows in another bottle of Cuervo Gold or head over to the other ice rink and see if they couldn't find their feet, they decided the Cuervo wasn't worth another thousand dollar fine. Maybe, for the time being, it would be better to simply settle for a big patch of ice, instead of little chunks that clinked sweetly in a glass.

Chapter 2

After a brief break for lunch, everyone was back on the ice, even the three who had been earlier banished (and paid for the privilege). Looks of skepticism swept through the milling skaters as Nigel handed out sheets of paper outlining the new format for the show, and Marcie followed behind him with a small paper bag containing scraps of paper with a specific emotion written on each piece. Each skater had to reach in and select the emotion that he or she would have to skate to. In doing it this way, Marcie and Nigel hoped they would alleviate the problem of too many skaters wanting to skate a specific emotion.

Marcie held the bag in front of Anna Marie and watched as she reached in, pulled out her slip of paper and read it, a frown creasing her perfectly shaped eyebrows. "INNOCENCE! How in the hell am I supposed to skate innocence?" she complained, scowling at the raucous comments that were being murmured around her. "Let Madison skate it; I'm sure she could manage it without trying," she stated cattily, sending Madison a challenging look.

"There will be no trading. We're doing it this way specifically so we don't have you all vying for the same thing. We're hoping it might inspire you to do something you've never done before," Marcie explained calmly, stepping up to Madison and holding out the bag for her.

Madison smiled at Marcie and reached into the bag, pulling her own slip of paper free. "HOPE." Madison murmured the word, showing Marcie the slip of paper and watching as she wrote the word down beside her name.

And so it went. Marcie made her way to each of the fifteen skaters, holding the bag as they picked their future programs and jotted down their selection. Ignoring ribald comments, attempts of bribery, and flat out pleading as some of the skaters were less than pleased with their chosen emotion, she finally found herself standing before Nicholai, holding the bag forward and looking up at him expectantly.

A quick look down into the bag showed him there was only one slip of paper left. "Suppose you say what I skate as you must know what has not yet been chosen?" Nicholai suggested in a deep voice.

Marcie lifted the bag a little higher. "It doesn't matter there is only one piece of paper left. You will pick, as everyone else has, as a show of unity."

Nicholai frowned but did as she requested, pulling the last piece of paper from the bag and looking at it. "PASSION." Nicholai spoke the single word in such a manner that every girl on the ice found herself holding her breath, Marcie included.

"Thank you." Marcie squeaked, and wrote the word down beside his name.

Nigel sent his partner a look of bemusement and clapped his hands together to gain the skaters' attention. "Now that everyone has been assigned their emotion, I want you to each start thinking about music that will best depict your particular choice."

"We didn't get a choice," one skater complained.

Nigel calmly speared the skater with a dark look and continued. "We are hoping you will assist us in finding the music you wish to skate your program to and also hope you will take the program seriously and not waste our time listening to inappropriate choices."

"Inappropriate according to whom?" someone else called out.

Nigel ignored the comment. "You will have twenty-four hours to make your selection. If you haven't found something the three of us can agree on, a choice will be made for you," he stated firmly, including Marcie in the 'us'.

More grumbling ensued, but only from a very few. The rest of the company nodded in silent agreement.

With a final call for questions, clarifications and comments, his eyebrows lifted in surprise at the lack of response and he dismissed the company with a brief, "Good luck. I'll see you all back here at seven tomorrow morning."

Marcie and Nigel watched the skaters make their way off the ice and sent each other quizzical looks.

"No questions or comments? This is either very good or very bad!" Marcie suggested in warning.

Nigel's shoulders simply lifted in a small shrug. "We'll have our answer in twenty four hours. In the meantime, we'd better have some choices of music set aside in the event someone can't decide on a piece of music to use that I can live with."

* * * * *

 With the exception of one skater, whose taste in music had always been questionable, the other fourteen skaters had found their music within the allotted timetable and choreography had already begun. Under the new format, some of the skaters found themselves leery to have their new programs viewed by the others until it had been set, and practiced until it felt comfortable to them. Needless to say, this particular attitude had made scheduling ice time a nightmare. Granted there were those skaters who preferred to sleep in in the morning, thus freeing up the ice for those skaters who didn't want to skate late at night.

For the moment, the opening and closing numbers hadn't been choreographed, but Nigel and Marcie weren't too worried about it. Once they had the solo numbers set, they'd feel much better. After all, the clock was ticking and despite the occasional tantrum, the skaters had basically fallen into line and considering they for the most part only saw each other in passing, personal altercations had become minimal.

All in all, Marcie and Nigel couldn't have been happier with the way things were shaping up. Granted, they were putting in long hours, but knowing that the impetuous agreement Nigel had made with Roger might actually pan out, had the tension level lessening and the pair of choreographers actually believing they might pull it off.

Time was of the essence and so when Marcie called Nigel at four forty-five in the morning from the ice rink, demanding his presence, he pissed and moaned about the hour but still hurried from the hotel.

Twenty minutes later was sitting beside her, twelve rows up from the ice, watching as Madison worked on her program. "Marcie, do you know what time it is?" Nigel growled, not even attempting to stifle the huge yawn as he rubbed his eyes. He'd been up until after midnight the night before working with one of the pair teams.

"Too damn early, but I wanted you to see this," Marcie stated excitedly, never taking her eyes off the skater on the ice. "I've never seen her skate like this; not even when she won her gold medal!"

Nigel's blurry eyes followed Madison as she silently worked her way through her program, her CD player anchored at her waist, her headphones sending her the music she skated to, leaving the building blessedly silent but for the soft whisper of her blades against the ice. For a few moments he watched her, once again impressed by her edging. It wasn't often you found an American skater with silent edges. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she threw a triple axel as if it was nothing and continued her program with a casualness that had him sitting forward in his seat. "Where'd that come from?"

Marcie simply smiled at him secretively. "Keep watching."

Nigel was mesmerized by Madison's program, silent though it was, and found himself holding his breath as he watched her complete jump after jump, seemingly effortlessly, and slid into layback spins and spirals as if they were nothing more than a leisurely stroll in the park. Even after she slid into her closing position, and turned to look up at Marcie, she didn't look winded at all, even though Nigel felt his own blood racing.

"What do you think?" Madison called from the ice, a little surprised to see Nigel sitting beside her. It was common knowledge Nigel had the night shift, at least that had been the original plan. To see him here now so early was a little disconcerting. She tried not to show the apprehension that immediately filled her at his presence.

"Can I see it with the music?" Nigel asked Marcie quietly. Even from twelve rows up he could see her body language indicating she was uncomfortable with his being there.

"I'd like to see it with the music. Can you be ready to run through it again in five minutes?" Marcie called back.

Madison's fingers fidgeted and she had to remind herself not to chew on her lip in nervousness. "I can run through it again right now," Madison called back.

"No, take five minutes and relax," Marcie countered. "You've been working since three thirty. Go get a drink of water."

Less than thrilled, she did as she was bid but wasn't happy about it. The man just made her so nervous!

Nigel watched her leave the ice and frowned at her obvious nervousness. "She's been here since three thirty?" He asked in disbelief. He couldn't be certain but he thought her scheduled ice time began at four thirty.

Marcie nodded. "I couldn't believe it when I came in at four thinking I'd get an early start on her choreography. We were almost half way through already, but there she was, skating through the entire program."

"She'd finished choreographing it herself?"

Again Marcie nodded. "She said she just skated what the music made her feel." Marcie stopped Nigel before he could comment. "I know, I know; this keeps up, she'll be doing the choreography for the show and we'll be looking for work."

"The program looks amazing without music; I'm almost afraid to see it with music. I don't know if I can deal with this much excitement so early in the morning."

"Well, I'd suggest you hang on, because what you're about to see is going to blow you away!"

Madison took one last sip of water from the drinking fountain, placed her hands flat on the wall above it and dropped her chin to her chest, breathing deeply and trying to stem the desire to run out of the arena. Five thirty in the morning was too early to be dealing with nerves run amuck. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was about Nigel that put her on edge; perhaps the desire to be perfect for yet one more person, but she didn't feel that way with Marcie. Regardless, she now had to perform her program for the two, and surely he would see the shoddy choreography she'd put together and scream the roof down around her ears. Whatever had made her think she could finish choreographing her program herself? These people were paid big bucks to do it because they knew what they were doing. She had simply skated what she felt and Marcie had told her to keep it. For the hundredth time she chastised her foolishness at even attempting such a fete. Now she could go out and completely embarrass herself in front of him. Surely he'd fire her on the spot!

With a final deep breath, she pushed away from the wall, turned to head back toward the ice, and found herself looking at the wide, muscular chest of the man who haunted her dreams. Nicholai stood before her, yet again dressed in black, and looking like he'd just slipped from bed, his hair slightly tussled, his blue eyes sleepy and sexy.

In shock and surprise, she backed away from him, and bumped into the water fountain, only to find herself ricocheting off the corner and falling as her blades tangled in the rubber mat. Strong hands kept her from hitting the floor and foreign words spoken in a deep voice reached her ears as he righted her and looked down at her inquiringly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled haltingly. Quick, hesitant glances were cast upward but refused to meet his eyes fully. "Excuse me," she finally murmured, then scurried away without another word.

"Have you made it your life's goal to terrorize the angel?" Yuri asked his friend, having seen her flight from Nicholai as he made his way toward him.

Nicholai's eyebrows lifted questioningly. "Angel? How can you call her such?"

"You haven't seen her skate," Yuri stated.

Nicholai's eyebrows narrowed into a confused frown. "How can you say that when you know it's not true? I have seen her skate many times," he countered in Russian, clearly baffled by his friend's comment.

"That is true; you have seen her skate many times. But have you ever truly watched her?" Yuri asked.

Nicholai's broad shoulders lifted in a small, shrug, clearly not following his friend's explanation. "You make no sense."

Yuri growled in what could only be called a sound of exasperation. "When you have seen her skate, what do you see?"

Nicholai looked at his friend, thoroughly baffled, and spread his hands in supplication. "I don't know; a small American girl doing tricks," Nicholai finally stated.

Yuri sighed disgusted and then looked toward the double doors that lead to the ice and nodded his head toward them. "Come with me."

"Why?" Nicholai asked stubbornly.

"Do not ask questions, simply do as I ask," Yuri called over his shoulder, leading the way into the arena, the cool air of the ice washing over them as they entered the inner sanctum.

The two men quickly headed toward the ice, the sound of Marcie's voice echoing through the building as she asked Madison if she was ready to run through her program with the music. A quick nod from Madison had her music being queued up and Madison slipping her sweatshirt over her head and tossing it into one of the front row seats.

Yuri lead Nicholai into the stands, high enough they were out of the immediate brightness of the lights and far enough away that Madison probably wouldn't notice them and thus be distracted by their presence. The two men watched as Madison removed her sweatshirt and Yuri looked at his friend in surprise as he gasped in surprise at her less than childlike attire. Skin tight black skating pants, capped off by a scooped neck, sleeveless leotard the color of ripe peaches, left no doubt in Nicholai's mind she was miles away from being a child.

Yuri simply speared his friend with a knowing look and murmured. "Forget she is American. Watch her and see her this time," he demanded quietly.

The four in the arena watched as Madison skated to center ice, assumed her opening position and waited for the music to begin. It took only a few seconds and suddenly the building was filled with the lilting opening notes of Mandy Moore's Only Hope echoing through the cold air. Her movements were fluid, her arms flowing weightlessly as she began her program and immediately entranced the four who comprised her audience. Every action was in reaction to the lyrics and melody of the music, casting a spell over all who watched her, leaving them breathless as she became one with the music and her soul sang with joy.

There's a song that's inside of my soul. It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again. I'm awake in the infinite cold. But you sing me over and over and over again. So I lay my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray to be only yours I pray, to be only yours, I know now, you're my only hope.

Nicholai's eyes followed her every more, his breath caught in his chest, his heart pounding harshly, his brain dizzy with disbelief as he watched her silently move over the ice. "Dear Lord&ldots;" he murmured in reverence. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Never had he seen such beauty and grace on the ice before. She moved silently and with a fluid grace so typical of the Russians he would have assumed, if he hadn't known better, that she was Russian through and through with hot Russian blood surging through her veins. He looked at his friend in astonishment. Did he dare believe his own eyes? Was he really seeing what he thought he was seeing?

If he hadn't had such a frantic look in his eyes Yuri would have actually laughed in his friend's face. Nicholai's arrogance had always refused to allow him to believe American's could produce as good a skater as Russia. Yet here was proof, staring him the face, taunting him with the fact that particular belief of his was wrong; at least in this instance. "Forget she is American!" Yuri demanded yet again, easily reading the disbelief in Nicholai's eyes. The man was stubborn beyond belief!

Sing to me the song of the stars. Of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again. When it feels like my dreams are so far. Sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again. So I lay my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray to be only yours I pray, to be only yours, I know now, you're my only hope.

Nicholai's eyes never left her as he watched her run through her program. He could feel the passion and joy she felt emanating from her in waves as she skated joyously and with a freedom he easily recognized; he'd felt the same freedom himself. Her feet flew silently across the ice as she covered it with a speed that left him breathless and longing to feel the ice beneath his own feet. And he had to give her credit for her fearlessness as she completed difficult triple jumps as if they were nothing to worry about, when he knew that wasn't the case at all.

On the ice Madison breathed in the cold air and felt herself fall more fully under the spell the words and music cast over her. The music sang to her, filled her with hope that there was someone in the world who could fill the empty places in her heart and share the joy she felt on the ice with her. A hazy image formed in her mind of the phantom who would reach her heart and as the final verse of the song began, she slid to a stop and turned, reaching out toward the stands and found her eyes meeting Nicholai's; even through the shadows.

I give you my destiny. Their eyes held and in that brief moment something clicked between them; connecting them and neither of them were able to breathe over their suddenly pounding hearts. I'm giving you all of me. Nicholai rose to his feet and slowly walked down a few rows, coming to a stop when he reached the row of seats that sat in the bright lights, only a few yards separating him from the ice. He couldn't take his eyes from her. I want your symphony singing in all that I am. At the top of my lungs, I'm giving it back. Madison landed a triple axel that on the crescendo of the music that left them both tingling and aware of each other in a manner neither of them had ever felt before. A bubble of joyous rapture escaped her smiling lips in a lilting laugh that swirled into the air and left Nicholai breathless.

Nigel watched Nicholai from across the ice and found his mouth dropping open as he watched the huge Russian, obviously completely captivated by the skater on the ice, and the wheels in his mind started spinning crazily. Never in a million years would he have even considered the possibility of pairing the two, but that was the idea that was racing like fire through his brain. "Marcie, look," he demanded quietly, nudging her arm as she sat beside him, drawing her attention momentarily from Madison, and nodding toward Nicholai, across the ice.

Marcie followed his line of vision and found herself watching Nicholai as he watched Madison. Returning her gaze to Madison, she caught her casting frequent looks toward Nicholai and she turned her questioning look to Nigel. "What's that about?"

Nigel shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm going to use it."

"Use what?"

"Their attraction to each other."

"They don't like each other," Marcie stated calmly, enunciating each word slowly.

Nigel looked back and forth between the two skaters and watched them as they watched each other. "Doesn't look that way to me."

The music continued, and made its way toward the conclusion of the program. So I lay my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray, to be only yours I pray, to be only yours, I pray, to be only yours, I know now you're my only hope.

Madison finished with a layback spin and slid into her closing position, one hand stretched forward as if reaching for someone, her other hand closed in a gentle fist and placed against her heart, looking directly at Nicholai.

For several seconds no one moved, each seemingly frozen in time, afraid to break the spell the swirled through the now-silent arena.

"Holy shit!" Marcie finally mumbled, and looked into Nigel's eyes.

Nigel nodded in barely restrained excitement and murmured. "We've just added another emotion to the list and they're doing it!"

Marcie couldn't help the smile the curved her lips. "Let me guess? Desire."

"Yup! And I know exactly what piece of music I want them to use!"

"Dare I ask?"

"Sarah Brightman's, Anywhere, Anytime."

Marcie practically sighed in ecstasy. She loved the piece of music, had often wanted to use it but hadn't found the right person to carry it off. Obviously, rethinking the problem, it was a piece that really needed to be skated by a pair. It was powerful and sensual and sultry and brought all kinds of images to mind that left her feeling giddy. "This is going to be too much fun!"

"Now all we have to do is convince those two it will be," Nigel stated, returning his gaze to the ice.

The two choreographers watched as Madison finally pulled her gaze from Nicholai's and looked expectantly toward Marcie and Nigel.

Nervousness swept over her when silence continued to surround her. "Well?" she finally called out.

"You're set, Madison. Stop by the office in fifteen minutes. There's something we need to discuss with you.

They hate it! The thought crossed Madison's mind and her heart fell into her feet. She'd felt completely alive for the first time as she'd skated the program with the music echoing in the huge building and now she was going to be told her program was terrible and have to have it re-choreographed. She couldn't trust her voice not to show her disappointment so she simply nodded in response to their request and began to skate slowly around the ice, hoping to calm her racing nerves.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Nicholai was joined by Yuri and the two men walked down the stairs, taking seats in the first row and began the process of putting on their skates. In only moments, the two were laced up and standing, slowly stretching their muscles as they prepared for their practice session.

Hoping to avoid any contact with the man who suddenly disconcerted her so, she stepped off the ice on the opposite end of the arena and slowly made her way toward the section of seats her sweatshirt had been tossed on to. Sneaking haphazard glances at the men now on the ice, she concentrated on the sweatshirt only a few yards away from her and quickened her pace. Only a few more steps and she'd be away from Nicholai and his overwhelming presence. She felt, more than heard him as he skated toward her, rapidly closing the distance between them. The air swirling around her and a light dusting of ice as he slid into a t-stop in front of her and turned to cast his sapphire gaze upon her had her stumbling to a stop. With shaking hands, she reached for her sweatshirt, holding it against her chest as if it was a shield that would protect her.

He said not a word, simply gazed at her, his broad chest heaving as if he suddenly couldn't get enough air. She knew how he felt, the air had suddenly gone out of her own lungs and she couldn't pull her eyes from his, felt herself slipping beneath the drowning allure of his eyes. Time ceased to be and the air hummed with electricity around them, holding them within its powerful grasp.

"Nicholai!" Yuri called from across the ice, and then called again, louder the second time, finally gaining his friend's attention as he skated closer to him.

It was all Madison needed to finally break away, pushing away the magical spell that had enfolded them.

Nicholai frowned as he watched her race away from him, and scowled as Yuri slid to a stop beside him.

"What was that about?" Yuri asked, a curious look in his eyes.

Nicholai's frown deepened as he thought about Yuri's question and couldn't think of a clear cut answer. "Nothing," he murmured deeply.

"It looked like something to me," Yuri persisted, ignoring his friend's darkening expression.

"You told me to see her; I saw her. Is there no satisfying you?" Nicholai growled, and skated away, his powerful legs eating up the ice.

Yuri's eyebrows lifted in amusement. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that something had clicked between the two. Hell, he could still feel the electrical current that had passed between them vibrating in the air. He watched Nicholai's movements across the ice and recognized the stern expression on his friend's face; he was doing his best to push away whatever had happened in the span of a few seconds with the American girl and judging by his expression, wasn't being terribly successful doing it. She was clearly still on his mind. With a knowing smile, Yuri started to whistle a jaunty tune and began his own warm up session, staying out of Nicholai's thundering path and enjoying his friend's discomfort far too much.

It didn't happen often, but every now and then, someone got the better of the infamous Nicholai Fedorov and simply knowing it was an American girl that had done it made it all the more intriguing. Sometimes the most innocent of occurrences changed the course of one's life in a flash of an instant and if Yuri wasn't completely off his rocker, Nicholai had just met the woman who was about to change his life, with or without his wanting it to happen!

Sometimes fate had a really strange sense of humor!

Chapter 3

Madison looked at Marcie in absolute shock, her eyes wide with disbelief. Surely she hadn't heard the woman correctly. There was no way on earth she could have possibly heard what she thought she heard come out of the choreographer's mouth. "You're joking, right?"

Marcie's head moved back and forth. "It's not a joke, Madison. We want you to skate a duo with Nicholai Fedorov," she stated calmly.

Madison's head shook negatively in a tiny, frantic motion. "No. It's impossible! I can't&ldots; I won't!"

"Why is it impossible? It will be amazing," Marcie stated encouragingly. She completely agreed with Nigel on this matter; there was definitely a chemistry between the two and she couldn't wait to get them on the ice together.

"Neither of us are pair skaters. Why, we don't even know each other!"

Marcie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her skeptically. "I said it was going to be a duo, I never said you'd be doing pairs elements. Although, now that you bring it up, I'm sure you could get a few of the easier lifts and throws down," she murmured, tapping her nail against her front teeth as she pondered the possibility.

Madison sent her a look filled with disbelief. "I am not letting that monster throw me around the ice! This is my first season as a professional; I'd prefer it wasn't my last as well!"

"He's not a monster and at least you know he'd be strong enough to get you into the air. You can't say that about every other male skater in the group," Marcie reminded her.

On that particular point Marcie was right. But it still didn't ease Madison's apprehension, which was quickly changing to fear. Listening to Marcie's plan, she didn't want to even think about what had happened between Nicholai and her on the ice only a few minutes before. If she had to be out there with him, skating with him, touching him, she could just imagine the embarrassment she might cause herself. Better not to even consider the possibility. "That doesn't instill a whole lot confidence, Marcie. I really think this is a terrible idea. Get one of the other girls. Anna Marie would love to do a duo with the man!"

"Anna Marie is interested in doing something other than skating with the man. We're looking for a tasteful program, reflecting desire, for the two of you to skate. We're not interested in watching the two of you fuck on the ice!" Marcie stated flatly with steely determination.

Madison's eyes widened in surprise and shock and her breath stuck in her throat at Marcie's harsh words. Never had she heard such language from the choreographer before. At the same time, a little red light flashed in her brain at the other word Marcie had muttered that had Madison growing dizzy. "Did you say 'desire'?"

"Yes."

"You want me to skate a number with Nicholai Fedorov reflecting 'desire'?" Madison asked in shock and disbelief. This simply could not be happening!

"Yes!" Marcie repeated, exasperation starting to fill her voice.

"This is not happening," Madison moaned quietly, her fingers pressing against her forehead as a headache started to build.

"You're making more out of this than you need to. Cast mates skate numbers together all the time. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" Marcie asked curiously.

"I'm not making a big deal out of skating with someone else; I'm just not comfortable skating this particular number with him. Don't you think people who are involved with one another; people who have a chemistry together, might do this program better justice than two people you've just thrown together?"

"Madison, whether you want to accept the possibility or not, there is definitely something between you and Nicholai. Nigel and I both saw it while you were running through your number. A bolt of lightening could have gone off and the two of you wouldn't have noticed because you were off somewhere in a parallel universe."

"He just startled me. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be watching," Madison offered lamely, feeling her cheeks blush rosily at her less than convincing explanation.

Marcie sent her a look filled with skepticism. "Yeah, right!" she murmured; the two words flat and clearly filled with disbelief. "But suppose we try it this way? We'll choreograph the program with the two of you separately. When you've both got it down, we'll bring you together on the ice and have you skate it together a few times to see if it will work the way Nigel and I hope it will. If it doesn't play the way we want it to, we'll drop it. End of story."

"You know that would never work! If you choreograph a duet you need to have the skaters on the ice - working together - to see how it's falling together. Doing it your way is going to be nothing but a total waste of time. We're working under a tight time limit and you're willing to risk losing that much more time on a program that might not even work?" Madison asked in amazement.

"I'm asking you to set aside your personal feelings, be a professional and help us put together a program that could be amazing. We wouldn't be asking you to do this if we didn't think you could pull it off." Marcie might as well have said double dare ya! One thing that got a skater moving faster than anything else was questioning their ability to get something done. Their egos simply refused to say I can't!

Madison looked at her knowingly. She was on to the choreographer's game. She might only be twenty, but she wasn't an idiot when it came to mind games. "Anyone ever tell you, you don't fight fair?"

"All the time. But then, how far has fair ever gotten anyone?" Marcie asked calmly.

Madison shook her head in disbelief at what she was about to say and lifted her eyes to meet Marcie's. "I honestly don't see how you and Nigel can believe a duet between Nicholai and I can be anything but a fiasco, but you're the professionals, so I'll go along with your idea; against my better judgment. But I want your word, if the program isn't everything you and Nigel want it to be, we dump it. I will not skate a program that's less than perfect, nor will I skate a program simply for shock value, or audience appeal. If I can't feel it in my soul, I won't waste my time with it!"

"Done," Marcie agreed quietly, extending her hand to seal the bargain and shaking Madison's hand in return. "Here's a copy of the music you'll be skating to," she said, handing Madison a bright red CD with the word DESIRE written across the front of it. "Go listen to it until it's a part of your blood and think about how you might choreograph it yourself. As much as Nigel and I hate to admit it, you're damn good at that particular aspect of the game and we'd like to see what your vision of this program would look like."

"Okay," Madison murmured, both surprised and a little awed.

"I'll see you after lunch. We're going to start working on the new opening number then." Marcie stated.

Madison just nodded in agreement and headed toward the door.

"Oh, Madison, just in case you were wondering, your HOPE number is amazing; one of the best I've ever seen. A little polish and some minute fine tuning and it'll be set, so you don't have to worry about that program anymore."

"Thanks," Madison murmured, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.

* * * * *

When the cast gathered at one thirty to begin practice on the new opening number, it was obvious the rumor mill had already run rampant as speculative glances and sly comments were whispered about the new duet the 'monster and the mouse' (as Nicholai and Madison had been named by an unknown source) were going to skate. If Nicholai's exceptionally surly mood was any indication, he wasn't any happier about the situation than Madison was, and the rehearsal seemed to drag on eternally without anything being truly accomplished.

Two hours later, Nigel threw up his hands in frustration and yelling for everyone to leave a check for five-hundred dollars with Marcie, stormed off the ice in disgust.

"At this rate, we'll be paying them to skate this season," Yuri complained good naturedly and flashed Marcie his Platinum VISA; at the rate the cast was going, it was definitely going to be easier to just say 'charge it!'.

"He has no right to leave and then make us pay for his lack of discipline," Nicholai countered angrily, scowling even as he handed his check for five hundred dollars over to Marcie.

"It isn't his discipline that's in question, but some of your cast mates. It's simple: you skate as a group or you go broke as a group. Don't complain to me, set your friends straight," Marcie argued, lifting her chin in challenge and daring the huge man to disagree with her.

"I am not baby-sitter! It is not up to me to see these idiots do as they should," Nicholai growled in Russian.

"In English, Nicholai, if you please," Marcie murmured calmly despite her exasperation.

Nicholai simply scowled at the woman and skated away, circling the ice in long, powerful strides, clearly frustrated.

Yuri watched his friend and couldn't help the knowing smile that curved his lips. Despite his show of bravado he was obviously nervous about the duet. With a little laugh, he repeated Nicholai's words to Marcie.

"He's right!" Marcie agreed, her eyes watching him as his long legs ate up the ice and he worked out his frustrations.

"Don't tell him that; there will be no living with the man if you do!" Yuri stated with another laugh and stepped aside as Madison came forward and handed Marcie her check.

Madison heard the last of Yuri's words. "You mean there's a way to live with the man at all?" she asked sarcastically, sending a cautious glance at the figure circling the ice with seemingly unending stamina. The man did have style! Too bad he didn't have a more pleasant temperament to go with it!

"Do everything as he wants and the world's a wonderful place," Yuri quipped casually from behind her.

"When hell freezes over," Madison countered with an angelic smile, her eyes flashing with fire.

Marcie gathered the last of the penalty fines and shoved them into her pocket. "Everyone but Nicholai and Madison off the ice. You can either practice on the other rink or go work on your solos, but I want you all back here at seven o'clock. We'll give the opening number another try and maybe it will work better tonight."

Marcie ignored the less than cordial comments she received at her words and turned her attention to the two skaters who remained on the ice. Sending a quick glance heavenward and saying a silent prayer for help, she headed to center ice and called Nicholai and Madison over.

"Okay. We're just going to start with simply skating in time to the beat of the music and getting accustomed to skating with someone. Since this is going to be a duet and not a pair number, it will not require you holding hands throughout the entire program. This program is about desire and obsession, about being so enthralled by someone else you're almost absorbed into them."

"Marcie," Madison began.

Marcie silenced her with a look. "You're playing a part. Set aside your brain and everything rational and just listen to the music and react to it. Let's see what happens and remember, quit thinking." A push of the remote had the music starting to echo through the building.

The two skaters skated warily away, listening as the opening notes filled the air, a sedate, yet suggestive, prelude to the music that in the span of a heartbeat suddenly turned seductive and erotic and brought images of lovers teasing each other to mind. The music, slowly, steadily building in emotion, like desire stirring to life and racing toward completion, swirled around the pair. And even as they tried to ignore the sensual images the music stirred in their own minds, they couldn't keep from glancing at each other and wondering if the other was being pulled beneath the seductive spell of the song.

The song lasted only a little over three minutes, but by the time the final notes dissipated into the cold air, both skaters were stirred in a way neither wanted nor accepted. This was a program, depicting desire, and they were simply actors playing a role. This was not about them. There was nothing between them, emotionally, intellectually or otherwise. They would learn the choreography, perform as Nigel and Marcie wanted them to, and then they would leave the ice, as unaffected, detached and unaware of each other as usual!

Marcie could barely contain her excitement! Watching the two of them, simply skate in wide circles around the ice rink, trying to ignore the other and each failing miserably, she could feel the chemistry between the two washing off of them in waves. The connection the two had for each other, and pretended didn't exist, was so blatantly obvious to Marcie she wondered how no one else noticed it. Except, of course, Nigel, who had seen it half a second faster than she had, and had demanded they skate their duet. Their denied attraction, obvious physical chemistry and the stirring music was going to leave the audience holding their breaths and wondering if what they were seeing was real. Marcie pondered for a moment the possibility it was going to be too intense for the general audience, and her mind swirled as she thought of ways to tone down the visual without losing the intensity of the two entirely.

She was still running through ideas in her head when Nigel came up behind her and murmured, "Christ, they're going to set the ice on fire."

Marcie nodded. "And they haven't even touched each other yet."

Nigel shook his head in amazement. "Never in a million years would I have thought to put these two together; they're as different as night and day."

"I don't know about that. They have the same work ethic: both are experts in their field and both refuse to do anything unless it's perfect. The question is, can we get this program to play in the intensity we're seeing now after they've been skating it for several weeks and in its present state, is it going to be too suggestive for the general crowd?" Marcie asked.

Nigel watched the two, caught the same energy from the two Marcie had felt and shook his head in astonishment. "Watching these two makes me want to reach for a cigarette; I feel like a voyeur!"

"I know what you mean," Marcie agreed, her voice low and husky.

For several more seconds they watched the two circle the ice, watched the speculative glances that passed between them and didn't. They might like the world to think they didn't like each other, but their body language spoke louder than words and these two were looking to collide sometime soon.

"I've got several ideas for their program, but I think we're going to run into problems with the moralists if we don't do something to make their obvious attraction not quite so obvious. I was thinking of swirling mist, low lights and the two of them dressed in shades of gray. What do you think?" Marcie asked.

Nigel pondered the mental picture and nodded approvingly. "Make it look more like a dream than an in your face image? I like it!"

Marcie let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Good. Now, tell me you've got some choreography plans. We can't just have them circling the ice staring at each other."

Nigel smiled knowingly and cast his eyes toward the still circling pair. "I don't know about that. They're sending off vibrations hot enough to melt your clothes without a program. How are we ever going to survive seeing one skated that's supposed to depict desire when it's so obviously out there already?"

"That's your problem, old friend. You're the head choreographer, remember? I'm just your lowly assistant who gets to eat up the crumbs you drop on the ice and hope I'm somehow inspired via osmosis," Marcie stated smugly, sending him a smile that he couldn't keep from sharing.

"The only reason I keep you around is because you can get a smile out of me and you keep me from killing these prima donnas," Nigel stated petulantly.

"I know."

Silence surrounded them as the music ended, and Nigel cast a final look at the two skaters who skated in small individual circles casting combatant glances at each other occasionally. "I say we go to ground and start in front of the mirrors. Doing that will give them a chance to see how they look to us and then help them understand exactly what we're trying to project to the audience."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Marcie agreed and calling to Madison and Nicholai waved them over; within seconds they were standing in front of the choreographers. "We're going to start working on the program in front of the mirrors first, that way you'll be able to see exactly what the audience is seeing and make adjustments and corrections as necessary. With any luck, we can get the majority of the choreography down in a couple of days and then start fine tuning things. Any questions?" Marcie looked at the two expectantly.

No responses were forthcoming.

"Good! Lose the skates and we'll see you in the practice room in fifteen minutes," Nigel demanded, and taking Marcie's hand, pulled her along as they headed off the ice.

Madison cast a quick glance toward Nicholai and blinked in surprise at the dark scowl he was directing toward her. "What?"

He didn't answer her, nor did his eyes leave her, he simply started mumbling in his native language, the words low and deep and sounding entirely too intimate as far as she was concerned.

Madison wished she had something she could throw at him. The man was simply infuriating! "Don't look at me as if this is all my fault; skating with you certainly wasn't my idea!"

Nicholai rattled off something else in Russian, using his hands for emphasis and began to skate away from her, heading for the seat where his skating bag rested.

Madison fumed! "You know, Mr. Russian big shot, generally speaking, it's impolite to speak a language, other than English, when you're speaking to someone who does not speak anything other than English!"

Nicholai sent her a confused look over his shoulder but kept moving forward, his foreign mumbling continuing as well.

Skating after him, she had to summon up every ounce of control she could muster to keep from pounding him on his broad back in exasperation! "And don't pretend you don't understand English. You may think it gives you an advantage pretending not to understand it, but I've seen you talking with some of the other girls and you understand them just fine!" she stormed.

An easy three-turn had Nicholai turning and facing Madison as she moved steadily forward, her eyes blazing with fire as she worked herself rapidly toward a full rage. My God, she's gorgeous flashed through his mind and left him in stunned shock. Had it not been for their forced nearness, he never would have noticed her, and the thought made him strangely sad. Looking at her now, he hated to think he might have missed someone so vibrant and full of life simply because he hadn't taken the time to actually see her. Perhaps Yuri was right? Maybe his arrogant assumptions regarding Americans needed to be revised. Maybe if he let go of the anger his grandfather had instilled in him over the years, things would look much different and he wouldn't be so completely confused.

She continued to pursue, and rant at him, her voice growing huskier in the cool air, her words coming so fast he truly was having difficulty understanding her, and before he knew it, she was barreling into him at nearly full speed. Without even thinking, his hands reached out to catch her as she bounced off the solid wall of his chest, but not before he sensed the softness of her breasts melting against his body. A hiss of awareness escaped his lips, and his fingers wrapped around her upper arms, pulling her back against him, keeping her from falling to the hard surface of the ice.

Instead of the cold, hard ice she'd expected to feel beneath her bottom, she found herself pulled against a wall of hot, hard muscle, her hands automatically grasping at his arms to keep from falling. Her fingers curled around the flexing strength of his forearms, and her chin lifted and their eyes caught, and held. She forgot to breathe at the blatant look of desire that flamed in his eyes and her lower lip was pulled between her teeth as she nervously gnawed on it.

Nicholai's body burned with awareness everywhere she touched him, and it took every ounce of control he had not to simply lower his mouth to hers and taste of her soft, full lips. Instead, he bestowed the most arrogant glance he could muster down into her startled face and stepped away from her, releasing her arms when he was sure she was steady on her feet, his fingers wistfully brushing against the satin softness of her skin. Muttering something in Russian, he turned his back on her and made his way off the ice, grabbed his skating bag off the seat in the first row and headed toward the room that he was certain would present the next form of torment for him.

Madison stood on the ice; her mind swirling crazily as she tried to figure out the startling sensations she'd felt at Nicholai's touch, platonic though it had been. Unable to make any sense out of anything that had happened in the last few moments, she simply lifted her eyes to toward the ceiling towering over her head and screamed out her frustration, the sound echoing throughout the huge open air of the arena.

Did she dare allow herself to trust letting someone close again?

* * * * *

Nicholai would have been happy with torment; instead he was suffering pure, unadulterated torture! The only thing keeping him from stomping out of the rehearsal room in a rage was the simple fact Madison was suffering as much as he was and it somehow lightened his mood. Despite her best efforts to appear unaffected by his presence, let alone his touch, the very fact he noticed the way her breath would catch or her eyes would widen in response to his touch told him otherwise.

"No, no, no, Nicholai, I want your palms flat against her hands as you enfold her in your arms; one hand across her chest, the other across her ribcage," Nigel yelled over the music.

Madison sighed in exasperation and closed her eyes as they repeated the move for the umpteenth time. Maybe the man didn't understand English after all. She might have actually believed the possibility of her earlier thought if she hadn't caught his wicked look in the mirror as her eyes collided with his. Her own gaze narrowed in fury and she stepped out of his arms. "He knows the move, he's just acting like a moron to see if he can't cop another feel off me. Let's move on!" Madison demanded, moving further away from the infuriating man and barely resisting the urge to scream the roof down over his too handsome head.

"I don't have to cop feel; I can make you beg for my touch!" Nicholai countered arrogantly, his voice a study of seductive huskiness, one elegant eyebrow lifting in challenge.

"Not in this lifetime!" Madison argued hotly. "I could be on fire and I wouldn't beg you to spit on me!"

"If you were on fire, my touch would make you burn hotter!" Nicholai promised quietly, his eyes darkening.

Madison reached deep within herself and pushed down the feelings his words and all-seeing eyes had sent racing through her. She was crazy if she thought she had even one iota of a chance of beating him at this game of sensuality. He was passion and wanton desire incarnate, and the very fact her body tingled every time he looked her way, let alone touched her, had her wanting to scream in frustration. How very tempting it would have been to simply give in to her desire and taste of the tempting sensuality he offered. "I hate to burst your bubble, Nicholai, but your touch does absolutely nothing for me," Madison calmly stated, hating herself for the small thrill that went through her when she murmured his name.

The look Nicholai sent her clearly said he didn't believe her, and his softly spoken words simply reinforced his thought. "You lie. Your body burns for my touch."

"That's enough!" Nigel interrupted; sensing the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. "We're here to set a program not determine who's ready to fuck whom!"

"Nigel!" Marcie gasped in surprise. It wasn't often Nigel was quite so graphic.

"Let's get this damn program choreographed and then you two can figure out your relationship," Nigel continued.

"We don't have a relationship!" Madison interrupted, refusing to even look at Nicholai.

"Whatever," Nigel growled and sent them both a censorious look. "Now, if the two of you can act like adults, let's try this again."

And so it went, over the next few hours, the initial choreography was set to the music, the two skaters barely tolerated each other, and the two choreographers began to wonder why they had ever even considered such a career, let alone actually attempted it.

Marcie glanced at her watch, her eyes widening in surprise as she noted the time - six thirty already - and breathing a sigh of exhaustion, turned to look at Madison and Nicholai who were being literally set into position by a more-than-slightly angry Nigel.

"This is the ending position I want!" Nigel growled in explanation, stepping back and taking yet another look at the duo. "As the final instrumental section of the music begins, Nicholai, you will lift her straight into the air, your hands at her waist. Madison, you will lift your arms upward, and then let them drift down to his shoulders as he slowly lowers you down the front of his body while the last notes of the music fade out. I want your right leg straight; your left leg behind you and lifted in a small attitude. On the very last note of music, I want what will appear to the audience to be a kiss."

"No!" The firm answer came from both of the skaters.

"I didn't say you actually had to kiss, I said I wanted what appeared to be a kiss. By the time the final note actually hits, the lights will be fading and you'll be in deep shadow. This program is going to be done in shadows and mist; it's designed to be purely an illusion of passion and desire. If you decide to make it more than what it's been choreographed to be, that's your business!" Nigel growled tiredly.

Marcie sent the three a tired glance. "Nigel, it's six thirty, and everyone is due back at seven to give the opening number another shot. What do you say we take a quick thirty minute break and give our minds and bodies a brief rest?"

Nigel sent the pair a look of disgust but agreed with her suggestion nonetheless with a brief nod. Returning his eyes to the duo before him, he offered tiredly, "Do me a favor and think about what we've done over the last few hours. You're professionals - or so I've been told - suppose you show me you're actually worth the exorbitant amount of money you're being paid?" With a last speculative glance, he held his hand out to Marcie and they left the rehearsal room, and the two combatants alone in front of the mirrors.

The silence descended upon the pair like a ton of bricks and within seconds, Nicholai was scowling at Madison as he heard her stomach rumble in hunger. "We have only short time till we return to ice, you should eat."

Madison sent him the briefest of glances. "I'm not hungry, but don't feel you need to stay here. I'll be on the ice at seven with everyone else," she murmured, stretching her arms over her head as she tried to loosen her tight shoulder muscles, unable to stop the small grimace she made as a muscle cramped up on her.

Nicholai noticed too, and before she could stop him, he was busy rubbing at the tight knot of muscle between her shoulder and neck. "Your body is telling you it needs nourishment. You should listen to it," he murmured over her shoulder. His warm breath lifted the wisps of hair that had escaped her French braid and teased her long neck. His strong, warm fingers eased the knotted muscle in her shoulder and at the same time, sent fingers of heat dancing through her body.

It was all she could do not to close her eyes and sigh in ecstasy! Instead, with a mumbled word of gratitude, she slipped from beneath his magical fingers, hating the emotions his touch instilled in her, benign though his touch had been. Her mind kept reminding her how much she detested the huge Russian, and yet her body was rushing toward an all-out mutiny and taunting her for being a coward and not indulging in what he seemed more than willing to offer. For heaven's sake, the man was simply working a cramp out of her muscle! It wasn't as if he was trying to talk her out of her knickers! Still, the very fact her body was responding to his was enough to have her ready to jump ship. She'd seen him in action and she wasn't about to become another notch on his sexual conquest belt buckle! It was obvious he liked girls, American or otherwise, and it was also obvious what he liked them for. Thanks all the same, but she wasn't of the mind to join his particular fan club!

"I'll see you later," she murmured quietly, not even daring to look at him, and scooping her bag up, left the man standing alone in front of the mirrors with a look of utter confusion on his face.

Alone, in the silence, Nicholai looked down at his hands, and could swear he could see the blood rushing through his veins, as surely as he could still feel the softness of her skin against his fingers. Muttering a curse against women in general, and Madison in particular, he flexed his fingers to try to erase the memory of her touch and walked to the corner of the room, where he picked up his own bag. Heading off in search of something to snack on before the next practice session, he also hoped he'd be able to empty his mind of the woman who now seemed to completely fill his head and body with urges better left not thought about!

But fate wasn't in a generous mood and images of Madison deigned to drive a man crazy continued to swirl unbidden and unwanted through his brain and left him teetering on the sharp edge of need and desire and wondering if he was losing his mind.

Seeking a brief moment of peace and quiet, he returned to the empty arena, only to discover it wasn't empty at all but filled with the very person he was trying to forget. He'd been away from her for all of fifteen minutes but his heart thumped with anticipation and excitement even as he cursed himself in Russian for being seven times a fool. She's a child, a spoiled one at that! he reminded himself, as he sat down and watched her skate silently over the ice, practicing the program they had only moments before worked on in the rehearsal room.

A CD player lay anchored to her waist by a thin belt; the narrow wires of the headphones that fed music to her ears traced a path up her back. Though no music could be heard, her movements and the recently learned choreography was easily recognizable, and he found himself mesmerized by her fluid movements and expressive gestures. It took less than a moment for him to fall under the spell of her skating and she wasn't even being particularly precise with her steps, but more just tentatively walking through the program and getting a feel for it. And for the first time, he realized the magic one was capable of having without being absolutely perfect in their skating. Madison was completely absorbed in the program, oblivious of all that surrounded her, and he watched her become someone he could understand a man could become passionately obsessed by. She was sensuous, and teasing and as sexy as hell, and he found himself wishing he was on the ice with her, sharing the emotions she brought out in him. The thought scared the hell out of him!

"Hey, comrade!" Yuri punched him solidly in the shoulder, jumping in surprise when Nicholai's arms flailed out as if he was being attacked. "Easy, Nicholai," Yuri offered, handing him the bottle of water that had slipped from his friend's hand when he'd been surprised.

"Spaseeba," he murmured quietly, accepting the bottle of water from Yuri and sending him a sheepish look, before he found his eyes drifting back to the skater on the ice.

Yuri's eyes widened in understanding and followed his friend's line of vision. She was certainly pretty to watch; graceful, quiet, filled with poise, and he sent his friend a considering look. "Nice program. Have you decided if she's worthy of being on the same ice you are?"

"I have not much choice in the matter. I have been told to skate with her; I skate with her," Nicholai offered flatly, his glowing eyes saying much more than his bored tone.

Yuri watched Madison as she stopped, fussed with the CD player and again began the program. A small frown of confusion entered his eyes as he watched her start and stop, as if waiting for something to happen, and then started moving again. "It's rather an unusual program, isn't it? Or has it not yet been completely choreographed?"

Nicholai could see the entire program within his mind and his body hummed in anticipation as he watched her skate, knowing the breaks Yuri spoke of would bring the two of them together; would allow him to touch her. His hands flexed as if he were already able to feel her softness beneath his fingers. "The program is finished; it's our duet," Nicholai murmured softly.

"Ahhhh," Yuri acknowledged. "Seeing only her side of the program, it looks interesting. How is it from your side?"

"Tormenting. Tortuous." Nicholai answered slowly with a negligent shrug of his broad shoulders.

Yuri's eyes widened in surprise. "It is tortuous skating with that little bird? I find that hard to believe."

"You haven't had to do it. She is determined that everything be perfect from the very start. It is infuriating!" Nicholai growled.

Yuri couldn't help the smile the curved his lips. "She sounds like someone else I know, always wanting everything to be perfect from the very beginning. Some things improve with age and practice, my friend. Patience is a valuable commodity; something you would do well to learn!"

Nicholai's hand sliced the air with an impatient slash. "Patience is for those who need excuse for not doing what is needed done immediately."

Yuri rolled his eyes at his friend's slightly warped viewpoint. "Fine, if you feel that way, why don't you just sleep with the woman and end your torment? That way, you can get on with the business of skating and quit wondering if you're missing what you think you're missing!"

Nicholai's mouth actually dropped open in shock. "You have lost your mind!" he accused him in Russian.

"I am not the one unable to keep my eyes from following the little birds every move," he stated knowingly, nodding in the direction of Madison. "I am not the one holding my breath and flexing my fingers when I watch her skate for wanting to touch her so much! I am not the one looking for fights to avoid thinking about how much you want her!"

"You are crazy!" Nicholai growled, reaching for his skating bag beginning the process of putting his skates on.

"Perhaps a little, but unlike you I am not driving myself crazy wondering what it would be like to hold the little bird in my arms, to feel her mouth beneath mine, and rest assured, those same thoughts have crossed my mind. Unfortunately, a dear friend proclaimed his desires long ago, and I will not sacrifice friendship for a woman."

"What do you speak of? I made no such proclamation regarding the girl," Nicholai growled.

Yuri again rolled his eyes in exasperation. Sometimes Nicholai could be as obtuse as a brick! "The very day we arrived to begin rehearsals, I saw you watching Madison as she skated. I had never seen you look at another skater - male or female - in such a way and you cursed her very abilities. You are the most sportsmanlike athlete I have ever known, and yet you were cursing the little bird for the emotions she made you feel. Whether you like the fact, or not, Nicholai, the two of you are connected in some manner. Destiny has deigned you will be together and you can scream until your lungs burst and the ice melts but that is how it will be. End your torment, comrade, make the woman your own as you so want to do. Life will be much easier for all of us once the two of you quit dancing around the other, acknowledge the connection between you, and burn off some of your excess sexual energy with a good long fuck session! I don't know how long the rest of the cast can keep up with you two. I know I'm tired of trying to!"

"You really have lost your mind!" Nicholai mumbled, refusing to listen to his friend any longer, even though the words he spoke were true.

"What have you to lose by trying?" Yuri questioned him sharply.

Nicholai heaved a sigh, but continued lacing up his boot. "The tour has yet to even begin and you suggest I possibly alienate a skater I must spend hours with on the ice? The risk is too great."

"I don't suggest you alienate her; I suggest you sleep with her. Chances are it will help you both."

"Or make things so miserable the entire cast hates us," Nicholai countered.

Yuri slapped Nicholai's back in camaraderie. "My friend, that is pretty much the case anyway. So what do you have to lose?"

Nicholai actually looked shocked at Yuri's words. "The entire cast hates me?"

"You're not exactly an easy man to deal with. Arrogance is the shield you use to keep others at a distance, and you have used it way beyond what a normal person would have. Were it not for me, the only one speaking to you would be Madison, and she, only to scream at you!"

"I should have remained a gymnast," Nicholai murmured, shaking his head in frustration, and then growling when his boot-lace tangled into a knot. Suddenly his fingers became clumsy and the knot simply grew worse.

"Your coach was ready to hang you from the rings, my friend, and you know it. Skating was the only sport that you could find a coach more temperamental than you were and I honestly don't know how you kept from killing each other years ago!" Yuri watched for a few seconds, smiling as he saw the mess Nicholai was making of his lace, before he finally pushed his friend's hand's away and freed the knots.

Nicholai sighed in renewed frustration, but let his friend tie his boot-lace, feeling much like a small child. "And if I hadn't switched to skating I never would have found a friend such as you."

"And if you don't start listening to your friend's words of wisdom, you may find yourself growing old with me, and I can assure you, it will not be a happy time for either of us!" Yuri teased him, half serious.

Nicholai couldn't help the smile that curved his lips at his friend's ridiculous words. The very thought was ludicrous! "I can assure you, that possibility does not exist! We will be friends for life, but I will not grow old with you."

"Nicholai!" Anne Marie's high-pitched voice echoed from across the ice as she called to him and waved a greeting.

Both men had to work at not cringing in response, but instead sent answering waves.

"There are many women in the world," Nicholai offered casually.

"Such as she?" Yuri asked in disgust, nodding toward Anne Marie's approach. "There are women you spend but a few moments with and those you seek your entire life. Do not confuse the two," Yuri demanded quietly and with a brisk nod to Anne Marie, left his friend to join the gathering group of skaters preparing for their seven o'clock rehearsal.

Anne Marie sent a quick, heated glance over Nicholai and sighed in female appreciation as she watched him rise to his feet, his muscular body, dressed in snug fitting black work-out clothes, there for her wandering eyes. "I hope your session with Nigel and Marcie was tolerable," she offered, sending a less-than-friendly glance toward the ice, and Madison. "I honestly can't believe they've actually pushed you into skating with her when there are so many other skaters who could do a better job of things," she concluded condescendingly.

Nicholai looked at her speculatively and noticed, for the first time, that everything about her seemed a bit too garish, and the look in her eyes was more than a bit calculating. "Perhaps you have a particular skater in mind?" he asked her, sending her a sidelong glance that had her blinking in surprise.

Had she really seen the brief flicker of anger flash in his eyes? And if she had, what reason did he have to be angry with her? They had barely spent anytime together in the last few days at all; a situation she planned to rectify as soon as possible! The more she thought about it, the more she began to think she was just more tired than she realized and was seeing things. With a light laugh, she shrugged her shoulders and offered too sweetly, "I'm sure Nigel and Marcie know what they're doing; I bow to their expertise," she offered, her tone not even close to matching her words.

"If everyone's here?" Nigel's call to the ice left Nicholai an escape route, and with nothing more than a silent nod of agreement, he joined the others as they made their way to the ice and followed Marcie and Nigel's instructions.

Over the next four hours, every ounce of patience, skill and knowledge the choreographers and skaters possessed was tested time and again. It was also a wonder that when Nigel finally called a stop to the session, shortly after eleven o'clock, more blood hadn't been spilled during the long night.

Exhausted, battered, and bloody, the skaters staggered off the ice; too tired to even complain when Nigel called out their morning practice schedules.

"The man is an animal!" Yuri growled, sending Nigel a dark scowl, then yawned and flinched in pain, as the corner of his mouth, where Nicholai had accidentally caught him with an elbow during practice, began to bleed again. "I cannot believe you hit me!" he complained to his friend.

Nicholai looked at the small speck of blood on Yuri's lip and shook his head in mock commiseration. "If you had moved as you were instructed, you would not have had your mouth in the way of my elbow!"

"Such concern! It is good to know I can count on my friends when I'm bleeding to death," he taunted him tiredly. "Spaseeba!" he murmured kindly, offering Madison a grateful smile when she skated up to him and handed him a tissue.

"You're welcome," she returned softly, before casting Nicholai a brief, searching glance.

Nicholai's breath caught in his chest and his heart pounded heavily as their eyes met, and held, before she quietly skated away.

Yuri sighed in exasperation. "If I had any sense at all, I would forget my earlier words and steal the little bird away from you," he stated disgustedly.

Nicholai shared a look filled with arrogance with his good friend. "I have no claim or desire for the girl; take her if you wish."

"You lie; to yourself and to me!" Yuri stated firmly.

"And you pretend there is more than what there is," Nicholai countered flatly.

"Bah!" Yuri exclaimed with a slash of his hand. "I can deal with you no more tonight. Perhaps after a decent sleep I will find the way to show you what a fool you are!" He'd had enough of his stubborn friend for the night. You could hit a mule over the head with a club but it didn't mean the mule was going to be any more cooperative the next time you wanted him to do something he didn't want to do. Sometimes, dealing with Nicholai was the same as dealing with a stubborn mule. Sometimes the best thing to do was simply let the man fall on his ass in the mud and figure out a way to get out of the muck all by himself!

Nicholai watched in amusement as his friend slipped the rubber guards over his blades, snatched up his skating bag and stalked away, obviously more than a little put out with him. Then again, it wasn't the first time the two had butted heads, nor would it be the last, he predicted!

"Nick, we're headed out for a quick drink to help us forget how miserable the last four hours have been. Care to join us?"

Nicholai looked at the small group of male skaters gathering their gear and could understand their need to forget about the last few hours. Heaven knew he wouldn't have minded erasing the horror of the last day. Still, he was on the early schedule and that meant he'd be back on the ice by six o'clock in the morning. The last thing he needed was a hangover to go with the early hour. "Nyet. Perhaps next time."

With mumbled sounds of agreement, the small group headed off in search of something that would ease their aches and help them forget about the intolerable practice session they'd just endured.

Finally alone, he slid into the seat beside his skating bag and sliding down in the seat, leaned his head against the seat back. Energy still surged through him, despite his mental exhaustion, and he knew it would be sometime before it would make even a little sense to try to go to bed. Digging through his skating bag, he pulled a CD from the pocket, and with a quick look around the empty arena, got back to his feet, moved onto the ice and skated to where a portable CD player lay sitting on the floor beside the ice. A quick press of a button had the player opening and him sliding the CD into place. Within seconds, music that strangely soothed him, despite the slow, emotion filled notes, filled the air and he found himself falling beneath the music's spell.

On the other side of the arena, Madison grumbled to herself as she returned to the seating area to retrieve the jacket she'd forgotten. Surprised to hear music filtering through the empty arena, she looked to the ice and found herself mesmerized by the skater moving soundlessly over the shining surface in amazingly fast ground eating strides that left her breathless. In awe, she watched Nicholai move with a sinuous grace and emotion that she would never have believed him possible of achieving if she hadn't seen it for herself. His purity of motion, grace and feeling for the music had her breath catching in her lungs and tears filling her eyes with the sheer beauty of all she witnessed. He was skating, for the simple joy and freedom of it, and she felt as if an amazing gift had been bestowed upon her. In astonishment, she watched as he sped past her and suddenly he was in the air, flying into a triple axel, as effortlessly as if he'd being doing a single jump, his landing silent, and flowing into the next move like a stream flowing gently through a meadow.

The music drifted quietly to it's conclusion and a feeling of sorrow washed over her as she felt the magical moment slipping through her fingers and sighed in regret. Never had she seen anything as beautiful, awe inspiring and filled with emotion as she had seen the program Nicholai had just skated. She was still lost in the moment when she found herself facing the person who had just bewitched her with his skating.

His chest rose and fell harshly with his breathing, and fire filled his eyes as he held his hand out to her. "Skate with me, Madiska," he asked softly.

Madison blinked in surprise. He had rarely spoken to her, only when absolutely necessary. Now, to hear him calling her something that sounded strangely sensual and intimate left her unable to move.

"Pazhalsta." The word slipped from his lips in a husky plea.

Madison shook her head not understanding the word he spoke in Russian.

"Please."

The music began to fill the arena again, it's spell surrounding her, and she couldn't resist his need-filled eyes, or the expectant energy that swirled around him. She slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her onto the ice, and into his arms.

Later, she would never know how long they skated together, or how many times the same song repeated itself; it didn't matter, they were together and for the first time in her life, she felt as if she were truly where she belonged. Not even when all but a few of the interior lights blinked out, and the two were left in mostly shadows, did she think to leave the ice. In the deep shadows, they were creatures of the night who could be anyone or anything they wanted to be, free to let their souls fly and sing, without worrying about tomorrow or the censorious, speculative looks the bright light of day would bring.

Electricity sparked between them, refusing to allow them to disregard the connection that crackled hotly between them, drawing them closer to each other, demanding they acknowledge the chemistry that had them moving together as if they'd been together forever, instead of only a few magical moments. Their breathing grew harsher, not from their energetic skating, but from the desire that rushed through their bodies and left their blood boiling, need calling to need, daring them to deny the other.

When Nicholai swept Madison into his arms, one arm around her slim waist, his other pulling her right leg up to rest against his left hip, their bodies met intimately. Her breasts melted against his muscular chest and their hips bumped tantalizingly against each other, reality dissolving around them. Lost in the magic of the music, and the dark shadows that turned their world into something mysterious, they were able to let the walls that protected them turn to dust and accept their need for each other.

Nicholai's lips whispered kisses against Madison's temples, her soft scent teasing his senses, as he murmured words in a language she didn't understand but understood in tone all the same. Her hands lifted weakly and settled on his wide shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles that flexed beneath her fingers. His head lowered and suddenly his lips traced a gentle path along her jaw, as she raised her dazed eyes upward.

Eyes met, and held. Questions and confusion and need all shining brightly, as they silently pondered how they had come to be here, this moment, together. Hesitantly, Nicholai's mouth lowered to meet Madison's and their breaths whispered into each other's mouths just before their lips met in the softest of kisses. Their lips blended, the kiss one of welcome, like slipping into a warm pool of water, and they slowly savored the sweetness they found. Time slowed to a crawl, and despite, wishing the wave of warm desire that swirled around them could last forever, common sense asserted itself, and they slowly let their lips drift apart.

Madison's fingertips came up to press gently against her tingling lips; her eyes wide and filled with disbelief at her behavior. What on Earth had she been thinking to allow such a thing to happen?

Nicholai gazed down into her flushed face and suddenly found himself unable to catch a full breath. Never in his life had he ever seen a woman look so entrancing, and a desperate need to have her rushed through him. Not a physical need, but something much more. He simply needed to have her near him; with him, and the very fact he was feeling that way had him, literally, shaking in his boots. Stepping a half-step away from her, he put much needed space, and thinking room, between them, and looking into her dazed face, it took every ounce of strength he had not to pull her back into his arms and sink back into the sweetness of her mouth. Running his hands shakily through his hair, he murmured to himself in his native language, words, again, that might not have been in English but she clearly understood all the same.

"English, Nicholai. If you're going to rant at me, do it in English, please," she murmured shakily, wrapping her arms around herself; pulling her protective wall back into place.

"Please understand," he spoke softly, his eyes filled with confusion. "You are dangerous to me."

"Dangerous? What danger can I possibly be to you?" Madison asked flatly.

Nicholai began mumbling in Russian again, his voice deep and husky.

"English, Nicholai!" Madison demanded loudly, her voice echoing in the empty building.

Why her outburst should have surprised him, he couldn't say, but he found himself bewitched by her, felt the same sensual heat begin to rush through his veins and had to force himself to remain still, his hands clenched at his sides.

"You must understand the risk you bring me. You are a danger to me; one I cannot risk."

Madison was thoroughly confused, and rapidly shifting toward furious. A minute ago he was all but swallowing her up and now she was a danger to him? What in the hell was he talking about? "Nicholai, you make no sense! What do you mean I'm a danger to you?"

More mumbled foreign words swirled around her.

"Dammit, Nicholai. You speak to me in English or by God, you're right, you will be in danger. I've had about all of your mumbled Russian I can deal with tonight!"

My God, she's entrancing! The thought had Nicholai suddenly taking a step closer to her, and actually considering throwing caution, and common sense, to the wind, to simply taste again the hot emotions that made him want to feel her fury, and be swamped by the passion he was certain swirled through her.

Madison couldn't believe him, he was simply standing there gawking at her, a hungry look on his face, his eyes filled with fire. "Nicholai&ldots;" her low voice held a warning tone, yet was also strangely endearing to his ears.

He felt his defenses slip a notch, and before he could stop himself, heard his voice murmur huskily, "You make me feel too much; make me want too much!"

Madison's eyes widened in surprise at his words. He could have stolen them from her own mind for they'd been running through her brain all evening, taunting her, daring her to let him close enough to see the real her. Taking a shaky sigh, she pushed her emotions firmly aside and in a voice without emotion, simply offered, "Welcome to my world."

Without another word, she turned around and left him standing in the shadows, alone on the ice.

Chapter 4

The following day dawned brightly, and promised to be a warm one. The sky was a beautiful blue and free of clouds, the birds were singing, a gentle breeze blew and the flowers seemed to be blooming at warp speed. It was a day that made you grateful to simply be alive.

Inside the building it was a different story. You would have thought you'd been dropped into the middle of Siberia for the coldness that filled the air, precipitated by both the air conditioning pumping out air as cold as the ice and the harshly polite, but definitely frigid moods of both Madison and Nicholai. Restrained hostility was probably the surest way of describing their behavior toward each other, and after nearly two hours of driving Nigel perilously close to the line of insanity, the choreographer finally had had enough.

"No!" Nigel roared, his voice echoing through the cold air, the tone of utter outrage bringing the two skaters to a startled stop that had Madison bouncing off Nicholai and nearly tumbling to ice before Nicholai's strong hands steadied her.

Nigel gave the two champion skaters a scathing look that by all rights should have turned them to dust right where they stood. "What is the matter with you two today? You're skating as if you're worried you might get kooties from each other." He sent them each furious looks but didn't receive an answer from either of them. A cold silence stretched on as Nigel waited for a response - any kind of response - from either of them.

Madison finally cleared her throat, and cast an apprehensive glance toward Nigel. "We're not comfortable skating together," she stated softly, refusing to look at Nicholai.

Nigel's eyebrows lifted. "You were managing last night. What happened between then and now that suddenly has you 'uncomfortable skating together'?"

Madison's eyes darted to Nicholai, and their gazes collided, need and desire shining clearly.

"Neechyeevo, nothing," Nicholai growled softly, his eyes never leaving Madison's. His hands flexed as he fought his desire to pull her into his arms and see if the kiss they had shared the evening before had been real or a fantasy that wouldn't let him forget how she had felt in his arms or tasted beneath his searching mouth. Images of their all too brief interlude had haunted his dreams all night long, when he'd finally been able to drift off.

"Madison?" Nigel directed his attention to the small girl on the ice. She looked as tired as Nicholai, with purple shadows beneath her lovely eyes, her skin translucently pale as if she'd had a fitful night as well.

"Nothing," she murmured with a whisper.

Nigel clapped his hands together and smiled coldly. Looking at his watch, he grimaced and stated, "Good! Then maybe, since we have a whole five minutes left before the next group comes in for rehearsal, we can think about what we worked on last night and see if we can't bring just a small bit of it back this morning?" His question was asked mockingly. Sometimes dealing with champions was worse than dealing with preschoolers! At least with preschoolers you could put them in a corner for a time-out!

Madison and Nicholai silently nodded in agreement.

"Good! Take your positions," Nigel instructed, and walked across the ice to his seat rinkside and picked up the remote for the music.

Madison and Nicholai skated to center ice and took their positions, he behind her, their right legs extended behind them, resting against each other. His arms came around her, crossing over her upper chest, pulling her back against him, and she closed her eyes as his warmth seeped into her, making her feel more than she wanted to, and she steeled herself against his sensual power. Her hands drifted downward and came to rest lightly against his hips, her fingers flexed, fighting the urge to curl them against the firm muscles that tensed beneath her touch. She turned her head, slightly to the right and leaned it back against his shoulder, the softness of his t-shirt caressed her cheek, the gentle smell of fabric softener teased her senses. She closed her eyes, waited for the music, and tried to concentrate on anything but how wonderful it felt to be held in his arms.

Nicholai was busy with his own problems, trying to ignore the soft fragrance of her perfume and the even more tempting feel of her body pressed so close to his. It would be so easy to simply turn her head toward him and dive into the warmth and softness of her mouth. Images of doing just that had haunted him all night and after the past couple of hours of having to hold her; touch her, he didn't know how much longer he could resist her lure. "Dishat'," he murmured quietly, his breath a warm whisper against her neck.

"Breathe," Madison whispered to herself, barely managing to restrain the sensual shiver that raced through her as his breath grazed the sensitive skin on her neck.

It would be some time before they came to realize they had both voiced the same plea, merely in different languages, and that the bond between them had been forged by fate long ago in steel, unable to be ignored or broken by a simple wish.

But as they each pleaded in their minds to make it through the next few minutes, their souls and hearts took flight and acknowledged a connection and chemistry that would not be ignored.

The music pulsed sensually through the cold air, surrounding them, taunting them, daring them to accept what the music offered them. And with the music cloaking their emotions, they were able to pretend they were anybody but themselves. Free from restraints. Free to simply feel.

 As the next small group of skaters came into the arena and prepared for their own rehearsal, they watched in awe, and astonishment, as Madison and Nicholai became one with the music. Before their very eyes, watched as they turned into two people, so obviously entranced and bewitched by each other, the rest of the world dissolved around them.

Blood pulsed hotly through their veins, as with each touch, emotions flared brighter and passion forged forward. The softest of touches became a sensual promise, the briefest of glances became impossible to break, as they came together and skated as one, forgetting everything but the moment and the growing emotions that passed between them.

Yuri joined the rest of the group waiting to rehearse, grumbling for the simple sake of doing so before he was shushed to silence. Blinking in confusion, he was surprised by the emotional-filled silence as everyone watched the pair on the ice, and turned his attention to the two-some. It took all of two seconds to understand what the hullabaloo was all about and a small smile curved his lips as he took in the sight. "I told you, my friend, your heart is lost to the little bird. Give in and accept what she offers you," he murmured softly.

"What?" another skater murmured, his eyes never leaving the ice, enraptured by the beauty and grace as the two skated silently, lost in each other and the music.

"Nothing," Yuri answered, humor tingeing his tone.

"I'd never have believed they could skate together this way, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," one of the girls, who'd been trying her best to get Nicholai's attention, whispered, shaking her head in awe. "I don't know if I've ever seen anything so incredible!"

The group watched the two skaters as they skated toward the end of their program, holding their breaths as Nicholai lifted Madison effortlessly into a lift high over his head and then returned her to her feet as gently as if she was a small child. His hands lingered at her waist as if loathe to feel her slip from his fingers. The final strains of music filtered through the cold air and, as choreographed, he lifted Madison upward, her arms raised to the sky, before he began to slowly lower her down his body, their torsos so close a piece of paper wouldn't have fit between them. Her arms drifted downward, her hands sliding through his gorgeous hair, her fingers tingling as helpless to stop herself, her fingertips slid over his face, then traced the shape of his full lips before she framed his face with her hands and looked at him in a daze.

Once he had returned her to the ice, his left arm encircled her narrow waist, while his right hand slid up her back, his hand gently cupping the back of her head. His dark gaze swallowed her up, as the final notes dissipated into the cold air and he lowered his mouth to meet hers, stopping just before their lips met, his breath stealing into her slightly parted mouth. In surrender, Madison's eyes closed beneath the heated caress of Nicholai's gaze.

Time stood still.

"Holy shit!" Nigel shouted, jumping to his feet and joining the group of skaters as applause and raucous cheering broke out. "Where the hell did that program come from?" he asked, then backtracking, stated, "Don't tell me, I don't want to know!"

Nigel barreling toward them had them crashing back to earth as they realized the position they were in, their lips all but touching, their bodies so close you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended, their hearts beating in unison. Sound suddenly pummeled them as they became aware of the other skaters applauding and cheering, and with an embarrassed look, Nicholai gently released her, his hands sliding from her body lingeringly, his eyes wistful.

Nigel scooping up Madison into his arms and twirling her in a tight circle, all the while complimenting her abilities, gave her the escape she needed, and with an embarrassed look, graciously accepted Nigel's compliments in silence. Nicholai simply grunted an acknowledgment of the choreographer's words, his gaze possessive as he looked at Madison, silently wishing they were alone.

"I don't want you two changing a thing, not a damn thing! Got it?" Nigel growled, slapping the tall Russian on the shoulder and giving Madison another quick hug, before turning his attention to the other skaters and complaining anew about their being late - again - and using Nicholai and Madison as an excuse that wouldn't fly. Clapping his hands together excitedly, he headed off to round up the other skaters, leaving the two alone together, but not before he cast them a final wondrous glance.

They had stunned him speechless with their program!

Silently, the two shared stolen glances, uncertain exactly how to explain what had just happened between them on the ice. It had been more than just skating a romantic program, it had been an awakening, a renewal in the belief that love might just possibly really exist, might be attainable despite all that had come before for them.

Madison sent Nicholai a searching glance, unsure what to say, her lower lip slipping between her teeth, as her mind whirled and she worried the fragile flesh.

Nicholai skated toward her, coming to a stop only a foot away, one hand coming up, his thumb gently freeing her lower lip from its sharp trap. "Dishat',," he murmured softly in Russian, his voice a low rumble, as his eyes swallowed her so thoroughly she felt as if she was slipping into a warm, dark blue pool of water.

She looked up at him; confusion and uncertainty clear in her brown eyes. "I don't understand. What is dishat'?" she asked quietly.

Nicholai's brow furrowed as he searched for the word in English; it was so much easier in Russian, but he was determined to learn her miserable language. Finally the word came to him. "Breathe."

Madison's eyes widened as the single word slipped from his lips. She had heard him mumble the word just before they'd skated their program, at the same time she'd been murmuring the same word in her own language. Two people, vastly different, but thinking alike. She didn't like that possibility at all. How was he so easily storming the defensive walls she'd built around herself so long ago? She didn't even like the man, and yet, he was effortlessly wiggling his way into her every thought. You're a liar, Madison! Admit it, the man's sneaking under your skin and there's not a damn thing you can do about it! A tiny voice taunted her. Left without any recourse, she did what she always did when she felt threatened, let arrogance and a diva attitude have a free reign. "I can breathe just fine, Nicholai. That program was like any other program I've skated. Done to the specifications of the choreographer and nothing more, so please don't go reading things into it that aren't there," she stated haughtily.

Nicholai blinked in surprise at her sudden change of mood, certain he couldn't have misread what had occurred between them and then questioned himself again. Seeing her lower lip disappear between her teeth, and be chewed nervously had his lips curving into a knowing smile that could only be termed predatory and his eyes flashing with barely concealed victory. "You do not wish to accept what is growing between us?" he asked in a voice filled with amusement. During their skate, in a flash of insight, it was as if he had come to realize fighting fate simply left you exhausted and frustrated, but still facing what was meant to be. Destiny was not to be denied, no matter how long and hard you screamed. A calmness washed over him as he accepted what his destiny was; a stubborn, American beauty with an unusual name. Now it was just a matter of waiting until Madison came to the same realization and accepted they were meant to be together. And he fully intended to wait for as long as it took!

Nicholai's hands reached out, his knuckles traced the high structure of her elegant cheekbones and he murmured gently in Russian, "Our names are written in the stars, Madiska. When the time is right, you will be mine."

 Madison's eyes widened in confusion. It drove her crazy when he spoke to her in his native language. First, because she didn't know what he was saying, and secondly, because he could have been reciting names out of a phone book, but the husky way he spoke, and his flashing eyes made her blood boil hotly and her knees go weak. The man simply drove her mad on several levels! Doing her best to regain her senses before they spiraled completely out of control, she shook her head back and forth in a small motion, and gathered her frustration around her like a cloak of safety. "Nicholai, you will speak to me in English, or we will not speak at all," she threatened him, her eyes flashing fire.

He couldn't help the sexy, indulgent smile that curved his lips at her heated response; she was passion personified, as far as he was concerned, and everything about her had him wanting to smile like a fool and scream his thanks to the heavens. It took every ounce of control he had not to pull her into his arms and indulge in the softness of her lips.

Madison's lips curved into a small pout, as she tried to figure out what the man was up to. He was smiling at her like an idiot and she could practically feel happiness emanating from him. It was an attitude he'd never exhibited before, and she felt as if she was looking at his nice twin. Strangely, she felt safer with the grumpier Nicholai, the one she could count on to be an arrogant moron. "Nicholai&ldots;" Her voice was filled with warning.

"I said, Madiska, our names are written in the stars. When the time is right, you will be mine," he murmured softly, his eyes gentle and filled with certainty.

"Nyet!" Madison countered firmly with a word she knew he would understand clearly, her head shaking back and forth for emphasis, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Nicholai simply smiled at her, gently touched the end of her nose and murmured, "Da!" before winking at her jauntily and skating away from her without another word to her, whistling a tune that drifted back to her on the cold air in the arena.

Nicholai's words echoed in her head and she was torn between wanting to run far, far away and ecstatic over the very possibility she attracted the eye of skating's most eligible man. Surely she had fallen down the rabbit hole and was now in Wonderland for nothing was as it seemed at all!

"I refuse to feel anything for you, Nicholai Fedorov!" she silently fumed, wishing she had the courage to scream it out loud and make sure the man realized she had nothing to offer him. Her heart had long ago given up believing there was someone who would love her for who she was, not what she was. The ice was her soulmate; and would always be so.

There simply wasn't room for anyone, or anything, else!

Not now; not ever!

CHAPTER 5

Time passed on speeding wings, leaving everyone edgy, exhausted and contemplating their career choices. With only three days left until the cast presented their programs to Roger, for his final approval, the last thing Madison had expected was a message on her machine saying she could take a day off. Granted, her solo program was set, her costume nearly completed, and her duet with Nicholai officially choreographed, it seemed each time they skated it, it had a different feel to it; a different mood. And each time they skated it, they found themselves awash in feelings that tossed them from elation to desire to frustration, as Nicholai took a step closer to Madison and she took a step away, though each time it got harder and harder to step away from the man.

He had given up on the overt attempts to seduce her. Instead, he had changed tactics, and she was faced with subtle acts of endearing kindness that left her breathless and filled with so much joy it scared her.

"You're being courted!" one of the other girls had commented lightly.

The very thought she might be right had had Madison demanding the man quit being so nice; she could open her own doors and carry her own skates, thank you very much!

The man had simply smiled, silently picked up her bag, held out his arms and waited for her to move forward. That left Madison with two options: one; stand there like a fool, or two; accept his gallant behavior and make the best of it. As much as she would have preferred option one, years of proper etiquette had taught her otherwise, so with a gracious smile, she had led the way out of the arena, not at all happy about it!

Between that, and the very fact she had started thinking of him as a man and not just another skater, told her she was in trouble, and she scolded herself, yet again, for foolishly letting him slip into her mind. How many times would it take her getting her heart broken, before she finally understood the best thing for her was to remain alone - dependent upon no one, content to find happiness by herself? It was safer that way - alone. Pulling herself from her reverie, she shook her head to clear her wayward thoughts of Nicholai and thought about how she'd spend her free day.

She didn't have long to do it before the phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and she found herself listening to the very person she wanted least to think about.

"Madiska. We have the free day. How shall we spend it?" Nicholai's deep voice caressed her ear as he asked the question lightly.

Wild images flashed through her mind as she thought about some of the things she'd like to do to the man; none of which could possibly be good for her - fun - but certainly not smart or good. Closing her eyes, she pushed the images aside forcefully. "Nicholai, I'm skating today, like every other day. That's what I do - skate."

"Is not possible, you have free day today," he countered.

"Yes, I know, I have a free day today, and I choose to spend it skating. There are still some things I need to work on. Today will give me a chance to work all day and not be interrupted by anyone else stealing my ice."

"Your programs need no work!"

"That's your opinion, and you're entitled to it. However, I feel differently. If it makes it any easier for you to understand, I want to skate today," she stated testily.

"You want excuse to be away from me today, so you skate," he challenged her.

Madison rolled her eyes in exasperation, and sighed. "What I want is a chance to be alone on the ice, and contemplate my future."

"That is simple; I am your future," Nicholai stated smugly, his voice a seductive caress.

"That's a very arrogant statement, Mr. Fedorov. What makes you think my future includes you?" she asked breathlessly.

Nicholai's eyes burned with emotion, yet he smiled at her formal use of his last name, knowing she used it as a way to keep him at arm's length. But he was tired of being pushed away, when he could see through to her soul and knew otherwise. "I see the need you feel for me in your eyes, Madiska, feel the fire in your blood when I touch you; hold you. Your heart pounds for me, your body cries for mine, and soon, you will know it to be true," he promised softly.

Madison closed his eyes at his seductive words and deep tone. Fight it as she might, his words were true, and she wasn't fool enough to think otherwise. Each time they skated together it grew harder and harder to leave him after practice. Her room had ceased to be a sanctuary but had become, instead, a room that separated him from her. But as much as her heart screamed to hold him near, her mind called her a fool for even contemplating such a thing. He would simply be one more person in a long line that had made her promises and then carelessly broken them, leaving her alone and empty. As always. "I'm not in the mood to argue today, so believe what you will, Nicholai," she countered flatly.

"Today, is not day to argue, today is day to share. If you skate, I will skate with you," he offered easily.

Madison ran her hands through her hair and sighed in exasperation. The man was purposely being obtuse. Didn't he understand? She didn't want him sharing her ice - her space. She couldn't risk losing herself to him. "Nicholai, your offer is very generous, but I really need to work. If you're there&ldots;" She left the comment hanging, hoping maybe he would gracefully relent and leave her to her solitude.

He either didn't understand her, or chose not to take the hint.

"I will help you with your imagined program problems and then we will skate for pleasure," he stated deeply.

"Nicholai&ldots;"

"Tis settled. I will be to your door in ten minutes."

Madison frowned and cast a quick look toward her door. "Could you make it twenty? I'm running late this morning."

Confusion caused a crease to form between Nicholai's perfectly shaped brows. "You are never late."

"Every dog has his day," she offered cryptically.

Nicholai was now totally confused. "You have dog?"

Madison couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. She could just imagine the baffled look in Nicholai's beautiful eyes. "No, I don't have a dog. It's an American expression - a saying&ldots;" she tried to explain it and gave up the attempt with a wave of her hand. "Forget it. I just need an extra ten minutes, that's all."

"Then you shall have it. I will see you in twenty minutes, Madiska," he stated softly, his deep voice sending sensual shivers through her blood.

Madison's eyes closed and she held her breath briefly, nodding slightly, silently agreeing to his words. With a light sigh, she whispered good-bye, and hung up the phone.

Two minutes later she slipped her arms into her coat, scooped the strap of her skating bag off the floor and looped it over her shoulder, grabbed her purse and headed out the door of her room. Cautiously, she looked up and down the aisle, making certain there was no one around to see her escape, and with the coast clear, headed for the stairs.

Half-an-hour later, Yuri found Nicholai storming through the hotel lobby with fury blazing in his eyes. "My friend, you look upset. Surely that cannot be the case when you have a day to spend in leisure while I am forced to slave to the powers that be!" he offered laughingly.

Nicholai's reply, in Russian, had Yuri's eyebrows lifting and a knowing smile curving his lips. It wasn't often he got to see his friend in a full fury, let alone over a woman, but it was happening now and he couldn't help wanting to laugh at the other man's dilemma. He had warned Nicholai Madison was not a woman to be treated lightly. The woman had defensive walls surrounding her thick enough to keep even the most persistent suitor at bay, and he'd reminded his friend enough times that he shouldn't have been surprised when she pulled her silent escape. Was it his fault Nicholai had refused to believe his words? "Nicholai, slow down. When you rant so, your Russian is nearly as poor as your English!" he teased his friend.

Nicholai's comment to his friend had Yuri hooting in amusement.

"That is a physical impossibility, my friend, but thank you for the suggestion!" Yuri countered; his smile widening as he watched Nicholai's eyes flare with renewed anger. "Calm down. Tell me what has you so angry?" He knew it had to Madison, he couldn't think of anything else Nicholai would get this worked up over.

"She lied to me! She lied to me and fled!" Nicholai spit out in his native tongue.

Yuri's eyebrows again lifted - this time in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Nicholai grumbled to himself, again in his own language, casting dark scowls toward his friend and finally took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. "We were to skate together; for pleasure. I was to meet her at her room in twenty minutes." He pointed to the expensive watch on his left wrist. "I have been pounding upon her door for the past ten minutes. She is gone."

"Are you certain she is just not in the bathroom and could not hear you?" Yuri suggested.

"Nyet!" he growled with a slash of his hand. "Everyone else on her floor heard me pounding. Some were less than civil with their comments about the noise I was making."

"It is rather early to be waking her neighbors," Yuri suggested lightly.

Nicholai scowled again. "It is nearly seven thirty. I would have been on the ice for two hours already had I not been granted the off day!"

Yuri rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Not everyone has the same work ethic as you, my friend."

"Bah!" Again, Nicholai slashed the air in frustration and heaved a furious sigh.

Yuri watched his friend, and couldn't help smiling at his distress. When Nicholai had told him he had decided to make Madison his own, he'd said it with such surety and arrogance Yuri had barely managed to withhold his thoughts to himself. Madison was not a woman to just be 'had'. She was just as determined and stubborn, if not more so, than Nicholai, and if he had thought to simply demand she succumb to his charms, he'd obviously not come to know her as well as he'd thought. She was a walking mystery. Granted, they all knew each other's bio's. But there was more not said about the woman than said, and from all Yuri had seen, she wasn't going to let Nicholai get close to her easily. She reminded him of a scared puppy; one that had been abused and neglected, and wasn't ready to trust anyone - at least not yet. Maybe spending time alone was what she needed more than anything else?

"Perhaps time alone is what she truly needs, Nicholai," Yuri offered quietly.

Nicholai's gaze, still scanning the people that milled around in the hotel lobby, snapped to his friend, at his softly spoken words. Did he know more than he was saying? "I worry for her, my friend. She is young and lonely, and despite what she says, feels for me," he stated softly.

"She is an old soul in a young body; she will do nothing dangerous, and I know she cares for you. I've seen her eyes when she watches you and believes no one is there to see. But I also know she is afraid to accept what she feels for you. Her heart cries, but she is fearful to reach out to you. Trying to pull her closer to you is only going to make her push you away that much harder. She must come to you on her own," Yuri finished.

"How do you see so much?" Nicholai asked.

Yuri's shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. "I watch with eyes unclouded by lust. Madison and I are friends; nothing more, and sometimes simply by watching, you can come to know a person better than you realize."

Nicholai nodded in dawning understanding, his eyes losing their fury as he looked into his friends calm gaze, his body relaxing as some of the fear he'd felt at her flight dissipated. "You know where she has flown, do you not?" he asked his friend softly in Russian.

Yuri looked at his friend for a full thirty seconds before he finally reached into his pocket, and handed him a folded piece of paper. "If I discover later that giving you this address has caused Madison a single moment of sorrow, you will find that even friend's have a limit to their tolerance."

Nicholai offered only a single small nod, murmured, "Spaseeba!", and was off like a shot through the lobby, calling for a taxi.

* * * * *

When the taxi pulled up in front of a rather uninspiring white cement block building a short while later, Nicholai looked at the building skeptically and cast a confused look at the driver. Simply another building in the middle of an industrial park filled with identical buildings, he asked the driver if this was the correct address.

"Pal, I've been driving around this city for twenty years. This is the address on that piece of paper," he explained impatiently, gesturing to the scrap of paper Nicholai held.

With a final cautious glance at the building, Nicholai grabbed his skating bag from the seat, slipped out of the cab and paid the driver. With a squeal of tires against the gravel in the street, the cab disappeared around the corner of another building, and Nicholai from himself alone.

But not for long.

With another screech of wheels, a beat up mustang came tearing around the corner of the building, and skidded to a stop less then ten feet away from Nicholai, sending up a cloud of dust into the chilly air. A tall, lanky young man jumped from the car, grabbing up a bag that looked considerably more beat up than Nicholai's and slung it over his shoulder. A yelled apology was thrown at Nicholai and with a slam of his rickety car door, the kid dashed for the side door of the building.

Uncertain of what else to do, Nicholai followed the young man into the building, and found himself in the very small lobby of a very busy ice rink, and surrounded by skaters of all sizes, shapes and abilities.

"Justin, you're late!" a deep voice called out of the closet-sized office, if it could really be called that, but since it had a desk and a phone, Nicholai granted it the honorary title.

"Sorry. Betsy was being temperamental this morning," the young man he'd seen climb out of the mustang called back as he placed his skating bag on the floor in the only empty corner in the small office.

"Betsy's always temperamental in the morning. If you had any sense, you'd turn her into an end table and be done with it!" a deep voice countered with a laugh, following the young man and leaving the sanctuary of his office and entering the melee that surrounded Nicholai.

A quick glance had him shaking his head in humor. Children, of all ages and sizes were either slipping into their skates for their lessons, or removing them, having already completed them. The kids coming in for class weren't as advanced as those on the way out. He'd learned to schedule the early ice time for those who were serious about their skating; those with dreams of the Olympics crowding their minds. Those willing to spend the money and the time to see their dreams fulfilled. It took a serious, focused kid to want to skate before school started, and so he'd gone out of his way to make it available to those children who were in it for the long haul.

But now, the kids coming in, were those taking to the ice to see if it was a fun as it looked on TV. He couldn't fault this group. There really was only one way to see if you liked ice skating - by trying it. Lord knew enough parents had wasted money buying fancy skates for kids who really had no idea of the sacrifices and dedication involved in taking your skating to the next level. At the same time, he'd seen parents force their own dreams on their children, hoping that vicariously they would see their own dreams come true in their children's form. Every now and then it worked, but that was the exception and not the rule.

"Maddie is waiting for you on the small rink. I told her you'd be thrilled to clean the ice for a star," the older man yelled over the sound of the crowd.

"Madison's here?" the younger man asked in surprise, a wide smile blooming across his face.

Nicholai's eyes darkened at the young man's obvious pleasure. 'Maddie'? He wasn't happy at the less than formal use of her name, nor the boy's glowing eyes.

"Why didn't you say she was here? Jeez, Joey, I haven't seen her in months and you don't even bother to let me know she's waiting?"

"Like it would have made a difference. You're perpetually late, Justin; with or without Betsy's aid!" the older man laughed, suddenly catching a glimpse of Nicholai and the less than friendly look he was sending Justin. His curiosity piqued, he headed toward the huge man.

"Joe Franklin. Can I help you sir?" He offered as an introduction, extending his hand and accepting Nicholai's hesitant handshake. Looking up into the tall man's eyes, something nagged at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and he called himself an idiot, not for the first time that morning, and wished his memory didn't seem to come and go the way it did.

Nicholai looked down into Joe's friendly, expectant eyes, and found himself smiling, surprised by the fact, when only a moment ago, he had wanted nothing more than to tear into the younger man. "Nicholai Fedorov," he offered, shaking the man's hand. "You have busy ice," he offered lightly.

Joe looked around them, couldn't help smiling at the fiasco that surrounded them, and nodded in agreement. "Yep, it's the busy time of the morning. The up and comers are heading off to school, and the kids just getting a taste of skating are heading in," he offered easily. "Sorry about all the noise, it'll be quiet in about ten minutes."

Nicholai simply nodded in understanding, the melee bringing back memories of his own first days on the ice, when he'd been told he would skate; whether he liked it or not. "The noise is not bothersome; it's happy noise," he added quietly.

Joe chuckled lightly and nodded in agreement. "Only someone familiar with skating would say that," he stated, casting Nicholai a smiling glance. "Most people think it's just pandemonium at its worst!"

Nicholai's smiling expression said he disagreed, but his eyes continued to scan the crowded lobby.

"So, Nick, what can I do for you?" Joe asked lightly, cutting to the chase.

Nicholai's eyebrows lifted only slightly, at the man's question, and he curbed the urge to demand to know where he could find Madison. "I am searching for Madison St. Austin. I believe she may be here. Somewhere."

"And what makes you think she's here?"

"I was told she was skating here today."

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "Lots of people are skating here today. Who did you say you're looking for?"

"Madison St. Austin," Nicholai repeated, trying to stay calm.

Joe's forehead creased, as if thinking hard. "I don't remember anybody by that name being scheduled for lessons today."

"She requires no lessons," Nicholai growled softly. "She is professional skater."

Joe was no actor and his attempt at feigning surprise was miserable. "Really? You think a skating star is here on my ice?"

"Your Justin mentioned her name," Nicholai murmured between clenched teeth.

"Justin has a friend skating here today named Maddie, but if you asked him, he'd hardly call her a professional," Joe countered laughingly.

Nicholai's eyes flared to life and the urge to demand to see this 'Maddie' was close to overwhelming. How he managed to keep from storming through the building he would ponder later.

Joe watched the man's conflicting emotions flare in his expressive eyes and chalked another man lost to a woman's affections off the list. "Follow me, Nick. We'll see if our Maddie is your Madison," he suggested, knowing full well the two were the same person and understanding dawning as he recalled Madison's phone call earlier pleading for time on the ice. He was no expert, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out when two people were attracted to each other and uncertain as to the outcome.

Winding their way through the noisy crowd, Nicholai silently followed Joe through the lobby, passing through a set of doors and then down another long hallway before he found himself inside a small ice rink. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the Zamboni machine circling the ice, as it finished clearing the ridges from the surface, Madison trailing behind it, tossing small snowballs at Justin.

Joe heard Nicholai's sigh and watched the man's eyes go soft with relief as he watched her. "I'd sit up there, Nick, she won't be able to see you from there," Joe suggested knowingly, pointing to the enclosed box seats where the coaches usually sat and controlled the music as their skaters ran through their programs.

"Spaseeba," Nicholai offered softly, heading for the steps, all the while keeping his eyes on Madison, smiling when he heard her laughter fill the air. Slipping into one of the seats, his bag slipped forgotten into the seat next to him, and he watched Madison skate to the wall and wrap her arms around him, laughing as he squeezed her heartily and gave her a smacking kiss on her cheek.

Unable to hear their conversation, he watched her as she talked to the man, more animated than he had ever seen her before, smiling and teasing, her eyes filled with happiness and sparkling mischievously.

Justin finished clearing the ice, and cautiously parked the huge machine in the hanger-sized garage. Returning to the rink, he dashed across the ice in his sneakers, skidding the last thirty feet, and coming to a thumping stop against the boards next to Madison.

"Stylish, as usual!" Madison teased him, easily accepting the arm he looped across her shoulders.

Justin sighed. "Practice long enough, and you can be a good as I am!" he tossed back, ignoring the light jab of her elbow as it met his ribs.

Madison's eyes flared daringly. "Hah! In your dreams, bub!" she countered, smiling broadly.

Good-natured barbs were tossed back and forth, memories revisited and gossip shared for a few minutes before Justin was suddenly leaping over the wall and heading toward the box where Nicholai had sat silently watching the trio.

"Where are you going?" Madison called after him, baffled by his sudden departure.

"You wouldn't believe what I came across the other day," he yelled excitedly over his shoulder, heading up the steps to the music center.

Madison sent a curious look at Joe, who only shrugged his shoulders.

"A blast from the past, Maddie. Time to skate, and show me a little style this time!" Justin demanded, disappearing into enclosed area, and pulling up the piece of music he sought. With a push of a button, music Madison and Justin's sister had skated to, what felt a lifetime ago, filled the air and had Madison screaming in disbelief and Joe laughing uproariously.

Without a backward glance, Justin reappeared at the top of the stairs. "What are you waiting for? Skate, St. Austin! Show me you've still got it!" he taunted her with a daring smile.

In amazement, Nicholai watched Madison launch herself into a program he'd never seen before, but she certainly knew. With the music screaming around her, and a singer belting out a tune about a 'Cool Rider', he watched her move around the ice. A sensual, seductive blur of shape that taunted and teased, jumped and spun, and skated with a freedom he had seen only a few times before, and he found himself swept even further under her spell and wanted nothing more than to be on the ice with her. But at the very same time, he was perfectly content to watch her, flying freely, unencumbered, confident, worry free. She was completely content on this little bit of ice and out of the spotlight.

He was astonished.

He'd known too many skaters who had become enamored of themselves after winning Olympic Gold medals, skaters needing their egos constantly stroked; reminding them over and over of their greatness. Such was not the case with Madison. She, more often than not, seemed almost embarrassed over the attention she was paid by her fans. And the more he thought about it, he realized she went out of her way to avoid being seen by fans, often heading out side doors or donning hats and heavy coats. What he had once thought of as Diva behavior, he now realized was shyness, and his protective feelings for the lady grew even stronger.

In appreciative pleasure, he watched her skate, helplessly smiling when she laughed in sheer joy and grimacing when she took the occasional spill. When Joe wandered into the small area, and offered him a cup of black coffee, Nicholai could not believe he'd been sitting in the same spot for three hours, mesmerized by the figure on the ice.

"Spaseeba," he murmured, taking a sip of the steaming brew and smiling in pleasure. "It is good," he offered with a smile.

"It's the only thing I make really well," Joe countered with a light laugh, casting Nicholai a quick sideways glance. The man had been sitting here for hours watching Madison. Surely that counted for something, and his unease lessened a notch.

"Nyet, you make good ice," Nicholai argued easily, nodding toward the shining surface below them.

Joe turned his attention to Madison on the ice. "It's easy to do things when it makes others happy."

"Da," Nicholai agreed, watching as Justin skated on to the ice and joined Madison, the two of them skating together as if they had done so for a long time.

In silent camaraderie they watched the two on the ice, silently sipping their coffee.

You could learn a lot by simply watching a person, Joe had learned over the years, and Nicholai was an open book when it came to Madison, he realized in short order. Here's a man gone for a woman! he silently acknowledged, a small, happy smile curving his lips, pleased for some reason at the prospect Madison had someone who really cared about her.

Several more minutes passed and then Joe watched the tiny frown appear between Nicholai's brows and, understanding the man's dilemma, decided to explanations were in order. "Justin and Madison have known each other for years. Madison and Justin's sister, Renee, used to train together. Justin did his best to drive the girls crazy; which, I might add, he managed to do on a regular basis!" Joe chuckled at the memory.

Nicholai sent Joe a curious look. "Did the girls not retaliate?"

"Every chance they got!" Joe advised him. "But he was a stubborn little brother who refused to leave well enough alone. He didn't back off until they sanded his edges one day - unbeknownst to him - and he damn near killed himself on the ice. After that, they came to a mutual understanding and things went along much more smoothly."

For several moments the two men sat in silence watching the pair on the ice. Finally Nicholai murmured, "What happened with Renee?"

Joe ran one hand through his hair. "Ah, Renee," he sighed lightly. "After fourteen years of skating seriously, she decided there was more to life than early mornings, long days, hard, cold ice, injuries and wondering if you were skating for yourself or everyone else."

All legitimate questions that had crossed Nicholai's mind more than once over the years. Nicholai nodded in understanding.

"One day, a boy came into the rink, looking for work. Said he was willing to do whatever job I needed done: handyman, custodian, snack bar attendant. Whatever. Best part was he'd work for cheap. He just wanted the chance to gain work experience."

"Did you hire him?"

"On the spot!" Joe laughed, remembering how excited the kid had been. "And boy was he a hard worker! Did everything I threw at him and never complained. I still miss him."

"He stop working for you?" Nicholai asked curiously.

Joe's deep chuckle echoed in the small room. "He was painting the lobby when Renee came in for an extra training session. She and Madison had a competition they were getting ready for and Renee wanted one more session on the ice. I'll be the first to admit, Madison skated circles around Renee but the two girls were inseparable; best friends, and I couldn't tell you how many hours Madison worked with Renee, helping her. But I digress," Joe mumbled, waving his hand back and forth, as if sweeping the memory back into line.

"The kid's on the ladder painting the lobby, Renee walks in, and the two see each other." Joe held up his hand. "I swear, as God is my witness, light exploded in the lobby and the next thing I know, the kid's falling off the ladder, paint's spilling everywhere and Renee's on her knees in the middle of it all hugging the boy as if she's never going to let him go." Joe shook his head back and forth; still unable to believe how everything had happened.

"Did she skate that day?" Nicholai asked quietly.

Joe sent him a sidelong glance. "Nope; never put her skates on again, leastwise not to compete. Skates every now and again for pleasure, although now that she's seven months pregnant, she's pretty much off the ice for the time being."

"She married boy covered with paint?" Nicholai asked in surprise.

Joe nodded his head up and down. "It was one of the prettiest wedding's I've ever seen, and the two of them are as happy as two peas in a pod. Now, with a baby on the way, I honestly don't see how they could get any happier."

"She gived up skating to become wife and mother?" Nicholai asked in disbelief, certain he had misunderstood Joe.

"She gave up skating because she found something she loved more," Joe corrected him, smiling at the bafflement in Nicholai's eyes. "If it came right down to it, wouldn't you do the same for the woman you loved?" Joe asked softly.

Nicholai's gaze drifted to Madison, and a gentle smile curved his lips as he watched her continue to skate with Justin, laughing brightly at something the younger man said to her. "Da," he murmured softly. "I will do whatever it takes to make her happy and to love me."

Joe barely managed to hide his smile of pleasure at Nicholai's soft declaration. He doubted the younger man even realized he'd been so specific in answering the question. "Does she know you love her?" Joe asked quietly.

"I have told her she will be mine," Nicholai stated instead.

Joe chuckled and scratched behind his ear. "Not exactly the same thing. American women like to hear the words."

"I have never said such words to any woman," Nicholai stated.

"Have you ever felt this way about another woman?" Joe asked carefully.

Nicholai pondered Joe's question and found himself surprised to discover he had never before felt the overwhelming emotions that swamped him whenever he thought about Madison, let alone when he was with her, with any other woman he had known. And he'd known his fair share of women. "Nyet!"

"Well I'm no expert when it comes to women, but maybe it would be a good idea to let her hear those words; if that's how you feel about her," Joe suggested.

Nicholai cast Joe a look filled with misery. "I fear she will run from me, as she did today, if I say such thing to her. I think she fears being close to another."

Joe again ran his hand through his hair. "You're right there, Nick. Madison's parents were not what you would call warm people. She did her best to make them happy and the only times they were truly pleased with her was when she was winning medals. They were so thrilled with her Gold Medal they showed her off like a prized trophy, flaunting her accomplishment and proclaiming how they had helped her every step of the way. And then they put her back on her shelf and went back to doing what they do best, living their own lives, on separate coasts, and using her as a game piece against each other. Madison never had what you could call a 'normal' life; she spent every minute trying to please two people who should have loved her unconditionally but instead, put conditions impossible to meet upon her. I'm not surprised to hear she's doing her best to keep you away. I don't know how many more times she can survive having her heart broken."

"I have no wish to make her heart break, but I feel need deep in my heart to be with her. She makes me feel things I never feel before; makes me want to smile at nothing," Nicholai tried to explain, his own hands running through his hair in frustration.

Joe nodded, understanding Nicholai's frustration and helpfully suggested, "Maybe what she needs right now is a friend; someone she can truly count on, someone who won't make demands of her and will accept her for who she is, and not what she's accomplished."

"Her friend?" Nicholai murmured pondering Joe's words.

Joe nodded again, smiling as a hopeful expression filled Nicholai's eyes. "And who knows, friends often become more&ldots;" Joe left the suggestion hanging.

"Lovers?" Nicholai murmured wishfully.

"If it's meant to be," Joe offered.

"I wish it to be so," Nicholai countered deeply.

Joe simply smiled.

Nicholai returned his gaze to Madison on the ice and watched in silence as she skated around the ice for several minutes before turning to look at Joe. "I have need for her room key. Can you get it?"

"You want me to steal her room key?" Joe asked in surprise, suddenly concerned for Madison. "What are you up to, Nick?"

In less than two minutes, Nicholai convinced Joe he had nothing terrible planned for Madison. In fact, to the contrary, it was the first step in what he hoped would have her eventually coming to him freely and openly, ready to accept all he wanted to share with her.

"You're planning to seduce the lady!" Joe proclaimed.

Nicholai wasn't completely certain he understood Joe, but stated instead, "I plan to prove to Madison I care deeply for her and want her in my life."

"For always, or just until you're bored with her?"

Nicholai sent him a confused look. "I am uncertain of word 'bored', but I want to feel what she makes me feel for all time."

Joe looked at him steadily, enjoying the fact he made the huge man squirm just the smallest bit. "Do you love her, Nicholai?" he asked quietly.

Nicholai's eyes grew thoughtful and he shrugged a barely perceptible shrug. "I would give my life to see her smile and laugh in my arms, as she does here, on your ice. I want to hold her when she cries and make her sadness go. I want to kiss her until she is mindless and make her see no one but me. If that is loving someone, then yes, I love her," he stated quietly.

Joe felt his heart sing joyfully at Nicholai's words and knew he spoke the truth, for his eyes said it all. Clearing his throat, he waved the younger man off. "Go then, Nick, and work your magic. But know this, if you break Madison's heart, you will have to answer to me!"

Nicholai nodded in understanding, and offered Joe his hand. "Spaseeba; for everything," he stated gently, pulling the man forward and kissing him lightly on both cheeks.

Heat flooded Joe's cheeks and he laughed self-consciously. "You Russians and your wild customs!"

Nicholai laughed deeply. "Next time I will punch you instead, da?"

Joe nodded in agreement, laughter echoing in the small room. "Go, Nick, begin your seduction. I wish you luck!"

Nicholai nodded, cast a final look toward the ice, and Madison, and with a mischievous smile, left the viewing area and headed off to begin his courtship of Madison St. Austin, hoping with all his heart, success would be his!

When Madison returned to her hotel room later that day, she not only discovered her key card was missing, but after having to request a second card, entered her room to find a trail of yellow rose petals leading from the door through the hotel room and into the bathroom. In surprise and confusion, she followed the path of petals, picking up a handful and breathing deeply of the subtle scent as she looked into her bathroom and gasped in surprise.

Glowing candles, of all shapes and sizes, were placed throughout the bathroom, and cast a glow that was both seductive and comforting. The bathtub, filled with steaming water and bubbles scattered with more rose petals, beckoned to her screaming muscles. A single champagne glass, half-filled with liquid, sat beside a bottle of sparkling cider. A plate covered with a shining silver cover curiously called to her, and unable to resist her rumbling stomach, she lifted the lid to find her favorite salad. Shaking her head in disbelief, she stole one of the mandarin orange slices from her salad, and slipped it into her mouth, sighing in pleasure as the sweetly tart fruit dissolved against her tongue.

Unable to resist the steam curling from the bathtub, she quickly slipped from her clothes and stepped into the steaming water, a heartfelt sigh of pleasure escaping her parted lips as she sank into the wet heat. Leaning backwards, she let her head rest against the rim of the tub, luxuriating in the heat that dissolved the pain in her overworked muscles. Her hands slipped into the water, scooping up handfuls of bubbles and rose petals and lifted to the ceiling, the silken textures sliding down her tired arms and over her breasts, to fall back into the water.

In decadent pleasure, she relaxed and allowed the water to comfort and soothe her. For the briefest of instants, she imagined sharing her bath with Nicholai but quickly brushed the image aside. His presence was too potent; too seductive. It was all she could do not to succumb to his demands and simply fall into his arms.

Reaching for her glass, she sipped the cool drink and forcefully pushed away the guilt she felt for ditching the man. It had been a dirty trick; one she was certain she would pay for, and she wondered what form of retribution he would take. Better not to think about it; tomorrow would be soon enough.

Instead of pondering her demise at the hands of the huge, too tempting Russian, she'd eat her salad and try to figure out who had been kind enough to leave her such a glorious treat. Probably Marcie. She'd have to remember to thank the woman tomorrow morning at practice. Shaking the water off her hands, she reached for the hand towel, determined not get her salad soggy by eating it with hands covered in bubbles, and found the note sitting on top of it. Carefully, she opened the note using just her fingertips and gasped in surprise at the words:

Madiska,

I hope your day was pleasant. I am sorry I not able to share with you; perhaps next time. Enjoy your meal and roses, and sleep with peaceful dreams. I will see you on ice soon.

Ya tebya lyublyu.

Nicholai

Madison's heart lurched at the gentle note and she couldn't help the smile that curved her lips. He certainly didn't sound angry in the note, and if the roses and her meal were any indication of his mood, nothing had changed between them. She frowned slightly at the Russian words he had written, wishing she knew what they meant. He had written the rest of the note in English. Why would he write his closing comment in Russian? Pondering the question, she finally concluded perhaps the English phrase he sought had eluded him and he simply had resorted to his native tongue. She would simply ask him what it meant; surely he would tell her.

Reading the note one final time, she placed it carefully against the wall surrounding the tub, away from any water that might be splashed, but close enough she could look at it anytime she wanted, and reached for her salad. Slowly savoring the varied flavors of spring greens, mandarin oranges, walnuts, gorgonzola cheese and raspberry salad dressing, she thought her day on the ice, alone; without Nicholai, and found herself admitting that she had missed him in a way she could never have imagined. Despite his demanding, determined, arrogant ways, she had found the ice quiet; too quiet, and had actually had to force herself to remain in the place she had always considered her sanctuary.

It was disconcerting to suddenly find herself thinking that maybe - just maybe - there could be times when someone else could fill a spot in her life. Certainly not permanently, that could never happen; at least not with her. Some people were destined to be surrounded by people they loved, and who loved them in return. While others were destined to live their lives alone. She simply fell into the latter category. Hadn't she learned? Even in a crowd you could be alone!

Still, her heart taunted her, as she looked around at the roses and candles and sipped at the sparkling cider, nothing was written in stone.

Chapter 6

Her body hummed with delicious need, as foreign words were whispered in her ear, their tone filled with sexual need - teasing, demanding, daring - each word sending her soaringhigher toward fulfillment. Strong hands stroked her silken skin, cherishing the glory of her body; each touch sweeter than the last, each touch pushing her closer to the scorching sun, daring her to deny the pleasure within her reach. Her back arched, and her breath caught in her chest as a jolt of white-hot sensation concentrated itself in the center of her body and teased her mindless, completion and fulfillment just out of her reach, daring her to turn from it.

"Mookha moy maleen'keey pteetsa!" 'Fly my little bird!' his deep voice demanded softly, seductively. Madison's eyes drifted open, so dark they appeared nearly black, and gazed up into Nicholai's, glazed in passion and the color of the sea at midnight. "Ya tebya lyublyu!" he murmured huskily, his mouth closing over hers in a kiss that sent her body flying into oblivion; her cry of surrender bringing tears of joy to his eyes as she dissolved in his arms in ecstasy.

The harsh buzz of her alarm had her jolting upright in bed, her hand slamming down to still the horrible noise. Confused and disoriented, her heart pounded madly in her chest and she struggled to still her erratic breathing. Sweeping her hair out of her face, she stared blankly into the still dark room and tried to figure out what had just happened.

Her body still tingled with awareness, and a languidness washed over her as the last vestiges of her dream slowly dissipated, and she was left feeling strangely empty and needy. She could still hear Nicholai's voice whispering words she didn't understand, and felt suddenly apprehensive to ask him what they meant. Perhaps it was safer just thinking of them as purely generic and friendly, but nothing too personal. Then again, they'd just had mind blowing sex in her dream! Surely that had to indicate she was beginning to think of him as something more than just an acquaintance?

And how in the hell was she supposed to skate with the man after what had just happened? Covering her cheeks with her hands, she wasn't surprised to find them hot to the touch; her whole body felt that way! She wanted to scream in frustration at the unfairness of it all. All she wanted to do was skate. Was that too much to ask? The ice was the one place she found true happiness, granted, alone, but it was still her sanctuary. Only now, it was starting to feel different. Now, not only was she beginning to look forward to seeing him on the ice, but she had started to miss him when she was on the ice and he wasn't. Surely that couldn't be good. Then to top it off, the wretch was beginning to finagle his way into her dreams. (And your heart, a tiny voice taunted her.)

"I don't need anyone!" she snarled to herself, over and over, hoping if she said it often enough, she'd begin to believe it.

Frustrated, furious and looking for a fight, she kicked her way free of the tussled sheets, and stomped her way into the bathroom, mumbling all the way. With a sharp twist of the knob, she turned on the cold water in the shower, hoping the shock of cold water would forcefully drive Nicholai from her every thought, and make her feel as if she had some control over her own life.

A half hour later, when she entered the arena and headed for the rink she was scheduled to use, she found herself looking at the man who did more than haunt her dreams; he was sneaking into her head. Already on the ice, and having a grand time, by the looks of it, he bee-bopped to music she hadn't thought about in years, but had skated to only yesterday. Cool Rider echoed through the huge arena, and with Nicholai dressed completely in black, he looked every inch the image of the man the girl sang about, and images of her dream swamped her and left her edgy and frustrated.

"Ah, Madiska, you come," Nicholai called out, suddenly spotting her.

Madison couldn't help coughing at his choice of words.

Nicholai's blue eyes shone brightly as he skated up to her and came to a sliding stop only a few feet away. "What do you think of music I hear on radio yesterday? Does it not make you want to skate for fun?"

Madison took a deep breath and tried to ignore all the conflicting emotions that ran through her. Concentrating on getting her skates on, she didn't look at the man again. He was too damn tempting dressed in black, every muscle displayed to perfection and just the tiniest bit sweaty from his warm up. It was all she could do not to jump him right there on the ice and see if reality came anywhere near measuring up to fantasy.

"I didn't know radio stations still played that old song?" Madison finally mumbled, banging her heel hard against the floor as she set her heel, missing the minute smile that lifted the corners of Nicholai's mouth.

"You have heard it before?" he asked lightly.

Madison cast a quick glance upward and her heart stumbled as their eyes met and held, until she finally managed to pull away from his magnetic gaze. "I skated to it a very long time ago," she stammered.

"Do you still remember program?" he asked interestedly.

Madison once again lifted her eyes to meet his, her question clear in the deep brown depths. "Do you remember every program you ever skated?"

"Of course," Nicholai answered smugly. "You do not?" he challenged her.

Madison's left eyebrow lifted arrogantly, her expression imperious. "What do you think?"

Nicholai shrugged his broad shoulders, his blue eyes filled with challenge. His full lips pursed for just a second, as if he pondered her question seriously, before he answered her. "From what I see, American skater's programs last one season and are discarded."

"Unlike you Russians who remember every move of every program for your whole lives?" Madison countered flatly.

Nicholai simply smiled at her indulgently, and the very fact he did, made her want to punch him.

"Hate to burst your bubble, Mr. Fedorov, but not all Americans are so forgetful," she murmured, getting to her feet, wiggling her toes inside her boots, and making her way to the ice, where she stepped onto the gleaming surface smoothly.

"Good, then you will show me program?" Nicholai asked, following her around the ice as she began to warm up her muscles.

"I told you, I skated to that music a very long time ago," she explained, continuing to get a feel for the ice.

"You say you remember program, yet you will not skate it for me. Why is that?" he persisted.

Madison sighed in exasperation. The man had a stubborn streak as wide as Texas! When he decided to dig his heels in, they stayed dug! "Why are you so interested in seeing me skate to that music?"

Because you come alive when you do! He wanted to scream, but instead, simply stated, "I see you skate to slow, soft music always. I didn't know you could skate fast," he challenged her. He might as well have said double dare you!

Madison sent him a look of disbelief. "I skate faster than you, Nicholai. Don't make me make you look bad just to prove it!" she countered very sweetly.

Easily matching her stride, Nicholai rolled his eyes at her outrageous comment. She couldn't help laughing at his behavior. He was different this morning; calmer, less intense, as if he'd suddenly discovered something wonderful and special, and wasn't about to share it with anyone. "The day you out-skate me; I hang up skates," he stated laughingly.

Madison looked at Nicholai in amazement. Totally baffled now by his lack of response to her having ditched him yesterday, she could only wonder at his behavior. Not wanting to spoil his mood, but personally needing to ease her own mind of her subterfuge, she briefly touched his arm, drawing his gaze to hers.

"I want to apologize for yesterday. It wasn't right of me to lie to you the way I did and then leave you hanging," she murmured softly, her gaze dropping to the ice. Why, oh why, did she feel as if she'd let yet another person down? Would these feelings of constantly disappoint people never end?

Nicholai watched her fold in on herself and hated seeing it happen. Joe had explained so much about her yesterday, as they watched her skate, and he hated knowing she felt solely responsible for something that had been more his fault than hers. She had told him she wanted time alone and he had refused to listen; demanding something from her she couldn't give. At least, not yet. His fingertips gently touched her chin, and slowly raised her eyes until they met his. "You owe me nothing, Madiska. You needed the time alone, and I would not listen. Next time I will," he offered gently, before releasing her chin.

Madison looked at him in a daze, unable to believe the kindness she had heard in his voice and what she saw in his eyes. Oh how she wanted to believe in it! "Thank you," she murmured.

"In Russian," Nicholai encouraged her.

"Spaseeba," she murmured uncertainly, looking to him for approval.

"Kharosheey, good!" he offered with a dazzling smile. "Now, do you prove you have the good memory and show me old program or do you bow to my superior ability?" he challenged her.

Even at her most dispirited, Madison never lost her competitive edge and now was no exception. Fully determined to leave the man in the dust - so to speak - she tossed her head defiantly and demanded, "Restart your song, Nicholai, and prepare for a good old American ass whooping!"

When Marcie and Nigel entered the arena a short while later to work with Madison and Nicholai one last day (even though it wasn't really necessary), they found the two skaters flying across the ice to the blaring music, teasing and flirting with each other and looking as if they'd been partners for years.

Nigel rolled his eyes in disgust at the music, even as Marcie laughed uproariously. "Who ever thought there should have been a Grease 2 should have been shot! I'm surprised Michelle Pfeiffer's career survived the debacle!" he growled.

"I want a cool rider; a cool rider, if he's cool enough, he'll burn me through and through&ldots; no ordinary boy, no ordinary boy is gonna do, I want rider that's cool!" Marcie sang along to the booming music, singing even louder when Nigel stuck his fingers in his ears hoping to block out the sound and scowling when it didn't.

Thankfully, the song didn't last long, and eventually there was blessed silence.

"Thanks for the blast from the past. Now promise me, I will never - and I repeat never - hear that song again anytime soon!" Nigel yelled across the ice, walking forward and waiting for the two to meet him at the edge of the ice.

"Blame it on Nicholai; he heard the music on the radio yesterday and felt like sharing it with me today," Madison stated laughingly.

"Some things are meant to be shared; Nicholai, that song is not one of them!" Nigel stated disgustedly, shuddering as the song ran through his mind again. His dramatic gesture left the other three smiling.

"Don't listen to him; I thought it was wonderful!" Marcie countered; ignoring Nigel's wildly rolling eyes. Looking at the two skaters, she inquired, "I take it you two are warmed up. Suppose we start with Madison's solo and then segue into your duet?"

At their nods of approval, Madison headed to center ice, while Nicholai stayed on the ice, but out of her way.

Microphone in hand, Nigel's voice echoed over the ice. "Ready, Madison?"

Another nod and she waited for her music.

As the opening notes filled the air, Nicholai watched her begin her program: each step, stroke and spin as clear as if it had been his own program. He knew how her hands would lift, and then drift weightless to her side, could almost feel her touch as she reached for the phantom she loved.

As the first verse of the song ended, the music became richer, more involved, and an accompanying cello entered in counterpoint to the lighter notes of the piano. Suddenly Nicholai was moving with the music, as if he had become a part of her dreams. He shadowed her moves; just out of arms reach, as if he was a phantom lover that haunted her dreams. He was subtle strength and power to her gentleness and lightness.

Nigel and Marcie watched in silence, exchanging first surprised, then amazed, glances, at what had started as Madison's solo had turned into a duet. The program was filled with serenity and hope and magic, but also excitement as they watched Nicholai reach for Madison and suddenly lift her high into the air in a perfectly balanced star lift. Turning silently across the gleaming ice, their speed never lagging, he then dismounted her out of the lift with the sweetest little two and a half twist Nigel had ever seen.

"Did you see that?" Nigel whispered in awe.

Marcie couldn't speak, could only nod and watch Nicholai as he caught Madison effortlessly, as if she weighed no more than a feather, and then leaned her backward over the ice, her head nearly grazing the shining surface, her feet having yet to touch the ground. In a burst of pure strength she was back up into the air, her arms raised to the sky, her face a study of pure joy as she sailed through the air.

"My God," Marcie murmured reverently, knowing the strength the Nicholai had to possess to perform such a maneuver, especially at the end of a program.

They watched the last moments of the program in stunned awe, and when the music disappeared into silence, felt strangely as if they'd just witnessed a brief shining miracle that would never again be repeated.

On the ice, Nicholai couldn't decide if his labored breathing was because of the program or the fact he had Madison wrapped tightly in his arms, the soft smell of her shampoo teasing his senses and making his blood boil with need. The fact her breasts pressed against his chest each time she took a breath didn't help things either! With a sigh of pure contentment, he rested his cheek against the top of her head, and pulled her closer to him.

"Nicholai, I need to breathe," Madison murmured quietly, her hands gently stroking his back, not even realizing she was doing it.

He released her only enough to grant her room to breathe and look up into his face. Their gazes caught, and held, questions silently asked and answered. After what felt like an eternity, he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead, and then pulled her into his arms for a final hug before releasing her from his grip.

"Oh hell, they're in love!" Nigel growled, scowling at the pair on the ice, before directing his furious gaze to Marcie. "This is all your fault! 'Pair them'; you said. 'It'll be great'; you said. Well it's great now, but what happens when they suddenly decide they can't stand each other anymore?"

Marcie could only shrug. But looking at the ice, and remembering what she had just seen occur between the two wasn't a quick flash of lust, but something much deeper, something meant to last.

As far as she was concerned, she'd just seen the pair team of Fedorov and St. Austin born and nothing, and no one would ever make her believe the magic she had seen surround and enfold the two was ever going to disappear!

Not even the ever-pessimistic Nigel!

Chapter 7

Yuri collapsed into the chair in the restaurant with a groan, and gazed across the table at Nicholai, calmly forking a mouthful of salad into his mouth. "Are you purposely trying to drive Nigel insane, or it is just a happy by-product of your boredom?" he asked lightly.

Nicholai swallowed his food and calmly sipped at his water, his eyes never leaving his friend. "Nigel is still unhappy?" he asked in amusement. "He is only man I know who has made pouting art form!" he stated, ripping a piece off of his sourdough roll and popping it into his mouth.

Yuri's eyebrows lifted in amusement. "With the exception of you, of course. Nigel has obviously picked up a few of your tricks," he countered, reaching for a bread roll out of the basket sitting in the center of the table and tearing a piece off it.

"I do not pout," Nicholai argued with a wide smile.

"No, you sulk," Yuri clarified. "Regardless of what you call it, the result is the same: all around you are miserable!"

Nicholai's wide shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "I am neither sulking nor miserable, nor do I choose to be. So if you must be grumpy, please use other table," he requested calmly, nodding toward an empty table close by.

"I am not grumpy; merely exhausted. Nigel ran us through hoops all morning; dissatisfied with everything and everyone," Yuri sighed, rolling his shoulders in small circles in an effort to loosen his tense muscles. "Considering it was your name he repeatedly cursed, I assumed you partially responsible for his mood."

Nicholai's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "He is still cursing me?"

"More he kept swearing our rehearsal would not be as yours and Madison's had been. He kept mumbling how he 'refused to allow this show to go down the crapper because people could not keep their minds on skating and out of the sack!' I don't know about you, but I don't think I'd even have the energy to do anything if I could get someone in the 'sack'!" Yuri complained.

Nicholai didn't say a word, simply sat chewing on his bread roll and smiling a secretive smile.

Yuri watched at his friend silently, and grew curious as he watched a slight blush color the man's neck. "You coaxed Madison into bed?" he asked in a disbelieving whisper.

"Nyet!" Nicholai murmured, casting a cautious gaze around the restaurant, hoping Yuri's words hadn't traveled beyond their table. "As much as I want her, I will wait for her to come to me."

Yuri mumbled something in Russian, shook his head in disbelief, and murmured, "Never would I have thought to hear such words slip from the lips of the great Nicholai Fedorov! When have you ever waited for something you want to come to you? You have always taken what you wanted when you wanted it!"

"Perhaps I am learning that some things are better if given freely. One cannot force something from someone unwilling, or unable to give of themselves," Nicholai stated sincerely.

Yuri looked at his friend in amazement. "I never would have believed I would live long enough to see you learn patience! Surely Armageddon must be upon us!" he teased his friend.

"I have never been a patient man." Nicholai ignored Yuri's amused snort of agreement. "You may need to remind me, upon occasion, of this new course I undertake, to see that I do not&ldots;" he waved one elegant hand, searching for the words he sought.

"Return to being the same arrogant, demanding, impatient, difficult prima donna you have always been?" Yuri offered helpfully, his eyes filled with devilish innocence.

Nicholai scowled at him, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his shapely mouth. "Something like that," he allowed. "But being man, can I be prima donna?"

"Call intolerable behavior what you will, but you have capability to be serious pain in the ass!" Yuri stated flatly, cast an intense look at his friend, and smiled as he once again watched a wash of color creep up the man's neck.

Nicholai grew uncomfortable beneath Yuri's searching gaze. "It is impolite to stare," he told his friend, repeating the exact same words Madison had used not so long ago when she had caught him staring at her.

"My apologies, but you astound me," he stated simply. "That you are willing to grant Madison the gift of time tells me she is more than simply a passing lust to be satisfied and then discarded. Perhaps she is truly the one destiny has chosen for you."

"I feel she is," Nicholai answered softly, sending his friend a sheepish look from beneath his long lashes. "I cannot explain this&ldots;" again his hands waved in the air, "connection. She is the first thing I think of when my eyes seek the morning and last thing my mind sees before sleep takes me. As much as I would like to steal her away and discover every secret that makes her unique, I also know, doing so will send her running from me forever, and I cannot imagine her not being in my life."

Yuri looked at him, his gaze filled with consideration. For a man who had difficulty expressing himself, he was suddenly doing it brilliantly! "Have you told her how you feel?"

Again, a wash of color crept up his neck, and he pulled against the collar on his shirt, as if it had suddenly become too tight. "I have told her I love her, if that is what you ask," he murmured softly.

Yuri blinked in surprise. "And she did not run screaming in the opposite direction of you?"

"I did not say it in English," Nicholai stated sheepishly.

"Ah. So you are not so certain if she shares the same feelings?"

"Nyet! Her eyes give her away. Everything she feels shines brightly in her lovely eyes. But I also know that if I say the words to her, she will bolt. And as I'm certain I could convince her that her heart is safe with me, it would be better if she came to me on her own and willingly accepted the love I wish to share with her. She has had her heart hurt too many times before. She must be the one who comes to me!"

"You leave much to fate. You could lose everything, if her fear rules her heart," Yuri warned Nicholai softly.

Nicholai thought about Yuri's words, and nodded in agreement, but when he lifted his eyes to meet his friends, they were sure and steady. "Madiska's heart is strong and beats in time with mine; as if they were one. It is only a matter of time until her mind comes to believe what her heart murmurs and she comes to me willingly." Nicholai's words were firm, his tone filled with resolve.

Yuri nodded in agreement. "Then we practice patience. Eh, comrade?"

"Da! We practice patience," Nicholai repeated, signaling to a passing waitress. Returning his attention to Yuri, he asked, "Do you wish to eat?"

"Only if there is something that requires little chewing on the menu. Otherwise, you will have to chew it for me and feed me like baby bird!" Yuri complained, closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the top of his chair while he groaned dramatically.

"I am sure we can find you nice bowl of green Jello!" Nicholai offered with a smile, then laughed as Yuri's eyes sprung open and a look of disgust filled his face.

"I said I was tired; not dying. Keep your green Jello to yourself!" Yuri demanded, visibly shuddering in disgust at the thought of the obnoxious goo he'd been forced to eat too often as a child. He still wondered how his mother had come to the conclusion that green Jello was good for a child, and despite his aversion to the questionable food item, his heart thumped sadly as he realized his mother would never again slide a bowl of the shimmering, shiny glop his way.

Nicholai watched sadness shadow his friend's eyes like a curtain dropping and kicked himself for his words. "I'm sorry, Yuri. I did not mean to make you sad."

Yuri's eyes glistened, but his lifted his chin tiredly - determinedly. "Reminding me of my beloved mother is nothing to feel badly about. I simply wish I had been with her to tell her good-bye and thank her for loving me so well, and sacrificing so much for me," he murmured softly. He would forever remember his coach coming to him, after skating a terrible program at a competition, and breaking the news to him. His coach had been straight-forward, analytical and as warm as a brick wall when he'd told his twelve year old charge his mother had been killed in an automobile accident.

Nicholai nodded understandingly. "She was an amazing woman."

"Da!" Yuri agreed quietly.

"Who raised an amazing son!"

It was Yuri's turn to blush. "You say that simply to take my mind from sad thoughts."

"No, I say that because it is true, and because I am fortunate to have you to call friend. Not many people are willing to align themselves with me," Nicholai stated.

"Not many people are willing to tolerate your moodiness, arrogance and blustering ways. I, however, know the real you and for all your blustering, you are no more than a shy boy wanting to please everyone and constantly afraid you will not succeed."

Nicholai gazed steadily at his friend, this man he had known for as long as he could remember, the one truly stable person in his life, and smiled sheepishly. "Only brothers can know one another so well."

"Only a brother would tolerate such miserable behavior on a constant basis," Yuri countered knowingly. "Heaven knows I've had to live with your tantrums more years than a person should have to."

"You are very tolerant, considering we are not true brothers," Nicholai murmured.

"We are closer than many brothers born from the same womb. Sharing a same name does not necessarily make true brothers. But we two, we have shared blood, shared fears, shared skating boots&ldots;" Yuri began.

"And green Jello!" Nicholai added.

Yuri couldn't stop the wistful little smile that curved his lips. "And green Jello," he agreed. "We have shared life, for all its ups and downs, joys and sadness, defeat and success. We are brothers, by choice, and so we shall always be. Time shall bring changes, but there will always be one constant - us!"

Nicholai was humbled by Yuri's words, surprised to hear put into words what he had always felt in his heart. Suddenly, everything made sense. He'd come to this point in his life, with Yuri by his side, and everything was falling into place, as it was meant to be. "How is it you are so wise for one so young?" Nicholai couldn't resist taunting him. Only a little over a year separated them age-wise and yet Yuri seemed eons wiser than he did.

Yuri ignored the barb and simply lifted one eyebrow at him sardonically. "I have had to become wise in an effort to keep you from alienating everyone around you and leaving you alone. Basically, I have become your keeper and without me, you would be nothing!" he stated smugly, knowing his words would not go ignored by Nicholai.

"True. But admit it, without the excitement I bring to your life, you would be bored beyond reason," Nicholai challenged his friend.

Yuri closed his eyes and chuckled. "Perhaps. But it would be wonderful to try boredom; even if only for a brief while."

"I shall endeavor to bring you boredom, then Yuri," Nicholai offered, looking up into the tired face of the waitress who had come to their table. "My friend seeks boredom. Have you suggestions?"

The waitress pondered Nicholai's words for only a moment, and then, as if she'd thought of something brilliant, offered, "Go see that ice show that's coming around soon. That's got to be the most boring thing going!"

A full ten seconds passed before Nicholai and Yuri's roaring laughter had every patron in the restaurant gazing at them curiously and then a young girl cautiously coming to their table, piece of paper and pen in hand.

The two men looked at the young girl and smiled encouragingly.

"May I have your autographs, please?" she asked timidly, clutching the paper tightly against her chest, barely breathing for her anxiousness.

In amazement, the waitress watched as the men nodded in agreement, signed the slip of paper and gathered the little girl close as her mother took a picture of the threesome. With heartfelt thank you's, the girl, now filled with excitement, returned to her table, gazing at the napkin with Nicholai and Yuri's signatures on it as if it was made of solid gold.

"What was that all about?" the waitress asked the young girl's mother quietly, before she rejoined her daughter at their table.

"That's Nicholai Fedorov and Yuri Markov," she replied excitedly.

The waitress, not recognizing their names, shook her head in confusion. "Am I supposed to recognize those names?"

The girl's mother looked at the waitress in disbelief and surprise. "They're only two of the best male figure skaters in the world! They're here getting ready to begin their skating tour in a few weeks," she explained. "You know, the skating show everyone's talking about?"

Wishing the floor would open up and swallow her, and thus alleviate the need for her to embarrass herself any further with the two men, she shook her head in disbelief and turning to the two men, calmly stated. "I'll see if I can't come up with a better suggestion for boredom for you two!"

Without a backward glance, she walked away.

Nicholai's and Yuri's deep laughter again echoed throughout the restaurant.

* * * * *

At eleven o'clock that night, over the pulsing, heavy bass beat of the music, Nigel and Marcie sat in the stands, watching all fifteen skaters run through the finale, and couldn't keep their satisfied grins to themselves.

 "We're really going to pull this off," Marcie murmured quietly. Her eyes never left the ice as she watched the intricate footwork the skaters had all struggled for days with suddenly fall into place and look amazingly simple. But that's what skating was all about: making something nearly impossible to perform look like a walk in the park.

Nigel nodded his head encouragingly as he watched the skaters speed into their two lines and pass between each other without incidence, each timed perfectly, free from flailing elbows, caught toe picks, or tangled legs. In surprise, he found himself holding his breath and then sighing in relief as they all escaped the cross-over section of the finale unscathed. "I had my moments of doubt," Nigel admitted.

"You were crazy to make such a wager. We could have been working for free," Marcie grumbled, smiling as she watched another section of the finale that had sent her screaming from the ice more than once come off without a hitch.

"Yeah, but we aren't. Instead we've got a five year guarantee to keep this kids looking this good," Nigel countered, nodding toward the ice and the group of skaters now looking like the professionals they were.

"Damn, this is going to be fun!" Marcie yelled over the final rush of music and watched, with Nigel, as the fifteen skaters performed their final jumps, lifts and death spirals before racing into their final positions and striking their last pose of the show.

The arena went stone silent as the music came to an abrupt stop; the only sounds to be heard on the ice as the skaters breathed heavily in their exertion and awaited word from the shadows where their choreographers sat.

Nigel and Marcie exchanged smiles that held both relief and excitement, before Nigel reached for the cordless microphone, clicked it on and announced to the skaters below him. "I don't know what made today different from any other day, but after what I just saw, there's just one thing I can say,"

In torment he left the statement unfinished for a few seconds.

"Oh God, he hates it and we're starting all over. Shoot me now!" one of the skaters murmured, quickly being shushed by the skaters closest to him.

Everyone looked to the shadows expectantly.

"I'm buying the drinks tonight!" Nigel shouted, the rest of his words drowned out as on the ice, all fifteen skaters began cheering and congratulating each other.

"Anyone interested in celebrating, we'll meet in the lobby in thirty minutes," Nigel yelled over the noise of the crowd and turned off the microphone.

"You do know how much some of these guys drink?" Marcie asked Nigel, surprised at the man's generosity. Nigel wasn't known to throw his money around frivolously, and after the issue of late nights partying resulting in the 'fine issue', she found herself slightly baffled.

Nigel chucked her on the chin. "Sweetie, most of them have been on the ice for nearly sixteen hours. They're running on adrenaline and will be lucky to finish one drink before they crash and burn!" he stated optimistically.

Marcie shook her head in amusement. Nigel was nuts if he really believed his own words. She'd seen some of them party, hit the ice two hours later and look as if they hadn't had a drink in months. Granted, there were those who only had to get a sniff of alcohol and they were done in, but refusing to be left behind, they'd toss back the alcohol and live to regret for days. It might be easier to 'Just say no!', but it was more fun to say yes and suffer the consequences later. Smiling, she knew, that someday, in their old age, when common sense finally kicked in, and wisdom wasn't something to be hated, they'd realize it wasn't so bad not feeling terrible in the morning. Smiling, she could only shrug her shoulders. "If you say so, Nigel."

"Thirty minutes, ladies and gentlemen," Nigel again called through the microphone, and headed off to the lobby to await whoever was up for a celebratory drink.

One the ice, Madison caught Nicholai's smile as she was lifted into another of the male skater's arms and spun in a tight circle. "You'll come with us and have a drink, right Maddie? Tonight we celebrate surviving the finale without blood shed!"

Madison looked at the French skater, and couldn't help returning his excited smile. "It's very late, Andre. I really should go to bed. I've got early practice in the morning. Remember?" she argued, finding herself suddenly faced with Nicholai as he found his way to Andre's side.

Andre looked up into Nicholai's face. "Perhaps you can convince Maddie to join us for a drink. Rumor has it you have some small bit of influence over the woman," Andre teased, looking from one to the other, but unable to discern anything more than the general camaraderie they all shared.

Nicholai's blue eyes gazed at Madison, noted the small flush that turned her cheeks a soft rose and smiled a smile that was devastatingly sexy. "Do not believe everything you hear, Andre. Madiska does what she chooses when she chooses. If she does not want to join us for drink&ldots;" Nicholai shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, leaving the sentence unfinished, but his words were clearly a challenge, practically daring her to decline the invitation.

"It isn't that I don't want to join you, it's just that I have early rehearsal tomorrow morning. As it is, I'll be lucky if I get four hours of sleep tonight," she explained.

"Sleep is overrated!" Andre scoffed with a flick of one hand. "Of course there are other things to do in a bed besides sleep. Perhaps she has another engagement more intriguing than just sleeping?" he suggested, casting a quick glance at Nicholai.

"Nyet!" Madison exclaimed while Nicholai stated, "No!" simultaneously.

Andre couldn't help laughing out loud at their use of each other's words. They could deny an attraction to each other at the top of their lungs, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to see through their ruse. The air practically shimmered with electricity when the two were within eyesight of each other! Knowing it would do no good to push the issue, Andre simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled indulgently at the two of them and stated. "Well, regardless, of whether you come out celebrating with us or not, I am going to drink more than my fair share of fine alcohol tonight. Nigel is going to have to pay for his horrible behavior of the last few weeks and this is as good a way to do it as any!" Andre stated firmly.

"What about tomorrow? Aren't you going to feel terrible tomorrow if you over do it tonight?" Madison asked.

"In all likelihood, but some things are worth the sacrifice!" Andre offered with a jaunty wink and with a final wave, headed off to join the other skaters leaving the ice.

Nicholai returned his attention to Madison. "Do you come tonight?" he asked softly, casting his attention only briefly to Yuri, who called to him. It took less than five seconds for Nicholai to answer him, in Russian, and have him joining up with a group of girls now leaving the ice.

"I really shouldn't," Madison murmured wistfully, watching the others as they laughed and joked with each other.

Nicholai caught her glance and felt his heart swell. He knew and recognized diligence when he saw it, but she was taking it to the extreme. As he was coming to learn, life was made up of more than just hard work. Without some downtime and fun in your life, everything suffered. "One drink, Madiska," he murmured, holding up one finger. "Then I will escort you to your room personally."

"I don't want you ruining your evening because you feel I need to be shown to my room. I can find it all by myself, Nicholai," Madison challenged him.

"You can find your way anywhere, Madiska," Nicholai countered huskily, his eyes glowing sensually, his hands itching to touch her.

"Except to one celebratory drink," Madison murmured.

Nicholai held his left-hand out to her, palm up. "Let me show you the way, Madiska."

Madison gazed at his hand, the long fingers, the wide palm, and knew she'd find strength and warmth and security in it. Her eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions as she looked into his shining blue eyes and her knees grew weak and her blood rushed through her veins as she weighed her options. She could take his hand and share the evening with him, or she could once again walk away fearfully.

Nicholai watched her, could practically see the wheels spinning in her mind as she pondered her decision, thinking too much and too hard on something too simple. Patiently he waited, his hand held steadily out to her.

He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until her felt her small hand slide tentatively into his. "One drink, Nicholai. Just one," she stated, holding up one finger.

Nicholai's fingers closed carefully around hers. "Da," he agreed, nodding in acknowledgment. "One drink."

Silently the two skated to the exit off the ice.

* * * * *

"May I have one more of these please?" Madison asked the bartender, holding her empty glass up for him, her voice just the slightest bit slurred, her foot slipping from the rung on the barstool eliciting a soft giggle.

Yuri shook his head in both amusement and sent Nicholai a look filled with pity. "She is going to feel awful tomorrow. Don't you think you should try, once again, to get her to leave?"

Nicholai sent Madison an indulgent glance, and watched as she gulped down her sixth Manhattan Iced Tea in two hours. Without a doubt, she wasn't going to be worth a damn at rehearsal tomorrow, but he'd done as he'd promised and suggested they leave after their first drink. She had made it quite plain she would let him know when she was ready to leave. A man could only do so much, after that, all he could do was carry her limp body home! "She will tell me when she is ready to leave; she say so," he answered Yuri.

"Nicholai, she can barely sit on her stool. How much more drunk are you going to allow her to become?" Yuri asked, watching as Andre asked her to dance and she slid rather ungracefully from her seat to follow him onto the small dance floor.

Nicholai watched the two dance and sipped at his drink. "I am not her papa. She is grown woman capable of making her own decisions," he said, smiling as he watched her laugh at something Andre said.

"She is grown drunk woman who couldn't make a rational decision now if she had to," Yuri countered.

"That is why I am here, to see she does not make any questionable decisions," Nicholai stated calmly.

"From where I sit, she started making questionable decisions after her third drink," Yuri offered in amusement.

"She is simply having good time with her friends," Nicholai suggested with another smile.

"She is simply drunk and probably will not remember much about this night, other than how miserable she feels in the morning."

"Everyone deserves to have one memory of miserable morning after wild night!" Nicholai stated, clicking his glass to Yuri's. "Perhaps it will keep it from recurring."

"Final call!" the bartender announced.

"Nicholai, order me another drink, please," Madison called from the dance floor.

Looking at Madison and Andre, he couldn't be sure if they were actually dancing anymore or merely holding each other up. Shaking his head in commiseration, he swallowed the rest of his drink, and placed the empty glass upside down on the bar.

"You are done?" Yuri asked in surprise.

"I have had enough cola to last me a lifetime," he grumbled.

Yuri's widened in surprise. "You have been drinking cola all night?"

Nicholai cast another glance toward Madison. "One of us needed to be clearheaded tonight, and when Madiska chugged her first drink in less than two minutes, I knew I would not be drinking this night. Sometimes one must make sacrifices in the name of common sense."

"Sometimes it is no fun being the adult," Yuri countered.

Nicholai laughed deeply. "And sometimes it is more fun knowing you will not be the one feeling as if truck backed over you after too much drink!"

Yuri lifted his glass to his friend. "Point taken."

"Nicholai, dance with your girlfriend. I am in no shape to dance anymore!" Andre slurred, passing Madison into Nicholai's arms, before sliding onto the stool she had earlier occupied. With a tired sigh he lied his head on the bar.

"Nicholai, dance with me," Madison pleaded, pulling on his arm and trying to get him to move.

Her half-hearted attempts to move him forcefully had him smiling and pulling her easily into his arms, her breasts pressing tantalizingly against his chest. "Madiska, we should be back to hotel already. We are due on ice in less than three hours."

"One dance, Nicholai, just one," she pleaded in a light whisper, brushing her cheek against his, and sighing gently, her hair teasing his skin and tangling in the stubble of his beard.

Someone started the jukebox and suddenly the opening pulsing beat of Journey's Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' echoed through the bar and had Madison smiling wickedly. "Oh, Nicholai, I love this song. Come dance with me!"

Nicholai watched as she slid from his arms, and seductively strutted away from him, her shapely hips swaying to the music. Watching her was like watching molten lava devour everything in its path, and the few remaining members of the skating group stared in astonishment as they watched Madison become a taunting vixen before their very eyes.

Yuri looked from Madison to Nicholai and shook his head in commiseration. "My friend, you had better hope she does not decide seduction is a good idea, because she has fire rolling in her tonight that will leave you in ashes."

"There are worse ways to die," Nicholai murmured deeply, his eyes going dark as he watched Madison's seductive dancing.

Yuri nodded in agreement. "True, but wouldn't you prefer she remember the encounter?"

Yuri couldn't hear Nicholai's mumbled response in his own language, nor could he stop the smile that curved his mouth as he watched Madison pull Nicholai willingly into her arms when he got within arms reach and wrap herself around his tall form like ivy around an oak tree.

The two moved together as one, swirling and dipping and swaying like leaves in the wind. The sensual, seductive music pulled them into its grip, teasing them, tormenting them, leaving Nicholai ready to scream in frustration and Madison ready to tear Nicholai's clothes off of him right there on the dance floor.

The music didn't stop, it seemed to go on and on forever, pushing every limit of Nicholai's patience and control, making him wonder if maybe he should have had a drink or two. It would have been easier to feel numb than constantly fighting this overwhelming need for Madison.

Madison's lips lifted to his, stopped just a breath away from his mouth and demanded on a breathy whisper, "Take me home, Nicholai and love me."

He blinked in astonishment at her words, and it took him a moment for the visions of them naked in bed together, as close as two people could be, to clear and his mind to begin working again. Initially, he could only answer her in Russian, and her grumbled request for English went unheard.

Madison's sinuous movements against him left his mind swirling dizzily and his body growing harder by the second. It was all he could do not to throw common sense out the window and pull her tightly against his pulsing body. God knew it was what he wanted to do! "Madiska, you mustn't move so," he finally managed to mutter in English, gritting his teeth as she turned in his arms and draped herself like hot honey against the front of his body, her arms twining languidly over his shoulders.

Madison's head dropped back as she looked up into Nicholai's flushed face. Good Lord the man was handsome, not in a pretty-boy fashion but one that was a little dangerous, all male, and far too appealing at the moment. The only thing that could be even questioned as feminine was his full lips, and the memory of their one scorching kiss swirled through her head, and she licked her lips as if savoring the memory. "Do you know how wonderful you feel, Nicholai," she murmured silkily, pressing a little closer against his hard frame, her eyes widening at the feel of his excited body.

Nicholai barely managed to withhold the groan of need inside his throat and instead managed a sardonic lifting of one eyebrow. "Madiska, you should be home in bed."

A Cheshire cat-like smile curved her lips as her fingers played with the wavy hair at the nape of his neck and she felt him shiver in response. "I'll go only if you promise to come to bed with me," she demanded too damn temptingly.

Nicholai closed his eyes briefly and prayed for strength. "Asleep in bed," he clarified huskily.

"We'll sleep later, Nicholai," she murmured sexily, pressing up onto her toes so she could place teasing kisses along his jaw line.

Nicholai cast a quick glance around the room, surprised to find only the bartender, Yuri, and Andre, looking as if he had fallen asleep on the bar, left in the bar. "Madiska, as tempting as you are, if I do as you ask, tomorrow you will regret everything that has happened tonight. I won't give you another excuse to use to push me away."

"I don't want to push you away, Nicholai. I want you close to me; inside me, filling me with your courage and strength, giving me what I cannot give myself," Madison stated quietly, her brown eyes shining brightly, albeit a bit dazed.

"There is nothing you cannot give yourself, my love. Trust me. Once you learn to trust yourself; your heart, I will gladly give you everything you ask, but not tonight. Tonight you fly freely with alcohol, standing on clouds. But in the morning, you will see illusions can still bring pain and doubts; I will not add to them."

Madison frowned, her lower lip falling into an innocently seductive pout. "Is this your way of saying you've decided I'm not worthy of your attention?" she asked lightly, dangerously, her words slurring together more, as if every drink she'd downed suddenly seemed to hit her at once.

Nicholai felt her knees begin to slacken and pulled her tighter against his body, holding her up, as he watched her eyes blink in confusion. "Madiska, feel what you do to my body. Do I feel uninterested? I want to be close to you more than you realize, but I will not take unfair advantage of you when you are not yourself. When I make love to you, I want you to remember every touch, every kiss, every surge of fire and excitement that occurs between us. I will not settle for anything less!"

Another song began, and Nicholai recognized the song, and the words, and shook his head at everything that had brought them to this point. This woman he had chosen; wanted more than anything in the world, he held in his arms, barely able to stand because of too many Manhattan Iced Teas, and all he could think of was how apropos the words were. "Madiska, listen to the words, this is what I feel for you. I want it all or nothing or all, there's nowhere left to fall when you reach the bottom, it's now or never&ldots; the words demanded, and Nicholai, in that moment, realized how true it was. Is it all, or are we just friends, is this how it ends? &ldots;You leave me here with nothing at all.

From far away Madison heard the words to the song, and frowned because she knew every word by heart already. The first time she had heard the song it had immediately touched her, expressing her feelings for Nicholai in a way she didn't think she ever could. Why were singers so easily able to express themselves while the rest of the mortals in the world bumbled their way through life trying to string words to express their feelings together? Life was so unfair!

Nicholai watched a myriad of emotions pass through Madison's dazed eyes and felt her droop a little more against him. Without any effort, he scooped her into his arms, and settled her against his chest. "Madiska, let's go home," he suggested quietly, kissing her forehead gently.

Madison gazed into his shining blue eyes and smiled softly. Her hand swept up to graze a light caress against his rough cheek. "I want it all, Nicholai," she murmured clearly and then dropped her head to rest against his.

At her words, Nicholai's heart practically exploded with joy. "Mi eedyom damoy," he whispered. "We're going home."

With a nod at Yuri, who now sat trying to rouse Andre, he offered his good-byes to his friends, a surprised smile curving his lips as Yuri advised him a cab was already waiting from them outside. His wide smile for his friend said it all.

And leaving the bar, he made his way into the cold, early morning air, the woman of his dreams, more than a little drunk and nearly asleep in his arms, and feeling happier than he could ever remember.

Maybe America wasn't such a bad place after all!

Chapter 8

"Is she okay? Need any help with her?" the taxi driver asked worriedly. Having spent the last ten minutes glancing in his rear view mirror as he had driven them back to the hotel, he'd noted she was more than just a little out of it and wondered if the huge man was thinking of taking advantage of the woman. He'd heard, and seen, enough to know it wasn't unthinkable.

"Nyet. No, thank you," Nicholai corrected himself quietly with an easy smile, paying the specified amount along with a generous tip. "She had long day, little food and too much drink tonight," he explained easily to the obviously concerned taxi driver.

The driver cast him a suspicious gaze, but a quick glance at the woman in his arms snuggling closer to the man, and murmuring something softly to him had him rethinking things.

"Nicholai, are we home yet?" Madison whispered tiredly.

"Da. We are home," Nicholai answered quietly, kissing her forehead gently. Gratefully, he watched as the taxi driver opened the back door for him and closed it behind him as he lifted Madison from the vehicle. "Spaseeba, thank you," Nicholai said to the driver, again answered Madison's same question, and made his way into the hotel lobby, nodding his thanks to the doorman who held the door for the two of them.

"Good night, Mr. Fedorov, Ms. St. Austin," the door man intoned easily, silently pondering why the man was carrying the woman but experienced enough to know some questions were better left unasked and unanswered.

On through the mostly empty lobby Nicholai walked, nodding silently to the lone desk clerk that manned the desk at such an ungodly hour and toward the bank of elevator doors. He found himself a bit baffled that no one seemed think anything of the fact he had a mostly comatose woman in his arms as he marched through the place. But who was he to question what was right and wrong? Pushing the elevator call button with his elbow, he had only a few seconds to wait before the gentle ping of its arrival sounded and the doors silently whooshed open. Stepping into the luxurious interior, he pushed the button for their floor and leaned against the wall for the ride to the eleventh floor.

In a matter of seconds they had reached their destination, the doors again pinging and sliding silently open. Adjusting Madison in his arms, he exited the elevator and began the long walk down the hallway to her room, stopping at her door and sliding her feet to the ground. "Madiska, we are here," he murmured quietly, trying not to disturb the people in the rooms around them any more than necessary. "Where is your key?"

If Nicholai hadn't had his muscular arm wrapped around her, she would have slid bonelessly to the ground. "In my back pocket," she muttered, turning just the littlest bit and showing him her shapely rear end.

Nicholai gazed in appreciation at her lovely behind, and cringed as it suddenly dawned on him just how tight the jeans she wore were. As tempting as it was to try to finagle the key card from her pocket, he knew how close he was to losing control of his baser urges, and he wondered if this was how Adam had felt in the Garden of Eden. Sometimes retreat was the better part of valor and he was thinking it was just about time to get the hell out of Dodge! "Madiska, my hands are too large to fit into your pocket. You will have to get key for me," he stated quietly, lifting her up again as she started to slide against him. "Madiska, do you hear me? Take the key from your pocket, please," he pleaded huskily.

With an inelegant little sound, she finally did as he asked, pulling the slim piece of plastic from her pocket and handing it to him. "Your hands would fit into my pants just fine, Mr. Fedorov," she stated with a wicked little chuckle.

"Shhhhh," Nicholai whispered, looking around again and sighing in relief when the door finally opened beneath his trembling fingers.

"Ah-ha! The man's hands are magical!" Madison stated, less than quietly.

Nicholai pulled her quickly into the dark room, and closed the door as quietly as possible behind them. "Madiska, people are trying to sleep. Must you speak so loudly?"

Madison leaned against the wall beside her door, and gazed at Nicholai, in shadow but for the pale glow of outside lights filtering through the sheer curtains over the windows. Having not returned to her room all day, the heavy black-out drapes had never been drawn. "And must you speak so much, Nicholai?" she questioned huskily. "Especially now, when all I want to do is feel your lips against mine; your hands on my body."

Nicholai's mouth went dry and his body rock hard at her words. So much for hoping he'd escape the night unscathed. "Madiska, it is very late - or early - and you should try to sleep at least short time," he suggested huskily, wishing his body would listen to his head and stop responding to her.

"I'm not tired," she murmured on a breathy whisper, her hands reaching for his shirt and pulling him against her.

"You are, you just do not realize yet how tired," he countered, thinking of anything but how wonderful her body felt pressed tightly against his. "Besides, I am tired. I too have early rehearsal call."

Madison ground her hips slowly against his, her breath catching as she felt his excited body grow even harder and fuller. "You don't feel tired to me," she challenged him.

A growl sounded deep in his chest and he dropped his forehead against hers, fighting every urge he had to push back against her searching hips. "Madiska, do you seek to torture me to insanity?" His words were a dangerous growl.

Madison's hands stole beneath his shirt, her fingertips soft as satin and filled with fire. "If this is insanity, lead me to the asylum!"

As much as his body screamed to allow her hands free reign, his mind yelled even louder to stop the madness that was tempting him beyond reason. As easy as it would be use the excuse of drunken mindlessness and allow things to get completely out of control, Nicholai dared not risk it. He wanted forever, not just one night!

Lightly grasping her wrists, he pulled her seeking hands from his body, and gently pressed them behind her own back, groaning huskily when she pressed even closer to his body. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he took a deep breath, tried to steel his nerves against her tempting body and counted to five. "Madiska, tonight is not a good night to throw common sense aside. There will be other nights," he suggested hopefully.

Madison looked up into his face, a slightly dazed and confused look clouding her eyes. "I don't want to wait for another night. I want you tonight! I've never wanted anyone they way I want you. Now!" she demanded tipsily.

"The drink is talking for you. You know not what you say," Nicholai stated knowingly.

"Not true. The drinks have just made it easier for me to say what I truly feel, what I truly want. Without the alcohol I would be the same old undesirable coward I always am," she pouted.

"You are neither a coward nor undesirable," Nicholai murmured huskily.

"Then why won't you make love to me?"

"Because there are rules about taking advantage of woman when they should not be used so. I told you before; you will remember when I make love to you. That would not be case tonight."

Madison made an inelegant little sound and pouted. "Of all the times for you to show gallantry," she complained sulkily.

"Would you rather I display manners of an animal?" Nicholai asked in frustration. Trying to understand the way a woman's mind worked when she was sober was difficult enough, inebriated made it impossible!

"I would rather you did as I asked and make love to me!" Madison demanded again, moving her body against his again and sighing happily as she felt his hips return her tempting nudging.

Nicholai's body raged hotly, losing its battle against the heat and too tempting caresses of Madison's and he found himself reciting mathematics equations to himself in his native language in an effort to think about anything but how good her body felt against his.

Madison frowned petulantly at his obvious attempt to ignore her and pressed upward, onto her toes, her lips tracing hot, torturous trails along the steely cord in his long neck. Her warm breath tortured him further as she whispered into his ear. "You cannot ignore me, Nicholai Fedorov. I can feel how much you want me. Make love to me. Now!" she demanded huskily, leaning fully into him and pressing her hips against him, lifting her mouth to his.

Nicholai looked upward and prayed for strength. Wondering how much longer he could fight both the demands of his own desires and hers, and his mind swirled dizzily as he struggled to find a way out of the sensual havoc he found himself in. "Madiska&ldots;" he murmured deeply, his eyes closing in pained ecstasy as she moved against him.

"Don't be afraid, Nicholai. I promise I'll be gentle," she teased him wickedly; nipping at his neck with tiny, biting kisses that sent both their senses soaring.

Nicholai looked down into her beautiful face; her eyes gleaming brightly, a sexy, slightly dangerous smile curving her swollen lips, and knew he couldn't walk away from what she offered him. She was everything he wanted; now and forever, and despite his wish their first time together be something they would both remember always, he had to admit it would be a night he would never forget. The only question was, would she? Despite his body screaming for fulfillment, his conscience demanded he try one last time to explain why this wasn't the wisest course of action at the moment. "Madiska, I can assure you I feel no fear of you, and being gentle is the last thing on my mind. But I ask you, one last time, are you certain this is what you want?"

Madison's glazed eyes blinked once - then again - and a Cheshire cat-like smile curved her lips. "Nicholai, I am full control of my faculties, and my body, and I can assure you, I will remember everything that happens tonight! I want you - all of you - and will take you anyway I can get you!"

His heart skipped a beat and he couldn't put two words together at her statement, not that it would have mattered as his tongue felt as if it was made of cotton and stuck to the roof of his mouth. All he could manage was a growl deep in his throat just before his mouth crushed down on hers.

Their kiss exploded on impact, lips melting together, tongues dueling erotically, breaths shared and stolen. He refused to release her hands from where he still held them behind her back, despite her urgently tugging against his fingers for release, wanting - no needing - to feel him beneath her touch.

"Nicholai&ldots;" she managed to whisper as his mouth traced a hot path along her throat. Her head spun dizzily and her knees seemed to melt under her, refusing to hold her upright any longer.

Nicholai felt her begin to slide downward and effortlessly scooped her into his arms, his mouth again reaching for hers as he pulled her closer to his chest. "Madiska, I burn for you," he murmured between kisses, walking toward the bedroom - and paradise.

Madison's mind swirled dizzily at his kisses and tiny flashes of bright lights appeared at the edges of her vision. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to dispel the peculiar feeling that suddenly seemed to wash over her. "Nicholai&ldots;" she murmured worriedly.

At her tone, Nicholai stopped and looked down into her face, now ashen with a sickly green tinge, her forehead clammy with sweat. "Madiska?"

"Oh, God, Nicholai. I don't feel very well," she murmured, her eyes filled with confusion.

If he'd been thinking just a little more clearly, he would have realized what was happening, set her feet on the ground and backed up a step. But he wasn't thinking clearly, so instead, he found himself holding the woman he loved in his arms while she threw up all over the both of them!

Casting a sardonic glance toward the ceiling, he realized just how right he'd been with his earlier thoughts. This was definitely a night he would never forget!

Chapter 9

As if in a dream, softly spoken words, in a foreign tongue, gradually penetrated Madison's sleep. A deep chuckle, over God knew what, vibrated through her head like an slow moving freight train, had her rolling over on to her side away from the sound and moaning lightly in pain.

At the door of her room, Nicholai thanked Yuri for bringing him a clean set of clothes.

Yuri looked at him speculatively, taking in the vibrant scarlet silk robe that Nicholai had tied around his waist. "I would not have taken you for the type to wear that color, but surprisingly enough, it looks good on you!" he harassed his friend good-naturedly. "However, I believe the sleeves are meant to cover your arms, not be used as ties.

Nicholai shot his friend an exasperated look. "There was no other way to wear it. It is simply too small," he growled.

"That's what they all say," Yuri countered with a light laugh. "So, judging by your attire, I would say you had a successful evening."

"If only you knew," Nicholai replied cryptically.

Yuri's eyes widened in curiosity. "Don't tell me your quiet little bird is more like a hawk on the hunt?"

Nicholai sent his friend an indecipherable look. "I will simply say the evening became one I would never have thought possible in a million years."

"Oh my!" Yuri whispered in astonishment, his imagination running rampant. Casting another look at the robe wrapped around his friend's waist, he shook his head in awe. "After such a night, how will you skate today?" He'd had his own fair share of amazing nights and knew how impossible it was to skate when your legs had been used on more pleasurable pursuits. He remembered one evening in particular and his legs still ached every time he thought about it.

"I'll manage," he replied quietly.

"And Madison?" Yuri asked, casting a quick peek over Nicholai's shoulder into her room, not that he could see anything.

"She's a professional; she'll skate too," he answered simply.

A small frown appeared across Yuri's forehead. Despite Nicholai's words, his attitude was anything but that of a man who'd spent the evening sharing the wonders of passion with the woman he cared about. He appeared more frustrated than anything, something that made absolutely no sense at all if the evening had gone as well as Nicholai had purported it had. "Are you certain all is well, my friend? You seem out of sorts this morning."

Nicholai sent Yuri a dark look. "I stand speaking to you at four thirty in the morning, while a beautiful woman lies naked in my bed, and you ask me if I am out of sorts? Yuri, you need to find a woman of your own!" Nicholai growled quietly.

Yuri had to agree and nodded in assent. "You are right. You've had a long, eventful night. I should leave you spend what little time you have before you must be on the ice again. Forgive me, my friend. I waste away your time with your lovely lady," he offered, and with a small bow, headed back down the hall.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he made his way back into the bedroom, dropping his clothes on a nearby chair.

In silent appreciation he gazed at the shapely silhouette Madison's body offered, draped only by the floral sheet. Beneath that soft sheet, he knew she lay naked, for he had been the one to place her there.

She had been as weak, and helpless, as a newborn babe after ridding her body of the alcohol that had obviously not agreed with her, and covered them both in vile fluid. He'd pushed aside her embarrassment and apologies, stripping off first her, then his own soiled clothes with speedy and platonic efficiency. He'd stood in the shower with her, holding her up with one arm, and washing her down with the other, before drying her off and sliding her beneath the clean sheets of her bed and tucking her in snugly.

After seeing her needs fulfilled, only then, had he allowed himself to think of the shapely form he'd held in his arms, and desired more than other woman before in his life. In aroused agony, he'd stood beneath the cold spray in the shower and allowed the water to pound his tense muscles. Silently he had howled his frustration into the water, his body refusing to relax, his mind swirling with images of all he had wanted to share with her. Still wanted to share with her!

A quick flick of his wrist had Madison's scarlet robe sliding to the floor with a light whisper. Lifting the sheet, he slid into bed beside her, cautiously scooting closer to her unmoving body, thankful for the fact that at least his underwear had dried and though it was hardly a huge wall of protection, at least it was something. At this point he was certain he couldn't have withstood the sweetness of feeling the silken smoothness of her bottom against his aching manhood.

Madison's eyes sprang open as she felt the bed move, the motion causing her brain to explode in pain, a moan of pain slipping from her parted lips, as Nicholai's arm stole across her ribcage, and his forearm slid sensually against the undersides of her breasts. The steely strength of his chest, and warm heat of his body, as he curled up behind her, comforted her and the very fact it did, scared her to death. His knees slid up comfortably behind hers, and alluded to an intimacy she had only a hazy recollection of having shared, despite the fact the position and way he held her somehow felt right.

"Breakfast will be here shortly, Madiska," Nicholai explained softly, rubbing his cheek against the softness of her hair as it spilled onto his pillow.

Another groan sounded, this one a clear indication of how she felt about the subject of food at the moment. "Please, Nicholai, I beg you, don't even say that word," she pleaded weakly.

Nicholai couldn't help the little smile that curved his lips, and kissed her gently on the back of her neck. "Nothing large to eat. Simply toast and tea and a glass of the horse that bit you!"

Madison frowned in confusion as she tried to understand what Nicholai was trying to state. "The horse&ldots;? You mean the 'dog that bit you'?" she asked.

"If that phrase means you will be drinking same drink that put you like this, then yes," Nicholai agreed lightly.

Madison's stomach rolled uneasily at the very thought of anything alcoholic to drink, let alone more of what had her feeling like dying was a viable option to how she felt at the moment. Why wouldn't her head quit pounding? "You're joking, right? You don't really expect me to drink another&ldots;" she struggled to keep her stomach from flipping yet again, and found she couldn't even say the name of the drink that had practically killed her. "drink after last night?"

Nicholai's head moved up and down once behind hers and she closed her eyes in pain as even his minute movement had her brain threatening to explode right inside her skull. "Da. And you will feel better - like new - before you know it."

"That's an old wives-tale, Nicholai. The only remedy for a hang-over is to sleep it off or get a really big gun," Madison groaned.

"Nyet! You will see!" Nicholai disagreed, suddenly tossing the sheets off his body, scooping up the discarded robe and tying it around his waist before heading for the door as a knock sounded softly on it.

Madison groaned and slid her head beneath her pillow. "Get a gun, Nicholai. Please, I beg you!" she pleaded from beneath her pillow.

Despite Madison burying her head beneath her pillow, she was still able to hear Nicholai speaking to the person delivering breakfast, and the door shutting - although it sounded more like a slam - as they left. Seconds later, the squeaky wheels of the breakfast cart made their way into the bedroom as Nicholai pushed it forward, stopping it at the foot of the bed.

"Madiska," Nicholai murmured softly to the lump buried under the sheet and pillow.

"Go away and let me die in peace," Madison begged, her voice muffled.

Nicholai's low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "That is not possible. I have seen to your needs through your distress. I will see them through to conclusion. Now up, little bird, it's time to feel better," he stated encouragingly.

Madison tossed his own words back at him. "That's not possible." If ever there was a truer statement for the moment, she didn't know what it was. "I will never feel better again!" The way she felt this very minute, she firmly believed it. She was never going to leave this bed!

Nicholai cast an indulgent look her way, picked up the glass of Manhattan Iced tea and the small dish containing two aspirin. Considering the hour of the morning, he'd been amazed to be able to get everything he'd asked for without any problems. On silent feet, he came around to Madison's side of the bed, squatted down beside her pillow, and peeked beneath it. "Madiska, we have to be on the ice in forty-five minutes."

"Tell Marcie and Nigel I've died and gone to hell, they'll have to replace me!" came the muffled response.

Nicholai pulled the pillow from her head and placed it on top of the other pillow. "Do you truly think they would believe such a thing? Come now, drink this and I promise you will feel better," he vowed encouragingly, brushing the silken strands of her hair off her pale face.

Madison looked at the glass of iced tea skeptically, and sighed shakily. "Do you really expect me to believe that by drinking the same thing that made me feel like this last night is going to make me feel better this morning?"

"Along with these," Nicholai stated, holding out the aspirins, "Yes. Don't ask me how, or why it works. Just take my word for it. I have been in same situation, and as you can see, I am still alive," he offered, his free hand out at his side as if saying look at me!

And she did.

Unable to help it, her eyes gazed appreciatively at his bare, muscular chest and wide shoulders. In spite of the early hour, it was clearly apparent he had already showered and shaved his face smooth of whispers, the soft fresh scent of her cucumber lotion teasing her senses. His hair was still damp and slightly wavy, and she longed to run her fingers through it, but she dared not move, certain her head would explode if she did.

From her position on the bed, she was unable to see anything below the middle of his chest, and despite feeling so miserable; a wickedly curious thought crossed her mind and slipped from her lips before she could stop it. "You're not sitting there in front of me, holding aspirin and a glass of poison, naked, are you?"

Nicholai's eyebrows lifted slightly at her question, and a sexy half-smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Would it truly make a difference either way? It's not as if I am in any danger of being ravished. You are hardly in any condition to carry out such a threat." His dark gaze swept the length of her body from head to toe and then back up again, and he sighed wistfully. "Although, the same cannot be said for you. Were I more animal and less man, ravishing you in your present position would prove no problem at all," he murmured huskily, licking his lips as if the very thought of doing so left him hungry.

Madison's breath caught in her chest at both his desire-filled eyes and husky words and she pushed cautiously up onto her elbows, her hair falling forward to cover her generous breasts. Despite her pounding head, and swirling thoughts, she looked at the utterly handsome man before her and felt more cherished and protected than she could ever remember feeling in her life.

Holding out her hand for the aspirin, she blinked in surprise as she was handed the Manhattan Iced tea.

"Open," Nicholai murmured, carefully placing one aspirin into her mouth and allowing her to take a swallow of the beverage. Repeating the process, he smiled as he watched her readily accept the second pill and drank down half of the glass of liquid, shaking his head no when she offered him a sip.

Madison scowled at the glass, still half full, and complained, "These tasted a whole lot better last night," before quickly downing the rest of the drink and handing the glass back to Nicholai. In silent appreciation, she watched him take the glass away and return only seconds later to her side with a plate of toast.

Crinkling her nose in distaste, she cast him a sideways glance. "Is that really necessary?"

"Da! The last thing you need is alcohol on empty stomach. This will help steady it," he suggested, waiting patiently as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, completely oblivious of the fact her breasts lay temptingly open to his gaze, barely covered by her tussled hair. His breath caught in his chest and body responded hotly to her nonchalant behavior. She was killing him and probably didn't even realize it.

Handing her the plate of toast, he quickly got to his feet and moved away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice his heated response to her nakedness. At his quick movement, her eyes lifted from the plate, and she found herself looking at a fully aroused male, tightly encased in a very small, very tight pair of black bikini briefs. The view of his bottom, as he walked away from her, was just as wonderful and she found herself staring in open-mouthed appreciation. If a fly had landed in her mouth she would have swallowed it without even thinking about it! In stunned awareness she watched him reach for something on the floor and blinked in surprise when she saw her robe in his hand.

"Perhaps you would be warmer in this," he suggested huskily, his eyes filled with desire, his tongue quickly wetting suddenly dry lips.

Madison shook her head in a small, negative gesture, the motion causing more of her breasts to peak through the silken strands. "I'm fine," she murmured breathlessly.

Nicholai growled something in Russian then answered Madison's questioning look. "I'm not!" His voice was low, a bit dangerous and just as breathless. His hands clenched and relaxed, over and over, as if trying to control the urge to take what had been denied him last night. For several long seconds he simply gazed at her, absorbing every nuance of her, before he finally found spoke. "Madiska, last night I held you naked in my arms, my hands touching every inch of you and yet I did not possess you as I would have had you not become ill. I kept you warm throughout the night and burned with need for you yet did not take you as I could have. You are temptation personified and I do not know how much longer I can remain gallant for your benefit. I beg of you, put on your robe and eat your toast," he demanded softly, holding the scarlet fabric out to her.

With a minute nod of agreement, Nicholai tossed the garment to her, not trusting himself to draw any closer to her tempting presence, uncertain he could turn away from her again.

Turning his back to her, he granted her time to put the robe on. Unfortunately, the mirror on the dresser reflected every more she made, and unable to tear his eyes from the view, he watched her slip her arms into the silken fabric, her glorious breasts bared to his view before she pulled the fabric closed and loosely tied the belt.

"I'm covered," she offered meekly, to watch him turn around, his chest heaving as if he'd run a marathon, and his eyes dilated and hungry.

"I'm going to take shower. Eat your toast," he demanded, heading for the bathroom.

Madison sent him a confused look. "I thought you'd already taken your shower?"

Nicholai stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, and cast another hungry look at Madison, sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by tussled sheets. Draped in scarlet silk, her skin was as pale as cream and her eyes were filled with questions. Breathlessly she watched him, his body a study of curved, bulging muscle and unfulfilled desire, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from begging for him to return to her bed and put an end to this fire that constantly burned for him.

He watched her for several long seconds, fighting his desire to go to her, to kiss her senseless and feel them become one. "I need another one." His statement was abrupt and final.

A small frown creased her brow. "Nicholai, did I do something wrong?" she asked quietly, old feelings of never being able to do anything good enough for anyone coming back to haunt her yet again.

Nicholai flinched, as if struck, by her words, and his first inclination was to go to her and shake some sense into her. Couldn't she see what she did to him? How she made him feel? How much he wanted her? He was ready to scream his frustration to the ceiling he wanted her so badly. Instead, he turned his frustration toward himself and crudely cupped his straining manhood.

"Madiska, you turn me to rock for wanting you and you need reassurance you are doing things right? Other than being a temptation I contemplate day and night, unable to ignore, you have become the reason my heart beats each day. I listen for your voice; your laughter, I long for the fragrance that surrounds you, I wonder if you are some mystical angel with silken skin, for surely I have never felt anything softer. My body yearns for yours, but it goes beyond mere physical need. My soul calls to yours, hoping you will come to feel for me as I feel for you, afraid to reach for you for fear you will fly from my arms."

Madison looked at him in awe, speechless.

"You ask if you have done anything wrong? Yes, you have. You have made me love you as I have never loved another, and I will never forgive you for that. Nor will I forgive you making me feel things I have never felt before, never wanted to feel before. You have shown me beauty and grace existed in such a way that I would have suffered less had I never known it."

"I'm sorry," she murmured quietly. She didn't know what else to say.

"Don't be sorry! Be brave enough to take what I offer you - unconditionally," he demanded of her.

Madison's head dropped in defeat. "I'm not that brave," she whispered brokenly.

"You were last night," he reminded her.

"I was drunk last night. It's easy to be brave when you're drunk," she countered.

"Madison&ldots;"

At his formal use of her name, she lifted her eyes to meet his.

Lifting his hand, he put his forefinger and thumb a quarter inch apart. "Last night we come this close to making love. Had it occurred, would you have regretted it today?"

Her shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I hope I wouldn't have."

Nicholai's eyes filled with sorrow, even as his chin lifted defiantly. "Until you can admit to yourself - freely - what you feel for me, perhaps we need to refrain from spending so much time together off ice."

Madison blinked in surprise at his harsh suggestion. Her heart plummeted at the thought of not seeing him regularly during their down time. He was being irrational. You couldn't just demand someone agree with your beliefs or banish them from your presence because they didn't! A bright, angry fire began to glow in her eyes. "Is all of this about the fact you didn't get fucked last night?" she asked, returning his crudeness.

"Don't speak so," he demanded her arrogantly, his own temper beginning to show.

Madison's chin lifted a notch in defiance. "You can't tell me what to say, or not say, anymore than you can tell me how to behave, or dress, or skate!"

Nicholai cursed the fickleness of women in general in his native tongue, and in doing so set Madison's temper to flame.

"In English, Fedorov. How many times must I make that request?" she asked hotly, pushing the sheets aside and standing to her feet, her hand coming out to grasp the headboard when she wobbled unsteadily on her feet for a moment.

Nicholai's eyes flared hotly as they caught a glimpse of her pale, slender thighs and he bit the inside of his cheek to push aside the burst of need that rushed through him. Arrogantly, his left eyebrow lifted, and he speared her with a look filled with sarcasm. "As you say, I cannot tell you how to behave or speak, nor can you demand such of me!" he stated dangerously.

Madison's breath caught in her chest at his tone, and she stared at him almost fearfully, uncertain if she has pushed him to the very brink of his control and should be looking for a way to escape. "Perhaps it would be best not to speak at all then," she offered timidly.

Nicholai's nostrils flared with emotion and his eyes flashed with fire. His hands clenched, and unclenched, at his sides, and his body refused to relax. His brain might be furious with her but his body was anything but! "Perhaps you are right," he growled softly.

Madison simply nodded in silent agreement.

Like two combatants waiting for the other to display a moment of weakness, the two warily watched each other. When Nicholai reached for his clothes, Madison headed for the bathroom straight ahead of her, and almost made it safely inside - almost. Suddenly she was pulled against his muscular chest, one arm holding her tightly against his body, his other hand delving into the silken strands of her hair, capturing her head. His lips crashed down onto hers, his tongue slid determinedly into her mouth and stole away not only her breath but her will, as desire flared between the two of them and within seconds left them both shivering with unfulfilled need.

Nicholai stepped away from Madison, unable to risk her nearness any longer, barely able to control his body as it screamed in need for her. Looking down into her confused, and dazed expression; he answered her unasked question. "There are ways to communicate that do not involve English or Russian; a universal language understood by all," he stated softly, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. "I will not let language come between us, Madiska. There is so much more to us than just words."

Again, she could only nod silently in agreement.

A smile glowed in Nicholai's eyes, but did not reach his mouth. "I will see you on ice in twenty-five minutes. Do not forget to eat your toast," he demanded lightly, then again reached for his clothes and headed out of the bedroom, stopping in the living room of the suite to slip into his clothes, before leaving her room.

When the door to her suite closed, the spell he had cast over her seemed to dissipate and she found herself dazed and confused as she tried to figure out what had transpired in the last few minutes. Their moods had shifted so quickly, so emotionally; she didn't know what to make of it. Never had she ever used such language; granted she'd thought the word silently more than a few times, but she'd never verbalized it before! But with Nicholai, he made her feel and say things she never had before, and it was more than a little disconcerting to know he had the power to make her lose control of herself she way she did around him. She still hadn't decided if she liked the fact he had that power over her or not!

On the other hand, it was nice not having to worry about always being 'on', always perfect and polite and put together! Lord knew she'd been anything but perfect last night! And still, he'd stayed with her through the night, simply holding her, making sure she was safe and warm and didn't fall out of bed and smash her head into the wall.

Still standing in the same spot, trying to figure out the unfigurable, she started in surprise when the phone rang. "Hello?" her voice was soft and tentative.

"Twenty minutes. Did you eat toast yet?"

A gentle smile curved Madison's full lips. "I know what time it is, Nicholai, and I will eat my toast when I'm ready to," she offered belligerently.

"As you wish, but do not blame me for later suffering. Do not be late," he countered.

"I will only be late if you keep talking to me on the phone," she argued lightly.

A deep chuckle sounded over the line. "Then I shall say da sveedanya. I shall see you on ice soon."

"In eighteen minutes."

"Da!"

How could such a single, simple word make her go week in the knees just because of the way his deep voice murmured it? "Da sveedanya, Nicholai," she whispered softly.

"Madiska?" Nicholai's deep voice called to her as she lowered the phone to hang it up.

A curious frown creasing her forehead, she returned the phone to her ear. "Nicholai, you are going to make me late!"

"Ya tebya lyublyu," he murmured softly.

Madison's eyes rolled in frustration. "Nicholai&ldots;" her voice held a playful warning.

He interrupted her before she could say another word. "Later, Madiska. You are going to be late if you continue to delay! Fifteen minutes counting," he stated and with a final good-bye, hung up his phone.

Suddenly smiling like a fool, Madison laughed out loud with sheer joy and dashed into the bathroom. As Nicholai had reminded her, 'fifteen minutes counting'!*

 Copyright © 2002-2003 C.E. Moynihan

*All Rights Reserved