Page 14 of Shining Through

An unflattering photo going viral was exactly what she didn’t need right now. The horror was best viewed in private, so she stepped into the almost-deserted second room of the hospitality suite, and pulled out her phone. The bartender approached. “Sparkling water, please,” she said, and shifted her focus back to her screen.

“After a tough day on the ice, she’s hitting the hard stuff.”

Daniil Andreev leaned against a tall table, a few feet away. Dressed in skinny jeans, a black leather jacket, and with smudged liner around his eyes, he looked like a member of Green Day who’d wandered into the wrong party. He reminded her of a British punk-rocker Samara liked. Though Tabitha wasn’t a fan of Harry K’s music, she couldn’t deny there was something seriously sexy about the guy. There was something seriously sexy about Daniil Andreev too. Damn him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, angry that the mere sight of him brought flushed cheeks and noodle-knees.

He came and stood beside her at the bar. His dark eyes looked that much darker because of the smoky color surrounding them. His lashes were so long, she wondered if he was wearing mascara too. Regardless, it took nothing away from his masculinity. It took guts and confidence to carry off the look. Daniil had both.

“Nothing bad, I promise. Congratulations. I enjoyed your program today.”

Tabitha shut off her phone. “I’m glad someone did.”

“I’ve been where you are.” He spoke in a quiet voice and leaned closer. She caught a whiff of Polo Black. He would have to wear her favorite men’s fragrance. “Not only are you disappointed for not skating as well as you hoped, you feel you disappointed others.”

“Peter isn’t worried, so I’m trying not to be.” She tried to shrug off the hurt. “No one said this season would be easy.”

“Are any of them?”

His penetrating gaze searched to see behind her public face. Too bad for him, she was a pro at keeping it hidden. She stirred the ice in her drink and offered a careful smile. “I didn’t realize until yesterday that we shared a choreographer. Have you worked with Misha long?”

“Just since this season. Before, I worked with Adrian Bakunin, but he’s doing less choreo these days, and more travel with his... friend.”

“Valentin Egorov.”

“You know him?”

“We have a mutual friend in LA.” Egorov was the former pairs partner of Tabitha’s mentor, and though Olga said nothing derogatory, Tabitha suspected she didn’t approve of his long-time love affair with the handsome choreographer. Supposedly, a lot of Russians felt that way. Was Daniil one of them? “Why? Is Adrian’s relationship a problem for you?”

He shrugged. “Other than missing my favorite choreographer, no. Live and let live, I say. Is it a problem for you?”

“Of course not. Live and let live.”

He raised an eyebrow at her second snappish response. She wasn’t usually like this, and jelly-knees or not, rudeness wasn’t called for, especially when he was trying to be nice. “You said you’ve been where I am. How did you deal with it?”

“I used it as motivation to prove everyone wrong and did what I had to do to stay in the sport. Even things that hurt my pride.”

This sounded intriguing, though it was none of her business. “Like what?”

“Like training in Lake Shosha, instead of Moscow or Petersburg.” His casual shrug suggested there might be other things, but pushing for more seemed rude. Nor was she sure she wanted to know. “Anyway, three seasons ago, everyone thought my career was over. Everyone except me. Now, I’m on the verge of making it to Grenoble. Whether I get there because of bronze medals, or gold, I’m there just the same.”

Samara, who often told her she put too much pressure on herself, had said the same thing. But Tabitha’s entire career had been about succeeding against the odds and you didn’t do that without striving for perfection. “Until today, not making the team was just this vague notion I tried not to think about. Now it feels like something that could really happen. But I can’t let it. I’ve worked too hard to fail now.”

“You aren’t going to fail.”

He spoke slowly, enunciating each word. His tone was gentle, but insistent. He believed in her, and she felt bolstered by it, even if she didn’t share it. “You sound so sure.”

“I am.” His gaze held hers, and a spark of attraction flew between them. “Will you be in Vancouver for the Maple Leaf?”

“I hadn’t planned to be,’ she said, tearing her gaze away out of fear he might see the effect he was having.

“Too bad. I always skate better when I have a friend in the audience.”

It was an obvious line, and she wouldn’t let herself fall for it, even if his cocky grin made her nerves tingle. “You must be pretty desperate for friends if I qualify after one day.”

He propped his elbow on the bar and leaned closer. “Maybe I’m a good judge of character.”

Tabitha chuckled, and it came out lower and throatier than usual. “Or maybe you’re just a character.”

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