Dear Reader,
I’d always been an enthusiastic fan of the sport of figure skating. The grace and rhythm seemed magical to me. Add the discipline and hard work needed to reach perfection and it was enough to keep me enthralled.
And the Olympics? The excitement of competition, the once in a lifetime chance to take the gold? What could I do? I had to write a story centered around the Olympics and a skater who had worked all her life to win that medal. Yes, this is a passionate and romantic story, and I loved creating Dany Alexander and Anthony Malik. But I hope that you’ll also be able to glimpse a little of the passion and beauty of the sport itself. If that happens, then I’ve done my job.
Enjoy!
Iris Johansen
Books by Iris Johansen
One Touch of Topaz • Everlasting • The Treasure • Touch the Horizon • The Golden Valkyrie • Capture the Rainbow • A Summer Smile • Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea • Stalemate • An Unexpected Son • Killer Dreams • On the Run • Countdown • Blind Alley • Firestorm • Fatal Tide • Dead Aim • No One to Trust • Body of Lies • Final Target • The Search • The Killing Game • The Face of Deception • And Then You Die • Long After Midnight • The Ugly Duckling • Lion’s Bride • Dark Rider • Midnight Warrior • The Beloved Scoundrel • The Magnificent Rogue • The Tiger Prince • Last Bridge Home • The Golden Barbarian • Reap the Wind • Storm Winds • The Wind Dancer
White Satin is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2010 Bantam Books Mass Market Edition
Copyright © 1985 by Iris Johansen
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in mass market in the United States by Bantam Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., in 1990.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90765-0
www.bantamdell.com
v3.1
Contents
Cover
A Note from the Author
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
Oh, please, let it be 5.7, Dany prayed silently, her hands clenching the stems of the roses she was holding. Hardly anyone ever got a perfect score—a 6.0—but she could come close. Only a few minutes earlier she’d scooped the roses up from the ice and waved them at the audience with a bright smile of appreciation as she glided around the rink. Anthony had taught her to do that as he’d taught her everything else. “A crowd-pleaser,” he’d said with that cynical little smile. “It’s always your business to please your audience, Dany.”
But it wasn’t the audience she had to worry about today; it was the judges. She’d always had an empathy with the audience. She could feel their warmth and admiration reach out to enfold her every time she skated out onto the ice to do a routine. They were always with her all the way, and she was passionately grateful for that support. She’d needed it today when she’d found out Anthony wasn’t going to be there for the finals.
Shifting the flowers, she rubbed her palms nervously on the sheer silver chiffon of her skating costume, her gaze fixed on the judges across the sports arena from her. “Why can’t they hurry?” she whispered.
“The scores should be coming up any minute, sugar,” Beau Lantry said soothingly, his own face tense. “That third judge has been handing in her scores late all evening.” His hand fell bracingly on her shoulder. “It’s not a life-or-death decision, you know.” His lazy southern drawl flowed like molasses over her taut nerves. “One competition isn’t going to break you, Dany.”
“Tell that to Anthony,” Dany said dryly. She drew a deep, steadying breath. “He doesn’t understand failure. Particularly in an important competition like the United States Championships.”
“True.” Beau’s lips twisted ironically. “Still, he probably won’t be angry at you, only at me. I’m your coach, and all blame falls on my humble head. I’ve never heard him raise his voice to you in all the years I’ve been working for him.”
“He’s never had to.” All he had to do was gaze at her in silence with silver-green eyes that could be as glacier-cold as a Norwegian ice floe. Then he could proceed to tear her entire routine apart with an incisive brilliance that left her feeling as miserably unsure of herself as she’d felt as a child. No, more unsure. He’d been kinder to her then. Not warmer, but certainly more tolerant than the relentless mentor he’d become since she’d won the Juniors.
The scores for technical merit flashed on the board and she heard a disappointed groan from the crowd. She tabulated frantically and bit her lip. Not high enough to carry her over the top.
“Don’t worry,” Beau said. “You’ll make it up in artistic impression. You always do.”
“Maybe,” she murmured under her breath.
Then the second set of scores began to light up the board one after another. They were even lower than the first set. The composite score couldn’t possibly be over a 5.6, Dany thought. She needed a 5.7. Second place. She hadn’t won the championship. Oh, Lord, what was Anthony going to say?
Beau suddenly whirled her around to face him so that her back was to the arena. He had a determined smile fixed on his lean, handsome face, and his hazel eyes were warm with sympathy. “Keep facing me for a while, honey,” he said easily. “You’ll be all right in a minute, but you know how those TV cameras love to zoom in on the losers. You don’t want them to see how upset you are.”
“No, I don’t want them to see that,” she said dully. Anthony had taught her to keep a bright, smiling mask in place no matter what happened. He’d be more upset than ever if she fell apart in public. She knew a sudden flare of anger that speared through the anxiety and disappointment she was feeling. If he wanted her to be so damn perfect, why wasn’t he here to help her? Dany asked herself. Why wasn’t he here? She composed her features into a bland mask and returned Beau’s smile with a bright, meaningless one of her own. “I’m okay now,” she said quietly. “Thanks for shielding me.” She turned around to face the cameras, her expression serene as she waited to skate out to the rostrum to receive her medal and congratulate Margie on winning first place. Oh, Lord, why did it have to happen now? She’d been winning everything in sight all year, and now, just a month before the Olympics, she had to lose to Margie Brandon. She’d be going into the Olympics in Calgary with everyone in the sports world wondering if she was slipping.
“They’re ready for you,” Beau said softly, giving her a gentle nudge toward the ice. “Just a little longer and you can go to your dressing room and shut them all out. There’s a TV sports commentator waiting in the corridor, but I’ll bail you out after a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Beau. I know you will.” This time her smile was warm with affection. She didn’t know what she’d do without Beau’s kindness in moments like this. She glided out on the ice toward the rostrum. Her slight, fragile body moved with the liquid grace that had made her a champion; her head, crowned with silky auburn hair, was held high with indomitable pride.
Twenty minutes later, as she tried to fend off the questions of the sports commentator
in the hall outside her dressing room, she wasn’t quite so confident of Beau’s ability to extricate her. She’d found most sports reporters to be sympathetic, but Jay Monteith was as persistent and feral as a weasel. All of Beau’s attempts to whisk her out of his clutches had been futile.
“You’ve been the United States champion for the past two years, Miss Alexander,” Monteith said. “It must be very upsetting to be toppled from your throne this close to the Olympics. Will this change your training plans?” He thrust the microphone at her as if it were a weapon.
“Naturally I’m not happy about it,” Dany said, keeping her voice carefully expressionless. “But it really won’t affect my training plans. I was going to work extremely hard this month anyway.”
“How does Anthony Malik feel about your defeat?” Monteith asked, his dark eyes narrowed on her face to catch any flickering change of expression. “I noticed he’s not here today. Has he been told that the queen has been deposed?”
“I have no idea,” she said coolly. What a thoroughly unpleasant little man, Dany thought. He must have studied at the Howard Cosell school of journalism. “I haven’t heard from Mr. Malik yet, so I would assume he hasn’t heard. However, I’m sure my guardian will be very supportive as usual.”
“Supportive being the key word,” Monteith said silkily. “I understand Malik has spent over two hundred thousand dollars on you since you were a small child, training and promoting you into your present position. I wouldn’t think he’d be any too pleased at having a loser on his hands at this stage of the game. At your age he’d won every figure-skating medal that had been invented, including the Olympic gold. Are you finding that kind of reputation hard to live up to?”
“No, why should I?” she asked crisply. “I compete against myself when I’m on the ice, not against anyone else. Nor do I compete to be compared to others. Anthony Malik is a legend in figure skating. There was never anyone like him before he appeared on the scene and there’s never been anyone to compare with him since. That doesn’t mean I can’t carve my own niche in the sport.”
Monteith persisted. “What kept Malik away from the competition?”
Why hadn’t Anthony been here, dammit? Didn’t he know how she needed him? “He’s been a very busy man since he inherited complete control of the Dynathe Corporation,” she said haltingly. “I’m sure he would have been here if he could.”
“Are you going to be—”
“You’ll have to excuse Miss Alexander,” Beau drawled, opening her dressing room door and practically pushing her inside. “She’s had a very exhausting day and has a plane to catch.” He cast a glance at the slender gold watch on his wrist. “In just two hours.” He backed into the room, still smiling genially. “I knew you boys would understand.” The door closed with gentle firmness.
Marta Paulsen bustled forward, her plump, square body almost militant. “Why didn’t you get her away from them sooner?” she asked Beau tartly as she pushed Dany down into a chair and knelt to unlace her skates. “I was about to come out and yank her in myself. Who did that squirt Monteith think he was? If Anthony had been here, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that crap.” She glanced up at Dany as her strong broad hands deftly dispensed with the laces. “You were robbed. That Brandon girl looked like a cow on the ice.”
Dany shook her head. “She was good. She’s improved a lot since last year.” She reached down to pat Marta’s frizzy blond head, affectionately. “You always say I’ve been robbed. You know very well I was off today.” She looked deliberately at Beau, who’d dropped into the straight chair across the room. “And so do you, Beau.”
Beau stretched his tweed-clad legs lazily before him. “I’ve seen you in better form,” he admitted. “You seemed a bit mechanical toward the end. Your technique was pretty good though.”
“Mechanical!” Marta’s voice was indignant. “There’s never been anything mechanical about Dany’s skating.”
“Until today,” Dany said wearily. “Let’s face it, my technique and artistry were both below par.”
“Well, that Brandon cow sure wasn’t any Pavlova,” Marta grumbled, her blue eyes soft with sympathy. She slipped the second skate off Dany’s foot and massaged the instep with strong, skilled hands. “You’re tied up in knots. Strip down and let me loosen you up a little before you shower.”
Dany leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. That sounded perfectly wonderful. As a masseuse Marta was superb. Her fingers were absolute magic on taut, rigid muscles. She had a motherly figure and had an enormous amount of strength in her arms and shoulders. “In a minute. Just let me relax for a while.”
“Sorry, Dany, you don’t have the time,” Beau said. “Not for the massage, nor to relax either. The plane that leaves in two hours is the last one from Denver to Salt Lake City today. Anthony will want you to be checked in at that Inn at Parke City tonight and to get plenty of rest.”
She opened her eyes. “Then, of course, we’ll do as our lord and master decrees,” she said, her lips twisting in a bittersweet smile. “We wouldn’t want to offend the great man by changing his plans for our convenience.”
Beau straightened slowly and ran his hand absently through his modishly cut bronze hair. “No, we wouldn’t.” His gold-flecked hazel eyes were grave. “We all owe Anthony a hell of a lot. He doesn’t ask a great deal in exchange for what he gives.”
“Only obedience and service twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year,” Dany said tartly. Why was she talking like this? She owed Anthony everything and she knew it. It was as if something hurtful were goading her to say the words. Beau and Marta were both gazing at her in surprise, and their expressions only served to aggravate the uncharacteristic defiance she was feeling. “Why are you looking at me like that? Have I committed lèse-majesté against our omnipotent leader? Why is everyone so afraid of him, for heaven’s sake?”
“I’m not afraid of Anthony.” Beau’s gaze was thoughtful on her face. “And I don’t think Marta is either.” His slow drawl held a trace of speculation. “But I think you are. I never realized that before. Why, Dany? He’s always been exceptionally generous with you.”
Two hundred thousand dollars, Dany mused, everything money and power could buy, his time and energy for the last twelve years. Exceptionally generous. Everything except love and affection. But then Anthony didn’t give those particular gifts to anyone. She was a little afraid of him, she realized with a sense of shock, and more bitter with him for those gifts he’d withheld than she’d believed possible. “Why should I be afraid?” she asked, evading Beau’s keen hazel eyes. “As you say, he’s been very kind to me.” She shook her head unhappily. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m all confused. I think losing the title may have shaken me up more than I realized. Forget I said anything.”
“Sure.” Beau rose lithely to his feet. “None of us are any too happy about it, sugar. But like I said, it’s not as if it were the Olympics. Put it behind you and learn from it.” The phone on the dressing table rang shrilly, and he reached for the receiver. “I’ll get it. You’d better get moving if we’re going to get to the airport on time.” He spoke into the phone. “Lantry.” The casualness in his voice abruptly vanished. “Hello, Anthony.”
Dany stiffened, her dark eyes flying to Beau’s face and trying to read his expression.
“Yes, she’s right here. Shall I put her on?” Evidently he was answered in the negative, for he shook his head when Dany made a movement to get up and come to the phone. “Well, she’s not jumping for joy. She knows she blew it. We’ll probably have to tie her up to keep her from working from sunrise to sunset at Parke City to iron out the problems.” He listened for a long time, surprise flickering over his face. “You’re sure? We’ll have to deep-six all the plans we’ve made for the next month.” There was a long silence on Beau’s part, and Dany could almost hear the vibrant incisiveness of Anthony’s voice. “Okay. I’ll have her there by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” Beau replaced the r
eceiver and turned to Dany. “He saw the competition on television.” He grimaced. “He wasn’t at all pleased. He said to scrap the plans for Parke City and come back to Briarcliff pronto. He wants us to get to New York tomorrow, and he’ll send Pete Drissell with the car to meet us at La Guardia and drive us on to Connecticut.”
“Briarcliff,” Dany whispered. She hadn’t been to Briarcliff for six years. She’d been fourteen then and had just won the Juniors. The year everything had changed. The year Anthony had changed. Since that time her training had all been conducted at various resorts around the country. Anthony had given the excuse that she needed to become accustomed to different rinks for competition purposes, and to gain more poise and independence, but she’d known that wasn’t the reason she had been evicted from the only home she’d ever known. She’d gotten in his way. He’d become tired of having her underfoot, and after that ghastly afternoon in February he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. “He really wants us to come home?”
Beau nodded. “That’s what he says. But don’t expect a rip-roaring welcome. He sounded pretty grim.”
Dany didn’t care how he sounded. She was going home to Briarcliff. Home to Anthony.
* * *
“I’ve never seen you this excited before,” Beau said, his gaze on her tense face curious.
Their chauffeured limousine paused at the electronically controlled gates to the estate. Pete Drissell pressed a button on the dashboard to activate the release on the lock of the gates, and they slid open.
“You’re all lit up inside,” Beau murmured.
“I haven’t been home since I was fourteen,” Dany said, peering eagerly out the window past Marta’s plump profile. She wished now she’d insisted on sitting by the window. “This gate and stone wall are new since I was here last.”
“Is it? It’s always been here since I’ve been coming to Briarcliff.” Beau shrugged. “Of course, I’ve only dropped by to give reports on your progress when Anthony wasn’t at the apartment in New York. I suppose he decided that the estate needed more protection and privacy than it had when you were here.”
White Satin Page 1
