Love and Other Games

by Ana Blaze, Melinda Dozier, Aria Kane, Kara Leigh Miller

  “You don’t even have an actual punch line.”

  “I know.” She shrugged. “But it’s still funny.”

  “You’re enjoying my humiliation way more than a friend is supposed to.”

  “No. All your friends would enjoy this. I’m just the only one honest enough to admit it. Besides, there’s no reason for you to be embarrassed. So you let loose a little and had some fun—hot Norwegian fun. I say it’s a good thing. Everybody gets a little crazy at the games.”

  “But … ”

  “Hold on-you gotta see this.” Robin pulled out her phone. Her thumbs slid and tapped around the screen until she found what she was looking for. “Someone started a site for all the craziest Instagram shots from the Olympics. This one’s my fav.” She held it up screen out.

  Amy couldn’t help giggling. “Is that Trouble Madsen?”

  “Yeah. He must annoy his teammates as much as he annoys you. A couple nights ago, they tricked him out of his clothes and handcuffed him to a fence or something.” Robin turned the phone back to take another peek herself. “It’s a good look for him.”

  “That’s the problem with Ty, pretty much everything is a good look for him and he knows it.”

  Robin laughed.

  “He’s probably not even embarrassed about the pictures. Whereas pictorial evidence or no, I want to crawl into a hole.” Amy sighed. “I just don’t know what got into me.”

  Robin’s grin was enormous. She wriggled her eyebrows like a cad in an old timey cartoon. “I know what got into you.”

  Chapter Three

  It was colder than expected. Erik usually focused on the weather to clear his mind before taking the jump. He’d once heard that ski-jumping was ninety percent muscle memory, but it was the other ten percent that mattered. It was true. But it wasn’t what he thought as much as it was what he didn’t think about. Standing over 100 meters up, looking down the hill and letting go of the bar requires the kind of fearlessness that most people grow out of after their teen years. Allowing fear to get the best of you for even an instant, tensing, delaying … will ruin your jump.

  But the extra chill in the air wasn’t enough to wipe away the wanderings in Erik’s mind. He hadn’t wanted to go out the night before, had argued against it even. In the end, he’d followed his teammates to the party in order to keep an eye on them. What a fucking joke that had ended up being. He was supposed to be the responsible one.

  At twenty-seven, Erik Andresen was one of the oldest members of the Norwegian Ski Jump team. Folks were only half-joking when they called him the team’s nanny. He was usually the one that pulled his younger friends away from the groupies and handed them a bottle of water when they drank too much. Erik knew he’d be getting ragged on about last night until well after the games.

  He gripped the bar behind him and, taking a deep breath, looked out at the clear blue skies and the mountains on the horizon. He should have slept. It was the Olympics. What the hell had he been thinking? Erik couldn’t help grinning. It was the girl. Or woman. She probably preferred being called a woman. Amy, he tried out her name in his head again. Cute name. Cuter girl. Dragging himself out of a bed that had her in it hadn’t been easy. His teammate, Matias, talking about gold hadn’t made it any easier. For a full three seconds, Erik Andresen considered telling everyone to go screw themselves. He wasn’t a contender and everyone knew it. Erik’s score would help his team, but it wouldn’t get him on the podium at one of the individual events.

  It’s not that he was bitter about it. He’d had a good run, and ending his career with a final visit to the Olympic Games suited him. He was happy to be a team player.

  Or at least he was when it didn’t require leaving the perfectly sexy redhead he’d met the night before. Erik wondered if there was any chance she’d still be in his bed when he got back. It didn’t seem likely, but the thought had him grinning as he let go of the bar. Erik leaned towards his skis as he slid down the hill and a half a second later he was soaring. He kept his arms tight behind his frame and let the laws of physics do their work. If she was still there, his roommate was going to have to find somewhere else to be.

  His landing was met with a flurry of shouts. Erik pushed up his goggles to see his coach running towards him.

  “What the hell was that?” Felix Bjorn, head coach for the Norwegian ski jumping team, yelled out as he came closer.

  What? Erik scowled and glanced around. He was a little off this morning, but certainly the jump had been good enough to clear the qualification round. If anything … it was more than enough. Bjorn and a couple of his teammates tackled him and Erik fell to the ground. Still, it took a moment to process. 135 meters. It was just shy of his personal best on the normal hill. The personal best from before he fell. The personal best that was a world record at the time. It was far and away his best jump in years.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” His coach smacked him on the arm.

  Erik shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted, before grinning. “I don’t fucking know.”

  “Well whatever you did this morning … do it again before the big hill next week.” Bjorn clapped him on the back again and then yanked him up off the ground and into a bear hug.

  Bjorn didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. Everyone there knew that another jump like that could give Erik Andresen a shot at the podium. Off to the side, the cameramen who’d barely been paying attention at the start of his jump were elbowing each other in an effort to get the best shot of the unexpected celebration. Erik blinked rapidly as the flurry of flashes glinted off the shiny snow-covered hills surrounding them.

  Matias, standing just behind their coach, was grinning like the proverbial cat with a canary. “Yeah, Erik, that sounds like a good idea you should absolutely do whatever you did this morning again. Remind me though—what were you doing this morning?” He tapped his gloved finger over his lips as though he was struggling to remember. “Whatever were you doing?”

  Tobias, one of his other teammates chuckled loudly. “You mean whoever.”

  The clouds cleared slowly. Who? The girl. Amy. She was the one. He’d known she was special when he saw her. The party had been a disappointment. It had an edge, almost desperate, as though everyone was trying too hard because they’d heard that Olympic Village parties got crazy and felt pressured to ensure the phenomenon themselves. But she’d stood out—too bright and alone. He’d had to meet her … because she was for him, brought there by fate or maybe just chance. She was a lykkeamulett. Amy was his personal—and very sexy—good luck charm. Erik Andresen had another shot at the gold … as long as she was by his side.

  Chapter Four

  “Eww. What is that?” Amy placed her tray down on the table and slid onto the bench across the table from Robin.

  “It’s meant to be fondue. I figured since we’re in Switzerland, right? But this is like fast food style or something.” Robin poked the clumping, off-white substance in her paper cup with a wooden stick that looked like a coffee stir. It shifted slightly, allowing a thin layer of grease to ooze up. Robin wrinkled her nose and pushed the cup away. “The bread was okay.”

  Laughing, Amy pulled the lid off her yogurt and filled her spoon. “You should have guessed based on how short the line was over there.”

  Robin shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Do you wanna get out of the village tonight—see if we can find a real restaurant?”

  “I don’t think so. I have a lot of emails to catch up on, and—”

  “Lexi’s off tomorrow. Come on. Don’t make me go out by myself.”

  Amy snorted. “You’re not going to get me with that one again. And Lexi is kind of the point. I’m here for her. I should be setting a better example, not …

  “Having uber-sexy fun?”

  “That we’ve agreed never to speak of again.”

  Robin chuckled and shook her head. “Fine. Ooh did you hear that one of the speed skaters from Spain found the torch?”

  “I didn’t know th
ey’d lost a torch.”

  “No the mystery torch—the lucky one—how could you not know about this? The year I competed, the whole team was obsessed with finding that torch.”

  Amy grinned. “I was just a child then, so … ” She couldn’t help herself. Robin’s dismay at her soon to arrive thirtieth birthday was just too funny.

  “Haha … so was I really.”

  “Yeah, but you were a much older child.”

  “Do you want to hear about the torch or not?”

  “Okay, tell me about the torch.”

  Robin leaned toward her, resting on her elbows and grinning. She loved telling stories. Amy often wondered if she’d missed her calling when she decided to stick with skating as a coach after her competition years were through. “There’s this torch and no one knows where it came from. Some people say it’s a torch that went out but was relit before anyone found out, but really there’s no proof. Basically if you can get it on the day you compete it’s good luck, but you can’t keep it more than twenty-four hours. If you do … ”

  “It is very bad luck.” A deep voice finished Robin’s sentence. “If you believe that story. I don’t think so.”

  Startled, Amy glanced up. There were thousands of people at the Olympics. What were the chances that she’d run into the Viking again in less than forty-eight hours? The odds had to be slim, and yet there he was, all six and half feet of him looking cool and slick and far too handsome.

  He smiled and ran a hand through his dark blonde hair. “You are not an easy girl to find.”

  “Why would you try to find me?” Okay, she hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “I mean … we had our fun, so—” Uggh. She was only making it worse.

  Erik chuckled. “No. We had some fun. I am certain we could have more fun.”

  “No.”

  His eyebrows shot up, drawing attention to his sharp cheekbones. “No?” He met her gaze and held it for a beat.

  Amy shook her head. Her cheeks were getting hot already. No. He’d already humiliated her plenty. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her blush red like an over-ripened tomato.

  “I’m Robin.” Amy’s friend announced perkily. “In case anyone was wondering.”

  “Robin.” He turned, grinned at her. “It’s very nice to meet you.” He stepped over the bench, sat down beside her and held out his hand.

  Amy narrowed her eyes and tried to get her friend to snub him by the sheer power of her will. She failed.

  Robin shook his hand and smiled widely. She was clearly enjoying Amy’s discomfort. “So, Erik, you know ditching in the morning was a pretty douche move.”

  Erik’s startlingly blue eyes widened, he turned back to Amy. “I didn’t ditch. I had to go jump. Didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Right. Look we had … fun … the other night, but I’m really not the crazy fling kind of girl and I’d like to forget the whole thing happened.”

  “Forget it?” He looked stunned and maybe a little hurt. It wasn’t her intent. Honestly, she hadn’t expected to ever see him again. She wasn’t prepared. “You mean that?”

  “I’m here for my sister. She’s a skater. I should really be focusing on that.” Her father really couldn’t handle things on his own.

  “I see.” He lowered his eyes, drummed his fingers on the table.

  Why did it suddenly feel like she was dumping him? As if girls like her dumped men like him. It was almost too silly to even consider, but there was something in his expression that squeezed her heart.

  Erik pulled something from his front pocket and placed it on the table. “I found this … for you.” He shrugged and stood up.

  A small bit of painted metal rested in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat. “Quatchi? It’s a snowboarding Quatchi. Why … I mean, you remembered that?”

  Erik smiled. “Call me, American Amy. I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “I really should be focusing on—”

  “My number is in your phone.”

  It was? When did that happen? “How?”

  Erik chuckled deeply. The sound brought a flash of memory, a hot naked skin touching naked skin memory, and more than Amy’s cheeks warmed at the thought. The man standing on the other side of the table was barely more than a stranger. Having these memories seemed wrong but she couldn’t say she wanted to be rid of them. She glanced down, afraid her eyes would show her thoughts all too clearly, and settled her gaze on his hands. Dear god, he had big hands. He could circle her waist almost completely. Her own hands clenched tightly. A painfully large part of her wanted to leap over the table and tear off his clothes.

  “Call me, Amy.” He shook his head and walked away, still chuckling quietly.

  Robin leaned in. “You need to call that guy. Hell, if you don’t, I might.”

  “I’m not—” She couldn’t trust herself around him. He was too appealing.

  “Quatchi. Amy. He brought you a snowboarding Quatchi pin.”

  She twisted the pin between her thumb and forefinger. “I thought it was a one-night thing. Like a crazy Olympic fever fling. We’re only here a couple weeks. We live in different countries. There’s no reason to—”

  “The Viking seems to see things differently.”

  “The air is probably really thin that high up. Hypoxia messes with perception.”

  “Amy.”

  “I know. I’ll … I’ll call him.

  Chapter Five

  “Is this good?” Erik asked as a hostess seated him and Amy at a small wooden table. Getting a reservation at one of the few romantic establishments within walking distance of the athlete’s village wasn’t easy, but his teammates had helped. Erik hadn’t asked Mattias what he’d promised the hostess in return for squeezing them in. He probably didn’t want to know.

  “It’s nice.” She sounded surprised, like she didn’t think he was capable of taking a girl to a nice place. It stung. Things had gone too far too fast the other night, but it was mutual. He’d barely set his lips on hers and she’d moaned. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, so they’d both gotten a little carried away. No big deal. They were adults. No one was hurt. Except she was. Obviously, Amy was hurt by his absence in the morning. But was leaving in the morning to avoid being disqualified from the Olympics really such a crime? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. She had to forgive him.

  “Maybe we could start over. Right now.” He tapped the table hard enough to make the small glass candle holder bounce. The flame inside flickered but continued to burn. “I’m Erik. You’re Amy. I believe you’re from America.”

  She laughed. “And you’ll pretend that you haven’t already seen me naked?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “But I won’t pretend I don’t want to see you naked.”

  She blushed, a charming wash of pink over her creamy pale skin, and shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Taking a pretty girl on a date?”

  She sighed and leaned in, effectively lowering the neckline of her top. Nice breasts. They were even nicer pressed against him. That needed to happen again, but they should eat first.

  “No. Or maybe yes. Why all the fuss? We’ve already … you know.”

  Her face grew redder and she turned away. Intriguing. She was shy. He’d noticed the other night, but had expected it to evaporate after the nocturnal activities. Why did that make him want her even more? “You are dating the wrong men.” He placed his hand over hers on the table. “I just want to know you. Tell me—what do you do? I know your sister is a skater. But you are not?”

  “Right.” She pulled her hand away and pressed it against her thigh. “Lexi’s the skater. Not me. I mean, I can skate … just not like that. I quit competing when I was thirteen.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged and considered her words. He took the moment to enjoy her face. She was lovely—fiery hair, pale skin, and perfect lips. “Typical story I guess. I wasn’t good enough. Lexi was better. Lexi was almost four year
s younger and already better.”

  “It was sad for you? Giving it up.”

  “A little, but probably not as much as you think. I was tired of the early morning practices, the missed birthday parties and camping trips, the bruises.” Those perfect lips curved upward. “I fell a lot.”

  Erik trained a great deal as a teenager, but it didn’t compare to the schedule of many ten year old figure skaters. “What do you do then?”

  “School. I was always better at school anyway. I finished a business degree last May. I’m basically Lexi’s manager right now, but I’ll find something else—soon, I think.”

  “A business lady? In an office?” She nodded and he shook his head. “I don’t see that. You need something more fun.”

  Amy raised her eyebrows. “You’re awfully focused on fun. Are you ever serious?”

  “I am. Of course, I am. You have a very poor opinion of me, but you don’t know me yet.”

  “I don’t really—have a poor opinion of you.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds. “I should tell you that I looked you up online.”

  “Ah, you Google and now you think you know everything?” He’d Googled too. Amy had left out that her mother was an Olympic skater. She’d taken home a Silver medal before settling down with Steven Pierce. Erik had found a photo of Sandy Pierce and her very small daughters all wearing skates and little dresses. It had accompanied her obituary. Leaving her mother’s sport had to have been difficult, but he didn’t press.

  “I wouldn’t say that, but I did—I read about your accident.”

  “Yes.” It was bound to come up eventually. He’d nearly died at a competition a few years back. Would she think he was brave for getting back on the hill or simply insane?

  “You were really good, right? World records and all.”

  “I am very good. Now—I am very good. But, yes, I was better.”

  “And you still compete.”

  “Yes.” Here it came. Was he an inspiration or a fool?

  “That’s … interesting.” She was chewing on her lip again. Some woman did that intentionally, a cutesy flirting maneuver that he’d never understood. Amy seemed unaware of the habit, and that made it oddly endearing. It also made it hard for him not to stare at her mouth.