by Peggy Jaeger
Cole was captivated by the movement and the interpretation of the song. At one point, Bryan effortlessly lifted Tiffany high over his head, then brought her down to where their faces were even. When his hands snaked around Tiff’s waist, Cole knew what to expect. This was one of her trademark moves whenever she danced with a male partner. The height and speed she would get as Bryan thrust her up and forward out of his arms, throwing her diagonally across the ice from him, was the stuff legends were made of. The first time he’d seen Tiffany tossed, to land perfectly one footed, her back leg straight out behind her, spinning her body in perfect control, he’d been awed. No skater came near the height and speed she did on a throw like this.
The move, affectionately called a Lennox Twist in skating circles, still caused Cole a momentary pause of panic. Bryan spun Tiffany three times, like a top, and then released her, still spinning, into the air. It was her job to know exactly where the ice was, even while airborne, so she could land perfectly on one foot.
Cole held his breath, heart pounding like a wild drum in his chest.
The next instant he was on his feet. He rushed down the arena steps, to where Tiffany lay sprawled on the ice, clutching her ankle.
Ignoring how his feet slipped and slopped on the icy surface, Cole ran to her. Sean was already at her side, holding her hand.
“Tiff!” Cole fell to his knees. “Are you okay?”
Her cheeks had turned from the color of pink salmon to snow cap-white. Her lips were quivering, and tears outlined her lush lashes. She wouldn’t cry, though, of that he was sure. She’d never cry in public.
“Let me see, lass,” Sean said, trying to unlace her boot.
Tiffany’s muffled scream ripped Cole’s heart in half. “Here, squeeze my hand,” he commanded, taking one of hers in his. Most of the company had run onto the ice by now.
“It’s okay, lass.” Sean gently eased open the laces and spread the boot wide. “I’m just going to slip it off now.”
Tiffany nodded, and while Sean cautiously removed the skate, Cole felt her grip turn to iron in his hand, a small groan escaping her lips.
“Doesn’t look broken,” Sean said, examining her foot. “Can you move it a’tall?”
Tiffany tried to flex her toes, then retract them. The painful hiss of air that came through her lips answered his question.
Still holding her leg, Sean said, “I don’t want to take any chances. We’ll go get this x-rayed.”
“No, I—”
“Don’t argue with me.”
Her mouth clamped shut.
“Here, put this on it.” Jane skated to them with an ice pack, squatted next to Tiffany, and patted her back.
“There’s a good girl.” Sean placed the ice across the instep of Tiffany’s foot. “Someone go call an ambulance.”
“I already did,” Bryan said.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
Cole could hear the anguish in her voice and knew it wasn’t only from the pain she was feeling. “Shush, Brat. Do as you’re told.”
Tiffany stared up at him, her eyes wide saucers filled with liquid, ready to spill over. There was a plea in them he couldn’t miss. He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you.”
“Will you?”
“Of course.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek.
“But your meeting with the network—”
“Can wait,” he finished for her. “You’re more important to me than any meeting. I know how much you hate hospitals.”
Cole felt the shudder that ran down her body. He threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, his other hand still gripped in hers.
Fifteen minutes later he was still holding her hand as the EMTs loaded her into the ambulance.
Chapter Six
“You’re going straight to bed. No arguments,” Cole said as he carried her into the apartment.
“This is ridiculous,” Tiffany wailed. “I can walk. You heard the doctor—it’s not broken, only badly sprained. An ace wrap and I can go back to the arena tom—”
“In a week at least.” He sliced through the apartment, the scant figure bundled in his arms, to the room she’d occupied since childhood. “I did hear him, Tiff. Loud and clear. You’re not allowed anywhere near the ice for at least a week, bed for the rest of today and tomorrow. Elevation and ice.”
As if she would break in two like a piece of fragile glass, Cole gingerly placed her down on the bed.
When he stood back, he stared down at her scowling face and pointed a finger. “Stay.”
In the kitchen, he drew a jagged breath, stole his hands through his hair, and replayed the last few hours back. For over four of those hours Tiffany had been prodded, probed, her ankle x-rayed and iced in the emergency room. Cole, true to his word, had stayed by her side, even when the emergency room doctor began taking an oral health history. It took every ounce of control he possessed not to punch the man in the face when he asked Tiffany for an autograph.
Through it all, Tiffany’s anxiety mounted by the moment, as one hospital technician and doctor after another paraded into her cubicle to ask her questions, have her fill out forms, and draw blood. He knew the basis for her total aversion to hospitals and more than once squeezed her hand and told her everything would be fine. Like a rabid mother hen, Sean raced through the ER demanding the results of the x-rays, to speak to the doctors, to find out what was going on with her. His concern, Cole knew, was all for Tiffany, and not the viability of the ice show should its star become badly injured.
It amazed Cole how protective he felt for her, a girl with the strength of ten men and a will forged in steel. He knew she could take care of herself, but when he’d seen the fear grow in her eyes at the mention of a hospital, he understood despite all her pretenses, she was still a little kid at heart. It made him want to protect her even more.
Armed with an ice pack and a strong cup of tea just the way she liked it, Cole went back to the bedroom. When he found the bed empty, he cursed out loud.
The sound of running water propelled him to the room’s private bath. With another oath about to escape his lips, he stopped at the door, shocked by the image before him.
Tiffany stood on one foot, hunched over the sink, a rag pressed against her lips. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and her small shoulders were shaking. All anger flew from him at the sight of her, so pathetic and so obviously in pain.
“Come on, Brat.” He lifted her in his arms. “Back to bed. Doctor’s orders.”
“I hate doctors,” she said through a sob.
That brought a smile to his lips. “I know you do, but this time it makes sense to listen to them.” He laid her down on the bed, first yanking back the covers with one of his knees. The air whooshed through her lips as she settled down and straightened her legs.
“Hurts bad, doesn’t it?”
Tiffany sniffed, nodded, and swiped at her face with the back of her hand.
“Here, let me wrap this around it.” With great care, Cole placed the ice pack along her ankle, first putting her leg up on two pillows.
“I made you this,” he said, offering her the teacup.
Tiffany looked up at him through cloudy eyes. “Really?”
“I can boil water, Brat. It isn’t that difficult. Want something for the pain? Sean got your prescription filled before we left the hospital.”
“What is it?” She sipped the tea. Cole watched as she leaned back against the pillows, a small sigh whistling from within her.
“Tylenol with codeine.”
“No, thanks.” She shook her head vigorously.
“I should have remembered.” Cautiously, fearful of jostling her ankle, he sat down on the bed next to her. “Miss ‘I won’t do anything addictive’ herself.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
Cole was warmed to hear the haughtiness coming back into her voice. “I’m not. I actually admire you for it. You should really rest for a w
hile,” he said, adjusting the covers over her. She was still dressed in her practice leotard.
“I hate being like this,” she said, reaching over to place the teacup down on the bedside table.
Cole took her hand in his. “I know, Brat.”
“It was that stupid skate. It didn’t feel right as soon as I put it on. The blade felt weird.”
“Weird how?”
Tiffany pulled at the combs in her hair and sighed. With a shake of her head she freed it of its constraints. “I don’t know, almost as if it wasn’t securely in place. Wobbly, you know?”
Cole mulled that over. He’d make a point to call Sean as soon as Tiffany was settled in. “Well, whatever it was, I’m sure Sean will take care of it. For now, do as you’re ordered.”
He stood, his gaze never leaving her face.
She looked so small in her big-canopied bed. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he told her. “Just holler.”
“What about your meeting with Stepman?”
“Forget about it, Tiff. It’s not important.”
When she cocked an eyebrow at him, he laughed. “Don’t get all regal on me now. I was beginning to like seeing you in such a dependent state.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Cole laughed again, bent to tuck her in, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Rest.”
When he was at the door she called his name. “Thanks for the tea,” she said in a tiny voice.
“You’re welcome. I’ll be here.”
“I know.”
When he closed the door, the last thing Cole saw was her piercing gaze rooted to his face.
****
Bells were ringing. Annoying bells that wouldn’t stop. They grew louder. Startled, he jumped up and grabbed the house phone.
“H’llo?”
“Cole?”
“Hi, Carly.”
He rubbed a hand over his face and checked his watch. Three hours had gone by.
“Sean called me,” Carly Woodard said. “How is everything?”
Cole filled Tiffany’s mother in on what had occurred earlier in the afternoon. “Last time I looked she was snoring away.”
“I do not snore,” Tiffany said from the connecting phone in her room.
With a laugh Cole said, “Ladies, I’ll let you talk. See you soon, Carly.”
He put the phone back in its cradle, stood, stretched, and went into the kitchen.
The refrigerator was pitifully empty except for a few cartons of yogurt, some fruit, and a few bottles of water. The pantry cabinet fared no better.
“Slave rations.”
Cole walked back down the hallway and listened at Tiffany’s door for voices. When he heard nothing, he rapped, then opened it. Peeking in, he once again found the bed empty, the bathroom light on.
“What are you doing?” he shouted as he stomped into the bathroom.
The squeal from the half-clad girl standing there, made his heart stop.
“God, Tiff, I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel and tried to blot out the image of her naked torso.
“It seems two years away has completely stripped you of your manners,” Tiffany said, ice in her voice.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if I could get you anything. You’re not supposed to be out of bed.”
“Too bad. I need a shower.”
“What?” He turned back around to see her wrapped like a mummy in a full-length white terry cloth towel. “You’re not even supposed to be upright.”
“I don’t care. I never got a shower after rehearsal and I want one.” To underscore the point she tightened the towel around her.
Her balance was perfect as she stood on her uninjured foot, a gift from her years as a ballet student.
“Okay, okay. How about a chair in the shower so you can at least sit? Then I won’t have to worry about you falling.”
“Fine.”
Cole went out to the utility closet in the hallway and grabbed one of the metal folding chairs. By the time he got back to the bathroom, Tiffany had pulled her leotard back up and was leaning against the sink, arms folded protectively across her chest.
Cole put the chair in the tub and adjusted it so she’d be able to get into it easily. “There. That’s better.”
“Thank you,” she said, majestically.
Her pert nose was turned up, chin jutting out. For the briefest of seconds, Cole had an image of himself nuzzling the length of throat that was exposed to him. He banked the thought and said, “Look, I’m sorry I barged in on you. I was coming to tell you I’m running out to the store to get some groceries. You’re not stocked up at all.”
“I don’t usually eat at home,” she said, avoiding his eyes, her cheeks going pink.
Cole’s brow furrowed. What was this? Embarrassment? Tiffany?
“Well, have your shower. Just be careful. I won’t be long.”
Before he closed the door behind him, Cole took one last look at her. “Tiff?”
When she finally met his gaze, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You have really great breasts.”
He slammed the door, laughing, before the hairbrush hit it.
****
A half hour later he put the grocery bags down on the counter and called out to her, this time waiting until she responded to enter her room.
“You can come in.”
She was seated at the vanity, combing her freshly washed hair. It hung wet and shiny over one shoulder as she untangled it from top to bottom. The way she was sitting, head cocked to one side while she fussed with her hair, gave Cole a full expansive view of her throat, down to the “V” of her robe, where a gentle swelling played with his eyes, tormenting him.
On the walk to the store, he’d berated his lustful feelings, telling himself this was the one girl he couldn’t have. She was as much his sister as anything, and here he was fantasizing about her in a purely non-family way.
By the time he’d arrived back at the apartment, he’d convinced himself what he was going through was a normal response to not being with a woman for some time. Tiffany was just the available object of his mounting desire. He almost believed it when he came through the front door.
But now, with her sitting across from him so innocently grooming herself, never knowing what she did to his insides, Cole doubted himself completely.
“Did you get what you needed?” she asked.
When he didn’t respond right away, Tiffany glanced up at him. She laid the comb on the vanity slowly, her eyes never leaving his. With a flip of her wrist, she sent her rope of hair sailing over one shoulder to tumble down her back, and moved her body to face him fully.
“Do you have everything you need now?”
When he still didn’t answer, Tiffany stood. She winced, tried to right herself, and started to topple back to the vanity stool. In an instant Cole’s arms were around her.
“Stubborn,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”
The shiver that shook down her small body when she put her arms around his neck unsettled him.
“You shouldn’t be up,” he said, holding her still. “You should be resting.”
“I’ve rested enough,” she answered, her gaze flicking across his face. She tightened her arms around his neck and pulled in closer. Through the robe, he could feel the outline of her small, toned body and it sent an electric jolt of want straight to his core.
“Are you hungry?” he asked to divert his lustful thoughts.
“Thirsty.”
Cole nodded and silently carried her into the living room where he deposited her on the sofa.
“This carrying me around is really dumb,” she said while he positioned her leg up on two sofa pillows. “I can walk, you know. I just have to be careful and use the crutches they gave me.”
“Save it.” In the kitchen he took down two glasses from a cabinet, cursing the way his hands trembled, and poured a can of her favorite diet soda
into a glass. “Most girls would love to be carried around,” he said, handing her the glass.
“I’m not most girls,” she shot back.
Cole swiped a hand through his hair and mumbled, “I know.”
He sat next to her on the couch, her elevated foot closest to him.
“So. How’s your mother?” he asked, after taking a sip of his own drink.
Tiffany shrugged. “Doing fine. She and Mike are dropping by in a little while to make sure for themselves I’m all in one piece.”
“It’ll be good to see them. I only caught Mike for a few minutes when I went in yesterday.”
“They both missed you so much,” she said. “So did I. We were all so worried about you.”
Cole smiled and rubbed a hand over her uninjured leg. “Must have been hard on you only having Sean around to spar with.”
“I survived.” Her own lips curved upwards. “You got all my emails?”
He nodded. “It made being away a little easier. I never pictured you for such an avid writer. Sometimes I couldn’t finish one in a sitting. You wrote so much about everyone.”
“I thought you might be lonely and missing us, and it would make it easier being away if you knew what was happening here and going on with everyone.”
“It did, Brat. It really did. Thanks.”
“Was it hard, being so close to the fighting?” she asked, after a moment. “I watched the news one night when that village, what was it? Gremzia?”
“Greshamba.”
“That one. When it was bombed you looked so close to the fighting. I was afraid for you.”
Cole reached out and took her hand, worrying the smooth knuckles. “It was hard, yeah. And a couple of times I thought we might get hit. Once, I interviewed a family and had to evacuate their hut because the shelling was getting close. Five minutes later, it went roaring up in flames. Everyone got out in time, but the family had nothing left but the clothes they were wearing.”
