Ice Games (Games #3)(10)
Author: Jessica Clare

Oh no. That was not good. Being a party crasher wasn’t smart if I wanted to be hired permanently by the network. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Ty.”

“They want me on their show? They’ll let me bring a date.” His hand clasped mine firmly. “Now. Shall we try this again?”

A few hours later, we were still a step behind the music, but making progress. We’d left practice early to prepare for the shindig, and I’d showered and toyed with my hair nervously for the past hour. I hadn’t packed anything super fancy, but I did have a little black dress. Years of last-minute tweaking on costumes had made me handy with a needle and thread and last minute alterations. I managed to tear the back and sleeves off and changed it to a slip-dress with an open back and no sleeves. I had hair ribbons (what good ice skater didn’t carry a batch of hair ribbons?) and used a few of those to add a splash of pink to my neck as a decorative choker. It wasn’t super dressy, but it’d do. I had a pair of black sling-backs that I always packed and slipped those on, focusing my attention on my hair and makeup. If I did them well enough, no one would notice that my dress was a little on the casual side.

I fixed my hair into loose waves that spread over my shoulders and back. It was so dark brown that it was almost black, and it was layered so that it hung in sexy waves when I decided to let it out of my uptight bun. I lined my eyes and put on smoky eye shadow and mascara, and I curled my lashes to make my eyes bigger. Satisfied, I finished the look with a slick of nude lip gloss. The woman that stared back at me in the mirror was still tiny, but she had a hint of sultriness to her. My eyes—and nak*d back—looked sexy. At least no one would think I was fourteen tonight.

Ready, I left my room and headed into the living room of the cottage where Ty was waiting for me. I was surprised to see him in a gray suit—and a little dismayed. “How formal is this party?”

“Does it matter? It’s too late to change anyhow.” He gave me an up and down look, as if appraising my outfit.

I gave a small twirl in my modified dress. “Will I pass muster?”

“Absolutely.” Ty rubbed his mouth, studying me, and then shook his head.

“What?”

“Was just wondering how come this girl doesn’t show up to rehearsals every day. She’s f**king hot.”

I batted him on the shoulder. “I’m the same girl, doofus.”

“Yes, but this one has, like, hair and stuff.” He touched it in wonder.

“You’re one to talk,” I said, reaching out and rubbing his shaved scalp. “And if you saw this hair at five in the morning, I’d like to see what you could do with it.”

He gave one of my locks a tug, and then rubbed it between his fingers. “If I saw this hair at five in the morning, it’d be because it was spread all over my pillow.”

I sucked in a breath at the mental image. Ty leaning over me, me under him, my hair spread in a halo on the pillow. Just like that, I felt my n**ples stiffen. Okay, wow. Thanks for the visual. Now I was all turned on.

He winked at me, as if to nullify any flirty implications. “Come on, Zara. Time to go party.” And he offered me his arm.

I took it, smoothing my hand over his jacket sleeve. He looked hot tonight, too. The jacket hung just loosely enough to emphasize his big, meaty shoulders, but it cut in to hug his trim waist. He didn’t wear a tie—no surprise there, because I doubted his thick neck would squeeze into one. Instead, his collar was open at the throat, showing darkly tanned skin against the pale blue of his shirt. He was freshly shaven and smelled fantastic.

I sniffed him. “Wow. Why doesn’t this great-smelling guy show up to practice?”

“Oh, he can if you want him to.” And Ty winked at me again.

I snorted. “Let’s just go already. I’m freaked enough as it is.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he told me, and his expression was grim, firm. “You have every right to be there, just as much as anyone else.”

And that kind of made me feel warm inside. If nothing else, I had the support of Ty the MMA Biter.

CHAPTER SIX

So…Okay, so that comment I made about Zara being hot? It was true, but I also didn’t mention that I find her hot all the time. Like 24/7. Even in her leotards. There’s just something about a girl that can pull her ankle over her head. — Ty Randall, Preliminary Practice Rounds, Ice Dancing with the Stars

The party was an intimidating affair. There were suits everywhere, clearly network aficionados. A few of the stars from last season had shown up, along with the heavily pregnant Svetlana, Ty’s manager, Chuck, and a few other VIPs.

I wasn’t good at working a crowd, so I stuck to Ty’s side like glue. He turned out to be incredibly charming, much to my surprise. Everyone knew his name and had a friendly word for him. Annamarie Evans had flirted heavily with him, giving me meaningful looks that indicated that she thought I should leave. I even tried to, but Ty’s arm remained tight around my waist.

The female executive from that first meeting had showed up, too.

“Gloria,” Ty said, holding his hand out for her to shake. “You look lovely tonight. You remember Zara, my partner?”

I held my hand out. “Hi again,” I said awkwardly.

“How are things going?” Gloria asked politely, her gaze moving back to Ty. “Ready for the premiere tomorrow?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Ty said, looking over at me. “Right?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and began to gush nervous words. “Ty’s footwork is just a bit of a step behind during the main chorus sequence, but I’m sure that we’ll have it down by tomorrow once we get our costumes. I mean, we can take the day to practice and make sure we nail it in time. All it takes—”

Ty gave my waist a bit of a squeeze, cutting me off. “We’ll be ready,” he told her. “Don’t you worry.”

She gave us a patient smile. “I’m sure you will be. Enjoy the party, will you?”

“We will,” Ty said. “Next time, though, do me a favor and make sure that Zara’s invite gets to her? I think it got lost, and I’d hate for one of the assistants to get fired over something so small.”

One eyebrow rose. She looked at me, and then gave Ty a curt nod. “I’ll speak with the staff.”

“See that you do,” Ty said, and walked away, dragging me along with him.

My eyes felt like they were the size of saucers as we left her behind and stepped down onto a lovely garden terrace. “You just told her to invite me to the next one.”

“I did. They have these fairly regularly. It’s a good networking opportunity. You should go to all of them.”

I didn’t tell him that I probably wouldn’t have the chance to go to another. I was just the fill in for Svetlana, after all. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gave me a long look. “Maybe don’t talk too much, though.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, I’m a nervous talker.”

“You’re a talker, full stop,” he said, but he gave me another comfortable squeeze at my waist, his thumb grazing my bare back by accident.

A waiter passed by with glasses of champagne, and I snagged one. God, I needed a drink. I was nervous as hell.

Ty just as quickly took it back out of my hand again, and set it down on a nearby table. “You haven’t exactly shown me that you can hold your alcohol,” he murmured into my ear.

I started to get annoyed…and then realized he had a point. Drinking was probably bad the night before a performance, too. “You’re right. It might mess up my juju.”

He laughed, shaking his head at me. “Heaven forbid we mess up the juju.”

“You laugh, but the juju’s important,” I chastised him.

“I’m sure it is,” he said, giving me a warm look. His thumb stroked the small of my back again, and I was pretty sure that time it wasn’t an accident. “I’m thinking a lot of things are important that I didn’t notice before.”

“Oh? Like what?” I tilted my head, regarding him. A curl of my hair slid over my shoulder, and I noticed Ty’s gaze follow it.

An electric current ran through my skin, tingling with awareness.

“Ty! Ty, honey, come over here!” A female voice cooed, interrupting our intimate conversation. I looked over, and Annamarie was waving at Ty, trying to beckon him over to a group of her friends. All dressed in long, slinky gowns, all clearly models. Ugh.

And here I was, skinny Zara Pritchard, thinking I was having a moment with sexy, brawny Ty Randall. I was clearly dreaming.

I stepped out of his protective embrace and gestured. “You should go see what they want.”

He glanced at them, and then at me. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” I said with a twirl of my finger. I crossed my arms over my chest and sat down on a stool at the nearby bar, waiting. I tried not to focus too much on how lovely Annamarie’s group was, but it was impossible not to notice. She and her friends immediately pulled Ty in to their group, and the conversation flew at a lively pace. Annamarie would throw her head back and laugh and lean a little closer to Ty, nudging him with her arm.

Ugh. Wasn’t she supposed to be sleeping with her own partner already? Why go after mine? I crossed my legs, and my foot swung over and over again in a nervous flick.

“Hello again,” said a voice, and a big body slid into the stool next to mine.

I looked over in surprise. Serge. Speaking of Annamarie’s partner… “Hi Serge. Long time no see.”

“It has been quite a long time. Two weeks, perhaps?” He gave me a smile that was supposed to be sexy, I guessed, but his shaggy, too-long blond hair screamed 70s Eurotrash—as did his beaky nose—and it was hard to take him seriously.

“I meant in competition. What’s it been, since 2002 Nationals?”

He gave me a pitying smile. “Oh, little Zara. This isn’t a real competition. You realize this, yes? This is just a TV show we do for cash and notoriety. It is like an endorsement deal. You sell yourself for money, and try not to feel dirty about it afterward.” He gave me a superior look down his long eagle-nose. “But I guess you would not know about that, would you?”

Oh, so that was what this conversation was about. Time to psych out the competition? Fine then. “No, I guess I wouldn’t.” I gave him a polite smile. “So how are those hemorrhoid ads working out for you?”

Serge actually advertised a muscle cream over in Europe, but as jokes went, it was close enough to offend. He glared at me. “I do not advertise for hemorrhoids.”

“No? I thought I heard that. Oh, that’s right.” I snapped my fingers. “I heard that you were working hard on getting the herpes market cornered. My bad.” I leaned in. “I’d tell you that you might wanna warn Annamarie about that, but it looks like she’s currently sinking her hooks into my partner. Sorry.”

He got up from his seat. “You are still an unpleasant little girl, I see. I came over to give you some friendly advice, and you have been nothing but rude.”