“Nope.”
“Pizza?” he prodded.
“Pesto-based pizza with fresh tomatoes. No cheese.”
“Weirdo,” he said.
“Like you’re normal!”
“Who wants to be normal?” he scoffed. “Okay...all kidding aside, what new thing are you really going to try?”
She looked at him for a long minute before the two lemon-drop martinis and her courage finally caught up with her mouth. “You.”
“ME?”
“Yes, you. Remember all those times you badgered me for a kiss?” she asked.
He did. It had been a game for him since that first meeting. He’d wanted her, but she was out of his league. A classy woman—even at seventeen—who wouldn’t give him a second glance. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him. He’d teased her relentlessly, invaded her personal space and kept clamoring for a kiss.
“The last time I asked I thought I spooked you,” he said, getting to the heart of the reason why he was really sitting with Lindsey Collins, who, despite her request for a kiss, would more than likely not end up in his bed this evening. He’d pushed her in Sochi. Had goaded her into agreeing that she’d kiss him if he beat his world-record time, and still she hadn’t.
Not that he’d ever really expected her to fulfill her end of the bargain.
To him it had seemed like a simple little bet. Something to push her, because it had been ten years of flirting and it had seemed ridiculous to continue playing that game. And he’d been feeling trapped by his coach and sponsors, who’d wanted him to sign a new deal to keep doing the same thing he’d always done. So instead of acting like a man, he’d done what he always did and sought out Lindsey before her run to demand what he’d always wanted from her.
“It wasn’t you. God, please, don’t think that crash had anything to do with you,” she said, reaching over to put her hand on his.
She leaned in, and the scent of her perfume filled the air around him. Her brown eyes were sincere as they met his. She squeezed his hand. “My crash was... I’m not sure what, but it wasn’t you. I’ve been over the footage a million times. I wish that was an exaggeration, but it’s not. I’ve watched it over and over again, trying to figure out what I could have done differently. Did you see how smooth I was at the top?”
“I did.” He’d watched her run like everyone else. But for him, he’d felt that sense of pride he always did in her. He’d thought this time she’d beat him, and maybe that would put an end to his pursuit of her. Because she’d told him if she won that was the end of his kissing taunts.
But instead she’d crashed midway through her run. Her body and skis tumbling over each other. His heart had stopped beating for a second. She’d looked small and fragile as she’d crashed into the bright orange safety webbing. Guilt and fear had warred inside him.
“Well, it wasn’t you. I think I hit the snow wrong out of the gate. My coach has a couple of theories, as well. But, honestly, I’m not so scared of being kissed that I’d crash.
“Kissed lots of guys, have you?”
She made a face. “A lady doesn’t tell.”
“Apologies.”
“But I don’t mind telling you that the anticipation with you has been killing me. I want to believe when you do kiss me it will be spectacular. However, given that it’s been ten years of waiting, I can’t rule out the possibility that it might be a dud.”
He laughed. Threw his head back and just forgot everything else in this moment except for Lindsey. She was as nutty as he was but just covered it up better.
“It might. Or it could be the best damned thing either of us ever experiences.”
She let go of his hand and settled back against the seat. “I guess that’s why I’ve made you my resolution.”
There was something different about her tonight. The wedding earlier had made him start thinking about things that he usually ignored. That and the fact that beginning tomorrow he was no longer only an athlete. He didn’t have to train every day; he was going to chart a new path.
“Champagne or sparkling grape juice?” the cocktail waitress asked as she approached their table with a tray of drinks.
The Lars Usten Resort knew the party was going strong. Behind her was another waitress with hats with the year marked out in glitter and some kind of horn.
“Juice for me,” Carter said. He didn’t want to dull a single moment of the night with Lindsey, and although he liked to believe he could handle whatever life had thrown at him, he did it better when he was sober.
“Juice?” Lindsey asked, arching one eyebrow. “Champagne for me.”
The waitress set their drinks in front of them, and then they were each given a hat. For him a top hat. For her a tiara. She promptly put it on her head and turned to bat her eyelashes at him. “Do I look like a princess now?”
“The queen should be afraid you’re after her title,” he murmured.
“As if. I’m not after anything. You’re lucky, Carter. Lucky that you still have snowboarding. Life is very strange when you don’t have to get up every day and train,” she said, taking a sip of her champagne.
Not exactly what he’d been hoping to hear. “I think you’re supposed to wait for the toast to drink that.”
She smiled mischievously. “Going to tell on me?”
He shook his head. “Your secret’s safe with me, Linds.” How could he possibly deny this woman anything? She enchanted him. And he had to admit, she was a total mystery. He’d teased and cajoled her for his own amusement but had never really taken the time to get to know her. Tonight was showing him that all the preconceived notions he’d had were wrong.
She wasn’t the ice queen she’d always been on the snow. She was real and fragile and so damned tempting...
* * *
LINDSEY HAD NEVER worn a tiara before. Even though this one was plastic with fake gems, she was still thrilled to be wearing it. It made her feel girlie. “This is my first real New Year’s Eve party. Pitiful, isn’t it?”
“Not really. Your life was focused in a different direction.”
“Yeah, but you were training and still found time to party,” she said.
“I’m good at multitasking,” he replied.
“Most men really aren’t.”
He gave her a cynical look. “Really? You want to do the whole ‘battle of the sexes’ thing? Tonight?”
She didn’t. She wanted to enjoy the fact that she felt like a normal girl instead of someone apart from the mainstream. The Ice Queen, the media had labeled her. But the truth was, she had gotten so used to keeping her feelings hidden it was hard for her to actually show them.
“Of course not. I had no idea your ego was so thin,” she teased.
“It’s not. But you should know if you throw down what you’re going up against.”
“What? That you’re the boss?” she asked, trying not to smile. Carter had been flouting rules and tradition since the moment she’d met him. She found it really hard to believe that he’d have some hard set-in-stone ideas about anything. But she did believe that if he got into a fight, he’d go full-out and leave nothing.
She was used to winning and knew how to get what she wanted on the slopes but,