~ A Risk Worth Taking ~

by

Teresa Morgan

Dizzy, she tried to focus as she stroked around the end of the rink, gathering speed for a forward spiral. Nikki stretched her torso forward, her free leg out behind her. Head up, stretch, hold the turnout. Point the toe. Arms out to the sides and slightly behind her, she wobbled a bit as she found the blade’s inside edge.

"Nikki, watch out!" A sharp cry from Suzanne interrupted her concentration.

Before she could comprehend any danger, something hit her hard, knocking her skating leg out from under her. Arms out to her sides, she landed flat on her chest, the ice knocking the breath from her body. As she slid across the ice, heaving, trying to refill her lungs with air, the frigid dampness soaked her Lycra practice outfit. Shavings of snow made their way up her nose.

What had hit her?

Even before she stopped sliding, Suzanne bent over her. "Are you all right?"

She could only shake her head and heave. Someone had dropped a bag of concrete on her chest. Oh God, it hurts. Finally, she hoisted herself to her hands and knees and sat on the ice, arms wrapped around her ribs.

"Nikki, are you all right?" Ten-year-old Melissa’s eyes were wide with fear. Thirteen-year-old Samuel gaped. Wendy and Amanda stood speechless.

Again she shook her head. Couldn’t these people see she was trying to breathe? Why did they think she could speak?

A male voice interrupted. "Let her catch her breath, first. I am so sorry. I fell on my Axel and slid into you."

Nikki looked up at the face looming over her. Mr. Hot Shot’s face--drained of color--was only inches from hers. John Henderson had hit her? And she’d lived? Finally, she succeeded in catching a breath. Sharp, piercing pain stabbed her. She’d yell at him later. Groaning, she clutched at her ribs with both arms.

"You’ve hurt your ribs," he said. "Let me take you to the hospital to get them x-rayed."

His voice was soft and low, and it did something to the beat of the pulse in her ears. She had hurt her ribs? Nikki glared at him. "No," she croaked.

Suzanne spoke up and said, "Nikki, you’re in no shape to drive. I’d take you, myself, but I have to pick up my granddaughters at the mall."

"I’m fine--" she ground out between clenched teeth. The very idea that she’d been knocked over by a world-class skater going at top speed, when she’d had the right of way, infuriated her. Melted snow seeped through her practice outfit. Nikki started to get up and felt another stabbing pain in her ribcage. She couldn’t keep back a soft cry. Tears filled her eyes as she sank back onto the ice.

"You’re coming with me." John bent over, and with gentle strength that amazed her, he lifted her back onto her skates.

Another spasm of pain shot through her.

"Anything else hurt?"

Still bent almost double, she shook her head. His tone was soft, almost a caress. She didn’t want his caresses, verbal or otherwise. Nikki pulled away from the arm that encircled her.

"I’m fine," she hissed through her teeth, turning to look him straight in the eye. She opened her mouth to speak, then popped it closed. Why had God seen fit to put a pair of eyes like those in this particular man’s face?

John retrieved their skate guards and kept one arm around her waist and one hand at her elbow while she stepped from the ice. He dealt with his skates, then dried hers and tucked them away. "I can’t tell you how sorry I am."

He did look mortified. Nikki nodded understanding. He helped her into his car and pulled out into traffic.

"I’m John Henderson," he said after the silence between them stretched.

When she didn’t comment, he looked at her sideways. His amused smile made her feel like a sulking child and added to her growing irritation.

"Nikki Nolan."

More amused silence.

He turned into the hospital parking lot. "Usually I sweep women off their feet, not knock them down."

Nikki glowered at him and started across the parking lot to the emergency room door. No man was going to sweep her off her feet ever again.

In a few quick strides, John made up the distance between them and triggered the automatic door opener. Then he stepped aside and executed an exaggerated, courtly bow. "After you," he said.

Still irked, Nikki ignored his antics, approached the receptionist, and prayed they didn’t have too long a wait.

~ * ~

John looked at the form on the clipboard. All he knew about Ms. Nikki Nolan was her name, age, and marital status. Suzanne had given him the last two bits of information. A good thing, too, John thought. Nikki was so angry she hadn’t even wanted to tell him her name. Without thinking twice, he wrote his own name and address in the space for billing and handed back the clipboard almost immediately.

The receptionist nodded and sent him a sympathetic smile.

"Go ahead and have a seat."

"Some first impression you made," he muttered to himself. "You cut her off right at the knees when she was most vulnerable." Though he always seemed to end up meeting a multitude of emergency center people, usually he was the one bleeding or broken.

John began to pace, and after three trips back and forth across the end of the waiting room, stopped and ran the fingers of both hands through his hair. John flung himself back down into a chair.

A young mother carrying an infant in her arms and leading a sandy-haired boy sank onto the chair next to him. An overstuffed diaper bag tipped and landed on the floor. A baby bottle and a package of baby wipes fell out onto the floor.

John righted the diaper bag and moved down a chair to let them have more room. The poor woman looked as though she’d been up for thirty-six hours straight. Unless he missed his guess, the tiny infant was less than a month old.

As John knew he would, the boy went immediately to the toy box and dumped everything onto the floor.

"Timothy, please don’t do that," she said, sounding like she wanted to cry.

He turned to the woman. "Could I read to him? My sister has twins about his age." Without waiting for an answer, John rose from the chair, crouched down next to the child, and held out a hand for the boy to shake. "Hi, Timothy, I’m John. You want to read with me?"

The infant began to wail, and John saw tears of exhaustion in the mother’s eyes. Timothy selected two books and returned to stand in front of him.

"My daddy is on an air craf carrier. Are you a daddy?"

John shook his head. "Nope, but I’m an uncle. You got an uncle?"

"Yeah, but he don’t live in Chic-a-go. He likes Ar-zona. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four," John said. "How old are you?"

The boy struggled to hold up three fingers. "I’ll be four on my birthday. That’s my baby sister. She has a fever. Are you sick?"

"No, my friend got hurt, so I drove her here."

Timothy opened a book and patted the title page. "This one first," he said. He climbed up on John’s lap and wiggled into a comfortable position.

John sent the woman a smile. As John began to read, an elderly lady across from them began coughing. Timothy yawned.

Half way through the second book, Timothy’s thumb snuck into his mouth, and John could feel him beginning to relax into sleep. John kept reading, smiling when the boy’s index finger curled over the top of his nose.

The woman reached over and touched his forearm. "Thank you," she whispered.

"It was my pleasure. I enjoyed reading to him."

~ * ~

An hour later, Nikki stepped back into the waiting area and caught the activity. John Henderson, figure skating’s narcissistic Casanova, reading a fretful child to sleep? The boy’s mother, eyes closed, cradled an infant to her chest. She looked exhausted enough to fall asleep where she sat. John, the young mother, and the two children looked for all the world like a young family.

While Nikki watched, their names were called, and John surrendered the boy to the nurse. Then he saw her standing in the doorway. As he covered the distance between them, she marveled at his ease of movement. Not a single wasted motion. He took her elbow.

She pulled away. "I can walk." He didn’t seem to take offense.

"Broken, bruised, or cracked?"

"Just bruised," she said. "You were holding that boy like you knew how."

His grin was quick. "I do know how. My sister has twin boys just a little younger. A newborn girl, too. I spent most of the summer with her and her husband."

Nikki shook her head in disbelief. John Henderson actually liked taking care of children? Nikki didn’t protest when he held the car door for her and helped her lower herself into the seat. She leaned her head against the headrest and allowed her eyes to close. She didn’t feel like making conversation and the easiest way to avoid that was not to look at him. John didn’t press her. Silently, she blessed him for his tact.

When they arrived back at the rink, he was out of the car and opening her door before she could unfasten her seat belt. His soft voice rendered her unable to break eye contact. "I’m really sorry I knocked you down," he said. "I promise you, in all my years of skating, I’ve never run into another skater."

Some power forced her to nod agreement. "I believe you," she said. "It was an accident." Her facial muscles responded in a smile.

Then, with one fluid movement, he touched one warm fingertip to her cheek. Without another word, he was gone. Nikki got into her car. Just before disappearing inside the building, John turned, flashed a million-dollar smile, and waved. Irritated with herself, she snapped her head around and started the engine.

Teeth clenched, she put the car in gear and shot out of the parking lot. Two blocks away, she caught a red light. She drummed her fingernails against the wheel. Then, disgusted with herself and the wretched attraction, she whipped the car into the right lane, turned, and drove around the block, back into the rink’s parking lot.

Trying to appear disinterested, she found a place in the top row of bleachers where she could be inconspicuous. John warmed up slowly after almost two hours of inactivity. How she envied his easy speed across the ice. His jumps were huge; his spins centered and fast. He had, indeed, been working hard this summer. He finally had what he’d need to earn his first national title.

She watched as John circled the rink, gaining speed. He toe-picked into the ice and jumped. Her practiced eyes counted revolutions. One, two, three, four. "He does have a quad," she murmured to herself.

He landed on a clean edge and toe-picked into the ice again. Nikki counted the revolutions of the second jump. One, two, three. No way had he been skating at full speed before he fell and hit her. If he had, she’d be in ICU. The quad-triple combination he’d just performed would be essential for him to win at the World Championships. Suzanne was right, not since Chad had they seen skating like this on their home ice.

Again, Nikki’s eyes sought out the huge sign on the opposite wall before she jerked her attention back to the ice. Her relationship with Chad Matthews was over and had been for a long time. She was a mature career woman, not a skating groupie.

Nikki smiled when John stroked around the end of the rink and held a perfect back spiral position down the length of the ice, then went right into a triple flip jump that she would have been thrilled to own.

He ran through his short program. As the music from an electric guitar filled the rink, his performance drew her in and captivated her. Nikki wrapped her arms around her aching ribs. The program was full of complicated connecting footwork and subtle gestures that did something to her stomach.

She shivered and put it down to the cold of the rink. Reluctant awe crept over her. She didn’t want to feel it. The memory of John’s warm fingertip, tender against her cheek, knifed through her. Nikki gave herself a mental shaking. This man was a twenty-first century Casanova. It would be madness to get involved with him.

Unwilling to subject herself any longer to her foolish attraction, she got to her feet and clambered out of the bleachers. She’d almost made it through the double doors into the lobby when something made her turn back toward the ice.

Sweat flew as he landed an effortless triple Axel and finished with the fastest scratch spin she’d seen since Scott Davis beat Brian Boitano in 1994. John made eye contact; Nikki’s burning stomach lurched. Getting involved with John Henderson would be a foolish risk. She’d taken the risk once before and had been devastated. Ignoring his flashing smile and beckoning wave to join him at the boards, she turned and fled the building.

She wasn’t going through that again. Never, never, never.