Free White Satin by Iris Johansen

Beau?”
    “Yield to temptation?” He grinned. “All the time, sugar. The devil only has to blow in my ear and I’ll follow him anywhere.” The smile faded. “That’s why I’m a world-class expert on the subject andknow when amateurs like you are putting me on. You’re too damn self-disciplined to take off like that unless you were pretty upset.” He picked up her skates and wiped them carefully with the soft cloth she always carried for that purpose before tucking them in her leather satchel. “And as Anthony disappeared right after you did, I gather he was in pursuit of our Little Nell in high dudgeon.” His face was grave. “Throw in the fact that you’re as edgy as a cat on a hot tin roof and fighting the ice as if it were your worst enemy, and it adds up to big trouble. I think we’d better talk about it, don’t you?”
    “No, I don’t,” she said firmly as she thrust her feet into her short suede boots and stood up. “You’re my coach, not my sports psychologist. Anthony didn’t think I needed one of those, remember?”
    “That’s not saying he’s right.” Beau got up leisurely, taking her elbow in one hand and her satchel in the other as they started off over the hard-packed snow along the winding path. The Tudor house was glowing like an Elizabethan jewel in the fast-falling dusk. “There’s somethingto be said for relieving tension and clearing the way for concentration by using a Freudian father confessor.” His eyes were suddenly thoughtful. “I think Anthony would have bought you one of those, too, if he hadn’t thought you’d resent that kind of crutch as much as he would. He never could stand the idea of leaning on anyone’s strength but his own.”
    “Why, Beau?” She tried to cover the sudden intensity of her tone with a laugh that was not as light as she would have wished. “Why does he have to be the Rock of Gibraltar and the great god Zeus rolled into one? It’d be a great deal easier for the rest of us poor mortals if occasionally he’d come down from Mount Olympus.”
    “Did you ever consider it would be a lot more comfortable for him too?” Beau asked quietly. “Perhaps he’d like to come down from the mountain but he doesn’t know the path anymore. Mount Olympus must be a hell of a lonely place these days. All the ancient gods and goddesses are gone from the temple.”
    “That won’t wash, Beau,” she said. “Nothingever stops Anthony from doing something he wants to do.”
    Beau shrugged. “How do you know that? Anthony’s a pretty difficult man to read. I still haven’t peeled off more than the top layer, and I’ve known him since I was a kid of eighteen.”
    “That long?” Her gaze flew to his face in surprise. “I never realized you’d been friends that long. I know you were in that ice revue together before Anthony took over Dynathe.” She calculated swiftly. “That’s right, I’d forgotten you’d competed in the Olympics together. You won the bronze that year.”
    “And Anthony won the gold.” He made a face. “Not that anyone expected anything else. He was the undisputed favorite before he even skated out on the ice for the compulsories. Still, it hurt like hell at the time. I had my own dreams of glory.” His lips twisted wryly. “I’m probably damn lucky I didn’t win the gold. I wasn’t the type of man then who could handle the high life with any degree of success. I’d probably have ended up on skid row with a bottle of wood alcohol to keep me warm.”
    Dany’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand. Skid row?”
    “You didn’t notice my passionate attachment for ginger ale?” Beau lifted a mocking brow. “I’m an alcoholic, Dany.”
    “I didn’t know,” she murmured, shocked. It seemed impossible that she’d been so self-centered as not to have been aware of such a thing in as close a friend as Beau.
    “It’s not exactly a weakness you talk about in public,” he said. “There are still too many people who