Free White Satin by Iris Johansen Page A

don’t recognize it as a physical illness.” His lips tightened grimly. “I didn’t myself until Anthony took me by the scruff of the neck and rubbed my nose in it. Until then I had an image of myself as a decadent southern gentleman with a fatal but romantic flaw. That was much easier to accept for a man of my temperament than being ‘sick.’ Fortunately Anthony has a way of cutting like a knife through our little self-delusions. Probably because he has none himself.”
    “Anthony knew you were an alcoholic when he hired you as my coach?”
    Beau shook his head. “I was on the wagon bythat time. It’s not likely he’d have risked me associating so closely with his pride and joy if he hadn’t been sure I would stay that way. He took me in hand before he left the ice show. He made me face the problem and put me in a clinic to dry out. Then he whisked me out of temptation’s way and into the straight and narrow when he decided to turn over your coaching to someone else.”
    “He did all that for you?” She shook her head in dazed disbelief. “You must have been very good friends.”
    “As close as Anthony would allow.” An ironic smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you’re aware that restriction wouldn’t exactly make us bosom buddies. Actually, after we both signed with the ice show, we had very little contact. My crowd was a little too wild for his taste. He preferred more sophisticated playmates. No one was more surprised than I that he came galloping to the rescue when I was gliding down the path to ruin. The only reason I can come up with was that I’d been fairly decent to him when we were both going for the gold. The other competitors were ready to cuthim to little ribbons—even those on his own team.”
    “So much for the spirit of the Olympics.”
    “You couldn’t really blame them,” Beau said. “They’d worked all their lives for a chance at the big time. The difference between winning the gold and taking the silver is a three-million-dollar-a-year contract versus being just another hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar-a-year featured skater with an ice show. Maybe I’d have felt the same if I hadn’t always had more money than was good for me anyway. Even so, I was feeling pretty raw myself when he showed up at practice and took over the rink as if he owned it.” He shrugged. “Hell, he
did
own it. As soon as I saw him work out, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”
    “That must have been terribly disappointing for you.” Dany’s voice was soft with sympathy. “I’m not sure how I’d have reacted under the same circumstances. Anthony had cause to be grateful to you, Beau.”
    He shook his head. “I just behaved the way any other true southern gentleman would have,” he drawled, his eyes more golden then as theytwinkled. “We’ve had practice at being defeated by you arrogant Yankees. Perhaps I didn’t want the gold as much as the others did. It wasn’t worth trying to psych out another competitor, at least. But of course, it wouldn’t have been possible with Anthony. He wasn’t about to let anyone close enough to endanger his concentration. But they tried. He was the number-one target.”
    “Naturally.” Her face was troubled as she remembered some of the cattiness and venom she’d had to face herself since she’d reached the top rungs of competition. She’d been protected from a great deal of it by the wall of money and care Anthony had fashioned around her, but it hadn’t been enough to filter out all of the jealousy. That went with the territory in any competitive sport. The pressure on Anthony must have been excruciating without anyone to run interference. “He was so terribly alone.”
    “Not entirely. He had old Samuel Dynathe in his corner, remember.” Beau made a face. “I can’t say that’s the kind of support I would have chosen. A patron like Dynathe only tolerates winners.The pressure from him must have been even worse than from the other