Firebird (The Firebird Trilogy #1) by Jennifer Loring

room. She was just trying to get a story. Right?
    They met on the ice, and Aleksandr sized her up as she’d expected him to. “Been a while since I’ve seen you in a hockey uniform. That’s a good look.”
    “Thanks.”
    “We should warm up first. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
    “I still play adult league sometimes.” Stephanie stuck her tongue out, then dropped to the ice and ran through the usual stretches.
    Aleksandr didn’t bother. He watched her, smiling that beguiling smile.
    “Why do I feel like you wanted to see me on the ice with my legs spread?”
    He pressed a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “ Me ?” When she got to her feet, he passed a puck to her. “Still have a good shot?” He cocked his head toward the net.
    “I guess we’ll find out.” Stephanie stared at the puck. She wound her stick past shoulder height, then slapped the ice behind the puck, using her weight to bend the stick and release its energy. As the blade struck the disc, she rolled her wrists and shifted her weight to release the stick’s momentum through the puck. After the follow-through, her stick was pointed at the back of the net, right where the puck had landed.
    “ Otlichno! ” Aleksandr skated over and high-fived her. “Question: why don’t they allow checking in women’s hockey?”
    “Some people think it’s sexism. That we can’t handle it, even though we’re being checked by other women and not by men. Some people think it allows a more skilled game to develop, like European hockey.”
    “If I recall, you liked taking the body.” That impudent smile again.
    “I think checking has its place,” she said, veering the conversation back to hockey. “Otherwise, we’re playing soccer on ice.”
    “Good point.” Aleksandr scooped the puck out of the net. “Speaking of which, I could use a workout partner. It’s early enough you could still make it to work on time.”
    “You do sound a little lonely.”
    “It’s funny, isn’t it? I worked my ass off for this. To be the best. And now I am. And…” The inner corners of his eyebrows drew up and in, the corners of his mouth down. Sadness, the purest of expressions. “Forget it.”
    “No. Tell me.”
    “I don’t trust anyone, remember?” He flipped the puck and juggled it on his stick blade. “Especially the media.”
    “Not even me?”
    “I did. But that was a long time ago.” He shook his head, and a lock of black hair tumbled over his brow. He pushed it back into place. “Anyway, let’s see you try to knock me off a play.” With a devious laugh, he skated away with the puck.
    “What? You’ve got to be joking.”
    “We’re having fun, remember? Besides, you played defense!”
    “None of my opponents were ever six feet five!”
    He circled back and skated right at her. She moved backward but stayed with him, tried to poke-check the puck away, until he deked to his right and potted it into the net. “One–nothing. Better step it up.”
    “What about my slapshot?”
    “Okay, one–one.” Aleksandr dropped the puck at the other end and began his rush. This time Stephanie skated to center ice. As he neared her, she took two more strides, drove her shoulder, hip, and elbow into him, and bounced onto the ice, grateful for the padded shorts that prevented her from breaking her ass. He tipped a little, leaving his right skate for a moment before regaining his balance and shooting into the net again.
    “Two–one.” He skated back to her and held out his gloved hand. “Almost had me, though. Nice check.”
    She grabbed his glove with hers and let him pull her up. “Thanks. It’s getting late, though. I should probably head home.”
    Aleksandr pouted a little.
    Dear God, stop that. “But this was fun. You’re not so bad when you aren’t throwing me out of your house.”
    He raised his stick lengthwise to her chest and backed her to the boards. Those green eyes probed hers, searching for what he knew he would find even if she