On Thin Ice Read Online Free PDF

rolled her eyes to heaven, and flapped her fingers. “Um, um, um.”
    Properly incredulous, Sasha met her friend’s eyes over the rim of her water glass, then slowly lowered the glass to the table. “You’re kidding,” she marveled, her gray eyes wide. “A babe? We’ve got us a manager who’s good-looking, who’s hot? Isn’t there some sort of law against that?” Oh bless Connie’s heart, this was exactly the sort of nonsense she’d needed. It beat the hell out of brooding about Lon. Nakamura was the best in the world at coming up with topics that were silly, frivolous, and fun.
    But her friend had been mulling over Sasha’s description, actually giving it serious consideration. “Good-looking?” she murmured doubtfully. She shook her head. “No. That’s not exactly the way I’d describe him.”
    Sasha made a rude noise. “Well, if he’s not good-looking what was this, Connie?” She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes, shook her fingers as if they’d been burnt. “I thought you were trying to tell me the Follies had gone out and hired us a honey.”
    â€œThey did.” Connie grinned. “The guy’s not particularly good-looking, is all. But wait until you see him, Sasha. He’s”—she searched for wording that would illustrate the man’s impact but finally gave it up— “masculine,” she said. “Very, very masculine.”
    â€œOkay.” Sasha nodded sagely. “Masculine is good.”
    â€œYou don’t know the half of it, toots. Mere words do not do this fella justice.” Connie was silent while the waitress placed Sasha’s order in front of her. As soon as she left she said, “On the minus side, he’s already managed to seriously offend Saint Karen.”
    â€œJeez.” Sasha’s sandwich was suspended halfway between plate and mouth, her expression a study in admiration. “He’s only been on the premises—what?—three hours, tops?”
    â€œTry about an hour and a half”
    â€œOh, even better. How did he manage to offend somebody so fast?”
    â€œNot just somebody, Sasha . . . Karen. And it was profanity. The use of extreme profanity.”
    They grinned at each other. “That’s bound to keep her hands out of his pants for a good week or so,” Sasha commented dryly.
    Karen Corselli was a fellow performer and a walking conundrum. Blond and deceptively fragile in appearance, she always dressed in trademark silver for her performances on the ice, looked like an angel, and favored numbers with a Christian theme such as the Lord’s Prayer and Ave Maria. Known for her absolute refusal to tolerate rough language, she was always quick with an offer to lead a prayer.
    And yet . . .
    If one could believe the rumors, she was also very fond of the men. Very fond. There were those who insisted she was a downright slut.
    Such an interesting contradiction was a source of endless entertainment and speculation for Sasha and Connie. They only saw the one side of her. With them, as with the other women in the troupe, she was basically nice enough, if a little distant and very stuffy. Frankly, she came across as a prude. A preachy prude, and try as they might, they couldn’t quite picture her any other way.
    According to the male population of Follies on Ice, however, at least the heterosexual division, a prude she was not. And when she invoked God’s name with them, they insisted, it wasn’t for the purpose of preaching.
    â€œI always feel guilty when I say stuff like that about her,” Sasha admitted now. “I’ve never seen her act with anything other than extreme virtue. I mean, it’s entertaining as all get-out trying to imagine her doing what the men say she’s doing, but I don’t know, Connie; it’s hard to credit. I’ve been acquainted with her for years. Not friends,