Thin Ice (21 page)

He folowed her into the living room. She dropped onto the bed, braced her back against the couch, crossed her legs beneath her.

He sat near the foot of the bed, both feet on the floor, and cradled his mug between his hands.

She stared into her coffee. “Harry and his brother set you up that night. They'd done it before, to other first-timers. Not on so broad a scale, but fleeced them just the same. They must've recognized you when you came in. Must've puled something together quick.

McNaly can be a quick one when he chooses to be."

"Were you in on the scam?"

Her head came up, her eyes direct. “No, I was the one who caled the cops, remember? As soon as I realized who you were and what the cops, remember? As soon as I realized who you were and what was happening, I ran for the nearest phone booth."

"Why didn't you come back?'

"I knew I was done there. McNaly's half-owner of Harry's Place, and, as you might have noticed, twists the law to suit himself. In the end, I did manage to scrape up the nerve to go back and ask for my last paycheck. For al the good it did me."

"They stiffed you?"

She shrugged, which only increased Eric's anger at the McNaly brothers. “It was worth a try, but I hated working for that slime bal and he knew it. He knew I couldn't afford to lose my job, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I'd have to make a decision—of one kind or another. When I saw the damage they'd done to the bar and realized they planned to nail you for it, I knew I had to find you. I caled the arena and asked for your number, but they wouldn't give it to me. I left a couple of messages, but I guess they never got to you."

"What did you say?"

"Cass from Harry's Place caled. Cal back. I didn't figure you'd want your business spread al over town. I hoped you'd put two and two together."

"I would have if I'd gotten the messages. Unfortunately, I get cals from women there al the time. The front office just ignores them.

They know if I want to be found, I'l give out my number."

"I guessed as much, so I applied for the bartending job at Hooligans when I heard the team hung out there. I've been hoping to run into you ever since. You don't socialize much with the team, do you?"

"I've been ... busy. How long have you been working there, waiting for me to show up?"

"About five weeks. I went home between jobs.” She nodded at the television. To see my kids."

For the first time, Eric looked at the framed photographs.

Cassandra, with her arms around a pair of freckled boys with missing front teeth and carrot-red hair grinned back at him. In the second picture she wore a soft, filmy-looking dress with flowers on it and sat on a tree swing. A tal, ruddy-complexioned man in a dark suit stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, her hand covering his. They looked as happy as he felt when he was with Emily.

Sadness stabbed him again.

"Twins?” he asked.

"Five years old next month. They're staying with my mother in Hayfield until I can save enough money to send for them. Their father ... Luke...” she smiled softly at the second picture “...died unexpectedly and didn't leave any insurance."

With that, everything clicked into place. Cassandra Miler wasn't interested in him sexualy. She never had been. Her sassy smile was for show, part of her waitress persona. Her apartment was bare because she saved every penny she made so she could be reunited with her children. It reeked of loneliness because she missed them

—and her husband—so much.

Eric thought of Emily, the sacrifices she made for Robbie, and, fleetingly, of his own mother.

Pushing the past aside, he asked Cassandra about the rest of her family. For the next several hours they drank coffee and talked, two wide-awake, lonely people sharing the night. He learned she'd gone to colege to study business, but dropped out in her sophomore year to get married. Her husband had died in a tractor accident shortly after their fifth anniversary. Unable to find work in Hayfield, Iowa, she'd set off for the city.

"I'd been working at Harry's Place for three months—trying to avoid McNaly's groping hands until I could afford to tel him to take his miserable job and shove it—when you wandered in."

"Have you ever considered relocating?” Eric asked.

"Right. To where?"

"East Rutherford, New Jersey, Denver, Tampa Bay, maybe St.

Louis?” Montreal was out. She didn't speak French.

She laughed. “You've got to be kidding. I can barely spare bus fare to Hayfield."

"Wel that, Cassandra Miler, is about to change."

He told her about his restaurants, offered her a job in whichever Amelia's she chose, told her he'd pick up her moving expenses.

"No, I couldn't. No. It's too much."

"It's the least I can do since your statement to the police wil save me a hel of a lot of money."

"What about the McNaly brothers?"

"We'l let the police take care of them. No sense leaving any loose ends lying around."

"They'l drag you into it somehow."

"Yeah, but if I'm going down, I'm not going alone."

Cassandra agreed to let him know what she'd decided after she talked with her children that weekend by telephone. Pay phone.

Eric pressed the bus fare into her hand and told her to go and see them in person first chance she got.

At dawn, she walked him to the door. “You're a good man, Eric Cameron,” she said, smiling.

Eric hoped Emily would come to the same conclusion. He couldn't believe how much he missed her. He'd thought about her over and over again as he'd talked with Cassie. The two women were alike in many ways. Strong, independent, ful of spunk. After hearing Cassie's story, he ached to hear Emily's. Maybe it would explain why she'd run out on him.

"What's her name?” Cassandra asked softly.

Startled, he met her eyes. “Emily."

"And I'd bet a month's pay you didn't know her the night you came into Harry's Place."

He chuckled. “How did you know?"

"You had a wild, restless look about you that night. You flirted back, if I recal. And to tel the truth, I was tempted to take you home with me."

"You brought me home last night."

"And you sat as far away from me as you politely could.” She grinned. “No wonder those groupies were getting nowhere with you last night. You're not available.” She opened the closet, handed him his coat—then handed him the black leather jacket he'd lost in Harry's Place.

He looked down at her in surprise.

He looked down at her in surprise.

Her smile broadened. “I wasn't about to let them take anything off of you if I could help it. Not after the way you came to my rescue. I grabbed it on my way out the door."

He smiled, touched by her kindness. “Thank you."

She nodded, stil smiling. “You're welcome. Your walet's in there, too, untouched. Although I did look for your address. Seems you haven't gotten around to changing it from St. Louis.” She unlocked and opened the apartment door. “Now go home and get some sleep. I'l see you Monday morning at the police station."

"No."

"No?"

"Let's forget about the police for now. Let's try a meeting of the minds instead. If that doesn't work, we can go to the cops. How about I pick you up at nine, and we meet with my lawyer, then give the McNaly brothers a cal and see what happens?"

Cassandra broke into a slow smile. “I like it. I like it a lot."

* * * *

On Monday at noon Eric caled the ER from the empty conference room in his lawyer's office. Cassie had slipped off to the ladies room so he had a few minutes to kil. Her deposition had exonerated him of al blame in the incident at Harry's Place—and let exonerated him of al blame in the incident at Harry's Place—and let him and his attorney in on a few other things the McNaly brothers were up to that they shouldn't be. Once they and their lawyer had heard Eric had Cassandra Miler on board, they'd dropped al claims against him.

Eric felt pretty good for a change. He'd gotten Cassie her back pay and two weeks severance pay, too, kept the police and the media out of his business and avoided digging up a past that was nothing short of a personal nightmare. The Saints had won in Toronto Saturday night, and he was in a mood to celebrate.

With Emily.

Someone answered, and he asked for Dr. Jordan. Forget giving the woman more “time to think.” Every time he did that, he ended up moving ten steps backward. Probably twenty or more this time. She hadn't caled him once al weekend.

"Dr. Jordan speaking."

"Emily. Hi.” His heart zipped into his throat and he had to swalow hard before he could speak again. “Uh, sorry to bother you at work, but I'm just a couple of blocks away. Can you get away for lunch?” Casual, he thought, keep it casual. Don't let her know you're practicaly foaming at the mouth to see her.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I'm busy."

"I see.” Disappointment and frustration nipped him, hard. “Then

"I see.” Disappointment and frustration nipped him, hard. “Then how about a bite in the cafeteria?"

"I'd rather not."

He couldn't take her freezing him out again. Not this time. “Damn it, Emily,” he said soft and low, turning toward the window, even though no one else was in the room. “I need to see you."

The silence on her end was deafening. Then, “I have to go now.

Please don't cal here again. We need to keep the lines open for emergencies."

"Emily, wait!” But it was too late. She'd hung up. Eric stared at the receiver. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She'd sounded as if she was near tears.

"Trouble in paradise?” Cassie asked cautiously behind him.

Eric grimaced and passed a hand over his face. “Don't even ask."

* * * *

Emily's hands shook as she cradled the receiver. She'd expected Eric to cal, but not here. She'd lain awake al night Thursday, waited for the phone to ring, listened for his knock on her door.

She'd changed her sheets in a futile attempt to rid her bed of his scent—the same scent that had brought her quiet comfort on previous nights—then, finaly, falen asleep at dawn.

Closing her eyes now, she realized she didn't have to be in bed to pretend he was next to her. He was with her always, embedded in her heart, her mind, her soul. Not an hour went by that she didn't think of him, miss him, ache for him.

But she couldn't condone the fact that Eric had enjoyed himself during his fight on Thursday night. Or that in Saturday night's game, which she'd secretly—masochisticaly—taped and watched after Robbie had gone to bed, he'd done it again.

Twice.

"Emily."

Her heart stopped. Eric stood in the doorway to her office, looking sexy as hel in a charcoal gray pinstripe suit.

He smiled tentatively, stepped inside. “I told you I was just a couple of blocks away."

"Were you?” she asked, mentaly scrambling for the quickest way to get him out of her office without touching him. If she did, she'd be lost. She began to rearrange the files on her desk.

"I was at my lawyer's, taking care of some leftover business from the night we met."

Her head came up at that. “I ... see.” An image of him that night popped into her mind—bruised and cut face, swolen hands, tender popped into her mind—bruised and cut face, swolen hands, tender ribs. Looking at him now, in his conservative silk business suit and tie, it was hard to believe he'd ever been anywhere near a bar.

"I'd like to tel you about that night. There's more to the story than what you were exposed to."

"I'm sure there is. But it's over now, so we realy don't need to rehash it, do we?"

He studied her, his dark, hungry eyes taking in every sleep-deprived detail. “If I've done something wrong, Emily, I need to know what it is. I've wracked my brain, but I can't come up with one good reason why you left the arena Thursday night."

"Maybe I decided I don't like hockey after al."

He looked as if she'd sliced open his chest. “I can't believe that.

Miranda told me about the questions you asked. How you cheered in the first period."

"I was being polite."

"Then be polite now and tel the truth."

Feeling cornered, she attacked. “The truth? You want to talk about the truth? Who had my exhaust system replaced and my engine overhauled without teling me?"

Eric blinked, but recovered quickly. “It was just a couple of parts you needed to have replaced. Hardly worth mentioning."

"Bul. I took it to my regular mechanic. He said I might as wel have dropped a brand new engine in there."

The look on his face told her he knew he'd been busted. It also told her he'd do the same again in a minute.

"What were you thinking? Did you think I wouldn't mind?"

He snorted. “Hel, if I'd thought that, I'd have told you about it.

Truth was, I knew you'd raise such a stink, I—"

"I pay my own bils, Eric."

"Oh, for Pete's sake. A few hundred dolars isn't going to break me."

"That's not the point! Just because you have more money than you know what to do with doesn't give you the right to run around granting wishes left and right!"

"And you don't? Tel me, Dr. Jordan, how many wishes have you granted lately, the operative word being grant?"

Emily swalowed. He couldn't know about the foundation. No one knew about it except Anna. “What are you talking about?"

"The Jordan Foundation. The fact that you gave away almost forty thousand dolars last year to—"

thousand dolars last year to—"

"You went through my desk!"