Thin Ice (24 page)

Emily stood at the entrance to the bar, her heart thudding in her throat as her eyes adjusted to the dimness beyond. It had been exactly two weeks since she'd seen Eric, and she wasn't sure what her reception would be.

The only thing she knew was she owed him an apology. He wasn't a monster like Ryan or the lawyer who had beaten his wife. It had been rude, if not cruel to throw him out the way she had, after he'd spent five hours waiting for her and watching over her son. The look in his eyes when she'd said he was leaving had been desolate. She might as wel have branded him a child abuser while she was at it.

"That's right,” he'd told Robbie quietly, after a long, tense silence.

“I'm on my way out. Good night again, Sport. Happy dinosaur hunting.” With a last look at Emily, he'd let himself out the front door, and left her to put Robbie back to bed alone.

She knew the team came here after the games to celebrate, and as soon as the final siren had sounded after tonight's game she'd made up her mind. She'd find Eric, congratulate him, and apologize. She up her mind. She'd find Eric, congratulate him, and apologize. She supposed she could have caled him, but she wanted to do it face to face. She owed him that much.

From the sound of it, tonight's celebration was in ful swing. A sizeable crowd in the back of the room seemed to be where the team had gathered. Emily just hoped Eric was among them. As she mustered her courage to approach the group, she heard a burst of familiar laughter coming from the bar.

Eric sat at the end, clearly enjoying the company of a petite brunette in black satin hot pants. Emily watched as he motioned for the woman to come closer, whispered something in her ear. The woman put her hand on his arm and whispered something back.

They shared a smile that split Emily's heart in two.

It also made her mad. The man claimed to love her, yet here he was, less than three weeks later, making passes at his bartender?

Was this how he entertained himself when he was on the road? If so, he had a lot of nerve questioning her fidelity.

She started for the bar.

Stil chuckling at Cassie's latest off-color joke, Eric made water designs on the bar with his beer bottle. The woman would go far.

America's Gateway to the West would never be the same. She'd given her notice at Hooligans, and in less than a week, she'd be back together with her kids. His St. Louis manager had already found her a nice place to live near the Amelia's there. Eric was glad to have helped her out.

She'd been good about helping him out, too. If it hadn't been for Cassie, he'd be staring at his apartment wals night after night with nothing but the hole in his heart to keep him company.

God, how he missed Emily. Cassie made him laugh, but Emily made him happy. When she wasn't slicing him to the bone, that was. Did she realy believe he could hurt her or Robbie?

"You're wearing your lost puppy look again, Cameron.” He met Cassie's smile as she toweled away his crooked Olympics logo. “I wish there was something I could do."

"You got any miracles in your pocket?"

"No, but I've got coffee. Looks like you've reached the bottom of your two-beer limit, my friend. How about it?"

"Sounds good. I'l take it over to the table. Miranda's been giving me the evil eye again. Between the two of you, I swear—” He froze, spotting Emily's reflection in the backbar mirror. She looked so real he almost leapt across the bar to touch the smoky glass. He shook his head and pushed his beer aside. “Make it strong, Cassie, I'm starting to halucinate."

"Maybe not,” she murmured, and nodded at someone behind him.

Slowly, Eric turned around. “Emily?"

"I thought I'd drop by and congratulate you on winning the first round of the playoffs."

For the longest moment, al he could do was stare.

Cassie cleared her throat. “Eric, why don't you offer the lady a seat?"

Blindly he removed the leather jacket Cassie had returned to him from the bar stool beside him. Anytime someone had asked, he'd al but snarled that the seat was taken. “Would you like something to drink?"

Emily sent Cassie a cool smile. “A glass of white Zinfandel would be nice, thank you."

"I'l open a fresh bottle. Be back in a jif.” She scooted away, humming what suspiciously sounded like Happy Days are Here Again.

"She's very attractive."

"She reminds me of you. I can't believe you're here."

Emily looked around the bar, took a deep breath. “You were right.

We need to talk."

"I'm al yours. Where do you want to go?"

She smiled, looking relieved. “Here's fine for now. I could use that glass of wine."

Cassie returned with Emily's wine and a friendly smile. “On me. It's not every day my new boss's lady stops by for a visit."

Emily looked at Eric. “You've bought Hooligans?"

He laughed and shook his head. “Not quite. Emily, meet Cassandra Miler, who's soon to be the most popular bartender in St. Louis.

Cassandra, Emily Jordan."

Cassie held out her hand. “Eric's hired me to work at his restaurant in St. Louis. I leave next week."

"I'm pleased to meet you."

Cassie smiled and poured Eric's coffee. “Not half as pleased as I am to meet you. I've been hoping for a chance to tel you how wonderful I think this man of yours is."

"Cassie—"

"Hush, Eric. It's true. If it weren't for you, I'd stil be serving swil at Harry's Place."

"You worked at Harry's Place ... on Brady Street?” Emily asked.

"I'm half ashamed to admit it, but yes. That's where I met this character. I was working the night those crooks tried to..."

character. I was working the night those crooks tried to..."

While Cassie talked, Eric sank back, drank his coffee, and absorbed the sight of Emily, sitting close enough for him to touch.

Her elbows on the bar, her eyes wide with fascination as Cassie relayed her story, she sipped her wine and looked as lovely—and as fragile—as an angel.

Suddenly he began to understand how she might fear his strength.

He'd always been a physical man, using his body as much as his words to communicate, both on and off the ice, but if it meant losing Emily, he'd curb his style around her or die trying.

Her hair fel down her back like flame-colored silk, and enchanted him as it caught the low light in the bar. He reached out to capture a tendril, smiled when she glanced over at him to see what he was up to.

He stroked her hair between his fingers and remembered the first time he'd seen it in its natural state, the night they'd made love, five brutaly long weeks ago. His thoughts drifted back to that night, to the gentle love they'd shared, the whispered secrets, the passion that had exploded between them.

Just then Emily turned to look at him. For a sizzling moment time stood stil. Everything he felt for her was reflected in her sea green eyes—the passion, the need, the regret for the time wasted.

Desire washed him from his seat. “Finished your wine yet?"

Emily's eyes never left his. “I think so."

Her hand slid into his as they climbed the steps to the front door. By the time they reached the parking lot, Eric couldn't wait any longer.

He stopped and hauled Emily into his arms. She met him more than half way. What started out as one soul-searing kiss soon became half a dozen or more, until a wisecracking by-passer suggested they

“Get a room."

Breathing hard, Eric puled away. He looked down to find Emily grinning up at him, clearly not caring who saw them making out in the parking lot. He kissed her nose. “Come home with me. My apartment's only a few miles—"

She shook her head, her smile regretful. “I can't. I promised Melissa I'd be back in an hour."

"An hour?” That hardly gave them enough time to say helo. “Tel me you didn't drive al this way just to congratulate me on the game."

"I came to apologize. I was wrong the other night. I know you weren't trying to intimidate me, and that you'd never hurt me—or Robbie—in that way."

"Emily, I am so sorry—"

"In fact,” she continued, “I was teling Augustus that not two minutes before I walked through the door that night."

before I walked through the door that night."

"You were?” Eric suddenly noticed a group of catcaling teammates headed their way. “C'mon. We need to get out of the flow of traffic here."

"Good idea.” When they were settled in the front seat of the Suburban, Emily backtracked to her reason for coming to Hooligans. “Augustus and I were at Harmony House that night."

"Harmony House? Isn't that a women's shelter?” At Emily's look of surprise, Eric said, “The wives were talking about doing a fundraiser for the shelter before things got so crazy with the playoffs. They were going to sponsor a dinner at Maison Rouge and have the guys serve as waiters. They stil might, depending on how things go.” He smiled. “If not, they'l do it next year. The guys are al for it."

For the longest moment Emily couldn't speak. Maison Rouge was one of the most exclusive restaurants in town. The money such a fundraiser would bring in would be phenomenal. And Eric made it sound as if it were the most natural thing in the world to want to take part in it.

"What's the matter? Can't you picture me in a tux with a towel over my arm?"

Emily swalowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. Tears threatened to spil past her lashes.

Eric sobered. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted. So you and Eric sobered. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted. So you and Augustus were at Harmony House?"

Emily regrouped. She didn't have time for tears. “We donate our time on Wednesday evenings. Usualy we're home in time for Augustus to watch Letterman, but last week the police brought in a woman who'd been assaulted by her husband, and...” She told him as much of the story as she could without compromising the woman's confidences. “So I was a little on edge that night ... prone to jumping to conclusions and making connections I had no business making. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"It doesn't matter,” he said, stroking her hair. “What matters is you're here now. You needed time to sort things out, and I was too busy pushing you and jumping to my own conclusions to see that.” He chuckled softly. “So Miranda was right after al."

"Miranda?"

Somewhat sheepishly, Eric confessed to having gone to Miranda for advice.

"You seem to have a lot of female friends."

"They're just friends, Emily. I know for a while you thought there was something up with Miranda. I'm sorry I didn't tel you sooner. I was just so ... frustrated with you that night. I wanted to shake you up."

"Wel, it worked ... until Miranda set me straight. Speaking of

"Wel, it worked ... until Miranda set me straight. Speaking of which..."

The conversation segued into a lively discussion over her car and exactly what he'd had done to it. She insisted on reimbursing him for the repairs, he refused to consider it.

"Unless,” he said, leering suggestively, “You could be persuaded to make me another lemon meringue pie."

Emily burst into laughter. “I'l see what I can do."

But when the laughter died, Eric's intensity returned. Reaching over, he took her hand and kissed it. “There's a banquet at the Heritage Arms on Saturday night,” he said quietly. “I want you to come with me—and plan on staying the night at my place."

Emily awoke to a storm of doubts about attending Eric's banquet.

Her former mother-in-law, Patricia Montgomery, was prominently active in community affairs. And Ryan—who early in their relationship had claimed charity events bored him senseless—had by the end of their marriage taken perverse delight in dragging her away from her studies to those same events. The United Hope banquet would be precisely Patricia Montgomery's cup of tea.

Emily had avoided contact with the Montgomery's these past years by steering clear of events favored by the country club and charity by steering clear of events favored by the country club and charity bal set. But now Eric had asked her to re-enter the world that had been one of Ryan's most powerful weapons against her. Over and over again he'd told her she didn't have what it took to compete with his friends. She had no class. She had no style. She danced like an elephant. She couldn't carry a conversation in a box. She didn't even know which spoon to use for her fruit salad.

In short, she wasn't good enough, and never would be.

In her saner moments, Emily knew it wasn't true. But after Ryan, it had taken years to recover her self-confidence enough to attend even the hospital Christmas party.

Stil, shoptalk over cookies and punch was a far cry from a seven-course meal and champagne in the glittering company of the Twin Cities’ upper echelon at the Heritage Arms. Just the thought of going dredged up her deepest insecurities.

Logic told her it was only one night, but she couldn't shake the feeling she was tempting fate. Her doubts snowbaled as the day wore on. When Eric caled that night, she asked if he realy had to be there. The pause that folowed gave her the sinking feeling she'd disappointed him.

"Sorry,” he finaly said. “Stump's put out the word he wants the team to make a good showing. Are you having problems getting a sitter?"

"No, Robbie's spending the night at Glen's."

She felt Eric's smile across the line. They talked for another hour, and by the time she hung up, Emily was more worried about what she would wear to the banquet than the prospect of running into her former in-laws. Eric had planted the seed in her mind that the evening might be a good opportunity to talk up her own charitable cause, Harmony House.