Thin Ice (49 page)
Half an hour later, sweated and sated, they lay tangled together on Half an hour later, sweated and sated, they lay tangled together on the sofa, Emily sprawled atop Eric, each unable to remember when they'd had so much fun.
"Lord, woman. Anyone ever tel you you're a wild one?"
Emily lifted her head from his chest, her hair in total disarray, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Me? You're the one who nearly bounced us onto the floor!"
Eric laughed, then winced as a muscle spasm shot through his lower back. “I guess I did get a little enthusiastic there, but ... damn ... I think we'd better move this to the bed."
Emily scrambled off of him. “Are you okay?"
He grimaced as his lumbar muscles spasmed again. “You're the doctor. You tel me."
She did. Before he knew it he was lying on his stomach in bed with an ice pack on his lower back, and Emily sitting cross-legged beside him, her back propped against two pilows and the headboard. Eric enjoyed the view of her thigh up close and personal while above him she combed the tangles from her stil-damp hair. “So tel me about your houseguest,” he said contentedly.
It didn't get any better than this. The two of them alone, relaxed and happy and talking in bed. “Is it someone you brought back from home?"
"No. It's my ex-mother-in-law."
"No. It's my ex-mother-in-law."
He frowned. “Your ex-mother in law?” That didn't make sense.
Hadn't Anna told him ... ?
He noticed Emily had gone very stil. He looked up and thought she seemed to be bracing herself for something. He started to rise.
“Honey? What's wrong?"
She took a deep breath and blurted, “I realy don't know how to explain this, Eric, but my ex-husband and his family live in St. Paul.
You met then at the United Hope banquet. John and Patricia Montgomery. They were sitting with Ronald and Catherine Stump."
Eric felt the shock al the way to his toes. Slowly he roled over and sat up, causing the ice bag to fal off his back and on to the floor with a plop. “Those were your in-laws?"
Emily bit her lower lip and nodded uncertainly. “Unfortunately, yes."
He stared at her in confusion and disbelief. “Why didn't you tel me?” But before she could frame an answer, Eric had an untenable thought. “You mean you were married to—"
"Ryan Montgomery."
Eric continued to stare, his heart pounding. “The same Ryan Montgomery who is engaged to Catherine Stump?"
Her smile was brittle. “Smal world, isn't it?"
Her smile was brittle. “Smal world, isn't it?"
Eric felt his control slipping fast. He looked away, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, curbing his rage.
"Eric?"
He reached out and took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I'm okay, sweetheart. I'm okay."
She nodded, stil looking uncertain, but accepting his words at face value. He squeezed her hand again, firmly, understanding that she was nervous about his reaction.
"One question. Is he the bastard who attacked you while I was in St. Louis?"
* * * *
He entered the foyer and checked the directory. Montgomery's offices were on the third floor. He hoped Montgomery was, too.
His anger was ripe now. He didn't want to have to come back.
"Is the doctor in?” he asked the stunning blonde seated behind the receptionist's desk. Advertising at its best, he noted dryly. Sign on receptionist's desk. Advertising at its best, he noted dryly. Sign on the dotted line and you, too can look this perfect was the subliminal message she'd no doubt been hired to project.
Her eyes widened in recognition or apprehension, he didn't care which. “Yes, but he's with—"
"Good.” Eric strode past her, hearing only the yes.
"Wait a minute! You can't—"
Eric already had the inner office door thrown open. Montgomery was dead ahead. He looked disgustingly successful and trustworthy, standing behind his massive mahogany desk in his Armani suit, cordless phone in hand. His Florida tan faded a shade when he saw Eric.
Slowly Montgomery lowered the phone but continued to grip it, a nervous, watchful fear entering his eyes.
The slightly breathless receptionist spoke from behind Eric. “I'm sorry, Doctor, but—"
"Cal the police, Ashley,” he interrupted, his eyes not leaving Eric.
"Don't bother, Ashley,” Eric said. “This won't take long. In fact, you're welcome to stay as a witness.” He strode forward and braced his knuckles on Montgomery's big desk, then leaned forward until Montgomery stepped backward. “Sit,” he barked.
Montgomery did—so fast Eric nearly blinked in surprise. Instead he leaned closer, his voice deliberately low with menace, his game face harder than any he'd used in the rink. “Now listen carefuly, Doctor, because I'm not counting on any PFA order to take care of my business and I'm only going to say this once. If you cal, or come within a hundred yards of Emily or Robbie again, you're going to need your own professional services. Is that clear?"
Montgomery flushed, made a futile effort to raly. “Now listen here, Cameron, you can't—"
"I can and I wil. Make no mistake about it, Montgomery. There won't be a hole deep or dark enough for you to hide in if I have to come looking for you again."
He waited for that to sink in, straightened, and smiled coldly. “And for the record, it wasn't me who arranged that interview between Emily and Carmen Martinez, it was your mother."
Montgomery looked as if he'd been slapped in the face with a fish.
"Excuse me, Eric. But would you mind teling me what this is al about?"
Catherine Stump sat on Montgomery's long leather couch, her legs elegantly crossed, a glossy magazine in her lap.
"Catherine."
She smiled enigmaticaly. “Quite a surprise, I'm sure.” She set her magazine aside and rose gracefuly. “You mentioned Ryan's ex-wife and, I believe, a protection from abuse order. Is there a problem?"
The lady had chutzpa, but Eric had always known that. He was glad she was there. It was time she discovered what sort of slime she planned to marry. “Only if you consider emotional blackmail, verbaly abusive phone cals, terroristic threats and assault a problem."
Montgomery shot to his feet. “He's lying, Catherine! I never—"
She froze him with a look. “You threatened and assaulted Emily?"
"Almost nine weeks ago, in the Minneapolis General parking lot,” Eric said, and turned to face Emily's attacker. “He waited for her after work. After dark.” Lifting an eyebrow, he chalenged Montgomery to make a move, any move.
Montgomery stayed put. “I swear to you, Catherine, he's—"
"He's got no reason to lie, Ryan."
"Of course he has!"
She arched her own elegant eyebrow. “Give me one."
"She put him up to it. She sent her ... her goon lover in here to terrorize me into ... into giving her alimony."
Eric was amazed Catherine didn't burst out laughing. He certainly wanted to. “After nine years, Ryan? I hardly think so. She moved past you a long time ago."
Montgomery flushed, but remained mute. Catherine calmly approached him, placed something smal and chunky in the center of his immaculate burgundy desk blotter. As it sparkled in the afternoon sun, Eric realized it was her engagement ring.
She turned to face him and said, “I hate to trouble you, Eric, but I suddenly find myself in need of a ride into Minneapolis."
Chutzpa and class. Emily would love it when he told her—about twenty years from now. He smiled and turned toward the door.
“My pleasure. I'm headed that way myself."
Without a backward glance, Catherine preceded him from the office and glided calmly past the shel-shocked receptionist. Unable to resist, Eric paused at the threshold and turned back to Montgomery. What he saw kiled the parting shot he'd planned to deliver.
Ashen-faced as he gripped the edges of his mahogany desk, Montgomery looked like a man who'd just seen his life's ambition go up in smoke.
* * * *
"You do realize you've just done me a huge favor, don't you?” Catherine asked as Eric drove to the celebration she'd planned to attend with Ryan. “I've been considering breaking off with the man for months."
Eric said nothing. He didn't consider it his business. Nor did he particularly care. But he was curious about one thing. “Would you mind if I asked what attracted you to Montgomery in the first place?"
Catherine laughed. “I've often wondered that myself. The best I can come up with is I'd recently been burned by a long-term relationship that I realized too late was going nowhere, was thirty-five and holding, and was convinced I was going to spend the rest of my life alone. Ryan appeared at a party I'd gone to in one of my more desperate moods, and seemed to be just what I thought I was looking for."
She laughed again. Softly. Eric wondered if it was so she wouldn't cry. “You'd never know it by his performance today, but he's usualy articulate, witty, charming, and extremely good at sweeping a girl off her feet. He wined me, dined me, charmed me into bed, and before I knew it, I had a ring on my finger the size of the rock of Gibraltar. Pretty heady stuff for a woman who hadn't gotten a ring in ten years in her previous relationship.
"It was definitely a rebound thing. Ryan was educated, successful, a respected professional, reasonably wel off, and I'd never met anyone who could hold a candle to him in social niceties. The anyone who could hold a candle to him in social niceties. The perfect escort. Never a hair out of place, never a faux pas to be found.” She cast Eric a wry, almost self-deprecating glance, then gave him a glimpse of the woman behind her sophisticated façade.
“Believe it or not, I learned a lot from him."
Her sudden shift toward informality intrigued Eric. “About?"
"The secret society of the elite. By dating Ryan, whose blood is considered blue by St. Paul's upper echelons, I had access to a world I've never quite managed to break into, despite daddy's milions. Did you know my birth name is Stumpinski? Daddy shortened it to Stump so it would sound like Trump. Pretty ridiculous, huh?"
Eric said nothing for a long moment, then: “Listen, Catherine.
You're an inteligent, savvy, beautiful woman. You could put together a marketing strategy to sel ice cubes to Eskimos. You've got class, chutzpa, and a good amount of street smarts. You know when to jump in with both feet, and when to sit back and watch. I realy don't think your name matters one way or the other, but if you didn't feel a little insecurity now and then—for whatever reason—
you wouldn't be human."
He looked over to find her staring at him with something akin to astonishment—and regret. “Why didn't I look past that to-die-for body when I had the chance?"
Eric chuckled.
"I'm sorry. That was—"
"Very flattering. Thank you."
He puled into the parking area reserved for the team and folowed the attendant's sweeping directions, aware of Catherine watching and weighing his every move. He snagged a spot he hoped would give him a quick exit after the ceremonies, kiled the Boxter's engine and looked at his unexpected passenger.
"It's been a pleasure, Catherine."
She studied his face, then nodded slowly. “Indeed it has. Emily's a very lucky woman."
"She's made me a very happy man."
"Realy?” Catherine's smile of delight was genuine. “When's the date?"
"Date? Oh.” Eric grinned sheepishly. “Don't know. I haven't asked her yet."
Catherine's sophistication vanished completely. “Wel, for heaven's sake, boy, what are you waiting for?"
"The name of a good jeweler?"
* * * *
* * * *
When Eric returned to his car over two chaotic hours later, he found Catherine leaning against the Boxter's front fender. She looked slightly pale and ten times more troubled than she had when they'd parted company. Second thoughts about dumping Montgomery?
Cripes, he hoped not. “What's up, Catherine?"
"Drive me to Faneli's and I'l tel you."
Since the jeweler she'd recommended had been his next stop anyway, he unlocked the passenger door and ushered her inside.
As they cruised uptown in silence he bided his time. He didn't want to get any more involved in Catherine Stump's problems than he already had. Somehow he didn't think Emily would appreciate it if he took to consoling her ex-husband's ex-fiancé.
When she'd said nothing by the time they reached the jewelry store, he figured whatever she'd wanted to tel him, she'd changed her mind. Fine by him. He'd just puled the keys from the ignition when she dropped her bomb.
"If I were you, I'd cal my agent in the morning. My father's decided to sel the Saints. Come fal the team's headed for California. He just told me."
"But we just won the Cup.” It was the only thing Eric could think of to say. He was too stunned to think.
to say. He was too stunned to think.
"Which makes the team his hottest ticket right now.” Her eyes grew uncharacteristicaly vulnerable. “He's hurting, Eric. Financialy. It's no secret he overextended himself this year, trying to prove his point with the Saints. He poured so much into the new arena and team, his real estate interests—the resorts, hotels and shopping mals—