It had been thirty years, but Emily would never forget the hours she'd spent in her bedroom, afraid to move for fear of making noise, afraid to turn on the light when night fel for fear of attracting her father's attention. Feeling helpless and terrified, she'd huddled in a corner, hugging her Pooh bear to her chest as she listened to her father rant and rave, her mother plead and cry. She'd never known father rant and rave, her mother plead and cry. She'd never known when the door might open, or what she might find on the other side of it when it did.
As she'd gotten older, the counselor had explained, her feelings of helplessness had transferred to other situations she couldn't control.
Like the aggressive behavior of other drivers in heavy traffic. The Suburban provided some sense of security, being as big as it was, but the feeling that at any moment tempers could explode al around her never completely went away, even on the best of days, and today was far from that.
Odd, how she could deal with any crisis that came up in the ER, but outside of her professional setting...
It embarrassed her that the idea of someone losing his or her temper could stil spook her. But that was the way it was.
She inched forward and nosed the Suburban into the right lane, then escaped the main road. But a few wrong turns on unfamiliar streets delayed her even more, and by the time she puled into St.
Stephens’ circular drive she was distinctly edgy.
The sleek black Porsche parked in front of the school didn't help matters. For a split second she panicked, thinking it was Ryan's.
He'd insisted Porsches were the only cars worth driving, and he'd favored black.
But then she remembered her ex-husband wouldn't be caught dead in a car that hadn't roled off the assembly line within the past six in a car that hadn't roled off the assembly line within the past six months. This one was several years old, but wel cared for from the looks of it.
As she entered the school's main office, a deep male voice drifted out from behind the principal's partialy closed door. Not wanting to intrude on a private conversation—the woman was insisting that the man at least let her treat him to dinner—Emily waited impatiently at the front counter. A minute later, Dr. Manzelrod, a tal, striking blonde a few years Emily's junior emerged, laughing, in the company of Eric Cameron.
At Emily's strangled sound of disbelief, Dr. Manzelrod looked across the room in surprise, then smiled in welcome. “Dr. Jordan.
I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were waiting."
"I ... just got here."
Dr. Manzelrod's gaze went from Emily to Eric, then back again.
“Have you two met?” When neither of them answered, she proceeded with introductions. “Dr. Jordan, I'd like you to meet Eric Cameron, one of Minnesota's premier hockey players and my—"
Eric's hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Thanks, Miranda, but Dr.
Jordan already knows who I am."
Dr. Manzelrod looked startled, and Emily decided physical restraint seemed to be something Eric Cameron used instinctively. He and Dr. Manzelrod exchanged a long personal look before she offered a slow, “I see,” then smiled and turned briskly back to Emily. “Then if you'l excuse me, I'l get Robbie."
"Robbie?” Eric's eyes narrowed on Emily as Dr. Manzelrod disappeared down the hal that led to the holding room at the rear of the office.
Emily lifted her chin. “He's serving detention. For fighting."
Instead of the I-told-you-so gleam she'd expected to see enter his dark brown eyes, she saw genuine concern. “Fighting? About what?"
Her first impulse was to tel him it was none of his business. Then again for the past three days, she'd burned with the need to confront Eric Cameron, the undisputed cause of her first major faling out with her son. For hours she'd fantasized about giving the man a piece of her mind. But now that he was here...
She hesitated, remembering the silent message she'd witnessed between him and ‘Miranda.’ Emily remembered al too wel what a sudden hand on the shoulder had meant with Ryan. It meant she'd crossed some invisible line and would pay for it later. Stil, it surprised her that Miranda Manzelrod had given in to him so easily.
She'd always seemed so strong and independent to Emily.
Lifting her chin, she marshaled her outrage ... and her courage. “He gave Glen a split lip because Glen refused to believe that you told Robbie he had the makings of an ace hockey player and you were Robbie he had the makings of an ace hockey player and you were going to get me to let him sign up for the Mites League."
Just then Robbie entered the room, his face filing with more animation than Emily had seen in a week. “Eric! You're back!” In elation he flung himself at his idol.
Eric caught the human missile and settled Robbie against his hip, something Emily hadn't been able to do for years because of Robbie's size. “Hi, Sport. I heard you spent some time in detention."
Robbie beamed. “Yeah. Just like you."
Eric winced and cast Emily an apologetic look. She ignored him, her focus on the easy rapport he shared with her son. Her son, who hadn't smiled at her in days. “Time to go, Robbie."
"Wait. I have something to ask Robbie, first.” Eric wended his way to the front counter and set the boy atop it. Placing his hands on either side of Robbie, he commanded the eight-year-old's attention.
“Did you tel Glen Simms I said you were an ace hockey player and I was going to convince your mother to let you play in the Mites League?"
Robbie dropped his head, his cheeks bright red.
"Why?” Eric asked quietly. He waited patiently, while Emily held her breath. She knew what was coming. Suddenly it explained everything that had happened between herself and Robbie that everything that had happened between herself and Robbie that week.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I lied. Eric didn't realy say that. I just wanted him to."
"Oh, Robbie."
"I'm sorry."
He wasn't the only one. Emily was sorry to the tips of her crepe-soled shoes. She looked at Eric. “I owe you an apology.” Several, if she wanted to be honest about it.
"It's al right,” Eric said with quiet smile. An inexplicable twinkle entered his dark brown eyes. “But if it's realy bothering you, I'd settle for a home-cooked dinner."
The man was no slouch when it came to taking advantage of a sudden opening. Emily cast an embarrassed glance at Robbie's principal, who was tacking some notices on a buletin board.
Whatever her relationship to Eric, she seemed completely secure in it. Stil, Emily wasn't about to disrespect herself or Dr. Manzelrod by accepting any dates with her ... her whatever.
"I don't cook."
Eric smiled warmly, unfazed. “Then I guess I'l have to."
The accompanying warmth that entered his eyes almost made Emily relent, despite everything. The power of his gaze unsettled her so much she frost-coated her answer. “Guess again, Mr. Cameron."
"You want something more elaborate than steak and salad."
"No, I want you to drop the subject. I'm not interested.” She colected her son and ushered him out the door.
Shot down again, Eric thought, watching her go. What was it about him the woman found so damned lacking?
Miranda's amused voice floated across to him. “Wel, wel, wel, Mr. Cameron. What was that al about?” At his arched eyebrow, she said, “You know we educators are born eavesdroppers. Not to mention having eyes in the backs of our heads.” She crossed her arms and studied him shrewdly. “I've never seen so many sparks fly between you and a woman, Eric. What's up with that?"
"She hates me,” he said miserably.
"Wrong."
"What?” He looked at Miranda in confusion.
"In almost three years of Christmas pageants, bake sales, car washes, PTO meetings and open houses, not once have I seen Emily Jordan with a man. I've seen several men strike up conversations with her and while she's polite to them, it's obvious she forgets about them the minute they walk away. You, she remembers."
remembers."
"That doesn't mean she likes me."
"No, but it means you've made an impression."
Eric thought of the terror in Emily's eyes when he'd grabbed her wrist in the emergency room. The way her attention had shot to his hand when he'd cut in on Miranda's glowing introduction. “You can say that again."
"Listen, Eric, in the two years I've known you, I've never seen you look at a woman like that. Good choice, though. I don't think you could do any better. Emily Jordan's got brains, beauty, compassion and class. I also thought you were heading into the Vulcan death grip the way you squeezed my shoulder to shut me up. What gives?"
Eric winced. “I'm sorry if I hurt you, Miranda."
"I'm fine. You startled me, is al. Sometimes, you don't know your own strength. So, what's up with the good doctor?"
"I don't know. She ... intrigues me. She seems so ... self-contained."
"She has to be. She's a single mother. It's not only herself she has to look out for, but her child."
"I'm not after her money, Miranda."
Miranda laughed. “I meant emotionaly, you dolt. Emily Jordan strikes me as the kind of woman who, if she were to get involved with a man, would carefuly consider the effect the relationship would have on her son."
Eric recaled the misplaced pride with which Robbie had admitted to serving detention. “Which in my case is more negative than positive."
Miranda patted his cheek. “The woman's got a good head on her shoulders, Mr. Cameron. She knows trouble when she sees it."
Eric chuckled and headed for the door, already considering ways to change Emily's mind about him. “Catch you later, Miranda. I'l let you know when that equipment comes in."
"Thanks again, and Eric..."
He paused, the door halfway open.
She grinned. “Good luck."
Outside, Eric was surprised to find Emily and Robbie hadn't left yet.
Instead, Robbie was knee deep in admiring the Porsche while Emily tried in vain to peel him from the passenger window. “Look, Mom!
A real Boxter! Man, it's got everything!"
A real Boxter! Man, it's got everything!"
At Eric's amused chuckle, Emily glanced over her shoulder. Before she could snatch up her son and disappear, Eric suggested, “Why don't you hop inside for a closer look, Sport?"
The boy didn't need a second invitation. When Emily didn't object, Eric's confidence rose. But as Robbie scrambled inside, Emily shut the passenger door behind him and whirled on Eric. “Why don't you just stay out of my life?"
Gone was the icy control with which she'd faced him in the office. In its place was raw fury. No ... that wasn't it. She wasn't furious; the woman was frazzled. Right down to the bone. Dark shadows ringed her eyes, tiny stress lines creased her brow, her skirt and sweater were wrinkled and smudged beneath her open coat, a thick strand of deep auburn hair had escaped her drooping bun, and her hands and shoes were stained with a blue dye.
Never had a woman looked more appealing to him. And never in his adult life had Eric known one more in need of some serious TLC. Just the sight of her so close to coming undone made him want to wrap his arms around her, hold her close and tel her everything was going to be al right.
Miranda was right. He had it bad.
"I'm sorry, Emily. I can't do that."
She glared at him, looking ready to shatter.
She glared at him, looking ready to shatter.
"Listen, can we talk? Maybe grab a burger or something with Robbie? Get this ... misunderstanding cleared up?"
She shook her head as if he somehow amazed her, and not in a positive way. “This misunderstanding,” she said slowly, “is between my son and myself. I'l admit I may have judged you harshly, and that you may have been right about Robbie's excess energy, but he's my son, and whatever happens from here on out is my responsibility."
"Emily, I wasn't trying to interfere. I only want to help."
"Help?” she echoed, her voice cracking. “You've helped quite enough, thank you. Thanks to you, for the past three days my son has barely spoken to me. So please, do us al a favor and find someone else to help."
Eric felt terrible. He didn't know what to say. “Jeez, Emily, I'm sor
—"
"Damn it, Eric. You're the last thing we need in our lives right now.
How can I make that clear to you?"
He paused. She'd caled him Eric. But this was no time to celebrate smal victories. The woman was too close to her personal edge.
Backing off, he knocked on the Boxter's passenger window.
“Time's up, Robbie. I need to get going."
Robbie scrambled out of the car, disappointed, “Wil you come back and take me for a ride sometime?"
Eric looked at Emily, whose body language screamed she was ready to explode, but her face showed no emotion at al. He realy had to admire the way she held it al together.
"That's entirely up to your mother,” he said, hoping she'd get the message that he'd never want to come between her and her son.
* * * *
Her attempts at dinner to mend her broken relationship with Robbie failed. Her son again admitted he'd lied, apologized and promised not to do it again, but when she questioned him as to why he'd done it, he met her eyes and lifted his smal, stubborn chin, so much like her own. “I want to be a hockey player, like Eric."