Thin Ice (26 page)

Paranoia. It was invading her pores.

She forced a smile. “I'm fine. Realy."

The waiter arrived to clear their plates. Emily indicated she was finished with hers. While Eric brooded, she determinedly dug into her apple strudel. The awards program began halfway through dessert. The lights dimmed and Emily felt better. Safer. Eric reached for her hand. She caught Cordel watching her again and stifled the urge to shift in her seat.

Keeping his eyes on the speaker, Eric slowly, eroticaly rubbed his thumb across the palm of her hand. Within minutes al Emily could think about was the sweet heat unfolding inside her and the knowledge that soon they'd be alone and she'd explain everything.

"This is the last one,” Eric whispered half an hour later. After this, we're home free."

Emily smiled and turned her attention to the dais as the speaker waxed eloquent on the virtues of the recipient of the organization's annual Community Service award. Whoever he was, the man was wel-traveled, involved in sports and a regular paragon. Selfless, dedicated, generous, humble, kind.

Apparently he'd donated blocks of seats for local sports events to senior citizen's groups, outfitted needy youngsters who had exceptional athletic ability (and some with simply a strong desire to play) with the proper equipment, was a major contributor to the play) with the proper equipment, was a major contributor to the Special Olympics, and lectured elementary school children on the virtues of sportsmanlike conduct both on and off the...

Lectured elementary school children?

Emily barely had time to realize what was happening before Eric squeezed her hand and a huge white spotlight caught them in its blinding glare. Applause roared in her ears as Eric stood and met her horrified stare. Heat swamped her as her heart jackhammered in her chest. Her hands shook, her forehead broke out in a cold sweat. Everyone was looking at them and she suddenly felt as if she were suffocating.

"Emily?"

Eric's voice sounded as if it were coming to her through a long, dark tunnel. She fought the encroaching blackness, and wished she'd eaten more. She would not faint. She would not make a scene. She would not attract any more attention to herself than she already had.

"Emily?” Eric stepped toward her, his face creased with concern.

"Please ... just go up there ... just go ... now."

He did, but not before she saw the disappointment in his eyes. He turned and strode to the podium, the spotlight marking his progress amid resounding applause. Emily sank back in her seat, weak with relief at being left behind in the embalming darkness. She would have fled the room if she thought her legs would carry her.

have fled the room if she thought her legs would carry her.

"Not used to being in the spotlight, are you?"

Peter Cordel had slipped into Eric's empty seat. Emily closed her eyes and composed herself, then met his superior smirk head on. “I guess not,” she said cooly.

He chuckled, and the sound grated on her already frayed nerves.

“You've changed. You used to be such a mousy little thing."

"You have me confused with someone else. We've never met."

"Not officialy, no. But there was a garden party at Amanda Cathcart's several years ago where your husband ... accidentaly spiled his drink on your dress."

Emily paled. Ryan had in fact tossed his scotch and soda in her face. Several people had witnessed the humiliating incident.

Cordel smiled. “I wondered what happened to you. Now I know."

With as much grace as she could muster, Emily slid her chair back and stood. She was not about to discuss her past with Peter Cordel. “If you'l excuse me,” she said icily, then sailed from the room, grateful that Miranda and Bil were already gone. Miranda would have folowed her if she'd been there, and Emily needed to be alone. In the powder room she flattened her palms on the cool marble vanity and stared at her reflection. Her color was high, her eyes unnaturaly bright. She had to get a grip. Eric would take one eyes unnaturaly bright. She had to get a grip. Eric would take one look at her and—

Eric. She'd walked out on his acceptance speech. Oh, no. What had she done? Obviously he'd wanted to surprise her.

Remembering the expectant look in his eyes, she realized he'd thought she'd be pleased, maybe even hoped she'd be proud of him.

Instead she'd recoiled in horror, then walked out on him.

She had to find him, apologize, try to explain. With Peter Cordel sniffing around, clearly in a mood to cause trouble, she'd have to do it fast. Quickly she touched up her hair and lipstick. She heard voices approach the door, turned to make her exit...

And came face to face with Patricia Montgomery.

Patricia recovered first, as cool and gracious as ever. “Emily. I thought that was you I saw standing near the bar when we came in.” She turned to the young woman beside her, a stunning brunette in gold lamé Emily recognized from the newspaper as Ronald Stump's daughter, Catherine, and the Saints’ highly touted marketing manager. “Catherine, I'd like you to meet ... an old friend, Emily Jordan. Emily, Catherine Stump."

Catherine's shrewd smile unsettled Emily even more. “Emily. Would you by any chance be Ryan's ex-wife?"

Patricia winced. Emily felt the ground shift beneath her. “Do you Patricia winced. Emily felt the ground shift beneath her. “Do you know him?"

Catherine laughed. “Ryan's my fiancé."

Emily stared, dumbfounded.

"Smal world, isn't it?” Patricia offered somewhat lamely. She looked almost flustered—a first in Emily's experience. Nothing ruffled her ex-mother-in-law. Nothing. Only Emily knew how hard she worked to maintain that cool, controled image. Battered wives had more to hide than most.

"Congratulations,” Emily responded slowly. “I hope you'l be ...

very happy."

Catherine's smile was surprisingly warm and open. “I intend to be."

"Is he here with you tonight?” Emily heard herself ask.

"Lord, no. He hates these things. I'm here with my father. Patricia and I decided to slip out early to enjoy a cigarette before the crowd breaks up.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a gold lighter and a pack of Virginia Slims, offered one to Patricia—who to Emily's surprise accepted it—then Emily.

Emily declined, and wondered if Catherine had any idea what she was getting into, marrying into the Montgomery family. One glance at Patricia told her she didn't. Her ex-mother-in-law had retreated from the conversation and watched her with a look that seemed part wariness, part admiration.

Admiration? Impossible. She'd been the one to tel Emily her only option was to accept her lot in life ... as she had. As she was apparently stil doing. Emily had spotted three finger bruises on Patricia's inner wrist when she'd held her cigarette away from her face to blow out her first stream of smoke.

Speaking of which, Emily didn't think smoking was alowed in the ladies room. Apparently things like that didn't concern Catherine Stump. She seemed to be a woman who made her own rules to live by. An odd partner for Ryan, if there ever was one. From what she remembered, Ryan liked his women docile and obedient.

The sound of applause filtered into the room and jarred Emily back to the present. “Wel, I'd better get back to my table."

"You're here with Eric aren't you?” Catherine smiled as she exhaled, her eyes meeting Emily's, woman to woman. “Lucky you. He's gorgeous. Daddy thinks he's made of stone and as hard to tame as a hungry lion, but I had a feeling there was more to him than meets the eye. You must be so proud of him tonight."

* * * *

squeeze tighter. Emily was gone again.

Damn it. He should have warned her. Should have taken her home as soon as he'd realized how nervous she was. He scanned the Twin Cities’ glitterati, hoping she'd only stepped out for some fresh air, or made a trip to the ladies room.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he realized Cordel was missing, too. Cordel, always on the lookout for an opportunity to mix things up—as long as it wasn't on the ice. There, the flashy center could carry eggs in his pockets and not have them broken by the end of the game.

Eric had never understood why the guys had elected Cordel captain, unless it was because he was distantly related to the club's real estate mogul owner and continualy reminded everyone of it.

Usualy Eric ignored Cordel, but not tonight. He'd seen the way the man looked at Emily, sensed the tension between her and Cordel as if it had been served right along with the entrée.

He scanned the room again, searching for the man who had smoothly quizzed Emily about where she lived and worked, how long she'd been living in the area. Innocent enough questions, but coming from Cordel they'd sounded like he was compiling a private dossier. Or trying to move in on her.

He'd kil the bastard. If Cordel was responsible for Emily's disappearance—

"Cameron! Hold up a minute. I want to talk to you."

"Cameron! Hold up a minute. I want to talk to you."

Eric swung around to see Ronald Stump lumber across the dais.

Clearly, his silver-haired owner had had one too many. He endured the man's over-the-top congratulations before being dragged into the crowd to meet a group of the team's foremost fans. A hundred smiles and an agonizing ten minutes later he escaped the balroom, only to have his arm snared by the reigning queen of the senior citizen set.

The next thing Eric new she was herding him toward a group of blue-haired grandmas who had their hearts set on meeting him.

Gently he tried to extricate himself, but the woman's bony grip was as strong as a python's. He suspected she'd been a grade school teacher at some point in her life, maybe even a principal.

Curbing his frustration, Eric smiled and alowed himself to be presented to the ladies of the Twin Cities Garden Club.

Emily emerged from the powder room feeling more confident than she had al night. She had nothing to fear from Patricia Montgomery or Catherine Stump. They'd talked until the first wave of women had burst through the door, making a beeline for the half-dozen stals in the next room, then parted amicably.

Now al she had to do was find Eric and explain.

She looked toward the balroom and spotted him being towed toward a group of sweet-looking little old ladies. She smiled in wry amusement. He'd be occupied for a while. Sweet-looking little old amusement. He'd be occupied for a while. Sweet-looking little old ladies could be harder to shake than the flu.

"Cameron doesn't know who you are, does he?"

Her smile fel. Turning slowly, she faced Peter Cordel. “Excuse me?"

"Your date doesn't know you're Ryan Montgomery's ex-wife."

"I fail to see how any of this concerns you, Mr. Cordel."

"Please. Cal me Peter. After al, we're old friends."

"Hardly."

He ignored her insult. “So, why don't you want Cameron to know?"

She looked at him as if he'd said something that made no sense.

“Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"

"Not tonight.” Cordel smiled, shaking his head. “Montgomery didn't deserve you, Emily. Neither does Cameron. In fact, I'm surprised you're with him. I'd think you would have learned from your mistakes."

Mistakes? The word jarred her, even considering the source.

"They're two of a kind, you know. Only Cameron got caught.” Cordel broke into an almost gleeful smirk. “You realy don't know, do you?” He scanned the room behind her, then moved closer and took her elbow. “Tel you what? Why don't we get out of here and I'l tel you al about it. Cameron won't care. He's too busy playing hotshot."

His suggestion completed her confusion. Frowning, Emily looked over to where Eric was signing autographs for the little old ladies.

He smiled and talked as if he couldn't care less where she'd disappeared to.

"Face it, Emily,” Cordel said close to her ear. Your date's deserted you.” His grip on her arm tightened. “Come on, my car's right outside."

Suddenly it hit her. Cordel didn't have any stories to tel. He was playing mind games. Preying on her in some sort of attempt to get revenge on Eric. Hadn't Miranda told her that Peter Cordel had been the team's captain before Eric? And of the two centers, Eric was getting the bulk of the ice time. Cordel had to be sick with envy. He'd love to steal Eric's date tonight.

He nudged her toward the door. “He'l never even notice you're gone."

She rounded on him, her mood dark and stormy. “Get your hands off of me. Now."

His eyes flashed, but he let go of her arm. “Fine. If you'd rather be ignored for the rest of the night, it's your choice. But I'l warn you.

ignored for the rest of the night, it's your choice. But I'l warn you.

Ignoring people who don't pander to his ego is what our good captain does best. He thinks it wil bring them to heel."

"Is that so?” a deep male voice asked from behind her.

Cordel looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Cameron."

Emily turned to see Eric standing behind her, murder in his eye.

Without thinking twice she moved so that she stood dead center between the two men. Eric noticed, and his eyes hardened to stone.

Emily didn't see the smugly superior smile Cordel offered from behind her, but she saw Eric's mouth tighten and knew that somehow Cordel had drawn first blood.