Thin Ice (8 page)
Forcing herself to stay calm when she wanted to weep in frustration, Emily repeated her objections. It wasn't safe. He didn't know how to skate. The season was almost over anyway.
Her son met her protests with uncharacteristic silence, his hazel eyes hurt and accusing. When she finished, he excused himself to go to his room, and when bedtime came he informed her she didn't need to tuck him in anymore because he wasn't a baby.
* * * *
Emily liked Parker immediately. A friendly man, he was a computer salesman by day, fortyish and balding. He also knew hockey and kids, having been drafted into coaching five years earlier when his twin daughters were on the team. They'd since abandoned pads and helmets for lip gloss and perfume, but he'd stayed on because he enjoyed it so much. He also had a four-year-old son who would be coming through the program soon.
She watched the children exercise their “drils” as his two assistant coaches directed them on the ice. Not once did she see anyone maliciously trip or elbow another player as they scrambled after a dozen or more elusive pucks. “It doesn't look as dangerous as I dozen or more elusive pucks. “It doesn't look as dangerous as I thought,” she said.
"They're not alowed to check for another two years,” Coach Parker answered, smiling. “And they're wel protected Ms. Jordan.
I wouldn't let them on the ice otherwise. They al wear the same regulation equipment, and mouth and neck guards are required."
"Who provides this equipment?"
"The team's sponsor provides the game jerseys. The rest is up to the parents. You might want to check out the used sports equipment store, first. The cost of equipment is pretty steep."
"And it doesn't matter that the season's almost over?"
"It does to some, not to me. Fortunately, I'm in a position to be able to help you out. We lost a couple of players this year due to having to move. Personaly, I'm always glad to take on kids with your son's determination and enthusiasm. This might be just what he—and you
—need to get his feet wet. In a few weeks you'l both know whether you want to continue or not, and sign ups for spring hockey are just around the corner."
Later, in his office, the soft-spoken man summed it up. “We're here to have fun, Ms. Jordan, not win the Stanley Cup. I teach my kids the rules, a few plays, something about teamwork and fair play, and give them a chance to work off their excess energy. If we happen to win a few games along the way, so much the better."
Emily studied the shelf of trophies and wal of ribbons behind his desk. Obviously the Compucenter Red Wings, Compucenter for the computer store that sponsored the team, had won quite a few games.
"The kids get a real kick out of winning,” he continued, folowing her gaze. “But that's not why they're here. They're here to learn and play. If you're looking for a more competitive league, you'l have to go over to—"
"Oh, no,” Emily interrupted, smiling. “I think Robbie wil be very happy playing for the Red Wings. How do I sign him up?"
"Honey, I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"Sure it is, Mom,” Robbie said from beside Emily as she wobbled around the edge of the crowded indoor ice rink. An unfamiliar rock tune blared from the overhead speakers, emphasizing the feeling she was hopelessly out of her element. “It's easy, see?” He sprinted away, into the path of oncoming skaters.
"Robbie! Get back over here!” Emily was positive she aged ten years as she slipped on the ice trying to reach him. He veered out of the way just in time, returning to her side with a triumphant grin.
“How did you learn to do that?” she al but gasped as her heartbeat returned to normal. He couldn't possibly have learned how to skate in the past fifteen minutes.
"Melissa taught me."
"Melissa?” Melissa was Augustus’ youngest daughter and Robbie's backup babysitter.
"She brings me on weekends sometimes when you're working."
Melissa was giving Robbie skating lessons? No one had mentioned it. Emily wondered what else she was missing out on in Robbie's life while she was working overtime to meet her financial commitments.
Maybe it was time to re-think her priorities, cut back on her hours if she could swing it. She didn't like the idea that she might be losing touch with her son.
"She brings me when you're out with Dr. Caldwel sometimes, too."
Emily looked down at her hands, once again braced on the railing.
“Out with Dr. Caldwel” was the euphemism they used for the one night a week she spent with Augustus at the women's shelter. She didn't want to explain to Robbie where she was going or why until he was old enough to understand. Her work at Harmony House was personal and she didn't need him casualy spiling her secrets to everyone he met—like Eric Cameron. God only knew what her son had already told the man about her.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Not that it mattered anymore.
A shiver snaked its way down her spine. The temperature in the rink was frigid. If she didn't want to turn into an ice statue, she'd have to get moving. The song on the radio ended. A more familiar tune wafted on the air, making her feel less out of sorts. “I see.
Wel, maybe we should have invited Melissa along today. I could use a lesson or two."
"Then I'm the man you're looking for,” an amused masculine voice said from behind her. “Skating lessons are my specialty."
Oh no. Not him again. Not now. Am I being punished for something specific, Lord, or are you just playing with me for the fun of it?
"Thanks for caling, Sport. I see what you mean. We've got a real rookie on our hands. White knuckles and al."
Emily whipped her head around. “Robbie caled you?"
Eric studied her face before answering, as if gauging her mood. “I gave him my number when we were at Paisan's. Told him to keep in touch."
Robbie had had the man's phone number al this time and not said a word? Emily wanted to cry. She no longer knew her son at al.
Eric misunderstood her upset. “Hey, it's not so bad. Just give me your hands and—"
She yanked them out of his reach, not caring if she fel. “No! Don't you understand? Either of you? I don't want to skate with you. I don't want to have anything to do with you."
The flash of hurt in his eyes made her look away, only to find a matching hurt in Robbie's face. Emily felt ashamed of herself, and embarrassed for al of them. What was it about this man that brought out the worst in her?
"Just once, Emily,” Eric said quietly. “Just once around the rink. If you don't like it, we can stop. And if you do, as soon as you're able to skate alone, I'l leave you to it. It shouldn't take long. Fair enough?"
Stil too embarrassed to meet his eyes, she looked at his chest. He wore a black turtleneck beneath an open hip-length parka, and looked as big and tal as a mountain. Nobody, but nobody was going to skate over him. The thought was reassuring.
She lifted her head, and met his eyes beneath the brim of his black basebal cap. He hadn't shaved in at least a day or two, and looked a little scruffy, but she understood he was trying not to be recognized again. Suddenly she appreciated his making the trip out here, risking the exposure, to help her out.
"Al right. And I'm sorry for ... for overreacting. I'm nervous about...” she nodded in the direction of the speeding skaters. “...al of this."
of this."
Eric's expression gentled in understanding as he held out his hands.
“Don't be. You can handle anything."
With a dry, disbelieving look, she laid her hands in his. He squeezed them reassuringly and a comforting warmth seeped into her limbs.
"That's it, Mom. You'l be al right now. Eric won't let you fal."
"He's got that right,” Eric said, his dark brown eyes not leaving hers.
Emily suddenly wished she was tal, blonde, graceful and on the other side of thirty, like Miranda Manzelrod. Or at least that she'd put on makeup and worn something other than her oldest jeans and a washed out green sweater beneath an equaly worn parka. But she'd planned on faling a lot, so...
Self-consciously she looked down at her scuffed rental skates.
“What do I do first?"
Eric's hand slid up to encircle her wrists beneath her parka sleeves.
“Just relax and let me lead the way, okay?"
She took a deep breath to calm her sudden attack of butterflies. His skin was so warm against hers, his touch so sure and self-confident.
“I'l try."
Eric told Robbie to stay close to the edge of the rink, and started skating backward, gently puling Emily with him. She let him tow her along, watching her feet slide rigidly across the ice, feeling like a along, watching her feet slide rigidly across the ice, feeling like a barge behind a tugboat. Whenever she faltered, Eric's fingers tightened on her wrists, setting off little fires along her nerve endings.
She didn't pul away, though. She couldn't afford to without faling flat on her face.
Instead she concentrated on his murmured instructions. With words alone he coaxed the stiffness from her muscles. She'd begun to think she had a handle on this skating business, when Eric eased them to a stop.
She looked up at him in surprise. “What?"
"We've finished our lap."
Already? She looked around and saw they were indeed at their point of departure. Robbie was practicing figure eights in the area at the end of the rink set aside for beginners and smal children, safely out of the flow of traffic.
"Want to give it another shot?"
She met the hopeful look in his eyes and couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about more than skating. “If you don't mind moving at a snail's pace,” she said quietly.
His eyes darkened, and then he smiled, a slow, soft smile that made her feel deliciously special. “For you, anything."
Before she knew it, they were moving again. Around and around Before she knew it, they were moving again. Around and around they coasted, Eric skating backwards, Emily feeling more secure with each lap. It seemed her earlier assumption had been on target.
Eric's size was a major deterrent to those who rode roughshod over the less skiled. Even when he eased her into the mainstream of traffic no one came near them. As skaters sped by on either side of them, she looked up at him and grinned.
"I think I've got it!” She hit a rut in the ice and stumbled. Without missing a beat, Eric caught her. Before she could blink, he'd flipped her around so that both of them were facing forward. “What are you—?"
"Relax. I won't hurt you. Now just folow my lead. One step at a time."
He nudged her forward, right arm around her waist, left hand holding hers. Emily had no choice but to relax or be run over.
Forcing herself to ignore the feeling of being surrounded by him, she concentrated on his steady, “Left, right, left, right.” Soon they were moving in tandem to the music of Faith Hil. Emily felt a chil on her back as Eric gently released her.
She started skating alone without realizing it.
"You're doing it, Mom! You're skating!” Robbie shouted in glee as she glided past the practice area.
She looked at him over her shoulder, and tripped. The next thing she knew, Eric and his magnificent reflexes had scooped her into his she knew, Eric and his magnificent reflexes had scooped her into his arms and was skating over to where Robbie waited, near to bursting with excitement. Wrapping an arm around Eric's parka-padded shoulders, Emily laughed in relief ... and pure giddiness.
Being swept off her feet by the man was heady stuff indeed.
"Not too shabby for a first-timer,” Eric said with a grin, and set her down next to Robbie.
Damn, but she looked good, he thought, giving Emily's shoulders a light hug before he released her. Felt good, too. She smiled up at him, and the unexpected warmth of it nearly knocked him flat. With her dancing green eyes and silky auburn hair swept up in a loose topknot instead of her usual no-nonsense bun, she looked relaxed, approachable. Kissable.
He cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind. The idea of kissing Emily Jordan was a little too much to handle right now. “Now we need to work on a few technical points, and you'l be al set."
For the next ten minutes he driled her on stops and starts. He loved how her little pink tongue curled out over her upper lip when she concentrated. He also couldn't decide which he enjoyed more, watching her skate away from him, catching tantalizing glimpses of the bottom half of her sweetly curved backside beneath her hip-length parka, or watching her return. Either way, her balance and coordination were exceptional.
Finaly he pronounced her ready to skate solo, and with a Finaly he pronounced her ready to skate solo, and with a determinedly casual arm around her shoulders, turned her toward the flow of circling skaters. “Now get out there and show us your stuff,” he ordered, and dropped his hand to the smal of her back to nudge her forward.
"Oh, no. I couldn't.” She looked up at him over her shoulder, her green eyes wide with trepidation. A boisterous group of skaters swept by and she backed up, her shoulders bumping his chest. A thril shot straight to Eric's heart. Whether she realized it or not, Emily Jordan was warming up to him.
