Thin Ice (5 page)

"Great! You can sit up front!” Robbie took off for the car.

"That,” Emily said slowly, “Was very uncool."

Eric grinned. “You told him he could bring a friend."

Emily said nothing, knowing she was bound to her word. One thing Emily said nothing, knowing she was bound to her word. One thing she and Robbie agreed on. A promise was a promise, an offer an offer. Once made, it was good for the duration. She turned on her heel and strode back to her car. She didn't speak at al, but it didn't matter, as Robbie was more than happy to keep up a running conversation with his new ‘friend’ al the way to the mal.

Emily found herself doubly grateful today that the Suburban was as large as it was. If she focused hard enough on her driving, she could pretend Eric Cameron and his new-smeling black leather jacket weren't anywhere near her.

She was unable to do the same, however, once they occupied Robbie's favorite window booth at Paisan's—the one that gave him a clear view of the video arcade across the hal. Seated opposite her, his back to the window, now wearing a black basebal cap he'd withdrawn from his jacket pocket, Eric and Robbie dickered over pizza toppings like a couple of kids who had the same friendly argument every week.

Covertly, Emily studied her unwanted dinner guest from behind her menu. He seemed to have recovered from Sunday night's escapades, and those that had preceded them. His bruised ribs didn't seem to bother him, his black eye was a mere crescent of brown beneath a thick fringe of equaly brown eyelashes, and the cut she'd treated was healing wel, although she now noticed his face bore testimony to several other smal cuts received in the past, no doubt in the same manner.

It al made sense now, how he'd come to be in such bad shape that night. Running their conversation through her mind, she saw he hadn't lied to her about where he'd received his injuries; he'd been deliberately vague for some reason. Watching him now, it was hard to believe he was the same man who'd had her fleeing the ER.

Tonight he seemed harmless, especialy when he smiled the way he was now smiling at her son.

But Eric Cameron was far from harmless and Emily knew it.

Their waitress arrived and Eric coached Robbie in placing their order. Emily's heart twisted as her son lapped up the man's attention like a thirsty pup. She knew Robbie needed a male role model in his life, but Eric Cameron was not a viable candidate.

The waitress returned with their drinks, pop for Emily and Robbie, a large glass of water for their guest. She recaled Robbie mentioning a lecture on drug and alcohol abuse, and wondered why the man had chosen that as his topic. Several possibilities came to mind, none of which she found reassuring.

She watched him take a long swalow of water, his dark eyes scanning the restaurant from beneath the brim of his basebal cap while Robbie completed the crossword puzzle on his placemat.

She'd noticed he did that every so often, and was careful to keep the brim tucked down low, no doubt so people wouldn't recognize him.

Eric set his glass aside and pointed to a clue Robbie had missed, Eric set his glass aside and pointed to a clue Robbie had missed, drawing her attention to his hand. It looked as good as new. Larger than she would have thought, but long-fingered and oddly graceful.

Skilful was the word that came to mind. Talented. She wondered if he painted, or played any musical instruments.

Hah. Not bloody likely. Al hockey players cared about was ramming into each other like a bunch of overgrown adolescents with no sense and too much testosterone. She'd wasted several evenings watching hockey games. Made an effort for Robbie's sake. Tried to understand what the appeal was. And failed. Completely.

Robbie slid his crossword puzzle across the table. “Look, Mom, I filed in al the words by myself."

She smiled. “I noticed. I'd say that's worth a trip to Baskin-Robbins, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yeah. Oh yeah.” Robbie made a circular motion with his fists, like he was celebrating. “Rocky Road!"

The pizza arrived and they ate, Emily keeping a polite distance while Eric kept everyone's plates filed. When Robbie nearly upset his drink in excitement, Eric was quick to catch it—great reflexes, she noted—and gloss over Robbie's embarrassment with an age-appropriate joke.

"You handled that wel, Mr. Cameron,” Emily offered grudgingly, while Robbie looked across at the video arcade and slurped his soda.

soda.

Eric paused, then smiled. “I appreciate your saying so, Doctor. But please, cal me Eric."

"Mom's name is Emily,” Robbie piped up.

"Is it? It's a very pretty name. Just like your mom."

Robbie beamed. Emily wished she'd kept her mouth shut. She hadn't meant to encourage the man. In an effort to regain lost ground, she said, “I can't help but wonder why you agreed to join us tonight, Mr. Cameron."

"How's that?"

"I would have thought your preference would be more along the lines of Harry's Place, on Brady Street."

Wariness replaced the warmth in his eyes. “That was a temporary lapse in sanity. One I won't be repeating."

"I see."

"I doubt it."

"What's going on?” Robbie asked. “What are you guys talking about?"

Eric leaned back in his seat, a raised eyebrow asking Emily the Eric leaned back in his seat, a raised eyebrow asking Emily the same. She was scrambling to come up with an explanation Robbie would understand when someone rapped on the window beside their booth. She looked over to find Robbie's best friend Glen Simms mashing his nose and lips against the glass. He puled back and grinned, held up a handful of quarters and jerked his thumb at the video arcade, inviting Robbie to join him.

"Can I go, Mom?” Robbie pleaded. “Just for a little bit? Glen said they got a new game in last week."

Her first impulse was to say no, to tel him to finish his dinner so they could leave, but the last two slices of pizza were on hers and Eric's plates. “Al right, but come right back when you're done. We don't want to be late for the movie.” She opened her walet, fished out a few quarters, and handed them over.

Robbie bussed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom! You're the best.

See ya later, Eric!” He started down the aisle, then bounced back and motioned for Eric to lean closer. “Don't forget what we talked about,” he stage-whispered.

Eric nodded solemnly. “I'l do my best, Sport."

Robbie hooted and raced away. Emily waited until the boys disappeared in the cavernous darkness of the arcade before facing Eric head on. “What was that al about?"

Eric looked preoccupied, his gaze stil on the arcade. “Is he always so energetic?"

so energetic?"

"No more so than any other eight-year-old boy. I asked you a question. What were you talking to my son about?"

He studied her for a moment, then picked up his pizza. “Nothing that can't wait. First I want to know why you took those pot shots at me. I got the impression you didn't want Robbie to know we'd met before."

That he was right only increased her irritation. “I don't like lying to my son, Mr. Cameron. I like watching someone else lie to him even less."

Eric took a bite of his pizza. “Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"You seem to have a flair for it."

"I never lied to you, Emily."

"No. You just kept me in the dark. Deliberately."

"Are you saying that teling you what I do for a living would have made a difference?"

"I won't even bother to answer that."

Eric sighed and set his pizza aside. “Al right. I'l try to explain.

When I realized you didn't recognize my name, I opted for anonymity. Sometimes being Eric Cameron is more trouble than it's worth, and I wanted a chance at winning you over before dropping worth, and I wanted a chance at winning you over before dropping the bomb. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings by not teling you I play pro hockey, but—"

"You were trying ... to win me over?” Odd tactics he had.

"In an inept sort of way, yes. I wasn't thinking too clearly that night.

But I knew right away I wanted to see you again."

Emily looked down at the napkin she'd been mangling beneath the table. He'd said as much in the ER, but tonight water was the only liquid loosening his tongue. The thought both flattered and frightened her. She didn't want this man to be interested in her.

"Did you get the roses?” he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I sent them to apologize for my behavior Sunday night."

Emily flashed back to past hurts, past apologies. Apologies that at the time had seemed just as romantic. Just as sincere. The memories stiffened her resolve.

"Can you forgive me?"

"You already know the answer to that."

Their gazes locked across the table.

"Why are you afraid of me, Emily?"

"I'm not afraid of you. I just don't trust you."

"Why not?"

"You have to ask? After you hunted down my son?"

"Hunted down your son?” He stared at her in disbelief, then shook his head. “I had no idea Robbie was your son. I didn't track him down because you didn't cal me. Whatever else you may think of me, I don't use people. If you'd like, I can send you a copy of my speaking schedule. I've got six more talks lined up in the next two months, al of them at elementary schools."

"Six more? Al at elementary schools?"

He smiled. “Yes ma'am. Cal it preventive medicine. Catch them while they're young, before they get into junior high and some smooth eighth grader comes up with an offer they can't refuse."

"Is this something you have to do?"

"As in am I doing community service time instead of jail time?” Eric chuckled wryly. “You're determined to think the worst of me, aren't you?"

She would have expected him to be offended. Instead he was amused. Feeling off-kilter, she looked away, at the arcade.

Eric spoke again, his voice subdued. “I do the lectures for several reasons. For starters, I know something about the subject, I like kids, and it gives me a chance to be around them. I don't plan to stick around long enough to get invited to any backyard barbeques or pool parties. When the season ends, I'm out of here.” He paused. “Have you ever tried it?"

Emily slid him a sideways glance. “Getting out of town, or volunteer work?"

He smiled, apparently finding something amusing in her answer.

Inexplicably, she found herself wanting to smile back. She didn't.

"Volunteer work,” he said.

Emily nodded, thinking of the battered women's shelter she sat on the board of and donated her time to one night a week. “Now and then.” She drank some pop and stared out the window again, uncomfortable with the intimate direction the conversation was taking. She didn't want Eric Cameron to know any more about her life than he already did. She noticed traffic in the hal picking up.

The movie would start soon.

"It also helps to keep the lonelies at bay,” Eric said.

Emily swung her head around. “Surely you don't expect me to believe you're lonely?"

"Why would you find that so hard to believe?"

"Why would you find that so hard to believe?"

"I thought al you sports heroes had your pick of ... fans."

"You mean women?” He gave a nonchalant shrug, traced a long finger up, then down the side of his glass. Emily shivered in response, imagining those skilful fingers sliding across a woman's skin. “Sure, they're around,” he said. “If that's what you're looking for."

"And you're not?"

He met her eyes, soul to soul. “I'm looking for one woman, Emily.

That's al I need. Al I want."

She swalowed, knowing she'd stepped into that one al by herself.

"How about you?” he asked. “What are you looking for?"

Certainly not you, she thought, even as heat rose in her at the idea.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she tossed her destroyed napkin onto her plate. “I think I've made it clear I'm not looking for anyone.

I mean anything."

"Maybe not, but your son is.” Eric leaned forward. “As long as you've made your feelings clear, I might as wel do the same. That boy of yours is starving for adult male companionship—oh, he loves you, no doubt about that—but you're stifling his natural male tendencies."

Emily bristled. “Meaning?"

"He wants to be one of the guys. He wants to play hockey."

"Never."

"It's your cal. But one of these days his excess energy is going to need some sort of physical outlet and if it isn't sports ... hockey, footbal, basebal, track, whatever ... you could have a problem on your hands. With the stress you're already under, I don't think that's something you want to deal with."

"I resent that, Mr. Cameron. I'm not under any stress."

"Raising a child alone and working al hours of the day and night isn't stressful?"

"I've worked odd hours since before my son was born. He understands my job. Being on cal is part of being a doctor. He knows that."

"Where's his father?"

"None of your business."

Eric said nothing, just stared at her with those dark, compeling eyes, wiling her to tel him what he wanted to know. “Robbie's never given me a minute of trouble,” she said instead, hating the defensive note in her voice.

"Not yet, maybe, but the time wil come."

Emily glared at him. “What gives you the right to pass judgment on me? To tel me I'm raising my son wrong? What do you know about being a parent?"

Pain, deep and dark, flickered in his eyes. “About as much as you know about hockey. But that hasn't stopped you from passing judgment on me. Or condemning the entire sport."