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,
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,
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