A Mother's Reflection. Elissa Ambrose

watched him steadily, mesmerized by the way he would glide across the ice and then suddenly stop to make his hit. Whish, whish, clunk. He wasn’t a bad skater, she decided. Her gaze followed him as he moved across the rink. The suit he’d worn earlier had concealed his muscular build, his massive shoulders, his athletic stance. She found herself wondering what it would be like dancing with him on the ice, being lifted into the air by those powerful arms, feeling his hands gripping her waist….

      She pushed the thought aside. It was a ludicrous notion. Besides, hockey wasn’t figure skating. She doubted if Adam Wessler could adapt to a different set of rules—even if it was just about skating. He was a stickler, all right. She couldn’t believe he had hired her after she’d had the audacity to show up late for her interview! My, my, a full minute late—the minute she had spent outside the tall glass doors of the center, deliberating whether to turn around and run. It also irked her that he had mentioned her tardiness to Erika. The two of them deserved each other, with their picky ways.

      Erika, picky? Another word came to mind, but Rachel was loath to repeat it. Just what was that woman’s problem? Erika had acted as though she considered Rachel a personal threat. As if Rachel could be interested in a man so…fastidious. Not in this lifetime, no matter how many scars he had.

      Erika had it all wrong. She was the threat, not Rachel. As far as Rachel was concerned, anyone who even looked the wrong way at Megan was a threat, and Erika had done more than her share of glowering.

      If Rachel honestly believed that Erika cared for Megan, she would back off, as painful as that would be. She would pack her bags and head back to Hartford. All she really wanted was to make sure her child had a mother watching over her, someone who had Megan’s best interest at heart. Adam was Megan’s legal father, and he had a right to choose whomever he wanted as his wife.

      Unless his choice was wrong. Unless the woman he chose was planning to stash his daughter—Rachel’s daughter—away in some boarding school.

      “No one tells him what to do,” Doreen had said.

      Maybe no one could tell him what to do, but Erika was talking and he seemed to be listening. Maybe Adam and Erika deserved each other, but there was no way Rachel would allow that woman to have a say in Megan’s life.

      As though sensing her presence, Adam looked up. She smiled and waved.