Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance) by Lisa B. Kamps

emotionally.”
    “And you think I plan on doing either?”
    Catherine quietly studied the man in front of her, saw the bewilderment and concern etched on the angular planes of his face. She took a deep breath and shifted from one foot to the other. “No, not deliberately. I just don’t want him hurt.”
    “Catherine, you and I haven’t exactly gotten along, but do you honestly think I would do anything to hurt your son?” He searched her face for several seconds then let out an exasperated sigh. “You really do! I cannot believe this!”
    “Nathan, I…I need to go.”
    “Catherine, wait.”
    “I need to go,” she repeated, more forceful this time as she turned around, feeling his stare in the middle of her back as she walked away.
    “Pick it up! You’re skating like an old lady!”
    The bellow echoed off the ice and straight down Nathan’s spine. He gritted his teeth, dug the toe of his blade into the ice and pushed off, the stick held like a weapon in his gloved hands. A speck of black flew into his vision and he reached out, sending the puck flying off his stick with a grunt. He paused, sweat pouring down his back as he watched the puck speed past Alec Kolchak and into the net.
    “That’s more like it! Now keep going!”
    Nathan muttered under his breath. Ian Donovan stopped next to him, nudging his arm before skating off again. Nathan watched the younger player, his movements fluid beneath the heavy gear. Good-natured joking had been going on since the start of practice a few hours ago, but Nathan was no longer in the mood for it. In fact, he hadn’t been in the mood from the start.
    Sweat drenched him from head to toe, the equipment that he had worn with ease suddenly weighed as much as armor and his left leg had turned to jelly after twenty minutes on the ice. His knee throbbed painfully as he pushed off and skated to center ice, and he again questioned his wisdom in convincing the doctor to release him.
    “Damn.” He rubbed his face against his shoulder to wipe away the sweat and looked up in time to see another player come barreling toward him. Nathan crouched instinctively and reached out with his stick, stealing the puck with natural grace before racing off to the net. He pulled back and shot, missing by a few inches as he skated past the pipes.
    A crushing weight hit him from behind, propelling him into the glass with a jaw-shuddering thud. The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice. Nathan glared at Donovan, resisting the urge to bodycheck him only because Kolchak came out of the net and skated between them with a warning look.
    “Not cool, Donovan.” Alec’s soft voice carried only far enough for the three of them to hear. The rookie player looked at each of them with a smirk on his face, saying nothing before skating away. “The kid has no brains.”
    “No, but he’s got the talent.”
    Alec reached up and tilted the mask back on his head, revealing wet brown hair and a flushed face. “Maybe, maybe not. He’s too hotheaded for his own good, either way. And he doesn’t like that you’re back, either.”
    “Yeah, well. The way I feel, I may not be back for long. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this old.”
    Alec’s laughter was loud and instant, and he slapped Nathan on the back with a gloved hand as they skated to the edge of the ice. “You and me both. So, you expecting company?”
    “Company? No.”
    “Well, I think you’ve got some.” He pointed to a row of seats off to the side of the practice rink, close enough to watch the players but far enough away to be unnoticed. Nathan turned to look then groaned.
    “What the hell is she doing here?” He didn’t even try to keep the frustration from his voice, earning him a wry look from his friend.
    “New fan club, maybe?”
    “Humph. Firing squad would be more like it.”
    Alec patted him on the shoulder then stepped off the ice, a smile firmly in place. “Seems like we all have one of them these days. At least yours