California Man - The Author's Cut Edition (23 page)

"I'm starting a nonprofit sports foundation for physically and mentally challenged athletes. I think with some of my own funds, plus what I can raise from my ex-competitors, I'll pull it off. I've already spoken to my main competition, and he's all for it. The foundation would sponsor games, provide transportation and accommodation for the athletes, train special coaching staff, and finance research, maybe in areas like sports psychology for the handicapped."

"I think it's an incredible, worthwhile, ambitious, and altogether fabulous idea!" she said. If someone had asked her a moment ago if she could possibly love this man more, she would have said no. Now she wasn't so sure.

"It'll be a lot of work and a lot of jet time—I'd like this to be international in scope, so the kids can travel. To be honest, the jet time doesn't exactly thrill me. But it won't be forever and it'll be worth it in the end." He stopped, took her hand. "And if you came along it would be different. I want you to come with me, Emmi, as much as you can—as my wife."

Emmi felt weak—with desire and pain. For a second she looked away from his probing eyes. "Quinn... what you're doing, it's amazing... but it doesn't change things. It only points out again how wrong it would be for me to marry you. The life you describe will be so... populated, so social. You'll be meeting and wining and dining people all the time. Maybe all over the world. I couldn't cope with that. I'd be a disaster for you and the foundation. You need a woman with... presence, charisma." Like Gina, she added silently. "And there's my writing. I know it may not seem like much, but it's important to me."

"It's important to me, too. I don't want you to give it up. I don't want you to give
anything
up. As for the social aspects, you can take part in as much or as little of it as you're comfortable with, but I want you with me. And for your information, you have more presence and charisma than a thousand women, but you refuse to see it. It's fear that holds you back, Emmi, not inadequacies."

Emily wrapped herself in silence and stared into the dark waters lapping the shore. The lights came up on the stage of her mind. It was a party, peopled by a gold-clad cast, all reflecting light, shimmering, and moving confidently and easily around the room. She heard their laughter, admired them for their poise, their effortless conversation. She looked for herself; she was there—in the corner, silent and afraid, wearing olive drab. The scene she saw was not real, but the uneven palpitations in her chest were. She sighed long and deep.

Quinn had no idea what he was asking of her. Leave the island, her secure, comfortable existence, strike out in a new, strange direction? Her whole body trembled. It would be exciting. She would see places in the world she never thought she'd see, and she would be with Quinn, but...

"I don't—" she started.

"I'm asking you to think about it. Just think about it." He turned her face to his and touched his fingers to her mouth. "For the moment, I think we've gone as far as words can take us. I'm going to be here for another two weeks. That should be enough time for you to get used to the idea."

Emily fell silent again. Hope bloomed then faltered. Hope wasn't enough. Her panic attacks, her painful shyness, her grim fears—Quinn deserved better.

He stood then, took her hand, and pulled her to her feet. The soft night breeze fanned her drawn face. But it wasn't the breeze that made her shiver when Quinn's hands coasted over her shoulders and down her arms. Damn. She was going to cry. To stop the tears, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Except for a hiccup, her ploy worked.

"You okay?" he asked pulling her closer.

"Fine." She burrowed deeper into his chest, not wanting to let him go. Tonight would see the last of loving, the fading shadows of passion. She was sure of it. She just didn't know how to tell him.

He stroked her hair. "You're cold, and probably damned tired. Go inside and get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

She lifted her eyes to his. "Stay with me. Sleep with me?"
Make love to me, one more time,
she wanted to add but didn't.

"Just sleep? That's all you want?" He scanned her upturned face, his own expression reflective. "I don't think so. You want more than that and so do I. But the old rules don't apply anymore. We're a long way past easy island loving. If we make love tonight, it's a commitment. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

He paused. "Do you still want me to stay with you?"

Emily lowered her head. "No."

"I see." He dropped his hands and took a step back.

Emily had never felt so alone, standing there with his gaze fixed on her. Only a step away; it seemed a universe. It didn't matter. And it was right, because there was no way in the world she'd marry Quinn. She wasn't courageous enough. "Understand—please, " she said, sounding lame to her own ears.

"I understand, all right. Maybe better than you think." His jaw tensed as he closed then opened his mouth. "But there'll be no more stud service. Like I said, I'll call you tomorrow."

With that he was gone.

* * *

"Hello." Grace gripped the phone and peered at her alarm clock, blinking hard. Six a.m.!

"Will you take care of the store for a couple of weeks? I've already called Marsha. She says she can help out."

"Emily?" She sat up and flicked on the light. "What's going on? What's this about?"

"Please don't ask questions. I'm catching the first ferry to Crofton. I'm going up to Vancouver Island for a while. I'll be gone until... for at least two weeks. Will you look after things for me? And tell James I've taken Bailly with me, will you? He'll want to know."

"What—"

"Grace, please..."

"Okay. But tell me this much. Does it have anything to do with that California man?"

"Sort of."

"Oh, Emmi, I told you. Didn't I tell you?"

"Will you do it... watch things for me?"

"You got it. But call. Okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

* * *

Quinn was at the bookstore when it opened at ten o'clock Monday morning. Grace looked startled to see him, then wary.

"Where is she?" he asked with no preamble.

She stepped past him to the door and put her key in the lock. "I take it you mean Emily."

"You take it right. Where the hell is she? I called before I went to see James in the relay yesterday. I called her when I got back. I drove over to her place last night, and it was locked up tight. Her car's gone."

"I think she decided to take a short holiday. You know, kind of a spur of the moment thing." She opened the door, then looked at him over the curve of her shoulder. After a moment, she said, "I'm sorry."

He didn't ask what she was sorry about. Didn't have to. "And how long is this
'short holiday
' going to last? Did she say?"

"Two weeks or so."

"I see." He stood motionless.
She'd ran out on him.
His jaw was so tight it pained him—almost as much as the knot in his chest. Finally, he asked, "Will she be calling you?"

"I expect so."

"When she does, tell her I get the message. And tell her she won't have to stay away for two weeks. I'm leaving tomorrow."

* * *

A week later, close to midnight, Emily pulled into her driveway. What moon there was lay behind heavy clouds, plump with rain. She wished she'd remembered to leave her porch light on. The night was unbroken black, and she stumbled twice during the dozen steps to her door. Not so with Bailly, who was at the door in seconds, wiggling his butt and waiting for her to catch up. Ridgebacks always liked to be first to the door.

"I'm glad one of us is happy to be home, Bailly."

She flicked on the light, dropped her suitcase inside the door, and went into the kitchen.

"Water, fellah?"

While Bailly slurped noisily, she headed back to pick up her suitcase. She was tired but knew with certainty she wouldn't sleep. Crossing back through the silent living room, she turned on another lamp. That was when she saw it.

The envelope was half under her case near the door. It said only EMMI in bold black caps. She knew immediately who it was from and sensed the beginning of another endless weep coming on. She stroked the envelope, then folded it. She didn't want to see the hard etch of his pen on white paper, didn't want to read his words, didn't want to suffer his loss again. She'd done the right thing.

"Emily?"

Startled, Emily dropped the envelope.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." It was Lynn. "I saw the light, wasn't sure you were back, and decided to check. I wanted to talk to you." Lynn looked at her friend's ashen face. "Jeez, I did scare you, didn't I? I should have knocked."

"No. It's okay." Emily gave her a quick welcoming hug. "Come in for a bit. I'm glad for the company."

Lynn sat in the big chair near the dark fireplace. "How was the trip?"

"Good." Bailly flopped down beside Emmi, and she scratched behind her ears. "We needed those few days, didn't we, bud?" Bailly gave her an adoring look, laid his head on his paws, and closed his eyes. Emmi turned back to face Lynn and pasted on a smile. "We went to Tofino to do some whale watching. It was great." She tried to sound enthusiastic.

"Great, huh? You look more like you spent the week in Transylvania visiting the count," she said. "You look hellish, my dear. Pure and simply hellish. Almost as bad as that beautiful man you were so anxious to leave behind—which was one giant mistake, I hope you know."

"I did what was right for, uh, both of us."

"You were callous and insensitive. Not to mention cowardly. Quinn is a special man. He didn't deserve that kind of treatment."

Lynn spoke the words so matter-of-factly Emily didn't have time to be shocked. She went directly to anger. "Leave it alone, Lynn. You know nothing about it."

"I know you dished out the treatment you got years ago without batting an eyelash. I know I thought better of you." Lynn gave her an intense stare. "You ran. And when you ran, you caused pain. Long-term pain, unless I miss my guess. My God, woman, that man loves you and you kicked him in the teeth."

"He said that?"

"He said nothing. He didn't have to. He came to say goodbye the day he left. He wanted to talk about a contract for James to be on the promotional material for his new foundation. He looked like... well, let's just say he looked as bad, if not worse, than you."

"I didn't want to hurt him. I never meant to."

"Well, you did."

"It would never work between us. We're too different." Her argument and she was sticking to it, even if it was getting a bit worn around the edges.

"That's BS and you know it. But if you're determined to live behind that wall of fear you've erected, so be it." Lynn shook her head, stood up, and headed for the door. "By the way, he's coming back in August. To finalize the contract and talk to James about the games in Vancouver. Maybe, just maybe, you have another chance. If I were you, I'd take it." She stopped. "I take that back. I'd jump at it even if there was no safety net."

Emily looked at her through pain-washed eyes and forced a tense smile to her lips. "You came here tonight expressly to give me what-for, didn't you?"

Lynn nodded. "And I won't apologize for a word of it."

"You don't have to. I've spent weeks clinging desperately to the idea that it could never work for Quinn and me... told myself over and over again that I'd made the right decision. Done what was best for him. I
needed
to believe that." She used a knuckle to catch a tear at the top of her cheek. "Maybe I still do. Maybe I'll never know what's right. Never be sure."

"Maybe you won't. Welcome to the world."

The two women hugged before Lynn stepped outside. She turned back. "Remember, he's back in August, Emmi. Think about that, and think hard," she urged. "Second chances aren't always easy to come by."

Emily closed the door, wiped her damp cheeks, and picked up the envelope from the floor. She tore it open.

Emmi, I'll miss you in my life. I love you.
 

I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.

Quinn

* * *

When the ferry entered Fulford Harbour on a hot August morning, Quinn walked to the right side of the boat. From here he'd be able to see Lynn's place. James told him to watch for him, that he would be waving from the beach. That's what he would do, watch for James. He would not look at the house next door. The small cedar beach house where the woman he loved was planning to spend the rest of her life. It made his gut ache to come back here.

Thank God it wouldn't be for long. He'd talk to James, meet with Lynn, get the papers signed, and be gone in a couple of hours. No man liked to return to the scene of his defeat. Who the hell needed a reminder? He saw James wave and waved back. After that no power on earth could stop him from looking at Emily's house. His heart stalled in his chest, then pumped erratically.

She was there, sitting on her log, Bailly at her side. He couldn't be sure, but it looked as if she was watching the ferry—watching him. He turned away, his rising anger and frustration telling him he didn't need this. When he was back in his car, he slammed his head back against the headrest and let out a ragged exhale.
Damn the woman!
Even seeing her from this distance made his blood race. If he could do it without being rude, he'd get off the island in an hour.

* * *

Emily stared at the ferry. Heart in throat, breath tight in chest, and hands knotted in her lap, she scanned the deck rails until she spotted him. Even though she couldn't make out his features, she knew the minute his eyes found her—the planet lurched. He was so close. She'd thought of nothing but this day for weeks, and still she had no plan. No idea what to do. The lines she'd composed vanished from her head at the sight of him. The curtain dropped on the scenes she'd created in her mind for the moment when she'd see him again. Gone, all of it, gone. She'd have to wing it. When he turned away from her, she swallowed deep. This wasn't going to be easy.