California Man - The Author's Cut Edition (24 page)

And he might turn me away...

Rubbing her damp hands on the side of her jeans, she stood, and prepared herself to take the biggest risk of her life. She swallowed again and headed for the house. The ferry was at the dock. In minutes Quinn would be at Lynn's. Whatever plan she came up with in the next half hour or so would have to do. She had to see him before he left the island.

* * *

Quinn had barely completed the turn out of Lynn's driveway when he saw her, standing in the middle of the road. She stood astride the bike he'd given her, arms resting on the handlebars, Bailly sat beside her. Together they made an effective roadblock, and both woman and dog were looking at him. Quinn stopped the car, studied them, but didn't turn off the ignition.

To Emily it seemed an eternity before Quinn pulled the car to the side of the road, another eternity until he stepped out of the Rover onto the road.

When he walked toward her, all power and lean muscle, Emily felt tossed and winded; her fight or flight reflex set to high alert. She searched her mind frantically for a next move, a line of words, anything that would make sense. Nothing.

"Hello, Emily," he said, his tone bordering on formal.

He stood directly in front of her, very still. Waiting. She lifted her head to meet his eyes. When she saw the coolness there, her mouth went as arid as her brain.

"I have some strawberries," she blurted, the inane comment spurting from nowhere.

He didn't answer.
Good goddess, Emily, how could he?
He eyed her, one eyebrow raised in question as she tried again.

"I'm asking you to lunch," she said.

"I've eaten."

"Oh." She ran her hands along the cool metal of the bike's handlebars. "How about a bike ride then?"

"I don't have a bike with me."

Silence.

He wasn't going to make this easy.
You don't deserve easy.
She fixed her gaze on him, feeling the tiniest bit stubborn. "A walk on the beach?" she asked.

"No time. I've got a ferry to catch."

Emily lowered her eyes and chewed on her lower lip. She bit too hard and winced. Quinn waited.

"Is that it then?" he asked.

"No." She wasn't letting him go yet. She was barely getting started.

"No?" he repeated, the barest hint of a smile touching his mouth. "Then what else have you got to offer?" His words challenged, dared.

Soft breath skimmed over her lips and everything in her, everything that was shy Emily Welland went on full stop. Utterly calm. She lifted her eyes to meet his. "My love. That's what I'm offering. I love you, Quinn."

Wind rustled in the trees along the roadside. A gull squawked. Then silence.

He took a step toward her. "You've said that before, Emmi. The question now is how much? How much do you love me?"

"Enough. Enough to go with you, be with you anywhere. Enough for... everything."

He reached for her then, pulling her to him roughly, the cold metal of the bike an unyielding fence between them.

His mouth hovered over hers. "No more cold feet. You do a runner on me again, and I won't be responsible for my actions. I love
you
, Emily. I want you. I need you. All of it, damn it." His gaze was fierce.

She took courage from the strong beat of his heart and smiled into his eyes. "No more running. I promise. And if you marry me, I'll probably never have cold feet again."

He smiled. "Not in my bed, you won't. I promise you won't have cold anything. You have my word on it."

The smile was for the moment, the promise for a lifetime.

Epilogue

After dinner, the three women spread themselves comfortably around Emily's cozy living room. Grace sprawled on the sofa, Lynn took the rocking chair beside the fireplace, and Emily curled into the old wing-back. Each held a steaming, convivial cup of coffee while outside the moon hovered low, quietly silvering the waters of Fulford Harbour. Bailly wandered in, surveyed the room's inhabitants, and promptly curled up at Emily's feet.

Emily and Lynn were comfortable in the silence. Grace was not.

"So," she began, "when exactly does that heavenly California man of yours get back?"

"Friday morning. But I'm not going to see him before the wedding," she added, ruing their agreed upon plan. She couldn't bear to think of his being on the island and not with her—not even for one night. He'd been gone almost two weeks now, and it seemed a lifetime.

Grace sipped her coffee. "You mean he's not going to be here until the day before the wedding? He's really pushing it, isn't he?"

"I guess, but as it turned out, he didn't have much choice. There are meetings on the sale of his business, and what with everyone's schedules, they were impossible to delay. And I think things are moving faster for the foundation than he expected. It looks like he's made a good connection in France for games as early as next year."

"May second to ninth, according to James," Lynn added with a proud grin. "And you know he's never wrong about dates."

"You heard from James?" Emily asked.

"Yesterday. He called me right after Quinn talked to you. He's having the time of his life in Los Angeles. That man of yours has been wonderful with him. He's been to Disneyland, on a studio tour, and to a wax museum of some kind. He was so excited I barely understood him. He said he missed me, but I think Quinn had to remind him to say it." Lynn groused but looked pleased.

Grace chimed in. "The little traitor. Seduced by the bright lights and big city. Huh?"

"Big time."

Emily sat up straighter in her chair, worry wrinkling her brow. "You're going to be okay with this, uh, arrangement, aren't you, Lynn?"

Lynn's brown eyes turned serious. "How can you even ask? It's the opportunity of a lifetime for James. Official spokesman for the Marion Foundation. My son. Can you believe it?"

"He'll be away a lot," Emily said. "Quinn wants him to be an integral part of the foundation. You'll be lonely."

Lynn's eyes leveled to meet hers. "I haven't loved that boy all these years, challenged him until at times he should have hated me, to let a little loneliness stand in his way now. His world—my God—his
skills
are growing everyday. My stupid heart nearly bursts thinking of it. I'm so proud, I—Well, anyway, Quinn's good for him, and it's time he spent more time around men."

Grace piped up. "Ditto for you, kiddo. And me."

"You've got a one-track mind, Grace. Has anybody ever told you that?" Emily teased.

Lynn added, "A man is the last thing I'm looking for."

"Hah!" Grace interjected. "The first comment from a woman who's made the biggest catch of this century without even fishing, and the second from a woman who hasn't so much as glanced at a member of the male sex, other than that handsome son of hers, for fifteen years." Grace threw up her hands in mock surrender. "With friends like this, no wonder I'm single. You guys are no help at all. I give up. That's all. I'm quitting, throwing in the towel."

Lynn lifted her gaze to heaven and Emily gave a delicate snort. They both grinned.

"Very dramatic, Grace, but I think there's as much chance of you calling off your manhunt as there is of my starting one," Lynn said dryly.

"True," Grace admitted without guile. "But then, I really can't help myself. I'm a very focused person. But hey, enough about me, let's talk about Em's wedding—and what
I'm
going to wear," she finished airily.

"It's a wonderful idea to get married on the beach, Emily," Lynn said, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It will be a perfect background."

"
If
the weather holds," Emily added. "If it doesn't, we'll go inside. The guest list is small, so Paul's house will easily handle us all."

Lynn shook her head thoughtfully. "Who would have believed it? Shy Emily—a September bride."

"It feels like some kind of miracle," Emily added dreamily, envisioning her husband to be. She couldn't think about him without being claimed by a hazy swirl of passion. His eyes, mouth, the thickness of his sun-glazed dark hair, his teasing smile—and now his ambition for the foundation. They all merged and layered to create the man she loved with all her shy—courageous—heart. She stared unseeing into the cool coffee at the bottom of her cup, warming in the image, the certainty of the amazing life they'd have together.

"Yoo-hoo! Emily." Lynn nudged her with the toe of her shoe.

Grace stood up in mock exasperation. "It's no use, Lynn. It's time to go. The woman is officially living in a parallel universe. I don't think we can expect an intelligent conversation out of her for at least a year. She's crazy in love. That's what she is."

"Guilty as charged." Emily said.

Grace laughed, but her words no longer teased when she said, "Not that I blame you. He's truly wonderful."

When Emily stood, Grace gave her a rough, affectionate hug. "But then so are you. And don't ever forget that." Her grip tightened, and she swallowed hard before releasing her. "I love you, Em." Giving Emily no time to respond, Grace all but ran out of the room.

Emily and Lynn sniffed in unison as they watched her go. Lynn wiped quietly under an eye before picking up her sweater and draping it loosely over her shoulders.

The room fell into silence.

Lynn coughed lightly as though to ease a tight throat. "I'd better go too. Tonight—dinner for the three of us—it was a good idea, Em. It's been a long time. Thanks for—Oh, dammit, anyway." Lynn's voice broke and she wrapped her arms around her. Her sweater fell to the floor. "I'm going to miss you so
much.
It's going to be awful that you're not here. You're my best—my very dearest—friend."

For a long moment the two women clung to each other and let tears fall unchecked down their cheeks.

When they drew apart, Emily held Lynn's hands and looked deep into her eyes. "I love you both, you and Grace, but if it hadn't been for you, Lynn—being there, listening," she smiled softly, "prodding me to move on, urging me to take risks, I might never have—"

"Hush." Lynn shook her head. "The universe unfolded as it should. Out of all the islands in the world, Quinn came to Salt Spring—for you, Emily—to find you. It was meant to be."

Emily could find no words to reply but wished with all her heart that her friend would find the kind of happiness she had. She'd been alone so long. So very long.

Composed now, they hugged each other again and said their good nights. Both knew it would not be goodbye.

* * *

"You are
not
supposed to be here. We agreed." Emily folded into Quinn's arms like a weary traveler, her actions at odds with her chastising words. "I missed you so much."

She raised her lips to his, and he kissed her fully, deeply, pulling back before passion ensnared them both. They would wait.

"I had to see you if only for a minute." He grinned and stroked her cheek. "I wanted to be sure you hadn't run out on me."

"I already tried that." She shook her head. "Didn't like it, not even a little bit. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"Thank God for that, because tomorrow you become my wife and then—" He pulled her deeper into the embrace and whispered in her ear.

She laughed and pulled away, slightly breathless. "Promises, promises," she said. "Now go, my wild lover. I'll see you at our wedding."

He kissed her again and let out a jagged breath. "This is tough, Emmi. I don't want to leave." He nibbled her earlobe. "You don't
really
want me to leave. Do you?"

Emily could scarcely breathe. Her heart beat staccato in her chest. His heat infused her, blocking reason and wreaking havoc on her well made plans. She wanted him to stay... but she absolutely had to do some last-minute work on her dress. "Quinn, we agreed," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He shuddered, then glanced skyward. "I'm a saint."

"After what you just whispered in my ear?" Emily said, smiling, "I don't think so. Now
go!"

* * *

On their wedding day, the sun joined the celebration. And while the air tingled with the promise of fall, the day was crystalline. Quinn and Emily stood on the shore and spoke their vows. Family, friends, and the music of the ocean tide formed the background.

Quinn kissed his bride with a sense of wonder. It was done. This astonishing island woman with the rain-colored eyes was his. She had given him her love and her trust, and he was bound to her, happily and forever.

As one, they faced the gathering of friends waiting to wish them well.

An hour later, Quinn stood contentedly alone on Paul's deck, watching Emily laughing and mingling with her friends on the lawn. She looked relaxed and happy.

"You're a lucky man, Ramsay." Paul stepped up beside him, his gaze following Quinn's. "She's beautiful—inside and out." He took a drink from the glass in his hand.

"That she is," he said, before pulling his eyes from his bride and looking at his friend. "Maybe someday you'll find the same luck."

Paul leaned against the railing. "A someday far,
far
in the future, I hope."