California Man - The Author's Cut Edition (20 page)

Finally Paul said, "Look, I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't know. If I had, I never would've—"

Quinn frowned. "What are you talk—"

"Quinn,
caro mio!"
A woman flew into Quinn's arms. "It has been so long—too long."

Emily felt her eyes widen, then widen more when Gina Manzoni grabbed the ends of the towel draped around Quinn's neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She gave him a lingering, possessive kiss while Emily sagged against the table that held her abandoned lasagna.
Gina Manzoni. Here.

Almost exactly Emily's height, Gina was beyond beautiful. She was an Italian stunner, a certified, authentic level ten. Perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect skin, and perfect figure. Perfect everything—even the mouth she'd attached to Quinn. When Emily glanced away she caught both herself and Gina reflected in the hall mirror. Comparison was unavoidable. Emily felt her chest wall crumble.
I look like spare parts.

Gina's mouth was on his before Quinn could react. Frozen by shock, he stood statue straight, his mouth yielding nothing to hers. When he felt the probe of her tongue, he shifted his head back and grasped the rose-tipped fingers gripping his towel. With exaggerated care, he unclasped her hands and moved her away from him. And while Gina looked smug, Emily looked as if she'd just come down hard on another crossbar. The curses in his head would have shocked the crew on a frigate, but pissed off as he was, he kept his mouth shut, knowing nothing would make Gina happier than a good fight.

He remembered how amused he'd been when she'd first told him that fighting energized her, made her hot. How she enjoyed emotions bouncing around like thunder and lightning. At first he hadn't believed her, but he found out later she hadn't lied. There would be no fight, nothing that would allow Gina to gather strength.

"Sorry, man. Really sorry." It was Paul again.

Quinn glared at him, then back at Gina. He forced a smile to his rigid lips. "Nothing to be sorry for." He picked up Paul's suitcase and reached for Gina's. "I think it's about time we got out of this hall. You could both probably use a drink. I know I can." He kicked the door shut with unnecessary ferocity.

Emily delayed before following the threesome to the living room, wishing now she'd taken the time to shower and change before coming—or maybe had a little plastic surgery. Never, absolutely never, had she been in the company of three more physically perfect human beings. She knew it shouldn't matter, appearances weren't everything, were in fact nothing at all, but she couldn't ignore the differences between them, these glorious sun-drenched people and the quiet islander. They looked like magazine covers. Paul, so blond and tanned with that soft white cotton sweater draped casually over his shoulders, was perfect for GQ, while Quinn, in his wet swimsuit, with his sexy good looks and swim-curled hair, was definitely
Playgirl
material. Centerfold, she added, her eyes relishing his long, muscular frame. And Gina? Gina would look good on anything from
People
magazine to a French postcard. Emily smoothed back her hair and grimaced. Despite her recent weight loss and new haircut, she felt fat, frumpy, and frazzled.

Quinn was already behind the bar. He opened a beer for Paul and poured a hefty shot of scotch for himself and red wine for Gina. Emily declined a drink with a silent shake of her head.

When Quinn looked into her sober gray eyes, he felt a little sick. Gina wouldn't be easy on her. At that thought, the dark-haired beauty spoke.

"You have not introduced us, Quinn." She turned her earth-brown eyes to Emily for the first time.

"This is Emily Welland, Gina. Emily, I think you know who this is."

"Of course. I've seen your pictures, Miss Manzoni. They don't do you justice." Emily swallowed and worked to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach.

"Call me Gina, please." She gave Emily a narrow, appraising look. When she started to speak again, Paul interrupted.

"You live on the island, Emily?" His smile was friendly and open enough that it took the edge off her flutter.

"Yes, I do. For about six years now."

"What in heaven's name do you do in such a remote place? Does it not get boring?" Gina interjected.

Emily thought to tell her that she lived within an hour or two of a couple of million people but decided against it. It wasn't her job to educate Gina Manzoni. Besides, to her it probably was
remote.

"It's quiet... and peaceful but not boring. The people here are wonderful and my store keeps me busy." Emily couldn't remember the last time she was bored.

Paul spoke again. "What store is that?"

"I own a bookstore. Welland Books."

Gina moved to a chair near Quinn and sat down. "A bookstore!" she said as though Emily had told her she took in washing for a living. "And to you this is
interesting?"

"Gina!" Quinn growled. "Stuff it!"

Paul ignored Quinn and Gina to concentrate on Emily. He seemed to accept that he couldn't do anything about the situation he'd created by bringing Gina with him and was obviously trying to make the best of it. "I've probably been in your place then. Is it in Ganges?"

Emily nodded. The fluttering was back but there was something else, too—a tightening in her spine. She decided she didn't like Gina Manzoni. Not one bit. Nor was she going to be intimidated by her. She straightened her shoulders to answer Paul's question. "If you have been in, I don't remember, and I think I would. The whole island knows about you." Emily gave Paul Severns her full attention. He was a super attractive man. She would have remembered those bright blue eyes and blond hair. She would have remembered the feeling of empathy he exuded. "Maybe you went to my competitor. There are two bookstores on the island."

"Maybe I did. If so, I won't make the same mistake again. I'm sure your competitor isn't half as lovely as you." He grinned at her and she smiled back.

Quinn glowered at his friend. First Gina rides in on his coattails and then he makes moves on Emily. "Emily is also a writer," Quinn said. "Her first play is being staged tomorrow night."

"Really. Then why don't we all go? I'd love to see what you've done," Paul said with genuine enthusiasm.

Emily paled, then reddened. Her distraught expression told Quinn he'd made a serious error.

"No! That wouldn't be a good idea at all." Emily turned beseeching eyes toward Quinn. Why, oh why, had he brought up her play? These people were Hollywood professionals. They would laugh at her paltry effort. "I'm sure my play wouldn't interest you at all."

Gina smiled. "Oh, but we would love to come. All of us. Would we not, Quinn? It will be... fascinating." Gina's agreement was too fast, too easy. Quinn glared at her over the rim of his glass.

"Really, you wouldn't like it," Emily said. "I mean, it's amateur stuff. It's nice of you but—" She was desperate to convince them not to come.

Paul broke in. "No buts. We're coming and that's that. I got my start in amateur theater. It's been a long time since I've had the chance to enjoy it. It'll be great." His eagerness was genuine.

"Yes.
Perfetto."
Gina echoed, appearing to relish Emily's discomfort. Quinn glanced at Emmi; she looked as though someone had put matches under her fingernails. Gina decided to light one. "You are afraid we'll upstage you,
cara?"

"Upstage?"

"It is opening night, is it not? Perhaps you are afraid we steal your limelight? If that is how you feel, we will understand." Gina paused for dramatic effect. "Or is there another reason you do not want us to come to your, uh,
little
production?"

Being upstaged was the last thought on Emily's mind. Or at least she thought it was. About now she wasn't sure, but she couldn't' miss the challenge in Gina's words. She was saved from answering by Paul's interjection.

"Don't be patronizing, Gina." He snapped. "Emily just has a case of opening night jitters. You've never worked in live theater, so you wouldn't understand that. But maybe we have been insensitive. Correction,
I've
been insensitive." He looked at Emily. "If you don't want us to come, we won't. Say the word."

Emily reached through her self-doubt and grabbed her pride. "No. It's fine. Really. I'd, uh, like you to come." She had nothing to be ashamed of. Least of all her play. "I didn't mean to sound... inhospitable."

"It is settled then." Gina looked smugly pleased when she tossed a look in Emily's direction. "Now tell me,
cara,
what does one wear to an opening night on... where are we again, Paul?"

"Gina!" He spoke the name with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, yes, Salt Spring Island?" She appraised Emily's outfit of jeans and a T-shirt with undisguised scorn. "I would not want to... how do you say?...
overdress
for the occasion."

Emily stiffened at the implied criticism. "Whatever you choose to wear will be fine. We're very casual on the island."

"Yes, that I see," she drawled. "Comfort before fashion,
si
?"

Emily turned her silver eyes directly to the woman across from her. This time she looked
in,
not
at,
her, and this time the comparison was not so painful. Gina's almond eyes were callous, hard, and without hesitancy. Everything about her spoke of aggressiveness, ambition, and self-concern. This was the woman Quinn had once loved, come close to marrying. A woman so different from herself—so forceful. She couldn't imagine it, but it was true. How many more people like Gina populated his world? It didn't bear thinking about. No. She was wrong. It did bear thinking about, a great deal of thinking. This was her first honest glimpse of his world. From what she could see, she'd be as much at home there as on Pluto. A curl of misery and confusion twisted through her core.

Quinn watched the exchange between the two women with dread and—interest. He couldn't help but compare them. He also couldn't help patting himself on the back for the choice he'd made. Whatever fate had brought him to this island, to Emily, he didn't know, but he'd be forever grateful. He was relieved when Emily invited Paul and Gina to her opening. She had every reason to be proud of her play. He knew Paul would love it. As for Gina... He shrugged inwardly. It simply didn't matter.

Emily's sudden rise to her feet caught him off guard. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll head home. It's been a long day, and I have a dog to see to. I'm sure the three of you have a lot of catching up to do."

"Miss Manzoni." Emily nodded in Gina's direction. "I hope you enjoy the island."

Paul stood up and took Emily's hand. "Until tomorrow then. It was nice meeting you, Emily—real nice."

Emily smiled. She liked Paul Severns. He made her a bit uneasy, but she liked him.

Quinn frowned at his friend. His voice was gruff when he spoke. "I'll walk you to your car, Emmi."

Emily looked at his stern face. He looked angry and all too anxious for her to leave. She was silent as he took her arm and walked her to the door.

"I'm sorry about tonight. I had no idea Paul would arrive today, and Gina... well she was a complete surprise. You don't mind too much, do you?" They were at her car now, and he pulled her into his arms. "I'll visit for a while and then come over to your place. We can finish what we started before the arrival of my, uh, guests." He kissed her throat, that special place under her ear, and Emily felt her senses quicken. She pushed him away.

"No. Don't do that," she said too quickly.

He gave her a puzzled look. "Why not?"

"It would be... rude. They're your friends. You can't just walk out on them."

"Only one of them is a
friend,
and he would be the first one to understand. Give me an hour and I'll be over." He was holding her loosely about the waist.

"No. Please. Not tonight."

He dropped his arms to his sides.

She looked away from him.

"It's Gina, isn't it? I told you," he said. "What was between us is over."

"I know that. I can feel it." She raised sad eyes to his.

"What is it then?"

I'm beginning to feel how wrong I am for you, Quinn, and it makes my soul ache.
"I need to think, that's all. Before—"

"Before what?" he demanded.

"Before I make the worst mistake of
your
life." She looked away then. "You're so different from me. I'd forgotten how different. Meeting your friends was a reminder. You're all... so confident, so sure of yourselves, what you want, how to get it. To you, everything seems possible. Your life, your world, is so much larger than mine and so at odds with it. It makes me afraid."

"You have nothing to be afraid of. I love you. I love you enough to erase those fears. You have to believe that."

"I can't," she stated simply. "Much as I might want to, I can't."

Before he could answer her, she took his face in her hands and pulled it to her own, took his mouth as if she had a right to. She met no resistance as his lips slanted over hers. His hot tongue swept over her lips into the warmth of her mouth. Emily clung to the kiss as though it were a waking dream.

He heard her sigh his name against his lips as she pulled away and gazed up at him. "See you tomorrow." She left his arms and got into her car. Once settled, she looked back at him from the car window, her look questioning.

"You won't forget that James races tomorrow, will you?"

"Of course not." His tone was angrier than he intended, but damn it, she knew he wouldn't miss seeing James run. Certainly not on his
guests'
account. "I'll pick you up. We'll take the ferry together."

She shook her head. "I'll catch a ride with Grace and her parents. They're going over in her dad's powerboat. I'll see you there. Okay?"

She was putting him off, making distance between them. And he didn't know why. All he knew was that the evening had ended up a long way from where he'd planned. Finally he found some words. "Fine. Then I'll see you at the race."

His frustration grew as he watched her reverse up the long driveway. He felt cut loose. As though she'd silently, gently slipped his moorings. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd talk to her.