old were you when your parents died?" she asked.
"My mother when I was fifteen. My dad a year later—about a year before I finished high school."
"That must have been painful." Emily's parents lived in Victoria, and her one brother lived in Toronto. They were all happy, healthy, and busy. She couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them. "Where did you go, where did you live... after?"
"With my one and only aunt, my mother's sister, in San Bernardino." Quinn laughed softly. "If I was a surprise to my parents, I was the shock of a lifetime for Aunt Marion. She'd never married. To have this shy six-foot bean pole arrive on her doorstep was more than she could cope with. I've got to hand it to her, though, she did right by me."
Emily was stuck on his description of himself. "You were a bean pole, a shy bean pole?"
"I was until Aunt Marion set about, as she said, 'whipping me into shape'. She fed me enough for ten teenagers and, God bless her, got me into sports. All I wanted to do was hide out in my room, watch television, and avoid members of the opposite sex. That at all costs." He chuckled. "Back then girls scared the sh—Sorry. Girls scared me stupid. Still do occasionally." He tossed her an easy smile before going on.
"Anyway, the first athletic thing I ever did was in my last year of high school. The hundred-meter dash—the same race James is starting with. I felt like a fool. Most of the other guys had been into sports since they were four years old. The track team as a whole had been together three years. I, on the other hand, was a skeleton that breathed." He paused then, looking amused. "I had grown too fast, had no real body muscle, no developed coordination, not to mention no experience in school sports of any kind. Worse, I had no concept of competition. I was a walking disaster who morphed into a stereotype. That kid on the bench who never gets called. I suppose the only reason they let me get involved at all was I'd lost both my parents. It had to be a sympathy thing. It sure as hell wasn't skill."
Emily scanned the attractive, self-assured man across from her, shook her head, and sipped some coffee. "Hard to imagine you warming a bench."
"Believe it. My entry into sports was a full-blown nightmare, and I hated every minute of it. I was terrified to find myself in a position where I had to perform, where something was expected of me, where everybody was better than me. Up until then, I'd pretty much gone my own way. All that was ever asked of me by my parents was that I didn't make waves. The whole idea of competition, winning and losing, was foreign to me. Like I said, I hated it. Not a day went by that I didn't want to quit."
"What stopped you?"
"The track and field coach." His expression turned wry.
"He supported you?"
"He told me I couldn't do it. I couldn't win. He wanted to cut me out of a meet scheduled for the following week. Suddenly, it was critical I be in that race. Not only be in it—win it. I had to try. I was scared as hell. I had no more real belief in myself than the coach did, but I had to go for it. I knew if I didn't, I'd lose something a lot more important than the race itself." Quinn leaned back into the sofa, his smile erased by past tensions.
"And did you? Try, I mean."
"I did and I won, too. Not first place but a respectable second. I've done a lot of things since then, but none of them compare to the thrill of winning that silver." He leaned back into the sofa and stared at the empty coffee cup in his hand. "When I look back on those days, I see that race as a turning point. You might say it was the day I joined the human race. Not that it was a cakewalk from there on, but at least I was out of the shadows. Had shaken off some of those old fears."
Emily coughed. "This may sound strange but is—"
"Go ahead," he urged, watching her carefully.
"Is that shy, awkward bean pole of a boy still inside you? Do you feel him sometimes, nervous and unsure, trying to pull you
"My mother when I was fifteen. My dad a year later—about a year before I finished high school."
"That must have been painful." Emily's parents lived in Victoria, and her one brother lived in Toronto. They were all happy, healthy, and busy. She couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them. "Where did you go, where did you live... after?"
"With my one and only aunt, my mother's sister, in San Bernardino." Quinn laughed softly. "If I was a surprise to my parents, I was the shock of a lifetime for Aunt Marion. She'd never married. To have this shy six-foot bean pole arrive on her doorstep was more than she could cope with. I've got to hand it to her, though, she did right by me."
Emily was stuck on his description of himself. "You were a bean pole, a shy bean pole?"
"I was until Aunt Marion set about, as she said, 'whipping me into shape'. She fed me enough for ten teenagers and, God bless her, got me into sports. All I wanted to do was hide out in my room, watch television, and avoid members of the opposite sex. That at all costs." He chuckled. "Back then girls scared the sh—Sorry. Girls scared me stupid. Still do occasionally." He tossed her an easy smile before going on.
"Anyway, the first athletic thing I ever did was in my last year of high school. The hundred-meter dash—the same race James is starting with. I felt like a fool. Most of the other guys had been into sports since they were four years old. The track team as a whole had been together three years. I, on the other hand, was a skeleton that breathed." He paused then, looking amused. "I had grown too fast, had no real body muscle, no developed coordination, not to mention no experience in school sports of any kind. Worse, I had no concept of competition. I was a walking disaster who morphed into a stereotype. That kid on the bench who never gets called. I suppose the only reason they let me get involved at all was I'd lost both my parents. It had to be a sympathy thing. It sure as hell wasn't skill."
Emily scanned the attractive, self-assured man across from her, shook her head, and sipped some coffee. "Hard to imagine you warming a bench."
"Believe it. My entry into sports was a full-blown nightmare, and I hated every minute of it. I was terrified to find myself in a position where I had to perform, where something was expected of me, where everybody was better than me. Up until then, I'd pretty much gone my own way. All that was ever asked of me by my parents was that I didn't make waves. The whole idea of competition, winning and losing, was foreign to me. Like I said, I hated it. Not a day went by that I didn't want to quit."
"What stopped you?"
"The track and field coach." His expression turned wry.
"He supported you?"
"He told me I couldn't do it. I couldn't win. He wanted to cut me out of a meet scheduled for the following week. Suddenly, it was critical I be in that race. Not only be in it—win it. I had to try. I was scared as hell. I had no more real belief in myself than the coach did, but I had to go for it. I knew if I didn't, I'd lose something a lot more important than the race itself." Quinn leaned back into the sofa, his smile erased by past tensions.
"And did you? Try, I mean."
"I did and I won, too. Not first place but a respectable second. I've done a lot of things since then, but none of them compare to the thrill of winning that silver." He leaned back into the sofa and stared at the empty coffee cup in his hand. "When I look back on those days, I see that race as a turning point. You might say it was the day I joined the human race. Not that it was a cakewalk from there on, but at least I was out of the shadows. Had shaken off some of those old fears."
Emily coughed. "This may sound strange but is—"
"Go ahead," he urged, watching her carefully.
"Is that shy, awkward bean pole of a boy still inside you? Do you feel him sometimes, nervous and unsure, trying to pull you
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