back?" Her gray eyes looked at him now more directly than ever before. He knew his answer was important to her.
"Yeah, he's still there. And every once in a while, he still tells me to quit—not to try. I just don't listen. If I did, I wouldn't be here talking to you. That boy would never have walked into your bookstore. He'd never have asked you to go on a bike ride, and he wouldn't have kissed you on your doorstep. That would have been a loss, don't you think?"
Nodding silently, she dropped her gaze to his lips, let it linger there.
Quinn's breath caught momentarily in his throat. He wondered if she realized how seductive that look was. If she were any other woman, he'd have reached for her. But she was Emily and he didn't. He stood up instead. "It's getting late. For a guy who invited himself to dinner, I've overstayed my welcome."
Emily followed him to the door. There was silence between them, but it was warmer, more companionable now. She handed him his jacket.
As he pulled it on, he asked. "Are we on for tomorrow? I don't think it's going to rain."
"The hike?" she hesitated.
"Our hike," he prodded. "I wouldn't want those muscles of yours to think they've been abandoned. Say noon?" Afraid she'd say no, he felt a stir of nervousness in his stomach.
The slightest pause, then, "Noon will be fine. I'll make a lunch."
"No. Leave that to me. I'll try to charm Blanche into it."
She smiled slightly. "Which I have no doubt you'll do."
As he turned toward the door, he couldn't resist the urge to touch her. He drew her to him and lightly kissed her forehead. This time the trembling wasn't so bad. Another brief embrace and he was gone.
Brief and gentle though he was, he left her with a deep, unknown longing.
Chapter 4
After Quinn left, Emily put on a sweater and headed for the door, too unsettled to go to bed.
"Want to go for a walk, Bailly?" The click of the door pin and the word "walk" were enough to rouse the sleeping dog. In an instant the happy Ridgeback was standing expectantly at her side, tail spinning on a wriggling back end. She rubbed his velvet ears and smiled. At least she knew how to make Bailly happy.
"C'mon, then. Let's go."
The night sky over Fulford Harbour was clear now, marked by a full moon and drifting clouds. Quinn was right; it looked as if there'd be no rain tomorrow. Emily headed for the beach in front of her house. Bailly surged ahead, as excited on this walk as he'd been on the thousand before it. She marveled at his enthusiasm. Same beach, same route, same smells, yet he never tired of it.
Standing on the shoreline, she picked up a stone and threw it aimlessly into the water. Bailly watched attentively. When he figured out it wasn't a stick and that no game was in the offing, his interest waned, and he headed down the beach a few yards. Emily sat on her thinking log. She'd called it that since her first year in the house, often coming here when her writing stalled and her creative juices stopped flowing. But tonight her thoughts centered on a tall, dark, very sexy man.
She replayed the evening as if it were a videotape, kept stopping it where he said, "I'm interested in you, Emily, only you."
Unbelievable...
"Hey," Lynn, her neighbor, said from behind her. "Can you stand a bit of company?"
"Sure, but what are you doing out here?" Better Lynn's company than useless mooning over Mister Tall and Sexy.
Lynn joined her on the log. "Same as you, I guess. Getting some air."
The two women lapsed into a compatible silence, the only sound the soft tide sweeping over the stones of the beach.
"Did you want James to look after Bailly tomorrow?" Lynn asked.
She could take Bailly with her tomorrow, but she knew how much James enjoyed him. "Yes, I think so. Tell him to come by at eleven-thirty or so."
"You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"
"Ask what?"
Lynn picked up a shard of driftwood, tossed it. It fell short of the water. "Come on, Emmi. About the man having dinner
"Yeah, he's still there. And every once in a while, he still tells me to quit—not to try. I just don't listen. If I did, I wouldn't be here talking to you. That boy would never have walked into your bookstore. He'd never have asked you to go on a bike ride, and he wouldn't have kissed you on your doorstep. That would have been a loss, don't you think?"
Nodding silently, she dropped her gaze to his lips, let it linger there.
Quinn's breath caught momentarily in his throat. He wondered if she realized how seductive that look was. If she were any other woman, he'd have reached for her. But she was Emily and he didn't. He stood up instead. "It's getting late. For a guy who invited himself to dinner, I've overstayed my welcome."
Emily followed him to the door. There was silence between them, but it was warmer, more companionable now. She handed him his jacket.
As he pulled it on, he asked. "Are we on for tomorrow? I don't think it's going to rain."
"The hike?" she hesitated.
"Our hike," he prodded. "I wouldn't want those muscles of yours to think they've been abandoned. Say noon?" Afraid she'd say no, he felt a stir of nervousness in his stomach.
The slightest pause, then, "Noon will be fine. I'll make a lunch."
"No. Leave that to me. I'll try to charm Blanche into it."
She smiled slightly. "Which I have no doubt you'll do."
As he turned toward the door, he couldn't resist the urge to touch her. He drew her to him and lightly kissed her forehead. This time the trembling wasn't so bad. Another brief embrace and he was gone.
Brief and gentle though he was, he left her with a deep, unknown longing.
Chapter 4
After Quinn left, Emily put on a sweater and headed for the door, too unsettled to go to bed.
"Want to go for a walk, Bailly?" The click of the door pin and the word "walk" were enough to rouse the sleeping dog. In an instant the happy Ridgeback was standing expectantly at her side, tail spinning on a wriggling back end. She rubbed his velvet ears and smiled. At least she knew how to make Bailly happy.
"C'mon, then. Let's go."
The night sky over Fulford Harbour was clear now, marked by a full moon and drifting clouds. Quinn was right; it looked as if there'd be no rain tomorrow. Emily headed for the beach in front of her house. Bailly surged ahead, as excited on this walk as he'd been on the thousand before it. She marveled at his enthusiasm. Same beach, same route, same smells, yet he never tired of it.
Standing on the shoreline, she picked up a stone and threw it aimlessly into the water. Bailly watched attentively. When he figured out it wasn't a stick and that no game was in the offing, his interest waned, and he headed down the beach a few yards. Emily sat on her thinking log. She'd called it that since her first year in the house, often coming here when her writing stalled and her creative juices stopped flowing. But tonight her thoughts centered on a tall, dark, very sexy man.
She replayed the evening as if it were a videotape, kept stopping it where he said, "I'm interested in you, Emily, only you."
Unbelievable...
"Hey," Lynn, her neighbor, said from behind her. "Can you stand a bit of company?"
"Sure, but what are you doing out here?" Better Lynn's company than useless mooning over Mister Tall and Sexy.
Lynn joined her on the log. "Same as you, I guess. Getting some air."
The two women lapsed into a compatible silence, the only sound the soft tide sweeping over the stones of the beach.
"Did you want James to look after Bailly tomorrow?" Lynn asked.
She could take Bailly with her tomorrow, but she knew how much James enjoyed him. "Yes, I think so. Tell him to come by at eleven-thirty or so."
"You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"
"Ask what?"
Lynn picked up a shard of driftwood, tossed it. It fell short of the water. "Come on, Emmi. About the man having dinner
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