would ask first.
"I'm looking. I'd really like James to do well. It means so much to him. That kid's got focus, I can tell you." Lynn gave Emily a quick kiss on the cheek. "'Nite, Em. Have a good time tomorrow. That's an order." Lynn waved a stern finger as her parting shot.
Emily watched her walk up the beach to her house. Lynn was right about her panics and fears. She needed to follow James's lead. She needed to focus on the positive—not her fears. She needed to get over herself.
"Bailly, come on, boy. Let's go home. We've got to go home and screw my head on straight. You up for that?
His furiously wagging tail said he was.
* * *
At quarter to twelve, Emily heard Quinn's Rover pull into the driveway. A cord tensed in her stomach, and she took a deep breath. She turned back to her computer screen, finished the line of dialogue she was working on, quickly typed an idea for the next scene below it, saved her file, and turned off the computer.
She glanced out the window in time to see Quinn settle on his haunches and rub Bailly's big soft head, talking to James as he did so. James's reaction surprised her. He wasn't shy, but he was always cautious with strangers, but she could see he'd warmed to Quinn. She was about to start for the door, when she saw Quinn stand, apparently in deep conversation with James.
Suddenly James took off at a run. Then, as quickly as he started, he stopped and turned back to look at Quinn. At the boy's questioning glance, he beckoned him to come back. When he did, Quinn crouched, taking the start position for a race. He lifted one hand and pointed to the position of his feet as he explained something. James watched intently.
Curious, Emily went out and joined them. It took a couple of moments before the two even noticed her. Quinn saw her first, nodded and smiled.
"Hi," he said.
She mumbled a hi back, then looked at James, and said, "Is this for boys only, or can I watch?" Her eyes lifted to Quinn. She hadn't spent half of last night telling herself not to act like the village idiot to fail at the first hello.
"We were going over a couple of basics for the hundred-meter," he said. "I think James here is a natural runner." He rested a big male hand on the boy's shoulder.
James's face was flushed and excited. "Mr. Ramsay raced too, Emmi. Did you know that? The same race I'm going in. He said he'd help me. Didn't you, Mr. Ramsay?"
"I did," he said, "but call me Quinn, James. It'll be easier for both of us." He turned to Emily then. "He says the games are in three weeks. I'll still be here, so it should work out fine. Do you think his mother will mind?"
"Lynn? Mind? She'll be ecstatic. As a matter of fact, I talked to her about the race last night. I was going to ask you if you could help out." If I got up the courage.
"Consider it done." Quinn wondered why it made him feel good that she was going to ask him a favor. He looked at James. "Maybe I should meet your mom, though. How about it, buddy? You want to make some introductions?"
"You want to go now?" James asked.
"Why not? You don't mind, do you, Emily? I'll only be a minute."
"Go ahead. They live just behind that row of trees. I'll wait."
Quinn touched her cheek and smiled. His hand was cool, his touch light. "You'd better," he teased. "I don't intend to hike alone."
Emily watched the pair walk away. James was nearly as tall as Quinn and almost as wide through the shoulders, but he lacked the strength, the fullness of Quinn's adult masculinity.
When she turned back to the house, she touched the warmth left on her cheek by Quinn's light caress.
What could he possibly see in her?
* * *
"We could have stopped sooner, you know." Quinn's words were accompanied by a knowing grin as he watched Emily trying to stretch and bend the fatigue from her back. "Are you tired?"
"I'm fine. One hundred percent," she said.
He studied her, looked skeptical. "One hundred percent?"
Emily grimaced. "Well, maybe... sixty-five percent. But that's
"I'm looking. I'd really like James to do well. It means so much to him. That kid's got focus, I can tell you." Lynn gave Emily a quick kiss on the cheek. "'Nite, Em. Have a good time tomorrow. That's an order." Lynn waved a stern finger as her parting shot.
Emily watched her walk up the beach to her house. Lynn was right about her panics and fears. She needed to follow James's lead. She needed to focus on the positive—not her fears. She needed to get over herself.
"Bailly, come on, boy. Let's go home. We've got to go home and screw my head on straight. You up for that?
His furiously wagging tail said he was.
* * *
At quarter to twelve, Emily heard Quinn's Rover pull into the driveway. A cord tensed in her stomach, and she took a deep breath. She turned back to her computer screen, finished the line of dialogue she was working on, quickly typed an idea for the next scene below it, saved her file, and turned off the computer.
She glanced out the window in time to see Quinn settle on his haunches and rub Bailly's big soft head, talking to James as he did so. James's reaction surprised her. He wasn't shy, but he was always cautious with strangers, but she could see he'd warmed to Quinn. She was about to start for the door, when she saw Quinn stand, apparently in deep conversation with James.
Suddenly James took off at a run. Then, as quickly as he started, he stopped and turned back to look at Quinn. At the boy's questioning glance, he beckoned him to come back. When he did, Quinn crouched, taking the start position for a race. He lifted one hand and pointed to the position of his feet as he explained something. James watched intently.
Curious, Emily went out and joined them. It took a couple of moments before the two even noticed her. Quinn saw her first, nodded and smiled.
"Hi," he said.
She mumbled a hi back, then looked at James, and said, "Is this for boys only, or can I watch?" Her eyes lifted to Quinn. She hadn't spent half of last night telling herself not to act like the village idiot to fail at the first hello.
"We were going over a couple of basics for the hundred-meter," he said. "I think James here is a natural runner." He rested a big male hand on the boy's shoulder.
James's face was flushed and excited. "Mr. Ramsay raced too, Emmi. Did you know that? The same race I'm going in. He said he'd help me. Didn't you, Mr. Ramsay?"
"I did," he said, "but call me Quinn, James. It'll be easier for both of us." He turned to Emily then. "He says the games are in three weeks. I'll still be here, so it should work out fine. Do you think his mother will mind?"
"Lynn? Mind? She'll be ecstatic. As a matter of fact, I talked to her about the race last night. I was going to ask you if you could help out." If I got up the courage.
"Consider it done." Quinn wondered why it made him feel good that she was going to ask him a favor. He looked at James. "Maybe I should meet your mom, though. How about it, buddy? You want to make some introductions?"
"You want to go now?" James asked.
"Why not? You don't mind, do you, Emily? I'll only be a minute."
"Go ahead. They live just behind that row of trees. I'll wait."
Quinn touched her cheek and smiled. His hand was cool, his touch light. "You'd better," he teased. "I don't intend to hike alone."
Emily watched the pair walk away. James was nearly as tall as Quinn and almost as wide through the shoulders, but he lacked the strength, the fullness of Quinn's adult masculinity.
When she turned back to the house, she touched the warmth left on her cheek by Quinn's light caress.
What could he possibly see in her?
* * *
"We could have stopped sooner, you know." Quinn's words were accompanied by a knowing grin as he watched Emily trying to stretch and bend the fatigue from her back. "Are you tired?"
"I'm fine. One hundred percent," she said.
He studied her, looked skeptical. "One hundred percent?"
Emily grimaced. "Well, maybe... sixty-five percent. But that's
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