California Man - The Author's Cut Edition

by EC Sheedy

  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."

  Quinn laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Nothing, I was just thinking that not too many months ago I felt the same way—and look at me."

  "You trying to make a point?"

  "Yeah. I am."

  "Which is?"

  "When the right woman comes along, the future is now."

  Paul grinned. "Very profound."

  At that moment, Emily came up behind Quinn, wrapped her arms around his waist, and nestled her head between his shoulder blades. She glanced up at Paul. "Can I steal my newly minted husband for a minute? I want him to meet someone special, do you mind?"

  "Take him away. Officially, the man is all yours. Besides he's going all philosophical on me."

  Lynn came up beside Emily. "Mrs. Duncan is leaving. She wants to say goodbye."

  "That's who I want you to meet, Quinn," Emily said. "Will you look after Paul, Lynn?"

  Lynn smiled in Paul's direction. "Give me an introduction and I'll be happy to."

  Emily frowned. "Didn't you meet... at my play opening? Oh—that's right—you weren't there. I'm sorry. Lynn, this is Paul Severns, Quinn's friend from Los Angeles." With that, Emily led Quinn toward Mrs. Duncan.

  Paul and Lynn smiled after them, then at each other.

  "They're going to make it, aren't they?" Paul lifted his glass in the direction of the retreating couple. He looked deeply thoughtful, almost—wistful.

  Their gazes locked briefly before Lynn followed his gesture.

  Lynn got a little wistful herself when Quinn pulled Emily close and bent his head to speak in her ear. The gesture was intimate and loving. A breeze came up from the ocean carrying Emily's quiet laughter back to where Paul and Lynn stood on the deck.

  A lump formed in Lynn's throat and her eyes misted as she contemplated the happy couple. "Oh, yes. They'll definitely make it," she whispered.

  The End

  Page forward to meet the inspiration for Bailey

  Zuke, my Rhodesian Ridgeback, was the inspiration for Bailey in California Man—which I suspect he thinks is only natural, handsome devil that he is. That’s him on the cover, too.

  Yes, I’m an unrepentant dog lover.:-). Zuke is convinced he is a person in dog's clothing.

  Page forward for a note from EC Sheedy,

  followed by an excerpt from

  Love Letters, Inc.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for buying and reading this story. I loved writing about Quinn and Emily’s romance, and I love the island where most of their story takes place. Salt Spring is an amazingly beautiful island a one hour drive and a twenty minute ferry ride from where I live. In the summer the island is filled with tourists and good times. In the off season, you’ll find quiet fields and temperate weather. You might even find romance.

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed California Man, and if you did, that you’ll watch for Man For The Morning, where the jaded and ambitious Paul Severns meets open-hearted, plain-speaking Lynn McDonald for a second time—in Paris. The way they see it, they’re definitely not meant for each other, but as is usual in the course of human events, fate has other ideas.

  Also coming is Love Letters, Inc.

  When tech writer Rosie O’Hanlon decides to earn a few extra dollars writing passionate prose for some lovelorn clients, her romantic nature gets the better of her. Not only are the letters on the steamy side, they go to the wrong guy. And when that wrong guy tracks her down, determined to put a stop to her imaginative purple prose, he brings some steam of his own.

  Available now:

  One Tough Cookie, a contemporary romance set on Spain’s magical Costa del Sol and featuring Willow, a heroine resolutely determined to be financially, emotionally, and physically independent. She wants no man—until she meets Taylor Monroe.

  Overkill, a short romantic thriller, and the first in a series of novelettes featuring the covert Raven Force, a privately funded organization working internationally against the illegal arms/drug trade. Ravens cross borders to get the job done, when no one else can.

  In Overkill
Tanner Cross is called home from the Congo with orders to kill his boss. And as if those orders aren’t insane enough, that boss is the father of the woman Tanner has loved—on the QT—for a dozen years.

  Thanks again for reading me! That you have taken the time to read my stories is appreciated more than I can say.

  Happy Reading!

  EC Sheedy

  Website: www.ecsheedy.com

  Twitter: @EC_Sheedy

  email: ecsheedy@ecsheedy.com

  Page forward for an excerpt from

  Love Letters, Inc.

  Excerpt from

  Love Letters, Inc.

  The Author's Cut Edition

  by

  EC Sheedy

  writing as Carole Dean

  Chapter 1

  "Rosaleen Fiona O'Hanlon, you're certifiable."

  Rosie grinned but didn't look away from her computer screen. "Must be bad if you're bringing the full weight of my Celtic heritage to bear, Jonesy. What's the problem?"

  "You're broke. Flatter than a cheap perm."

  "Uh-huh." Using her foot, Rosie rubbed the belly of the Irish wolfhound sprawled at her feet. He stretched and groaned his appreciation.

  "You have the income of a poet and you're spending like a Hilton."

  Rosie raised her eyebrows and scanned her modest home office, which she affectionately called Litter Hill. A Hilton wouldn't use it for shoe storage. Still, it was Rosie's and it was home. She loved it. And so did Font, the one hundred and twenty pound heap of canine currently taking up all unused floor space.

  "Well, keep it to yourself, okay?" She squinted at the screen, for now jacked up on a plastic tomato crate, and pushed her glasses up her nose. "Wouldn't want it on my head if bank stocks plummet."

  "I'm surprised your bank hasn't already," Jonesy said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "You're not taking this seriously, you know."

  "You're serious enough for both of us. And I want to get this section done before noon. Hennessy's coming by with more projects." She shoved her hair back and off her forehead, but it did no good. Masses of screeching red hair, wildly curly, swirled around her face and brushed against her skin. Skin that was the site of an ongoing war for territory between creamy alabaster and golden freckles. For now, it being late spring, the alabaster was winning.

  A distinct "ahem" brought Rosie's attention back to her longtime friend and accountant. Resigned to a lecture, she rotated her upper body to face a still glaring Jonesy.

  "Okay, I give up. Why am I certifiable?"

  "You've lost a lot of time—and money—as a result of your surgery and convalescence. The result being these." She waved a hand over the table she'd been working on. It was piled high with unpaid bills. "As a technical writer, you work by the hour, right?"

  "Right."

  "And Moore Write wants to give you more work, right?"

  "Right again." Rosie would have nodded, but the neck brace she was wearing precluded so much as a dip of her chin. She ran her index finger between it and her itchy neck. Damn thing!

  "But instead of taking the more lucrative work to make up for lost time, you're writing love letters for the dating impaired for pennies a pop."

  "Hey, that's not fair. My clients—"

  "Humph!"

  Rosie gave her a stern look. "I repeat, my clients are not, as you so callously put it, 'dating impaired.' If they were, they wouldn't have anyone to write to, would they?"

  "Cyrano Inc. is an idea gone wrong. It's been over a month now and you have nothing to show for it. Your skills would be better employed elsewhere. Logic—and your current financial pickle—says your time should go to the highest bidder. And that, dear heart, is Moore Write Technical Inc. Economics, pure and simple." Jonesy clamped her lips firmly together and gave her a hard stare.

  Rosie frowned. Jonesy was right, but it didn't matter. Cyrano Inc. might have started on a whim, but it had turned out to be oddly fulfilling. Telling someone—anyone—they were loved and desired was a ton more interesting than writing, "If all else fails, check your power source. You may have neglected to plug in."

  And writing the letters gave her hope.

  In the hospital, she'd become acutely aware someone was missing from her bedside crowd of friends and colleagues—a very special someone. Okay, maybe it had been just post-op blues, but it had made her think about what she wanted from life. Or to be exact, who she wanted from life.

  At twenty-eight, after what seemed a lifetime of trial-and-error dating, she'd struck out. Maybe writing anonymous love letters was a bit off-the-wall, but at least her customers didn't have to check their wiring. They were already connected, which was more than could be said for her. That was about to change—and soon.

  Rosie had an agenda.

  Meet the Author

  EC Sheedy, who also writes as Carole Dean, lives in British Columbia. She is an island dweller—and loves it. Every morning she wakes to the ever changing sound and colors of the ocean outside her window. Whatever its mood, summer calm or winter storm, she finds it the perfect background for writing romance. She lives with her husband of many years and a Rhodesian Ridgeback who has convinced them both he is a person in dog's clothing.

  For more about EC Sheedy and to see some views from her window, visit EC’s webpage www.ecsheedy.com

  Or follow her on Twitter @EC_Sheedy

  To contact EC Sheedy, email: ecsheedy@ecsheedy.com

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  The Inspiration for Bailey

  A Note from EC Sheedy

  Excerpt from LOVE LETTERS, INC. by EC Sheedy

  Meet the Author