Future Perfect (12 page)

He gave Firebrand his head, and the bigger horse charged forward, catching up with Captain so that the two horses crossed the imaginary finish line neck and neck.

Juliana’s cheeks were flushed from the hard ride, and she reined in Captain, bringing him back to where Webster’s hat lay on the ground. She slipped easily from the saddle and picked it up. The leather was smooth and worn and stained from sweat and rain.

She turned around to find Webster standing right behind her. He took his hat from her hands and slipped it onto her head.

“You’re a good rider,” he said.

“You’re a better one,” she said, pushing the hat brim back to look up at him. “You could’ve beat me by a length or more.”

Webster shrugged. “Maybe if I knew the horse better—or the field. But maybe not.”

Another man might’ve made sure he’d won at all costs, Juliana realized. Another man might’ve ignored the possible risk of injury to himself, the horse or the other rider.

“Besides—” Webster grinned, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him, “—I didn’t have to win to get the prize.”

He bent down to kiss her and found her lips waiting for him. He tried to control his desire, afraid to come on too strong, but the feel of her body, so warm and supple against his, made him burn. He could feel her hands in his hair. This woman drove him wild. Her lips were soft, so soft, and he kissed her again and again, each time deeper and harder. He couldn’t stop.

He felt her hands move around his waist. Somehow she’d taken off her gloves, and she slipped her hands up underneath his T-shirt, against the bare skin of his back. The explosion of pleasure was so intense that for one frightening moment he thought he’d totally lost control.

Then somehow, someway, they were on the ground, and he was between her legs, pressing his hardness against her. But it was through too many layers of jeans. He wanted all of her. He wanted to be inside her. But they both had on way too many clothes. Feverishly, he found the snaps of her jacket and yanked it open, running his hands over her breasts. But she wore a heavy sweater and another shirt under that. He had to touch
her skin. He grabbed her shirt, pulling the tail out of her jeans. The feel of the soft, warm skin of her belly against his fingers made him groan. He jerked open the button of her jeans and wrenched down the zipper, thinking, God, he had to get these clothes off her—

But then her slim, cold fingers were on his hands. “No, Webster. Please don’t,” she breathed, pulling her mouth away from his. “Not like this, not here, not yet.”

He swore, angry with himself as he pulled away from her. “What was I doing?” he said. “Juliana, I’m sorry.” He threw himself down in the grass, on his back, next to her. And as he stared at the steel-gray sky, one arm up across his forehead, it started to snow.

He looked over at her, pulling his arm away from his face, reaching out to touch her leg, his blue eyes dark with worry. “Are you all right?”

Juliana’s hands were shaking as she finished buttoning her jacket. She looked so young and vulnerable, her hair floating around her face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

She reached out then and touched his face. “
I’m sorry
,” she said. “I don’t want to come across as some kind of tease. But I’m … just not ready yet. It’s too much for me, Web.”

He sat up, pulling her toward him, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close, feeling her heart beating next to his.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, watching snowflakes land on her beautiful face and hair. “We’ll take it slowly. That’s fine.”

And the funny thing was, it
was
fine. Although he still wanted her, he was happy just to hold her in his arms. Hell, he would have been happy to sit across a table
from her and simply look at her. God, he was incredibly happy.

But why? he suddenly wondered. If his feelings for Juliana were based on lust, as he’d been trying to convince himself they were, he had every right to be terrifically unhappy right now. If all he really wanted was to make love to her, then after coming so close, he should be lying here weeping, instead of grinning like the village idiot.

Juliana sighed and reached up to touch his face again, pulling his mouth down to hers.

Shut up
, Webster ordered himself as he kissed her gently.
Stop thinking. Stop trying to analyze. Just be happy
.

Juliana sat at one end of the big dinner table, with Webster on her left. Alicia had prepared a delicate, sautéd chicken dish, and the five friendly nuns were carefully writing down the recipe.

She looked up to find Web watching her. He was wearing his Victorian costume and looked every inch the proper gentleman—except for his eyes. The flame she could see when he looked at her was something no Victorian gentleman would have allowed a Victorian lady to see. But she was not a Victorian lady. She was a modern woman. And a modern woman wouldn’t be alarmed by desire in a man’s eyes. On the contrary.

As she looked back at him, his eyes moved from her face to rest briefly on the low-cut neckline of her gown.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Web said softly, his voice husky as he met her eyes again.

“Yes, and thank you, Mr. Donovan,” she murmured.

In a sudden vivid memory, Juliana remembered the way he’d kissed her that afternoon. She remembered the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth against hers. Sweet heavens, if she hadn’t stopped him, he would have made love to her right there in that field.

He reached out now and touched her lightly on the
hand, and she looked up, startled, into his deep blue eyes. He smiled, and motioned with his head down toward Alicia, who was watching her with a patient smile.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Juliana asked.

“I asked if you and Mr. Donovan enjoyed your ride this afternoon,” Alicia said.

Her aunt, along with the five sisters, were looking at her. They must know, Juliana thought, resisting the urge to laugh. Surely they could tell just from looking that she and Webster had spent more time off of their horses than on them. Still, she gathered herself together, and with a poise that was well-practiced, she smiled coolly.

“It was lovely, thank you,” she said, “The first snowfall is always … special, and the cold air made the ride invigorating. It was very nice. Don’t you agree, Mr. Donovan?”

Alicia watched her niece carefully, but the young woman’s earlier distractedness was the only sign she’d given that something was going on between her and Webster Donovan. And the look Juliana now gave the man was nothing out of the ordinary; she was polite, almost to the point of being aloof, her eyebrow slightly raised as she waited for him to answer her question.

It was Webster Donovan’s reaction to Juliana’s question that made Alicia hopeful. He couldn’t seem to find his voice at first, and when he did speak, he couldn’t keep a certain quiet intimacy from his tone. “It was very nice, Miss Anderson,” he said. “I’d love to do it again sometime soon.”

Juliana stood up then to get the wine bottle from the sideboard, but not before her aunt saw the first tinges of pink touch her pretty cheeks.

Alicia smiled. Bingo.

*   *   *

Late Monday morning, after the nuns departed, Alicia let Juliana finish up the dishes while she went upstairs to start cleaning the guest rooms.

As she was coming up the stairs to the landing on the second floor, Webster was coming down from the third floor.

From Juliana’s apartment.

He was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, and his clothes were stained with perspiration. Obviously, he’d been using Juliana’s newfangled workout equipment.

He smiled at Alicia easily.

“How’s the writing going?” she asked.

He nodded. “Okay. I wrote all day yesterday. I actually finished the first two chapters. First draft, of course,” he added hastily.

“Of course,” Alicia said.

She stood there looking at him for a moment. He returned her gaze patiently, as if it was obvious to him that she had something to say, and he was willing to wait as long as it took for her to say it.

“There’s something you ought to know,” she finally said. “About my niece.”

But he shook his head no. “If it’s important, Juliana will tell me herself,” he said.

The old woman smiled. “This is something that it wouldn’t occur to her to say,” she said, “something she might assume you already knew. And, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to tell you.”

She could see the indecision in his eyes, and she admired his loyalty to Juliana. He didn’t want to discuss her, even with her closest relative and friend.

“Just to make this totally irresistible,” she said, a glint
of humor in her blue eyes, “I should probably add that what I’d like to tell you might be able to give you a pretty accurate read on her feelings for you.”

He laughed. “You have no shame,” he said. “And I suppose I don’t either. All right, tell me.”

“Juliana and I have lived in this house for five years,” Alicia said. “In all that time, there’s only been one other person besides me that she’s invited into her apartment.” Alicia looked at him pointedly.

“Me?” he said, unable to totally believe it.

“Uh-huh.”

He shook his head. “What about that friend of hers—Liz?”

“Nope. You’re the only one.”

Alicia could see the wheels turning in the young man’s head as he realized the implications of what she had told him. She left him standing there in the hallway, smiling to himself.

Juliana caught up with Alicia in the second guest bedroom and began helping her strip the bed.

“You’re going to that shindig up at Beckwith’s this evening, right?” Alicia said, tossing the dirty laundry in the big yellow basket. “I’m assuming you won’t be home for dinner.”

“Yes,” Juliana said, looking across the bed at her aunt. “Alicia, do you want to come along? You know you’d be welcome.”

The old woman shook her head. “Not this time,” she said. “I’m taking advantage of the fact that we have no guests—besides Webster Donovan, that is—and I’ve signed up for a sunrise hike up Sleeping Giant Mountain. I’ll probably be asleep even before you get back
tonight. I’ve got to leave the house at four-thirty to get to the community center in time to make the bus. Ironic, isn’t it? Have to take a bus in order to take a hike.”

Alicia was doing this on purpose, Juliana knew. She was making herself scarce, making it easier for Juliana’s evening out with Webster to end whichever way she wanted it to. And Juliana knew exactly how she wanted the night to end. That is, if Webster was willing.

The past two nights, he’d kissed her good night, and his kisses had been sweet and tender. Yesterday evening, they’d sat on the couch in front of the fireplace for nearly two hours after everyone else had gone to bed. They’d talked softly, held each other, kissed. She’d thought maybe he would have asked her to come up to his room, but he hadn’t.

Tonight
, she thought, with a smile.

Juliana stepped out onto the porch. The evening air was almost warm, a big change, considering that two days before it had been snowing. But the snow had only been flurries. It had only been a foreshadowing of the winter that was coming, and now they were safely back in autumn.

Webster stood up, the porch swing rocking gently behind him as he walked toward her.

He wore a clean pair of jeans and a teal cotton button-down shirt underneath his denim jacket. His hair was neatly combed, and his cheeks were so smoothly shaven she had to fight the urge to touch his face.

But why fight it, she thought with a smile. The moment her fingers touched him, his eyes softened to that shade of blue she had come to know so well. He was going to kiss her.

And kiss her he did.

“Hi,” he whispered, looking down at her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

She smiled up at him. “How’d the writing go today?”

He shrugged. “Okay. I would’ve rather been with you.”

Juliana frowned teasingly. “You’re so easily distracted. How did you ever manage to write your first book?”

“It was easy,” Webster said. “And I didn’t know what the word
distraction
meant until I met you.”

His words were light, matching her teasing tone, but his eyes were serious. Juliana stood on her toes and kissed him, her hands slipping up into his thick, dark hair.

“Hey,” he said, pulling back and trying to look stern. “Stop that. It took me a long time to comb my hair. It was perfect.”

Juliana laughed. “No,
now
it’s perfect. Now it looks like you’ve been kissed. It’s very … sexy.”

Webster felt a surge of heat. “You’re the one who’s sexy,” he said softly, his eyes sweeping her body.

She was dressed almost identically to him in blue jeans and a denim jacket. But her jeans hugged her curves and the slender lengths of her legs. She did look outrageously sexy, particularly since it had been days since he’d seen her wear anything but her long, Victorian skirts. She wore the same black tank top she’d worn that night at Red’s bar, and he couldn’t wait for her to take off her jacket so he could touch the smooth skin of her arms and shoulders. To top it all off, her beautiful hair was loose around her face. It gleamed in the light from the porch lamp.

She seemed embarrassed, though, and he mentally
cursed himself. He was supposed to give her time and space, not constantly remind her that she drove him crazy with longing.

“Did you remember your bathing suit?” she asked.

He smiled. “I’m wearing it under my jeans,” he said. “Do they really have an indoor pool?”

“They really do,” Juliana said, hoisting a backpack onto one shoulder. “I packed us some towels.”

Down in the driveway, Webster headed for his car, but she stopped him.

“Let’s walk,” she said. “It’s only about a mile, and this way, we don’t have to pick a designated driver.”

Webster smiled. “Okay with me.”

As they walked down the long, straight road that led to Sam and Liz’s modern house, dry leaves crunched under their feet. The evening air was still, and smelled like autumn. Web took a deep breath. He liked it here in the country. He really did.