“Juliana’s getting the dining room ready,” he said, breaking the eggs into the mixing bowl.
Alicia gave Webster another long, appraising look, thinking, Juliana, huh? In the five years they’d run this guest house, Jule hadn’t allowed anyone to become familiar enough with her to call her by her first name. And since when did a guest work in the kitchen?
The door to the dining room swung open, and Juliana came into the room. Alicia watched Webster smile at her niece and saw his eyes light with the same passion she’d seen when he talked about his novel. He’s in love with her, she thought. She knew just from talking to him on the phone that the two young folks would hit it off. But, oh dear, maybe coming back early was a mistake.
Alicia turned to her niece, hoping to see the same light in her eyes as Juliana looked at the young man, but Jule had already spotted her, and was coming toward her for a welcome-home hug.
“You’re back early,” Juliana said, her face showing nothing but pleasure at seeing her great-aunt.
“How’s business?” Alicia asked.
“As usual for this time of year.” Juliana smiled. “Heavy on the weekends, light during the week.”
“Any word from our mysterious reviewer?”
Juliana shook, her head. “I don’t know, Al. We had an awful lot of return guests—Oh, the Edgewoods were here. They said to say hello. There were one or two firsttimers, but nobody really looked like a reviewer.”
“Reviewer?” Webster asked, frowning slightly.
Alicia poured herself a cup of coffee, stirring in some milk. “Once every two years, the Boston Globe does a big spread on bed and breakfasts in western Massachusetts. Usually they send a letter telling who’s coming and when they’ll arrive. We haven’t heard anything from them this year, so maybe they’re doing it differently. I always did think it was foolish of them to tip their hand that way. Of course a guest house is going to get out its best silver and polish everything up real pretty if they know a reviewer is coming. It’s the sneak attack that gets an effective review.”
Juliana smiled at her aunt. “I like being warned, I like knowing when it’s going to happen.”
Alicia laughed. “You like being sure that you’ll make your special raisin bread for the morning the reviewer’s here. You’re just as bad as the rest of ’em.”
“It’s true,” Juliana said, her smile suddenly cheeky. “A review can make or break a bed and breakfast. I’d do just about anything for a good one.”
Alicia looked up to find Webster’s eyes on Juliana, a soft look on his face. He probably hadn’t heard a single word they’d said, she realized, laughing to herself.
She looked at her niece, but Jule’s face was carefully devoid of emotion as she met Webster’s eyes. The young woman turned and serenely finished mixing the pancake batter.
“I’ll cook dinner tonight,” Alicia said suddenly.
“Alicia, you don’t have to—”
“No, I’ve made up my mind. All you have to do is show up at seven o’clock with an appetite,” the older woman said firmly. “You can take the afternoon off, go ride that horse of yours.” And take this young man with you, she added silently.
“May I come along?” Webster asked Juliana softly.
Attaboy! Alicia silently cheered him on.
“I thought you wanted to use my exercise bike,” she said.
“I’d rather go riding,” he said. “With you.”
Alicia smiled to herself. She liked this fellow. He didn’t pull his punches. She felt Juliana glance at her, and she busied herself folding the cloth napkins that were out on the kitchen table.
“All right,” Juliana said. “We’ll leave at three-thirty. But that means you’ve got to go upstairs and go to sleep—right now.”
“Deal,” he said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia saw him touch Juliana’s face lightly with his fingers before he left the room. “See you at three-thirty,” he said. “Nice meeting you, Alicia.”
“Same here,” she called back.
Alicia waited until the blush had left her niece’s cheeks.
“Nice young man,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” Juliana agreed, heating the pancake griddle.
“Seems to like you an awful lot.”
Juliana didn’t respond.
“He’s nothing at all like Dennis,” Alicia said, trying to get any kind of reaction from the younger woman.
“Thank goodness for that,” Juliana muttered.
“I taped Mr. Donovan’s book for you while I was on vacation,” Alicia said.
“You did?” Juliana looked up, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Liz lent me her copy. I’ve been dying to read it—”
“It just came out in paperback,” Alicia said. “I saw it in the airport as I was waiting for my plane. Picked it up, couldn’t put it down.”
“Is it really that good?”
“You’ll see.”
“Thanks, Alicia,” Juliana said quietly.
“Uh-huh.”
The air was crisp, the cold more biting than it should be for a late-October afternoon. Clouds hung heavily in the sky, dark gray and threatening.
Captain snorted, his warm breath white in the chill air. Juliana looked at Webster, who was riding Sam Beckwith’s horse, Firebrand, as if he had been born in the saddle. He practically had, she reminded herself.
He smiled at her, that familiar, lazy grin that could start a fire deep inside her.
She wanted him to kiss her the way he had last night. She wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted to run her fingers through his gleaming hair … Which right now was mostly hidden under a beat-up old cowboy hat he’d pulled out of the trunk of his car when they’d arrived at the stables.
With that hat, his jeans and boots, and his soft, brown calfskin jacket, he looked like a cowboy. He looked like a man able to take on any physical hardship or difficulty that came his way, a rugged outdoorsman. He didn’t look like the kind of man who could write words sensitive and poignant enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“I read your book today,” she said. She’d gone up to her room right after breakfast and listened to the tapes Alicia had made for her. She hadn’t stopped listening even for lunch.
His expression changed, and uncertainty crept into his eyes. “Oh,” he said. He squinted out over the length of the pasture, reining in Firebrand.
Juliana halted Captain next to him. “It was … not bad.”
He glanced at her and saw the teasing smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
“I loved it,” she admitted. “You know, the way you write is so natural. It’s so much like the way you talk, I’d really love it if …” Her voice trailed off.
“What?” he asked.
She looked away from him, embarrassed.
“What?” he asked again. The warm curiosity in his eyes made her realize he wouldn’t simply let it go.
“Someday, could you … read it to me?” she asked, adding softly, “I mean, not while you’re so busy, trying to write this other book, but—”
He reached over, picked up her hand, and kissed her wrist on the spot between her glove and her jacket sleeve. Juliana felt a shiver go up her spine. Captain sidled, though, and Webster let go of her hand.
“I’d love to,” he said, his voice husky as he suddenly imagined himself lying in a warm bed with Juliana. His arm would be around her, and her head would rest against his chest. Her beautiful eyes would be closed, and he would feel her breath warm against his skin. And he would read out loud to her from his own book.…
He grinned to himself. The way she had asked, she’d implied it would be an imposition, as if he wouldn’t be thrilled to read his own words to the woman that he—
He broke off his thought, suddenly terribly confused.
Juliana was stroking Captain’s neck, and when she felt his eyes on her, she looked up and smiled.
The woman that he loved. Webster was suddenly unable to breathe.
Except he didn’t believe in love. It didn’t exist.
You’re just mixed up, he tried to tell himself. You’ve mistaken simple desire for something else.
And he did desire her. That was clear. God almighty, just look at her sitting astride that horse, he thought.
Captain was eager to run, and he broke away. Juliana skillfully brought the animal back under control, and as Webster watched, the muscles in her thighs tightened underneath her jeans as she urged the horse back toward him. He wanted her long, strong legs around him like that. Damn, just thinking about it made him hard.
Yeah, he didn’t really love her. It was just his desire for her making him a little crazy. Wasn’t it?
“Race you,” Juliana said.
“Where?”
“Down and back?” Juliana motioned to the end of the field with her head.
“What do I get if I win?” he asked.
Her eyes sparkled. “What do you want?”
A hell of a question. “A kiss.”
She smiled, “Winner gets a kiss.” The smile grew broader. “Of course, that means the loser gets one, too.”
Juliana called out the count, and the horses took off, bolting at breakneck speed across the field. Webster’s hat flew off his head as the cold wind rushed past him. He let out the reins, kicking Firebrand’s sides, but still, Captain kept up.
The end of the field was approaching, and Webster pulled his horse in, slowing to turn Firebrand around, not wanting to risk injury to the horse by cutting the turn too tightly. Juliana and Captain surged past him, the lighter horse and rider needing less space to make the turn. By the time Webster finished turning, Juliana was nearly a quarter of the way back across the field.
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.
Chapter Ten
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 t
he 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.”
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