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.
He glanced at Juliana. Even in the darkness, her hair shone and her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. God almighty, forget the air. The reason that he liked it here so damn much had nothing to do with the wide open spaces of the farms or the fresh air. It had to do with Juliana.
He was in love with her.
He could still feel his body go into partial shock whenever he thought about it. But there was no denying what he felt. It was love.
At first he thought maybe it was a crush, but he’d had crushes on beautiful women before. And those crushes had never lasted more than a week, and certainly not as long as he’d been living at the bed and breakfast. His relationships with those women had also been shallow. He’d been content to know almost nothing about them, content merely to look at them, make love to them.
And as much as he was dying to make love to Juliana, he was also dying to get inside her head, find out what she thought, what she felt.
Last night they’d sat in front of the fire for hours. He didn’t pressure her. He didn’t try to sweet talk her into coming upstairs with him. Hell, he didn’t even try to get to second base. And he didn’t do those things because he was happy simply to sit and talk to her.
And as cynical as he was, as jaded as he was, he was forced to admit that what he felt for this woman was love. He even looked the word love up in his dictionary to double check.
“You’re so quiet tonight,” Juliana said, her soft, clear voice cutting into his thoughts. “Are you thinking about your book?”
“No,” he said. The sound of their footsteps on the road matched the sudden drumming of his heart. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know, but he wasn’t sure he could actually say the words.
Webster touched her arm. “Juliana …”
They both stopped walking. He pulled her to him, and she came willingly into his arms.
There was a sliver of moon that appeared now and then from behind the thick clouds that were rolling in from the west. The silvery light lit Juliana’s face as she looked up at him, making her look ethereal, like a wood sprite or a fairy. Her smile was enchanting, and unable to speak, he kissed her.
I love you. That’s all he had to sa
y. Three little words. Simple, right?
Wrong. He couldn’t do it.
“Juliana,” he murmured into her soft curls. “I wish you could read my mind.”
She looked up at him, eyes bright in the darkness. “Sometimes I think I almost can,” she said.
They walked the rest of the way to the Beckwiths’ holding hands.
Chapter Eleven
Liz grinned at Juliana. “So where is he?”
Juliana smiled back. “He’s out in the garage, where the band’s setting up. After we ate dinner, I made the mistake of introducing him to Marty and Hal, and between the three of them, they have a mutual-admiration society going. I excused myself when the conversation started turning into a debate about literature versus lyrics. I had to leave before they began a line-by-line critique of ‘Achy Breaky Heart.’ ”
The tiny blond woman laughed. “Well, don’t you dare skip out before I meet him. You’re going to marry this guy, Jule. I feel it in my bones.”
Juliana crossed her arms. “You know, Liz, not everybody needs to get married to live happily ever after. Take me, for example. I don’t want to get married. I have no intention of getting married, not now, not ever. How many times have I told you this?”
Liz thought for a moment. “Two million?”
“At least.”
“So what about Webster Donovan?”
“Webster Donovan is due to leave in a little less than three and a half weeks,” Juliana said. “He’ll probably come back from time to time, and I’ve got to confess I’ll look forward to his visits. But it’s not going to be permanent, Liz. So don’t set yourself up for a disappointment, okay?”
“You’ve already disappointed me, but I’ll get over it,” Liz said.
Juliana looked at her friend closely. Liz looked tired, and she shifted in her seat as if she were uncomfortable. “How are you feeling?” Juliana asked. “Lousy, huh?”
“Now the doctor’s saying three more weeks,” Liz said, rolling her eyes. “I may not make it. I hate to complain, but every time I try to sleep, this baby stomps on my sciatic nerve.”
“Let’s go into the pool,” Juliana said. “You can float for a while.”
“You don’t mind?”
Juliana smiled. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll put on my bathing suit.”
Webster wandered around the Beckwiths’ big house, searching for Juliana. There were so many famous faces around he felt as if he were in the heart of Nashville instead of a small New England town.
But it was Sam Beckwith’s thirty-fifth birthday, and since Liz was too pregnant to travel south for a party, Nashville had traveled to Sam and Liz. They had many, many good friends; that much was very clear.
Webster ran into Sam in the kitchen. The country singer was restocking a cooler with beer from the refrigerator. He wiped his right hand on his jeans before holding it out. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Webster Donovan,” Web said, giving Sam’s hand a firm shake.
“I know who you are,” Sam drawled, a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re Jule’s friend. Liz told me you were tall. She’s so tiny, she thinks anyone over five eleven’s a giant, but for once, she’s actually right. Wanna beer?”
“Thanks.” Webster took the bottle Sam held out. “You don’t happen to know where Juliana is, do you?”
Sam laughed. “Have you noticed that all the single men’ve disappeared?” he said. “That’s ’cause that lady of yours is in the swimming pool. If I were you, son, I’d get my ass down there double-time.”
Juliana. In a bathing suit …
“Which way?” Webster said.
“West wing,” Sam said, pointing. “Just follow this hall down past the greenhouse and through a set of double doors. Follow your nose after that.”
“Thanks—and happy birthday.”
Sam looked up to thank him, but Webster was already gone.
The pool was beautiful. The room was all muted southwestern colors—pinks and beiges and soft oranges. The pool itself was sparkling turquoise blue. Plants were everywhere. Webster was reminded of Juliana’s apartment.
He scanned the crowd quickly, looking for her, pulling off his shirt and boots, and stepping out of his pants. He tossed his clothes on a nearby chair.
There was a bar set up in the corner, along with tubs of beer on ice. Webster put his empty bottle in a barrel marked Recyclables, and grabbed another beer.
There was a CD player in another corner, and a man in a bright-orange bathing suit stood sifting through a pile of CDs. He looked vaguely familiar, and as he put on a song and turned away from the table, Webster got a clear look at his face, but still didn’t recognize him.
It wasn’t until the man started dancing the jitterbug that Web realized who he was. He was the handsome sheriff, the one who’d danced with Juliana at Red’s—the one who was dancing with her right now.
But Webster forgot all about being jealous as he looked at Juliana. She was wearing a bikini. It was brightly patterned with pink and blue and yellow streaks of color. The top was little more than two triangles of fabric tied on with string around her neck and around her back. Her skin was smooth and fair, and Webster felt his chest tightening. God, he wanted to touch her.
She had a beach towel tied around her waist, and as the Sheriff spun her around and around, it flared open, revealing the long, slender legs he’d dreamed about so often.
How on earth was he going to be able to have an intelligent conversation with this woman? How was he going to be able to stand next to her without pulling her into his arms and running his hands up and down her body?
Webster wondered if anyone around him realized the sweat on his upper lip wasn’t from the heat and humidity of the room. He swiped at it with the back of his hand and took another swig of his beer. She was going to come over here and expect him to be able to actually put words together into sentences. He was going to have to stand here and not touch her.
The song ended far too quickly. He was totally unprepared. And Juliana came toward him, a beautiful smile on her beautiful face, her eyes lit with pleasure, her chest still heaving from exertion. He could see the hard buds of her nipples pressing out against the fabric of her bathing suit.
“Can I have a sip of your beer?” she asked, and silently he handed her the bottle.
Web watched her drink, watched her lick her lips as she handed the bottle back to him. Her hair was still slightly damp from the pool. He wanted to touch her so badly, he was going to have to—
Juliana put her arms around his neck.
He was still holding the bottle of beer in his right hand, but his left hand snaked out around her waist so fast it was as if it had a mind of its own. His fingers traveled up and down her back, exploring her smooth, silky skin. He could feel her stomach pressing against his, her barely clad breasts against his chest. And suddenly touching her wasn’t enough. He wanted to kiss her. He had to kiss her.
“You want to dance or swim?” she asked him, smiling up into his face.
Make love, he thought. He wanted to make love.
The music playing was soft and slow. “Dance,” he managed to say.
Juliana stepped back, taking the bottle from him and putting it on a nearby table. He had that look in his eyes, she realized, that soft look that meant he wanted to kiss her. So she took his hand and led him onto the crowded area of the room reserved for dancing. Then she was in his arms again, and she pulled his head down and kissed his lips. She could feel his surprise—surprise which turned quickly to pleasure. She could also feel his restraint. He was carefully holding back.
Good thing, she thought, stifling a laugh, remembering the way he’d kissed her out in the pasture, when he hadn’t held back.
“You can read my mind,” Webster said softly, smiling down at her as they moved slowly to the music. “You knew I wanted to kiss you.”
Juliana felt the heat of his skin, the hard, smoothness of his muscular shoulders under her fingers. She l
et her hands slip down to his bare chest, and heard him take a deep, steadying breath. She smiled to herself. It was time for him to start realizing he should leave his restraint behind when they went home tonight.
“Can you read my mind?” she asked, looking into his deep-blue eyes. She pulled her hands back up around his neck, pulling her body a little bit closer to his. She moved her hips slightly, letting herself brush against him. Sweet heavens, he was already aroused.
His hands pulled her hard toward him, and she felt him like a rock against her. His eyes burned with a fire that was almost savage.
“God, I hope so,” he breathed, before his mouth came down on hers.
His tongue swept into her mouth with a passion that left her breathless.
She was aware that they were standing in the middle of a makeshift dance floor, but she didn’t stop him. He was all that she wanted. For right now, she had to remind herself. This was perfect. They were perfect together—for right now.
“Juliana, let me come to your room tonight,” Webster said when he could finally speak, still holding her tight, no longer even pretending to dance.
But she shook her head. “No.”
Oh damn, he thought. He’d done it again—pushed too far, too fast. Now what? Should he apologize, or just let it go?
“I’ll come to your room,” she said, looking up at him, her greenish eyes filled with desire. Pulling his head down again, she kissed him. The passion he tasted in that kiss was searing, igniting him with a need he couldn’t believe would ever be fulfilled.
“Do you want to go?” Juliana murmured, resting her head against his chest, listening to the wild pounding of his heart.
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t get a chance to swim yet,” she said, looking up at him, trying to hide a smile.
He laughed, a low, dangerous sound. “I don’t want to swim,” he said. He kissed her again, as if to prove his point.
By the time they’d thrown their clothes back on over their bathing suits and dug their jackets out of the pile on one of the guest rooms’ beds, it had started to rain. And as Juliana and Webster stepped out onto the porch, the gentle rain became a deluge.
Future Perfect Page 10
