Future Perfect

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Shall we go into the dining room?” Juliana said. “Mr. Donovan, if you would act as my escort this evening …?”

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and he covered it with his big fingers. They hung back as the guests began filing out.

  “You know this is killing me,” he murmured. He pulled her closer to his side, so that their legs were pressed together, so that her breast brushed against his arm. “Absolutely killing me.”

  Juliana smiled at him in her most Victorian fashion, but as soon as the last of the guests had left the room, she turned and kissed him fiercely. His hands pulled her against him, and she could feel his erection, even through all their layers of clothing.

  “I have an idea,” he said, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. “Tonight, after everyone’s asleep, we can sneak out of the house and drive over to Stockbridge and get a room at a motel.”

  Juliana laughed. “Webster, that’s brilliant, but I can’t just leave. What if something happens? What if someone needs me?”

  “I need you,” he said, his voice husky.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am.” She kissed him again, gently this time. “Take me in to dinner please, Mr. Donovan.”

  Webster sat on Juliana’s right at the dinner table. He was a hit, as always, with his charming manner and his flair for starting conversations that were more than mere small talk. But every time he looked at her, his eyes gave her a clear message.

  He wanted her. And even if they stood up and went upstairs right this second, it wouldn’t be soon enough for him.

  “How’s the writing coming, Mr. Donovan?” Alicia asked from the other end of the table.

  “Very well, actually,” he said. He turned to look at Juliana, his eyes lingering on her face. “As a matter of fact, I’m estimating I’ll finish my first draft before next weekend.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” Juliana enthused, just barely catching herself before she called him Webster. “I mean, that’s wonderful, Mr. Donovan.”

  As she looked up at him and saw the pride and pleasure lighting his handsome face she wished desperately that there was some way they could find some time to be alone.

  Juliana lay awake in her bed, thinking about Webster Donovan.

  She could still feel his lingering kiss good night. She could still feel his arms around her, pulling her close. She could still hear his voice, whispering her name. She could still feel the fire he could ignite deep inside her with just one word, just one look.

  Turning over, she looked at the clock. The digital numbers read 1:57. Damn. She had to get up in less than four hours. Double damn.

  How weak could her body be, she wondered. She’d spent, what? Three days, three nights with Webster? How could her body have gotten so used to him so quickly that now that she wasn’t with him, she couldn’t sleep?

  Sex sure was a funny thing, she thought, adjusting her pillow, trying to get comfortable. Five years of celibacy, and she’d been fine. No problem. Well, hardly any problem. Then, whammo, Webster comes along and suddenly she was unable to sleep.

  No fair.

  Alicia looked up from washing the dishes as Webster came into the kitchen.

  He looked like hell.

  His hair was standing straight up, as if he’d spent the entire night running his hands through it in frustration. His eyes were rimmed with red, and he hadn’t shaved. He wore his old, torn sweat pants and a faded T-shirt that had definitely seen better days.

  “You missed breakfast,” Alicia said.

  “No kidding,” he muttered, taking a mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup of steaming black coffee. He took a sip, then grabbed a dish towel from the pantry door and started drying the dishes in the rack. “I actually managed to fall asleep at quarter after five this morning. Mind if I forage?”

  “Help yourself,” she said, taking the towel out of his hands. “I’ll do that. You’re a guest, remember? For now, anyway,” she added.

  He squinted at her suspiciously. “If that’s a snide remark, I’m way too tired to understand it.”

  Alicia laughed. “Sit down, I’ll make you breakfast.”

  He brought his coffee over to the kitchen table, lowering himself into one of the chairs as he grumbled, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to break any house rules.”

  “Shoot,” Alicia said, hands on her hips. “You’re in a bear of a mood this morning.”

  Webster folded his arms on the table, then rested his head on them. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’m exhausted.”

  “You should’ve stayed in bed.”

  He turned his head to look at her. “Yeah, well, I woke up,” he said. “I started thinking about Juliana, and it was all over. No more sleep. I figure eventually I’ll just fall into a coma. Hopefully it’ll be after I finish the book.”

  “Eggs?” Alicia asked.

  He shook his head no. “You know what I’d love,” he said.

  “No, what?”

  Webster lowered his voice, looking around the kitchen conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Juliana, but … I’d really love something simple, like a bowl of Cheerios or Corn Flakes.”

  “You got it,” Alicia said, taking a cereal bowl from the cupboard and putting it on the table in front of him. She took a pitcher of milk from the refrigerator and pulled a whole collection of boxed cereal from the pantry. “Help yourself.”

  Webster poured Cheerios into his bowl, then added the milk and began to eat as Alicia finished drying the dishes. She poured herself a cup of coffee then and sat across from him at the table.

  “So when are you going to ask her?” she said.

  Webster stared blankly at her. “What?”

  Alicia smiled patiently. “When are you planning to ask Juliana to marry you?”

  His expression didn’t change.

  “You are planning to ask her, aren’t you?”

  He blinked. “Well, yeah, but how did you—”

  “You don’t believe I’d allow such carryings-on in my house if I didn’t think you two were going to get married now, do you?”

  He laughed. “Well, no, I guess—”

  “I have the perfect ring,” she said. “Unless you’ve already picked one out?”

  He shook his head. “No, actually I was planning to go to the jewelers in Stockbridge tomorrow, but I don’t even know her ring size or—”

  Alicia knocked on the table, interrupting him. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”

  She swept out of the room, but came back only a few moments later. She put a faded velvet ring box on the table in front of Webster. “Go on,” she urged him. “Open it up.”

  Slowly he picked it up and sprang the release. It was an emerald in a simple setting, with a small, twinkling diamond on either side of it. The band was gold. “It’s beautiful,” Webster said, looking up at Alicia.

  She nodded. “Juliana’s always loved this ring. She doesn’t know it, but it was mine. It was my engagement ring.”

  “What happened?” Webster asked softly.

  Alicia laughed, and only years of wisdom and acceptance kept her laugh from sounding bitter. “World War Two happened,” she said. “You see, I met Jack in London. He wanted to marry me the day after we met, but heck, I was only twenty-two years old. I was crazy about him, but marriage?” She sighed. “I returned to the States, and we corresponded for years. He finally convinced me to come back to London. I was there when Hitler invaded Poland, and the entire world hit the proverbial fan. Jack gave me this ring, asked me to marry him, then joined the Royal Air Force. We had two days together before he shipped out for training. He died in a bombing raid over Dresden, at the end of the war.”

  Webster didn’t say a word. Somehow “I’m sorry” seemed so inadequate.

  “Jack loved me the way you love my niece,” Alicia said. “It’s only fitting you give her this ring.”

  He nodded his head slightly, meeting her eyes. “Thank you, Alicia,” he said, adding, “N
ext Sunday. I’m going to ask her as soon as the guests are gone.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sunday afternoon, Webster realized he was the only one in the house. The guests were all out, not due back until dinner time, Juliana had told him. And Alicia was visiting a friend. Juliana was working out in the garden, planting bulbs in the cold ground and raking leaves.

  Ready for a break, he pulled on his jacket, about to join her outside, when he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. He went out on the landing, only to see the door to her apartment close behind her.

  He went up the stairs and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer. He knew she was in there, so he knocked harder.

  Deep within the walls of the house, the pipes groaned and banged slightly as water went through them. Juliana had turned on her shower. No wonder she didn’t hear him knocking.

  In one great, aching flash of desire, he could suddenly picture her standing under the stream of water, rubbing soap over her naked body.

  Webster pressed his forehead against the smooth wood of the door, wanting her so badly he nearly shook. He tried the knob, but it was locked, as he expected.

  But he had the key.

  Slowly he drew it out of his pocket and put it in the lock. It turned with a click and the door began to open. Then stopped.

  There was a chain lock on the door.

  Mystified, Webster stared at it. A chain lock.

  Slowly, he closed and locked the door.

  Why on earth would Juliana put on her chain lock in the middle of the day? Particularly when she knew he was the only other person in the house?

  Unless it was there to keep him out.

  Disturbed more than he let himself believe, he went back to his room.

  Monday night. It was Monday night. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday … Juliana counted them off on her fingers. Six more days until the last guest left the house.

  She sat up in her bed, turning on the light. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She wanted to be with Webster.

  Most of the guests were gone. The only people left were the honeymooners, and they tended to keep mostly to themselves. They wouldn’t notice if she crept down the stairs to Webster’s room. They probably wouldn’t notice if a tornado took the roof off the house!

  She thought of Webster. His smile was so sweet. His arms were even sweeter.

  She threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed her key. Silently, she went out the door and down the stairs to the second floor. There was a nightlight on in the hallway, and the only sound was the ticking of an antique wall clock. She crept up to Webster’s door and listened.

  Very faintly, she could hear the sound of his computer keyboard. It would start and stop, start and stop, go for long amounts of time interspersed with equally long amounts of silence. He was writing. He was in the sitting room, the room he called his office, which meant he probably wouldn’t even hear her soft knock at all.

  Juliana reached out and tried the knob. It turned. The door wasn’t locked. She opened it quietly and slipped inside, careful to lock it behind her.

  The spread had been pulled back from Webster’s bed, as if he’d made an attempt to go to sleep, but failed. There was a pile of wood by the fireplace, but the hearth was cold. Juliana’s bare feet didn’t make a sound on the hardwood floor as she walked to the sitting room door.

  Webster’s back was to her as he sat working at the computer. He wore only a pair of briefs, and the sight of all of his muscles and smooth skin made her feel a touch faint. He stared at the computer screen, arms across his chest. He sat unmoving for several long minutes, then suddenly, he cleared the screen and sprang up out of his chair. When he saw Juliana standing in the doorway, he froze.

  “You want to take a break?” she said.

  He just stared at her. “Are you real?” he finally said. “Or have I started hallucinating?”

  “I’m real.” She smiled.

  He took one step toward her. And then another. His face was troubled. “Jule, I know it might seem like I’ve been pressuring you to make love to me, but I understand. I really do. See, I know how important your reputation is to you, and I don’t want to be responsible for putting it in jeopardy.”

  She shook her head. “I’m here because I want to be. Because … I couldn’t stand it another second.”

  His arms were around her then, pulling her in to him, wrapping her up tightly. He brushed her lips with his, softly first, then harder, touching her teeth with his tongue, and suddenly something snapped.

  Juliana wasn’t sure if it was her or him or both of them, but someone’s hands had unfastened the tops of her jeans, yanking the zipper open, pushing them down around her knees. As she kicked her pants the rest of the way off, he pulled her T-shirt over her head. She wore no bra, and he groaned his pleasure as his hands touched the softness of her breasts.

  She wriggled out of his grasp, hooking her fingers in the elastic waistband of his shorts and pulling them off his long, lean body. Somehow, magically, Webster grabbed a condom from what seemed to Juliana like out of thin air, sheathing himself as she stepped out of her panties.

  He picked her up then as he kissed her again, his big hands holding her derriere. Her arms locked around his neck, her legs around his waist. She could feel him, hard and smooth, pressing against her, ready to enter her—

  “Wait!” Juliana said.

  With her in his arms like this, they were practically nose to nose, and she stared into his brilliant blue eyes. “You’re kidding,” he breathed.

  “Webster, I need to tell you that … I love you.”

  She pressed her hips down, and suddenly he was inside her. The double look of shock on his face was so intense Juliana had to laugh. But then his mouth came down on hers, and he was thrusting up into her even harder, even deeper, setting a rhythm that kept on building until it reached a wild, feverish pace.

  “Juliana, my God,” he gasped. “Now—”

  As if on cue, her body responded with an orgasm that erupted through her, wracking her with pleasure. She met his eyes, their gazes locked as he came, too. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Sweet heavens, there were guests sleeping just a few doors down!

  Every nerve in his body tingled, but Webster just stood there, holding Juliana tightly, his eyes closed as he regained his breath. Her head was against his shoulder, and he lifted her off of him with muscles that suddenly felt like gelatin. Somehow, he managed to swing her up into his arms. His knees were weak, but he carried her into the other room. Sitting down on the bed, he held her on his lap. God, he loved her.

  And she loved him.

  Juliana felt Web’s gentle hand pushing the hair back from her face, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her.

  “Say it again,” he said softly. “Please?”

  She wet her lips nervously with the tip of her tongue, then looked up into his eyes. “I love you,” she said.

  His blue eyes seemed to brim with emotion. He nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought you said.”

  “I have to go,” she whispered.

  “Stay with me. We can set the alarm for really early. You can leave before anyone else wakes up.”

  “I can’t,” she said, leaning against him, wishing desperately that she could. “I’m exhausted, Web, I need to sleep. And you know if I stay with you, we won’t sleep.”

  “What if I promise you that we won’t make love, that we will sleep?”

  Juliana laughed softly. “You know darn well that within an hour or so, I’d be begging you to break that promise.”

  Reluctantly, she stood up and stretched, then padded into the sitting room to find her clothes. Webster followed her, leaning against the door frame.

  “Let’s go riding tomorrow,” he said, watching her dress. “After breakfast.”

  She kissed him lightly on the lips. “It’s a date.”

  She walked to the door, opening it a crack and peeking out.

  “All clear?” W
ebster whispered.

  She nodded. “Good night,” she said, kissed him once more, and slipped out the door.

  “Juliana.” It was barely loud enough to hear, but she turned back. “You know I love you too,” he breathed.

  She smiled and went up the stairs.

  Finally, finally, she’d be able to sleep, Juliana thought as she opened the door to her apartment. She peeled off her clothes and crawled into bed naked, but the sheets were icy. She climbed back out and got her flannel pajamas from the closet. Pulling them on quickly, she couldn’t keep from thinking that if she were sleeping in Webster’s bed, she wouldn’t need pajamas. With the body heat he radiated, he kept the bed plenty warm.

  Back in bed, she stared up at the skylight, watching the stars twinkling in the cold sky.

  Okay. Now was when she would sleep. She had just made love with the man she adored, her body felt terrific, sated, wonderful, and exhausted, so now she could just close her eyes and sleep.

  Juliana opened her eyes a few minutes later. This was bad. This was very bad. Her bed seemed so big, so empty. She missed Webster. She wanted him beside her, holding her. Forget about the sex. It didn’t have anything to do with the sex. It had to do with loving him, with wanting him near her all the time. Day and night.

  Damn, she thought, staring at the skylight. Double damn.

  Sighing, she turned over, pounding her pillow. Well, she better get used to it. He was leaving in less than two weeks.

  With Webster on Firebrand right behind her, Juliana steered Captain carefully around one of the larger patches of mud in the steep trail that led down the mountain. But without warning, the big horse skidded, losing his footing in the wet leaves and dirt.

  As Captain tried to regain his balance, he tripped. She gave him his head, hoping he’d come out of the stumble naturally, by picking up his pace.

  Juliana held on for dear life, as they went into a staggering gallop. She could hear Webster shouting and looked up.