Future Perfect (17 page)

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?” Webster 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.

A low branch.

Directly in front of her.

There was only enough time to do one thing.

Hit it.

She went down hard, into the mud. All the air had left her lungs, and she lay there, trying to draw in a breath. When she finally could breathe, she wished desperately that she hadn’t bothered.

Pain shot through her—great, fiery streaks of pain with each inhale and each exhale. The sensation was unmistakable. She’d cracked a rib again.

Webster touched her gently on the face, and she looked over to see him kneeling next to her, unmindful of the
thick mud. He was talking, saying something, but she couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her ears.

Damn
, she thought.
Double damn
. If she passed out now, he’d end up lugging her down to the county general hospital. All they’d do was wrap her up tight with an ace bandage like the one she already had in her underwear drawer, tell her to take a few days off, take things slow—and charge her several hundred dollars for the privilege.

Juliana closed her eyes briefly, shaking off the dizziness. When she looked back at Web, most of the roaring was gone.

“I’m okay,” she said.

His hands were in her hair, gently feeling the back of her head. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?” he asked, his face tight with concern.

Her face was very pale, and although she tried to smile at him, her mouth was tight. She was obviously hurting. “I’m okay,” she said again.

Webster ran his hands lightly down her legs and arms, checking to make sure she hadn’t broken anything in the fall. “Well,” he said lightly, trying to still his own fear. “You know I’d do damn near anything just to be with you, but spending the morning sitting in the mud is kinda low on my list.”

Juliana laughed weakly, then swore, clutching her side.

And suddenly Webster saw a clear replay of the accident in his mind—he saw Juliana hit that tree branch with enough force.… to break her ribs.

He swore then, his hands reaching for the zipper of her jacket. “Let me see—”

“I’m okay.” She pulled away from him, using the
trunk of a nearby tree to haul herself to her feet. Her face had gone yet another shade paler, and beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and upper lip. Her hands were shaking as she tried to brush the mud and wet leaves off her jeans.

“I don’t call having broken ribs okay,” Webster said.

“Cracked,” Juliana said. “They’re only cracked.”

She held out her hand for Captain, and he obediently came toward her, nuzzling her fingers as if to apologize for the spill she took.

“Yeah, well, I’ll believe that when I see the X-rays,” he said.

“I don’t need X-rays,” she said. “I’ve cracked my ribs before, I know what it feels like, and I don’t need X-rays.”

She gathered Captain’s reins and slowly began leading the horse down the trail. Walking hurt like hell, but the jostling she’d get from riding would be unbearable.
One foot in front of the other
, thought Juliana, gritting her teeth. Eventually it would stop hurting … like in a few weeks.

“Jule, wait!” Webster sprinted toward her, catching up quickly. Just as he suspected, the injury had sent her system out of whack. Her pupils were slightly dilated, her skin pale and clammy, and she shivered despite the sunlight. He peeled off his leather jacket. “Let me put this around your shoulders,” he said.

She didn’t argue, but she didn’t move, so he slipped the soft, warm jacket around her like a cape, fastening the top button at her neck.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.

“Oh, Juliana, I’m so sorry,” Webster said, reaching to draw her gently into his arms.

But she had already turned away, her attention focused on the steep, winding trail down the mountain.

Webster went back to Firebrand, quickly untied him and followed Juliana. It wasn’t until they reached the open clearing of the pasture that he was able to walk alongside her. Her eyes were wet, and she angrily kept wiping them dry with the unmuddied back of her hand.

“You know, it’s okay if you cry,” Webster said softly. “Broken ribs hurt like hell.”

“Cracked,” Juliana said tersely. “They’re only cracked, and I like to save my tears for the really important things.”

Webster shook his head, laughing slightly in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Jule. Like what?”

“Death,” Juliana said, her attention focused on the ground in front of her. “And the equivalent. This doesn’t come close.”

They were approaching the stable.

“Jule, I want to take you over to the hospital,” Webster said.

“No, thank you.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Juliana, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Juliana said, stubbornly leading Captain into the barn. “I’m not going.”

Webster eased his Miata carefully over the bumps and potholes of the gravel driveway and made a right-hand turn onto the main road.

Juliana stared at him. “Where are you going?” she
asked, knowing full well exactly where they were heading.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said.

Her eyes flashed. “Oh, what, now I don’t even have anything to say about this?”

“You were the one who didn’t want to discuss it,” Webster said, his eyes just as hot. “I wanted to talk about it—”