Future Perfect Read Free

until he released her. She didn’t allow her face to reveal the flurry of emotions passing through her. “Check-in’s not until two o’clock, Mr.…?” She let her voice trail off so he could fill in the missing name.
    “Donovan,” he said, and her heart sank down to her toes. “Webster Donovan.”
    Six weeks, Juliana realized. Six weeks of being harassed, of having her clothing removed piece by piece by his eyes, the way he was doing right now.
    “Do you always dress this way?” he asked.
    “I could ask the same question of you,” she replied tartly, chin up, meeting his exploring eyes almost defiantly.
    He looked down at his grubby jeans, frowning slightly, “Oh yeah,” he said, his voice apologetic. “Give me some time, and I assure you, I’ll look better.” He shot her a dangerous smile, an amused light in his eyes, and Juliana had to look away. He knew how good he looked, damn him, even splattered with grease the way he was.
    “I was expecting you last night, Mr. Donovan,” she said disapprovingly, trying hard to regain control over a conversation that was rapidly galloping away from her.
    “I was expecting to
be
here last night,” he said. “But I had car trouble. And, please, my friends call me Web.”
    “I see.” Juliana pulled an extra place setting from the neatly stacked cabinets. “As long as you’re here, Mr. Donovan—” she stressed the formal use of his full name “—why don’t you join us for breakfast?”
    “I had an Egg McMuffin in Stockbridge,” Webster said.
    “I can assure you,” Juliana said, somewhat haughtily, “fast food can’t be compared to the meals at this bed and breakfast.”
    He laughed. It was a low chuckle, a soft, sexy, lethal sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She kept her eyes carefully averted, not daring to look up into his handsome face.
    “To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’d much rather skip breakfast and get right to the bed part.”
    She did look at him then, more than slightly shocked.
    There was nothing in the tone of his voice that implied the double entendre, but his smile and his eyes were so unmistakably suggestive, his stance so masculine—
    “Your room isn’t ready,” she said abruptly, putting the dishes on the counter with a clatter. “And I have to join my guests. Please feel free to use the sitting room or the front parlor until I’ve finished breakfast.”
    And with that, she turned on her heel and went out into the dining room.
    Web stood staring, long after she had disappeared. He must be more tired than he’d thought. Why else would he be feeling so bothered by that encounter?
    Yeah, okay, so she was beautiful. Big deal. He knew more than his share of beautiful women. But he closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her body against his.
    For a moment, he’d actually believed that he’d finally met a woman he could fall in love with. For a moment, he’d actually believed that he could fall in love, that he’d even want to.
    Hell, for an earth-shattering moment, he’d even believed in love at first sight.
    He drew in a deep, shaky breath.
    Shaky?
    He frowned. He was exhausted, and the fatigue was really throwing him off center. No sir, love had nothing to do with—God, he didn’t even know her first name! Miss Anderson, she’d called herself.
    He pushed open the door to the dining room. She was sitting at the end of the table, at the far side of the room. She glanced up only briefly before she looked away, pink tingeing her fair complexion.
    Web’s chest tightened sharply just at the sight of her. He forced himself to turn away, to walk slowly out of the room. But he stopped at the doorway and looked back. She was watching him, her greenish eyes apprehensive.
    The same tight sensation gripped him as their eyes met again, and instantly he knew what was making him feel so odd. It was desire, lust, animal magnetism. He wanted her.
    And he might not have believed in love at first sight, but