Future Perfect Read Online Free PDF Page A

room.
    It wasn’t long after Juliana had poured out cups of coffee and tea that the newlyweds excused themselves.
    “Shall we go into the parlor?” Juliana asked then, smiling at Mrs. Bowers and Miss May. “How does a glass of brandy sound?”
    The two older ladies exchanged a somewhat mischievous glance, then smiled coyly at Mr. Donovan. “Not tonight, dear,” Mrs. Bowers said. “Eloise and I are tired from our long drive. We thought we’d turn in early.”
    “I’d love a glass of brandy,” Webster said, sending a quick wink over to the two smiling ladies.
    Sweet heavens, it was a conspiracy, Juliana realized. It must have happened when she was in the kitchen. Webster Donovan now had her other guests working with him in some diabolical plot to get her alone.
    Change that score
, she thought. Donovan managed to come out on top, not only by handling the dinner guests graciously, but also by using the situation to his advantage. Donovan two, Anderson one. Gritting her teeth, she still managed to smile politely.
    “Then I’ll bid you good night, ladies,” she said, her voice calm as usual. She turned to Webster. “If you’ll just give me a moment to clear the table and get the glasses before I join you in the front parlor? Perhaps you wouldn’t mind stoking the fire.”
    Poor word choice. Juliana realized it the instant the words were out of her mouth.
    He nodded back at her, equally polite, but his eyes said, “I’ll stoke your fire any day, baby.”
    She fled into the kitchen. Argh! This man was going to drive her crazy. Six weeks was … sweet heavens! Forty-two days!
    It only took a few minutes to clear off the big oak table, but Juliana dawdled, taking her time. Finally she’d done as much as she could. She wasn’t dressed to wash the dishes, and she didn’t want to risk water spots on the fine blue material of her gown.
    Slowly she took two brandy snifters down from the cabinet. She almost put one back, then silently berated herself. She
wanted
to have some brandy, damn it, and it wasn’t fair that this great, huge, oversized, obviously oversexed, way too macho, male person should make her feel uncomfortable in her own house.
Double
damn it.
    Still seething, she carried the two glasses toward the front parlor. But she stopped in the doorway, looking in.
    Webster Donovan stood in front of the fireplace, arm outstretched, braced against the mantel, head bent to stare down into the glowing flames. He hadn’t heard her at the door, and his face had a soft, pensive, yearning look.
    Juliana almost didn’t go in. This was the kind of man she couldn’t defend herself from. This quiet, thoughtful,uncertain Webster could get right under her skin.
Maybe he already had
, she thought with an icy shiver of apprehension.
    But he looked up then and spotted her standing there. And the edge came back into his eyes.
    Juliana smiled, realizing at that moment that he was his own worst enemy. He wanted her—he had made that more than clear—but as long as he played the part of the worldly, sarcastic, overeager lothario, he didn’t stand a chance with her.
    “Ooh, a smile,” he said. “Be still my heart.”
    She crossed to the heavy oak sideboard and took the bottle of brandy from the cabinet. “Did you get much work done today, Mr. Donovan?” she asked politely, pouring the amber-colored liquid into the snifters. Crossing back toward the fireplace, a glass in each hand, she held one out to him.
    Juliana braced herself as he reached to take the glass from her. As she expected, he purposely let their hands touch. His fingers were warm and solid, and she staunchly ignored the quickening of her pulse.
    “I set up my computer,” he said, answering her question, “and I took about a six-hour nap.”
    Webster watched as she gracefully sat down in one of the easy chairs that faced the fireplace. She swirled the brandy in her glass, heating it with the warmth of her hand.
    Firelight played across her features as she