Free The Perfect Hope by Nora Roberts

stepped out. “It’s a lovely place, especially in good weather, to sit and have a drink.”
    “The view’s lacking,” he commented, looking over the pretty garden wall and across the lot to the green building.
    “It won’t be. That building’s currently being rehabbed by the Montgomery family.”
    “A busy bunch. At least sit down for a moment. I wouldn’t mind that drink.”
    Hospitality, Hope reminded herself. No matter who. “All right. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    She walked back inside, deliberately unclenched her jaw. He could send business to the inn, she reminded herself. Guests and clients looking for an out-of-the-way place, well-run, beautifully appointed.
    Whatever her personal feelings, she couldn’t deny Jonathan knew the hospitality business.
    She’d do her job and be gracious.
    She poured him tea over ice, added a small plate of cookies. And because it was gracious, poured a glass for herself.
    He was seated at one of the umbrella tables when she carried the tray out.
    “I’m surprised you didn’t bring your wife. I hope she’s well.” There, Hope congratulated herself. That didn’t choke her.
    “Very, thanks. She had a committee meeting today, and some shopping to do. You must miss Georgetown—the shops, the nightlife. You can’t find that here.”
    “Actually, I’m very at home here. Very happy here.”
    He gave her a smile, with just a hint of sympathy. One that said clearly he believed she lied to save face.
    She imagined herself flicking her fingers in
his
face to erase it. But that wouldn’t be gracious.
    “It’s hard to believe, a woman with your drive, your tastes, settling into a little country town. And running a little B&B, however charming, after managing the Wickham. I assume you live right here, on the property.”
    “Yes, I have an apartment on the third floor.”
    “When I think of your beautiful town house . . .” He shook his head, and there was that trace of sympathy again. “I feel partially responsible for all these changes you’ve been through. Looking back, I realize I could have—and should have—handled things better than I did.”
    Graciousness had its limits. She’d reached hers. “Do you mean sleeping with me, allowing me to believe we were in a long-term monogamous relationship, then announcing your engagement to someone else? Oh, and telling me of that someone else just after we’d had sex?” She took a sip of tea. “Yes, you should have handled that better.”
    “If we’re honest, I never made promises.”
    “No, you implied them, so that interpretation is on me. I accept it.” Under the shade of the umbrella, she studied him. Yes, he looked the same. Smooth, polished, confident. His confidence had once been so appealing to her. Now it struck as arrogance and appealed not at all.
    “Is this why you came here, Jonathan? To settle accounts with me?”
    “To, I hope, make it right.” Sincerity lived in his eyes as he laid a hand over hers. “We parted at odds, Hope, and that bothers me, a lot.”
    “Don’t give it a thought.”
    “I do, and I’m here to bridge that gap between us. And to offer you your position back. My father’s prepared to make you a very generous offer. As I said, Hope, you’re missed.”
    Eyes level, she slid her hand away. “I have a position.”
    “A very generous offer,” Jonathan repeated. “Back where we all know you belong. We’d like to schedule a meeting with you, at your convenience, to work out the details. You could come back, Hope, to Georgetown, to the Wickham, to your life. And, to me.”
    He put his hand over hers again when she said nothing. “My marriage is what it is, and will continue to be. But you and I . . . I miss what we had. We can have it again. I’d take very good care of you.”
    “You’d take care of me.” Each word dropped from her lips like a stone.
    “You wouldn’t want for anything.”
    He continued, oh, that confidence—proving he didn’t know her at