"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 all. And never had.

"You'd have the work that fulfills you, a home of your choosing. There's a charming property on Q Street I know you'd love. I think we should take a short holiday before you resume your position so we can get reacquainted, so to speak." He leaned toward her, intimately. "It's been a long year, Hope, for both of us. I'll take you anywhere you like. How about a week in Paris?"

"A week in Paris, a home in Georgetown. I'm a.s.suming some spending money to furnish it, and to outfit myself, of course, for my return to the Wickham-and you."

He lifted her hand to his lips-a habit she'd once loved-smiled at her over it. "As I said, I'll take care of you."

"And what does your wife think about your generous offer?"

"Don't worry about Sheridan. We'll be discreet, and she'll adjust." She watched him shrug marriage, vows, fidelity away in a smooth and careless gesture. "You can't be happy here, Hope. I'll make sure you're happy."

She took a moment, almost surprised she had room for the enormity of the insult. Then equally surprised her voice stayed calm and level when the insult clawed at her to shriek.

"Let me explain something to you. I'm responsible for my own happiness. I don't need you, or your incredibly insulting-to me and your wife-offer. I don't need your father or the Wickham. I have a life. Do you think I put that life on hold because you used me and discarded me?"

"I think you're settling for less than you can have, less than you deserve. I apologize, sincerely, for hurting you, but-"

"Hurting me? You freed me." She shoved to her feet. Calm and level were done. "You gave me a h.e.l.l of a rude shove, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but you pushed me hard enough to make me reevaluate. I was settling, for you. Now this is my home." She threw a hand up toward the porches-thought for a moment she saw a shadow of a woman. "A home I love, can be proud of. I have a community I enjoy, friends I treasure. Come back to you? To you when I have-"

She couldn't say what made her do it. Impulse, unspeakable fury, pride. But she saw Ryder crossing the lot, and went with it.

"Him. Ryder!" She dashed through the arch of wisteria when he stopped, frowned at her. She imagined the smile on her face showed edges of insanity. She didn't care.

"Go with me on this," she muttered as she rushed to him, "and I'll owe you big."

"What-"

She threw her arms around him, pressed her lips to his as D.A. wagged and tried to nose between them to get in on the action. "Go with me," she said against him mouth. "Please!"

She didn't leave him a lot of room for otherwise as she was plastered against him like a second skin. So he went with her. He fisted his hand in her hair, and went.

She lost track of the point for a moment. He smelled of sawdust, tasted like candy. Hot, melted candy. A little unsteady on her feet, she pulled back.

"Just follow my lead."

"Wasn't I?"

"Ryder." She took his hand in hers, squeezed it as she turned. "Ryder Montgomery, I'd like you to meet Jonathan Wickham. Jonathan's family owns the hotel in Georgetown where I used to work."

"Oh, yeah." Okay, now he got it. Sure, he could play the part, no problem. He slid an arm around Hope's waist, felt her tremble. "How's it going?"

"Well, thank you." Jonathan gave the dog a single cautious glance. "Hope was showing me around your inn."

"It's as much hers as ours. Your loss, right? Our gain."

"Apparently." His gaze skimmed over Ryder's work clothes. "I take it you do the construction work yourself."

"That's right. We're hands-on." He grinned when he said it, tugged Hope a little closer. "Looking for a room?"

"No." Annoyance sparked in Jonathan's eyes even as he smiled-tightly. "Just visiting an old friend. It's good to see you again, Hope. If you change your mind about the offer, you know how to reach me."

"I won't. My best to your parents, and your wife."

"Montgomery," he said with a nod, and walked to his Mercedes.

Hope kept the smile on her face until he'd pulled out, driven away.

"Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d." She broke away, strode back into The Courtyard, circled around it. "Oh my G.o.d."

Ryder thought of Vesta-homey smells, happy kids, no problems, no drama. He cast his eyes at the sky and followed her into The Courtyard.

CHAPTER FIVE

HE KNEW BETTER THAN TO TELL HER TO SIT DOWN OR calm down. No man really understood women, but he thought he had a reasonable handle on the species.

So he sat, figuring it might take a while while she circled the pavers. Since she wore one of those thin summer dresses, he couldn't fault the view.

And he sat while his dog crawled under the table as if seeking cover from the fallout. But it was freaking hot, and added to it she had enough steam pumping off her to boil a bucket of lobsters.

Might as well get her started on it, Ryder decided.

"Okay, what's the deal?"

"The deal?"

When she swung around, the skirt of the dress floated up and around long, bare legs.

No, he couldn't fault the view.

"The deal?" she repeated, with those dark chocolate eyes of hers shooting out bullets of fury. "Oh, he wanted to make me a deal all right, the slimy b.a.s.t.a.r.d."