The Perfect Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

it.
    She checked her email, smiled at the thank-you note from a previous guest, wrote a memo to fulfill an upcoming guest’s request for a bottle of champagne to surprise his parents on their visit.
    She checked reservations—a full house for the weekend—reviewed her own personal calendar.
    When the florist arrived, she took the fresh arrangements upstairs to Titania and Oberon. Though she’d already done so, she did a last check of the room to make certain everything was perfect for the new guests.
    Following habit and routine, she went into The Library, checked the lights—her daily list included checking all lights and lamps for burned-out bulbs, thank you, Ryder Montgomery. Using her phone, she emailed herself when she found one, added a directive to bring up more coffee disks for The Library’s machine.
    She continued downstairs to run the same check on The Lounge, The Lobby, The Dining Room. Then she turned into the kitchen, and had to bite back a yelp when she spotted Ryder in the kitchen helping himself to the cookies.
    “I didn’t hear you come in.” How did he move that quietly in those big, clunky boots?
    “I just got here. Good cookies.”
    “Carolee just baked them. She must still be at the market.”
    “Okay.”
    He just stood, eating his cookie, staring at her with his dog at his feet, grinning. The doggie grin led her to conclude he’d also enjoyed a cookie.
    The man had cleaned up—mostly. At least he hadn’t tracked demolition dust in with him.
    “Well. There’s one on two, and another on three.” She turned away, assuming he’d follow.
    “Anybody in the place?”
    “We have guests in W&B, but they’re out, and we have guests coming in for T&O. See, now it’s on.” She gestured toward the second wall sconce when they topped the stairs. “I was just up here, and it wasn’t.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Look, you can ask Carolee if you don’t believe me.”
    “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”
    “You act like you don’t.” Fuming a little, she walked up to three. “There! It’s off, as you can see for yourself.”
    “Yeah, I can see that.” He went over, lifted off the globe, unscrewed the bulb. “Got a fresh one?”
    “I keep some in my apartment, but it’s
not
the bulb.”
    She pulled out a key, unlocked her apartment door.
    Ryder put a hand on it before it could close in his face. He stayed out of her space, but hey, he was right here. So he pushed the door all the way open, took a look inside.
    Neat and tidy, like the rest of the place. Smelled good, too—like the rest of the place. No clutter. Not a lot of girly fuss either, and he’d expected that. A lot of pillows on the sofa, but he knew few women who wouldn’t load a couch and bed with pillows. Strong colors, a couple of plants in pots, fat candles.
    She swung out of her kitchen, stopped short so he knew he’d given her another jolt. Then she held out the new bulb.
    He strolled down, screwed it in. It burned bright.
    “It’s
not
the bulb,” Hope insisted. “I put the other in this morning.”
    “Okay.”
    D.A. sat by Ryder’s feet, eyes on The Penthouse door. His tail wagged.
    “Don’t okay me. I’m telling you, it’s—There!” Her voice held a note of triumph as the bulb went dark. “It did it again. There has to be a short, or something wrong with the wiring.”
    “No.”
    “What do you mean, no? You just saw for yourself.” As she spoke, the door to The Penthouse eased open.
    Hope barely glanced back. Then it hit her. She smelled the honeysuckle, of course, but she’d gotten so used to it. “Why would she play with the lights?”
    “How would I know?” His shoulders lifted as his thumbs hooked in his front pockets. “Maybe she’s bored. She’s been dead awhile. Or maybe she’s pissed at you.”
    “She is not. There’s no reason.” Hope started to close The Penthouse door, pushed it open instead. “There’s water running.”
    She clipped down the short hall into the big