Read Online The Return of Mrs. Jones by Jessica Gilmore - Free Book Online

blazed blue as he looked at her. ‘You always did get it.’
    Lawrie held his gaze for a long moment, the room fading away. That look in his eyes. That approval. Once she’d craved it, looked for it, yearned for it. Like the perfect cup of tea at the perfect temperature. A slab of chocolate exactly the right mixture of bitter and sweet. A chip, crisp and hot and salty on the outside, smooth and fluffy as you bit down.
    Of course the only tea she drank nowadays was herbal, and she hadn’t had a chip—not even a hand-cut one—in years.
    And she didn’t need anyone’s approval.
    ‘Some of my clients own hotels,’ she said, injecting as much cool professionalism into her voice as she could. ‘I’ve seen some great examples of décor, and some fairly alarming ones too. This is really lovely, though, Jonas.’
    The approval faded, a quizzical gleam taking its place, but all he said was, ‘I’m glad you approve. Let’s hear your professional opinion on the rest of the place. This way.’
    And Jonas turned and began to walk along the polished wooden floor towards the archway that led into the main ground floor corridor.
    Lawrie heaved a sigh. Of relief, she told herself sternly. Job done—professional relationship back on track.
    So why did she feel as if the sun had just disappeared behind a very black cloud?
    Lawrie followed Jonas through the foyer and down the corridor, watching him greet both staff and guests with a smile, a quick word, a clap on the shoulder—evident master of his empire. It was odd... He used to be so unhappy here, a stranger in his own home, and now he appeared completely at ease.
    Jonas led her into the old dining room. A large, imposing space, dominated by the series of floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall matched by a parade of pillars reaching up to the high ceiling. This room too had been extensively remodelled, with a similar look and feel to the café on the seafront, all the lace and delicate china replaced with light woods and cheerful tablecloths.
    A long table ran along one end, filled with large jugs, chunky earthenware mugs and plates of small cakes and biscuits.
    ‘Wouldn’t want the guests to get hungry,’ Jonas explained as he grabbed a pair of large mugs and poured coffee from one of the jugs, automatically adding milk to them before handing one to Lawrie.
    She opened her mouth to decline but closed it as she breathed in the rich, dark aroma.
    Why had she given up coffee? she wondered as she took a cautious sip. It was delicious, and the creamy Cornish milk was a perfect companion to the bitter nectar. Two milky coffees in two days—she was slipping back into bad habits.
    The coffee was the least of it.
    Jonas carried his cup over to the nearest window, which stood slightly ajar, allowing the slight summer breeze to permeate the room with the sweet promise of fresh warmth. The breeze ruffled his dark blond hair, making him look younger, more approachable.
    Like the boy she had married. Was he still there, somewhere inside this ambitious, coolly confident man, that impetuous, eager boy?
    Lawrie had promised herself that she wouldn’t probe. The last nine years, Jonas’s life, his business... None of it was relevant. Knowing the details wouldn’t help her with her job. Or with the distance she needed to maintain between them. And yet curiosity was itching through her.
    She wandered over to the window and stood next to him, every fibre acutely aware of his proximity. Of the casual way he was leaning against the window frame. The golden hairs on the back of his tanned wrists. The undone button at his neck and the triangle of burnished skin it revealed.
    Lawrie swallowed, the hot clench at her stomach reminding her of her vulnerability, of the attraction she didn’t want to acknowledge.
    She looked out, following his line of sight as he gazed into the distance. The sea was clearly visible in the distance, calm and unruffled, the smell of it clear on the breeze. And the