Privately, Justin thought the Old Man was too damned stubborn to die, but he didn’t tell Cornelia that. She was one of the few women he actually respected, and she genuinely cared for Harry.
Of course, he thought, she’d known Harry since they were kids. They had years of history between them.
“Justin? What’s up?” Gray spoke over a muted background of conversation and music.
“I’ve just left Cornelia’s. I think we should take the Old Man’s deal,” Justin said bluntly. “Here’s why.” With a few brief words, he told his brothers what Cornelia had told him. “I own sixty percent of the ranch and I want the rest of it. I’m not willing to chance Harry selling the other forty percent to anyone else.”
“You’re willing to let him choose your wife?” Alex’s tone was pure disbelief.
“No. Cornelia convinced me the Old Man’s heart attack might have scared him enough to believe he has to force us to marry and have kids for our own good,” Justin said. “I’m willing to tell him that’s what’s happening until we’ve had time to figure a way around this, or he realizes how crazy his demand is. But in the meantime,” Justin added, “I’ll do what’s necessary to keep him from selling the ranch. If that means looking for a wife, that’s what I’ll do.”
“He’s bluffing. He’d never sell the company,” Gray said with conviction. “Even if he does hold the controlling interest.”
Which is a damn shame, Justin thought. He and his brothers, together with Cornelia and her four daughters, all sat on the board, but even if they voted as a block, they couldn’t override Harry.
“I don’t see it happening,” J.T. agreed. “He spent his life building HuntCom. We all know the company is more important to him than anything else, especially us. I don’t believe he’d sacrifice it just to see us all married with babies.” Derision laced his words.
“We’re in the middle of a buyout,” Gray said. “There’s no way he’d consider selling the company until it’s finished, and that might be months away. He’s bluffing.”
“How can you be sure?” Alex asked. “What if you’re wrong? Do you want to chance losing everything you’ve worked for over the past eighteen years? I know I sure as hell don’t want to see the foundation shut down…or run by someone else.”
“The only baby Harry’s every cared about is HuntCom. There’s no way he won’t do what’s ultimately best for the company,” Gray said. “He always does.”
“I sure as hell hope you’re right,” Justin muttered. “Where did he get the idea it was time we all went hunting for brides?”
“A Bride Hunt,” J.T. grinned. “Sounds like one of those reality shows.”
“Yeah,” Alex put in dryly. “A really bad reality show.”
“You know this won’t work unless all of us are in,” Gray said.
“And it won’t work for any of us unless we come up with a contract that ties Harry’s hands in the future,” Justin added. “We have to make sure he can never blackmail us like this again.”
“Absolutely,” J.T. put in. “If he thinks he can manipulate us with threats, he’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”
“So we need an iron-clad contract that controls the situation.” Justin could tell from J.T. and Alex’s tones that they were considering whether to join him. He wasn’t so sure about Gray. “If all Harry threatened us with was loss of income, I’d tell him to go to hell, and walk. But I’m not willing to lose the ranch. Nor do I want to be the cause of another heart attack that might kill him. What about the rest of you?”
The brief silence that followed his question was finally broken by Alex. “If it was just money, I’d tell him to go to hell, too. But it’s not, is it?”
“It’s about the things and places he knows matter most to us.” J.T. sounded grim.
“Part of Harry’s demand was that the brides not know our identity until after we’re married. How are you going to find an eligible woman in Seattle who doesn’t know you’re rich, Justin?” Gray asked.
“I’ve been out of state for most of the last two years, plus I’ve never been as high profile as the rest of you.”
“Yeah, right,” J.T. scoffed. “There isn’t a single one of us who hasn’t had our picture in the paper or in a magazine.”
“But not as often as Harry,” Gray said thoughtfully. “He’s the public face of HuntCom. I’ve got to give the Old Man credit, he’s deflected as much publicity from us as he could.”
“True,” Justin agreed. “So, how about it, Gray? Are you in?”
“Face it, Gray,” Alex said. “Harry holds all the cards.”
“He always has.” J.T. sighed audibly.
“Okay, fine,” Gray finally said. “But the only way to tie the Old Man’s hands is by outvoting him in the boardroom. I’m not agreeing to anything without an iron-clad agreement, in writing, that he’ll transfer enough voting shares to each of us so that he can’t pull this again the next time he gets some wild hair. If we can’t back out, neither can he. Nor can he start adding on more conditions just because he feels like it. The only thing he’s ever understood is HuntCom. Once he’s no longer squarely in the driver’s seat, then I’ll start believing he’s really concerned about us passing on the family name—no matter how concerned Cornelia seemed.”
Justin rang off, dropping the cell phone onto the seat next to him. He’d never wanted to get married, let alone have a kid.
If Harry expected hearts and flowers with some sappy version of true love along with Justin’s cooperation, the Old Man was in for a rude awakening. Hell, Harry’s threats and demands were downright bizarre.
The morning after the conference call with his brothers, Justin woke early. Just before 6 a.m., he carried a mug of coffee, a writing pad and a pen out to the deck. Several streets below, sunlight sparkled on the waters of Puget Sound. An ocean freighter lumbered slowly through the deep water toward the Port of Tacoma to the south. Its ponderous size and speed made the boxy white-and-green Washington State ferry appear sprightly and swift as it neared Colman Dock on the Seattle waterfront.
Much as he loved his Idaho ranch, Justin couldn’t deny the Pacific Northwest was stunningly beautiful on this sunny July morning. He tipped his chair back, propped his bare feet on the seat of a neighboring chair, ankles crossed, and wrote a name in capital letters at the top of his potential-bride list.
Lily Spencer.
She probably never wants to see me again, he thought, remembering the Tiffany bracelet she’d returned the morning after he’d broken off their affair. The box was unopened, his note still sealed in its envelope. The messenger who brought back the items had told his secretary Lily herself had written Return To Sender in black script across the front of the envelope.
Justin had left Seattle the next day and had rarely returned over the following two years. Long days spent in punishing physical labor had exhausted his body but hadn’t stopped his mind from thinking about her. Finally, after months of pain, the ache in his chest where his heart was went numb. He figured that meant he was finally over her.
But you haven’t stopped thinking about her. You haven’t forgotten her.
He tuned out the small voice in his