Heart's Secret

“Morning,” they singsonged with bright smiles.

Melanie tapped her watch, but then her gaze shifted to the tall Starbucks coffees nestled in a cup holder. She started salivating as the coffee’s distinct heady aroma kicked her caffeine addiction into gear. Melanie smiled.

“Here. Before you start drooling.” Veronica chuckled, handing over one of the cups.

Melanie mouthed the words thank you and then accepted the warm cup of coffee. Not until after she’d taken the first sip did she remember that she still had Sylvia Landon chatting away in her right ear. “Uh, yes. Yes. I did receive your letter,” she informed the spirited eighty-two-year-old. “I had planned on calling you later today since I was just about to go into a morning meeting with the staff. Can I call you in—say, one hour?” She took another sip of coffee and sighed at how quickly her foggy brain was clearing up. “Let me just get your number.” She set the coffee down and quickly jotted Sylvia’s number on a pink pad. “Great. I’ll talk to you in an hour, Mrs. Landon.”

“Now, you know better than that,” the older woman reprimanded gently. “Call me Sylvia.”

“Sylvia it is,” Melanie agreed. “Call you back in an hour.” She ended the call, and then hit a button to forward all incoming calls to voice mail.

“Sylvia Landon?” Jessica asked, surprised. “Not the one that’s married to Carlton Landon?” she asked, ruffling through her tote bag.

“The one and only,” Melanie affirmed and took another long satisfying gulp of her coffee. “God, I wish I could pipe this stuff through an IV.”

“Who’s Carlton Landon?” Veronica asked, her gaze bouncing between her cousin and aunt.

Jessica retrieved the latest copy of Forbes magazine and thrust it toward her cousin. On the cover, a picture of a stern-faced Carlton Landon stood with his arms crossed and the cover line The New King of the Mountain.

Veronica whistled. “Now that’s an attractive older man.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jessica said. “He’s also loaded.”

“Oh?”

“He’s so rich he could buy five Oprahs, three Will Smiths and still have money left over for a couple of Shaquille O’Neals.”

“Well, I ain’t mad at him.” Veronica laughed, still taking in the man’s perfectly groomed silver hair, intense dark eyes and stone-chiseled features. “I ain’t playin’. I’m really feeling this dude.”

“Wait ’til you see his grandson,” Melanie quipped and fanned herself with one hand. “Tall, caramel and handsome should be his first, second and last name.”

Veronica’s brows quirked up. “Caramel?”

“What can I say? Once they go black they don’t go back.”

“Hey!” Jessica held up her hand and gave her aunt a quick high five on that one.

Melanie added, “Sylvia Landon was also one of Grandma Harte’s first love matches.”

Jessica and Veronica’s eyes widened with that information. “Really?” As usual the cousins gobbled up any and all news about their legendary matchmaking grandma.

“That couldn’t have been an easy hook up back in those days,” Veronica concluded.

“Yeah. It’s been what—almost sixty years?” Melanie calculated in her head. “She was the best. Of course, I’m sure Grandma Harte never thought that she would be launching a business.”

“Business? You mean a family industry, don’t you?” Jessica said. “Considering that we’re the third-and fourth-generation millionaire matchmakers.”

Melanie conceded the point. The first Melanie Harte, a beautiful and unconventional woman of her time, played Cupid for the rich and lonely long before it was considered cool…and certainly before anyone realized it was a lucrative endeavor. Plus, she did it all without today’s modern technology and pricey Manhattan PR firms, Internet ads or an over-the-top reality show. Melanie Harte’s success came simply by word of mouth. Not to mention she held an astonishing marriage rate of 97 percent.

The current Melanie Harte was hot on her trail with 95 percent.

“Let’s have the meeting outside,” Melanie said, gathering up her folders and notepad. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Sounds good,” her nieces agreed.

The women moved through the immaculate and extravagant office to access the mansion’s wrap-around porch through the French doors. The salty air put an instant smile on Melanie’s face. She loved being out here, drinking in the picture-perfect post card view of pristine waters and sailboats moored in the harbor.

The generations-owned, three-storied mansion sat on two acres high on the harbor’s bluff. It had been photographed and serialized in numerous magazines and often hailed as an architectural and landscaping marvel with eye-popping gables, fifteen-foot ceilings, sunlit rooms, a conservatory, dock and boat slips, manicured lawns and a path leading to the beach and dock.

Quite simply, it was a dream house.

Once they were settled into the patio chairs, Melanie took another glance at her watch. “It’s past nine o’clock. Where’s Vincent?”

“Here I am,” Vincent announced, stepping out on the porch, coffee in hand. “Sorry I’m a little late. My wife was looking particularly sexy this morning so…well, you know how it is.” He hit them with a wink and a cheesy grin.

“TMI.” Veronica rolled her eyes and then shivered as if the thought of her brother having sex gave her the heebie jeebies.

“Amen,” Melanie and Jessica said.

Unfazed, Vincent chuckled his way over to one of the vacant whitewashed wicker chairs and plopped down. “So what have I missed?” Even though his official title was office manager, Vincent dabbled into other areas of the business’s operations. He kept the company’s books in tip-top shape and he was even known to make a couple of love matches himself—probably just to prove that he had the touch, too.

Young Jessica acted as the company’s concierge and Veronica showed a real knack for the business as an expert profiler. Melanie suspected that it was just a matter of time before Jessica started hounding her for the title of vice president—if such a title existed.

“All right. Let’s get started,” Melanie said, taking another sip of her coffee and then setting it aside.

“Melanie wheeled in a big one,” Jessica in formed Vincent.

“Oh?” Vincent’s brows jumped. “Anyone I might know?”

“Actually, yes,” Melanie informed him with a cocky smile. “Jaxon Landon.”

Vincent whistled low. “You’re kidding me.” He glanced toward Veronica and Jessica as if suspecting they were all playing a joke on him. “Midas Touch Jaxon is looking to settle down?”

“Apparently.” Melanie shook her head, hardly believing the news herself. “Unfortunately, Jaxon’s grandparents aren’t too thrilled about his choice.”

On cue her small staff blinked at her in confusion.

Melanie opened the folder on her lap and pulled out a lavender envelope and removed the matching stationery. “Let me read you the letter I received from Jaxon’s grandmother. It should explain everything.” She coughed and cleared her throat.

“Dear Melanie,

“I desperately need your help. My grandson has finally lost his mind. Yesterday, he had the nerve to inform the family that he was getting married. MARRIED! Now I know that you’re thinking that this should be exciting news, but let me tell you, dear, that it certainly is NOT! The young hussy that he wants to give our last name to is, of all things, a stripper! A STRIPPER! Trust me—my mother is rolling around, keening in her grave.

“You have to help me, Melanie. You’re my last hope in setting this boy straight. After all, it was your grandmother who was responsible for helping me find the love of my life and I’ve heard through the grapevine that your company, the Platinum Society, is doing a phenomenal job in continuing your family business of professional matchmaking. That is why I’m turning to you now. I know that you can help me. I don’t care how much it costs as long as the result is a nice, beautiful young lady with the proper upbringing and education. Someone who can calm my grandson’s rebellious side. I won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy. Jaxon likes to do things the hard way or no way at all. Simply put, he’s as stubborn as a mule—just like my husband.

“I sincerely hope that you will accept my solicitation. Again, I must stress that I am a desperate woman.

“P.S. If you do choose to help me, I must insist that you do so with discretion. Jaxon will absolutely hit the ceiling if he finds out that I’m sticking my nose into his business. But I trust that you’ll keep my secret.