Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...: Meet Mr. Prince

Darling Cornelia,

I know how much you love hyacinths. Every time you look at them, I hope you’ll think of me. All my love, Harry

Yesterday he’d sent her a nosegay of violets, the day before a huge spray of baby orchids, all with approximately the same message. All three selections were out of season and had probably cost the earth. And if she hadn’t been dealt a body blow today in the form of Greg’s news, courtesy of Harry Hunt, she’d probably be thrilled about the flowers. But she was still reeling a bit by the knowledge that Harry wouldn’t think twice about playing dirty, even when it came to her.

And why should he? Ruthless tactics had stood him well in business. Winning was all that counted. Take what you want by any means, fair or foul. That was Harry’s truth. It was the way he operated. Hadn’t he shown her just how merciless he could be when he’d threatened to disinherit his sons unless they married and gave him the grandchildren he coveted? He’d been deadly serious, too.

She was still thinking about him and trying to decide how she would deal with what he’d done about Greg when her cell phone rang. She wasn’t even surprised to see Harry’s name on the display.

“Hello, Harry,” she said.

“Hello, my dear. How are you this afternoon?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“Did you have a nice lunch with Kit?”

“How did you know I was having lunch with Kit today?”

“I have my ways.”

She heard the smile in his voice, and it hardened her resolve. “Oh, yes, I know you do.” I know all about you, Harry. You’re not fooling me for a second. “And yes, it was a very nice lunch.”

“I’m glad. You deserve everything nice. And what about the flowers? Did they arrive?”

“They did, and they’re lovely. Thank you. But you really shouldn’t send flowers every day. It’s terribly wasteful.”

“It’s not the least bit wasteful. Not when they’re for you. You’re very important to me.”

“Really,” she said.

He laughed. “Oh, Corny, I can see I have a lot of work to do to get rid of that skepticism I hear in your voice.”

“You must admit, I do have reason to doubt you. Two blonde reasons, one brunette and one redhead, to be exact.” The redhead had particularly upset Cornelia, maybe because by that time she was thoroughly disgusted with Harry’s choices. And hurt. Don’t forget hurt.

“Touché. But it’s time for you to forget about the follies of my youth. I’m a grownup now, and I finally know what I want.” His voice lowered. “And what I want is you.”

A frisson of pleasure rippled through her, even as she reminded herself that Harry had more to answer for than the follies of his youth and that she shouldn’t forget it.

“I have a great idea,” he said.

“Oh?”

“How would you like to go away for the weekend?”

“Go away?”

“Yes, you know … the two of us … somewhere romantic. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Well,” she hedged.

“We could go to Paris …”

Paris. Her favorite city in the entire world. She almost said, If I do eventually agree to marry you, I’d rather save Paris for our honeymoon. But something held her back.

“What do you say, Corny? The Eiffel Tower all lit up at night. Montmartre. Maxim’s. We could even be naughty and go to the Folies Bergère, if you so desire. And if you don’t want to go to Paris, we could go somewhere closer to home. Montreal or Quebec City. What strikes your fancy?”

They all sounded wonderful. But then, when you were as rich as Harry, everything sounded wonderful.

“Let me think about it,” she finally said. She refused to allow him to rush her into anything.

“What is there to think about? Which city you prefer? Or whether you’re going to go at all?”

“Whether I’m going to go at all.”

He sighed heavily, the sound clearly audible over the phone. “All right, Corny. Have it your way. When do you think you might have an answer for me?”

“Why do you need to know? Are you planning to ask someone else if I say no?”

He laughed. “It would serve you right if I did. But no, I’ve learned my lesson. It’s you I want. You and you alone.”

She almost said yes right then, but she bit her tongue to keep from saying it. He could just wait a few days. It wasn’t as if he had to make plane reservations or anything. Harry’s private jet was always ready and available to him, even on an hour’s notice. And a few days would give her time to plan just what she was going to say to him about his role in the matter of Greg and his new job.

After telling her he would check in with her the following day, they said goodbye. Cornelia stood there afterward holding the phone and thinking. Was she being silly? Should she just forget all this courtship business and the way he had summarily gotten rid of Greg and tell Harry yes, she’d marry him? Neither she nor Harry were spring chickens. Who knew how many years they had left? Why was she wasting even one minute of them when they could be together?

You love him, faults and all. You know you do.

Yes, she did.

Then there’s no reason not to say yes.

But there was a reason. Harry had broken her heart once. How could she be sure he wouldn’t break it again?

Now why had he done that? Zach’d had no intention of inviting Georgie to dinner, yet he’d given in to the impulse. And he had to admit that he was looking forward to having her there. Truth was, he liked her. He hadn’t thought he was going to, but she’d quickly proven herself to be not only hardworking, with good judgment, but she was smart … and he could relate to her. It also didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes.

It was kind of a shock that he had noticed. And, if he was being honest, that he’d responded to her. Until now, he’d been attracted to women who were more like Jenny: small, dark, girl-next-door types. No doubt about it. Georgie Fairchild was at the opposite end of the spectrum: tall, blonde and … sexy. Very sexy, because the sexiness wasn’t flagrant. But it was there. It certainly was there.

Still thinking about her, he walked into the kitchen to tell Fanny he was having a guest for dinner. He wondered what Fanny thought. She didn’t reveal anything of her inner thoughts when he told her, simply smiled and said, “I’ll use the good china, then.” After a moment, she added, “Will you still be joining the children for their dinner?”

“Until Miss Fairchild arrives.” Zach usually ate his dinner early, with the children, but tonight they would be fed first so he could enjoy a more relaxed evening with Georgie.

After he’d freshened up with a shower and changed into jeans, well-worn loafers and his favorite blue sweater—a shade Jenny had always teased him about, saying it matched his eyes—he went back to the family room to check on Katie and Jeremy. He found Katie there alone.

“Where’s your brother?” he asked, looking around.

She shrugged. “He got bored. I think he’s in his room.”

“What’re you doing, honey?” The television was dark, and Katie just seemed to be sitting there.