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  Heart’s Secret

  ADRIANNE BYRD

  Heart’s Secret

  Dear Reader,

  We hope you enjoy Heart’s Secret, the first book in Arabesque’s MATCH MADE series. Over the next three months we will introduce you to The Platinum Society, an exclusive matchmaking service run by Melanie Harte—a third-generation matchmaker—for wealthy, high-profile clients.

  Discretion is the better part of romance, or so Melanie Harte believes when she sets up the rich and handsome banker Jaxon Landon with Zora Campbell, a former model who runs a successful company. Melanie has promised Jaxon’s grandmother that she will never reveal that she had a hand in getting Jaxon and Zora together. But can love last when it’s based on a little white lie? Let’s hope so.

  In the months to come, look for Heart’s Choice by Celeste O. Norfleet and Heart’s Reward by Donna Hill to find out if The Platinum Society can help lovers find their soul mates and create matches made in heaven.

  Evette Porter

  Editor

  Arabesque

  Acknowledgments

  To my dear and patient editor, Evette Porter. Your encouragement and support are never ending.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Prologue

  Sag Harbor, New York

  “We’re a love matchmaking service, not a sex matchmaking service, Mr. McElroy,” Melanie Harte said testily into the phone. “I don’t care if you have the fifty-thousand-dollar fee. I run a respectable and lawful business here. I’m not interested in becoming your pimp.”

  Click.

  Melanie jerked the phone from her ear. “How do you like that? Bastard hung up on me.” She placed the handset back into the cradle only to have it to immediately start ringing again. Exasperated, she glanced around the office. “Where in the hell is everybody?”

  Riiingg.

  “Good morning. Thank you for calling the Platinum Society. How can I help you?” Melanie Harte reached across her desk and picked up a gold pen, ready to jot down a message when she recognized the voice on the other end of the phone. “Ah, Mrs. Landon. How are you today?”

  Outside Melanie’s home office, a low buzz of chattering voices pulled her attention away from the caller. She looked up, just in time to see her two beautiful nieces, Jessica and Veronica, laughing as they strolled into the office. Five minutes late.

  “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.

  “With much love, Sylvia Landon.”

  Melanie Harte lifted her large brown eyes and smiled. “So what do you think?”

  Jessica blew out a long steady breath. “Wow.”

  After that, the continuing silence had Melanie wrinkling her button nose. “Is there a problem?”

  Veronica drew a deep breath and brushed small strands of her long black hair from her angular face. Part of being the company’s expert profiler was vetting and screening the varied mix of millionaires who so often solicited their services. Veronica didn’t like third-party matchmaking—hell, none of them did.

  “Well?” Melanie pushed.

  Veronica glanced over at her brother as if mentally asking him to jump in—and he obliged.

  Vincent cleared his throat. “It’s just that the man is already engaged. It doesn’t seem right that his grandmother is asking us to help break up a relationship in order to manipulate him into another one.”

  Melanie inhaled a startled breath. “It’s not manipulating.”

  His brows rose, while his full lips quirked up in amusement. “Oh? And what do you call it?”

  Cornered, Melanie shrugged. “I’d say that we were simply presenting him with a few more options.” She smiled at her own quick thinking.

  “You’re reaching, don’t you think?” Veronica chuckled.

  Instead of answering, Melanie glanced back down at the letter.

  Jessica waded in. “Is it just because of Sylvia Landon’s history with our company? Is that why you want to take this on?”

  Melanie responded with sincere honesty. “Yes. Besides, I already talked to Grandma Melanie about this. She thinks it’s a good idea. Not only did she introduce Sylvia to Carlton, but they are also lifelong friends.”

  “Humph!” Vincent shook his head. “I still don’t like the idea of us breaking up a relationship.”

  “We’re not going to hold a gun to the man’s head.” Melanie laughed. “If he’s truly in love then he wouldn’t be tempted by the woman we select for him.”

  “If?” Veronica asked. “You doubt he’s in love, too?”

  Melanie chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled the question. The truth of the matter was that she knew and adored Sylvia Landon and the charity work she had done for the city of New York. She also knew her rebellious grandson Jaxon Landon and she, along with probably half the female population of New York, found it hard to believe the philandering playboy was turning over a new leaf for blissful matrimony—with, of all things, a stripper.

  “Let’s just say that the jury is still out.” Her gaze darted back around the table where doubt and skepticism were clearly reflected on the faces of her small crew. “C’mon. You know the rules. I won’t do this unless we’re all in agreement.”

  “But how are you going to set him up with someone without his knowledge—and keep his grandmother’s secret?”

  “I won’t lie, it will be a challenge.” Melanie’s smile widened. “But you all know how I like a challenge—and a good secret.”

  Chapter 1

  “Zora, when are you gonna stop teasin’ and go out with a brotha?”

  Zora Campbell looked up from her script and flashed Todd Brady a smile. Though her supermodel days were behind her, it was still a boost to her ego that men continued to go out of their way to try and impress her. “C’mon, Todd. You know the rules. I don’t date men I work with.”

  “All right then. I quit,” he said, shrugging his mountainous shoulders and then spreading his LL Cool J–looking luscious lips into a wide smile. “There. That solves everything.”

  “You can’t quit. I need you.” She poked out her bottom lip and fluttered her long lashes up at him.

  Todd clutched a hand over his heart and sighed. “Ahhh. If only that was true.”

  Zora laughed at his silly antics. “It is true. You’re the best PR man in the business. Without you I would’ve just been another washed-up supermodel being a guest judge on a reality show.”

  Todd’s chest expanded with pride as he strolled confidently over to the vacant director’s chair. “Don’t be silly, Zora. You have the face of an angel and a body designed for sin. You will
never be washed-up because you’ll never go out of style.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “With you around, my ego will never be deflated.” She returned her attention to the thin script.

  “Surely you know that thing backward and forward by now. It’s our tenth infomercial.”

  “I do. I just get nervous before going on,” she admitted. “I’m always afraid that I’m going to forget something.”

  “Relax. The Zora skin-care line is flying off the shelves. As well as the hair care line, perfume and jewelry line. America can’t get enough of you.”

  “We both know this industry is fickle. There’s a thin line between can’t get enough and ‘Damn, girl. We’re starting to get sick of you.’ If you don’t believe me then go ask J. Lo and Beyoncé.”

  “I would rather we ask Oprah and Tyra.”

  “They have their fair share of haters, too,” Zora reminded him.

  “Of course they do. You’re nobody until somebody hates you.”

  “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

  “In this biz, it’s the only way to look at it.” The familiar ring of his BlackBerry interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me for a moment.” He held up a finger and then reached inside his tailored Armani jacket and pulled out his phone. “Talk to me.”

  Zora returned her attention to the ten-page script and didn’t look up until Todd was gone and the makeup artist was rushing over.

  “You’re here early this morning, Ms. Campbell.”

  “I’m always early, Beatrice. Force of habit.”

  Beatrice beamed. “I didn’t think that you’d remember my name. This is only my second time working with you.”

  “I also never forget a name.” Zora’s smile widened. She had impressed the young lady. Even that feat she counted as an accomplishment because she knew that most people expected her to be a certain way. Pretty but not too bright. It was far from the truth.