Their aunt owned her own company—a brokerage of some sort. She’d taken Harrison on as a special project when he was a handful of teenaged craziness, seen him through law school, and offered him a job. On top of that, she and Harrison had spent many summer days slaving away on the dairy farm, and she’d lifted just as many hay bales, delivered as many calves, and hauled as many buckets of milk as he had. To think he’d held on to any level of sexism disappointed her to no end.
He wasn’t cowed by her censure. “Actually, you do need a husband—if you want to become CEO.”
“You’re certifiable.”
He cocked his head. “If you get married, your husband gets an equal vote in who becomes CEO.”
Her thrumming anger stilled like the waters of Galilee. “Are you kidding me right now?” She could remember seeing the heading for the marriage section of the will, but had scanned over the top of it because neither she nor her sisters were married. Was it possible that the answer had been right there on the page this whole time and she’d missed it? She held her breath for a miracle.
“I’m not kidding.”
The smell of lilac perfume invaded their space as a group of women passed on their way to the powder room. Kenzi leaned over the table and spoke in hushed tones, not quite daring to shine the harsh light of day on that molecule of hope for fear it would disappear under scrutiny. “Two votes for me would mean a tie.”
Harrison nodded slowly. “And the deciding vote would transfer to the executive committee.”
Kensington pressed her fist to her lips as her mind raced. “There are five members—so, no tie. Raquel would do her best to woo the committee to her side. I’d need to be equally persuasive.” Schmoozing wasn’t her strong suit, but she would swallow her pride and do all she could to save the company her father spent his short lifetime improving, growing, and expanding.
“A marriage would also improve your image.”
“What’s wrong with my image?” She glanced down at her sensible business attire. She wasn’t a toothpick, but she wasn’t obese. She liked her curves. Her hand ran over her soft hair pulled into a low ponytail. While she might not be as stylish as some, she was neat and clean.
“Nothing, but you talk about holding the company together. A marriage would speak volumes about your ability to commit, and if your personal life is stable, then the implication is that your business life will be stable as well.”
Kenzi rolled Harrison’s points around like a lump of playdough in her head. His argument for marriage had a leg to stand on—albeit a thin, wobbly leg. Logic won out. “This is dumb. I haven’t been on a date in six months. I’m not going to get married in a week.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In general, Harrison thought highly of her, and she wasn’t too keen on changing that image by admitting that she hadn’t turned a man’s head. Of course, when would she have found the time to date while overseeing her dying father’s last wish to spend as much time as possible with his children? “It’s not like I can pull a fiancé out of thin air.”
A twinkle winked in Harrison’s amber eyes, reminding her of her aunt Pamela. “I think I can help with that.”
Kensington fell back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not sure I should trust you.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “It’s not me you should be worried about.”
“Oh? Then who should I keep my eye on?”
There went the twinkle again. “Aunt Pamela.”
Kensington shook her head, more confused than ever. “What does Aunt Pamela have to do with finding me a husband?”
“Everything.” Harrison signaled for the check, and their server appeared with a black leather folder.
“I’ve got this,” Kenzi protested.
Harrison pulled out his wallet and tucked a black card in the folder. “This just became a business lunch. It’s on BMB.”
Kenzi’s curiosity was piqued. Aunt Pamela was wildly successful and wealthy, but no one in the family knew more than fuzzy details about her business. Kensington and her sisters used to make up crazy stories—everything from piracy on the seven seas to an escort service. “What kind of business,exactly, does Aunt Pamela run?”
The server returned, and Harrison removed the credit card and stood. “Matchmaking.”
“Now I know you’re kidding me.”
Harrison shook his head and pulled out her chair so she could stand.
Kenzi’s heart thrummed with the idea that this might be the breakthrough she’d been praying for. Things weren’t exactly sunshine and daisies between her and her sisters, even though they put on a good face in front of Dad. By unspoken agreement, they’d buried their past just deep enough that they could fill his final days with peace. He deserved so much more than that, but some wounds were too deep to cover.
Still, revengemarriage? Was that a thing? She wasn’t out to get married to avenge a past hurt, but to prevent a future one. So a preventative marriage. Blech. That sounded perfectly unhealthy. Besides, she’d sworn that wild horses couldn’t drag her to the altar after what happened last time she’d attempted the long walk down a church aisle.
She lowered her voice as they made their way across the dining room. “Dating is great, but you said I needed a husband. Is she capable of finding someone to marry me in less than a week?”
“My dear cousin, Pamela excels in marriages of convenience.”
