“You know what she’s after, don’t you?”

“Sure. Don’t worry, Mitch, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck either. It’s obvious that Marilyn is looking for someone to help finance her political career.”

“I hear her father is a little pissed because she blew so much cash on Thornley’s campaign. They say Caldwell isn’t real eager to pump more money into another political race, even if it is his daughter who is running this time.”

“The Caldwells will come around. Eventually. They always do for Marilyn.”

Mitchell nodded. “That woman always did have a way of getting what she wanted, even when she was a little girl. Still, no politician ever has enough cash. She could use a rich husband with connections. Looks like you’re back on her radar scope.”

“I’m not interested in being married to a politician. If she doesn’t know that already, I think she’ll figure it out real quick. Marilyn is smart.”

“The two of you had something going there for a while. Maybe she figures she can relight some old flames.”

Gabe shrugged. “Whatever we had was over a long time ago.”

“Don’t count on her giving up easily.”

“Okay, I won’t count on it.”

Mitchell’s hawklike face tightened in a shrewd expression. “You know, things would be a whole lot simpler if you got married.”

Gabe gripped the railing and said nothing.

“Marilyn Thornley wouldn’t be hanging around here at suppertime if you had a wife,” Mitchell said.

Gabe looked at him. “Don’t start.”

“A man your age oughtta be married. Hell, I was married at your age.”

“Would that have been Alicia or Janine? No, wait, Alicia was number three, wasn’t she? So was it Susan? It can’t have been Trish because I’m sure you told me once that Trish was number one. Must have been Janine.”

Mitchell hammered the cane against the boards. “The point is, I was married.”

“And divorced. A couple of times, at least at that point. Two down and two more to go.”

“So I screwed up once or twice.”

“Four times in all.”

“Shoot and damn.” Mitchell’s voice went up a few decibels. “You’re supposed to learn from my mistakes.”

“Madisons never learn from their mistakes. Family tradition.”

Mitchell raised the cane and leveled it at him as if it were a rapier. “You know what your problem is? You’re going about this marriage business all wrong.”

“You’re certainly an authority on the subject.”

Mitchell snorted. “Should have known you couldn’t go after a woman the way you go after investment prospects for Madison Commercial.”

“I did manage to figure that out. That’s why I signed up with Private Arrangements.”

“What the hell kind of results do you expect from a computer?” Mitchell shot back. “I’m not saying Lillian Harte isn’t a smart lady. No such thing as a stupid Harte. And I’m not saying she doesn’t know how to run her business. But the fact is, you aren’t going to have any luck finding a wife with a computer.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a Madison, that’s why not. When it comes to women, a Madison relies on his gut, not his brain.”

“And look where it’s gotten us,” Gabe said. “Three generations of screwed-up relationships.”

“Rafe broke that jinx.” Mitchell lowered the cane with grim dignity. “I expect you to do the same, by God. But you’re gonna have to stop fooling around with Madison Commercial for a while and pay attention to what’s important.”

That did it.

Gabe felt his Madison temper flash through him with all the stunning heat of summer lightning. It crackled and flared, surging forth from the windowless vault where he kept it locked and chained in the name of establishing total control.

He released the railing and turned on Mitchell.

“Fooling around with Madison Commercial? Is that what you call what I’ve been doing all these years?Fooling around with Madison Commercial? ”

Mitchell blinked. Then the lines at the corners of his eyes creased in wary concern. “Simmer down, son. Just trying to have us a reasonable discussion here.”

“Fooling around with Madison Commercial? Is that what you call building a major venture capital company that did a few hundred million dollars’ worth of business last year?”

“Now, see here, Gabe, this isn’t what-”

“Maybe it has slipped your mind that your stock in Madison Commercial is the primary source of your retirement income.”

“Shoot and damn, this isn’t about money.”

“Not about money? All I ever heard from you when I was growing up was how Harte-Madison had been destroyed because you and Sullivan Harte went to war over a woman. How many times did you tell me how you’d been financially ruined because Claudia Banner made fools out of you and Harte? A couple of thousand, maybe?”

“What happened to Harte-Madison all those years ago has got nothing to do with this.”

“The Hartes recovered financially because they had the brains and the determination to concentrate on business. You could have done the same thing, but you didn’t, did you, Mitch? You preferred to get married. Over and over again.”

“This is your grandfather you’re dealing with here. Show some respect.”

Gabe flexed his hands at his sides. “I proved to you and the whole damn world that a Madison could be as successful as a Harte.”

“I’m not saying you haven’t been successful with Madison Commercial. But the fact that the company’s making a profit isn’t what’s important here.”

“Tell me that the next time you cash your quarterly dividend check.”

“Stop talking about money.” Mitchell whacked the cane against a post. “We’re talking about getting your priorities straight.”

“Madison Commercial is a success because I’ve had my priorities straight all along.”

“If you’d had ’em straight, you’d have been married by now. I’d have me some grandkids.”

“Don’t tell me how to run my life, Mitch.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

“And you think you’re qualified?”

The door opened.

Gabe went still. He was vaguely aware that Mitchell did the same.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Lillian said from the other side of the screen. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Gabe shoved his hand through his hair. Just what he needed.

There was nothing but acute silence from his grandfather. He wondered how he was going to take this turn of events.

Mitchell stood transfixed. He gazed at Lillian as if she were a mermaid who had just appeared at the edge of the bay.

Gabe switched his attention back to Lillian and did a quick assessment. She was dressed in the black trousers and the turquoise-slashed sweater she had worn last night. A little dressy for day wear but it just might pass, especially with Mitchell, who didn’t pay attention to the nuances of fashion. Her hair was caught up in a neat twist. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but there was nothing unusual in that. In his experience she never wore much.

With luck Mitchell would assume that Lillian had just walked over from her place to join him for breakfast.

She looked out at the two silent men with an expression of amused interest.

“Am I interrupting anything?” she asked politely.

Neither said a word.

“It’s a little chilly out there,” she said. “Why don’t you both come inside? I’m making coffee.” She turned away from the screen. “Don’t forget to bring Bryce with you,” she called over her shoulder.

Bryce collected his cup of coffee with a short, brusque “Thank you, ma’am” and went back out to the SUV.

“Bryce isn’t real keen on socializing,” Mitchell said.

Lillian sank down onto the sofa. “I can tell.”

Nonchalantly she watched Gabe where he stood at the window, his mug gripped in both hands. He had disappeared into the bedroom while she had poured coffee. When he reappeared a few minutes later he wore a dark flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his strong forearms. The neckline of a black crew-neck tee was visible at his throat. Must have been a little chilly out there on the porch, she thought.