Ryan put on a show of thumbing through a magazine while his brother also engaged in a bit of theater. The text with his assistant followed by what he presumed was a coded call meant to convince Ryan that Jen Carlton was on board with them having lunch together was quite entertaining.

He’d expected John to try to duck out of spending time with him, which explained why he showed up unannounced. What difference did it make when his brother put zero effort into anything except Lloyd Global? The man had a classic case of type A personality—a fact that did not sit well with Ryan. As far as he was concerned, it was high time his big brother slowed the hell down and smelled the flowers before life completely passed him by.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the phone return to its cradle and John’s hesitation. Totally a knee-jerk reaction but he went with what he knew was more or less expected and made a snark-filled crack.

“This lunch goes on the expense account. Right?”

John glowered at him. Sarcasm and kidding around were mostly mysteries to his brother, so it took a minute for his reaction to catch up.

“Smartass,” the Lloyd Global CEO frostily replied.

Ryan saw the smile tugging at his brother’s mouth and felt oddly relieved. Was his granite outer shell finally starting to crumble?

Hmph. Unexpected and very interesting.

John walked to the massive wall of windows and crossed his arms as he looked out at the cheerless city vista. At that moment, Ryan felt sorry for his brother. He’d taken on so much for so damn long. And to what end? So Lloyd Global could be bigger? More powerful? Make even more money?

The thought didn’t sit well, especially considering the irrefutable fact that he and their mother were the beneficiaries of John’s sacrifice.

Their father hadn’t planned on dying in a car accident, and Ryan was positive Gregory Lloyd would not be happy with the way things turned out.

“Ryan,” John mumbled.

The awkwardness in his tone got Ryan’s undivided attention.

“Have you touched base with Mom?”

“Well, she knows I’m in town, but no, I haven’t gone home yet. Aunt Grace texted and said they’d be back from the beach house soon. I don’t imagine for a second that you were unaware of our mother’s ETA, so what’s the real question, bro?”

John turned slowly and faced him. The funereal backlighting from the overcast skies gave his brother an extra somber look.

Oh, great.

“Quinn Montgomery.”

Ryan’s brows shot into his hairline. “Yeah? And?”

“Has mom or Grace spoken to you about her?”

Subconsciously reaching for the leather cord around his neck that held a medallion, Ryan fiddled with it and searched his memory for clues to whatever the fuck John was getting at.

Quinn Montgomery was a ghoul on her best day. She had one setting and one goal. The setting was female fraudster and her goal was to land an open wallet for a husband backed up with an ironclad prenup and a guaranteed payout all calculated in her favor.

He shuddered slightly a second before his stomach throbbed with alarm. Oh, holy shit. Was John considering an arranged marriage?

No.

Just no.

He wouldn’t allow it.

That was a step way too fucking far for him.

“Oh, my fucking god, bro. Please tell me you’re not hooking up with her.”

John visibly jolted. “What? No! Are you kidding? We’re not talking about me.”

“Then why bring the Amityville Horror into the conversation?”

“It’s not me, you dumbass,” John grated through clenched teeth. “It’s you.”

“What do you mean?”

They stared at each other in silence, blinking occasionally.

He wasn’t usually so damn slow on the uptake, but it took him a good minute to shift the puzzle pieces around in his brain before realization dawned.

“Hold up. Are you saying what I think you are?”

“It’s a Connie and Grace special.”

“Aw, come on,” he barked. “Is our mother off her rocker? Quinn Montgomery is the female version of the anti-Christ. Someone else will have to ski her polar ice shelf because I’m not in the running. Nuh-uh. No fucking way.”

“Jen says they’ve already discussed financials.”

Ryan leaped from his seat and made a series of rude gestures. “Are you telling me your snotty, uptight assistant is stirring the pot with our mother and aunt?”

“Hell, no,” John replied. “As a matter of fact, she reacted quite, uh …” He shrugged. “Vehemently? Is that a good word?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” He was nonsensically yelling now and didn’t care.

“Okay, calm the hell down.” John waved his hands and took a theatrically deep breath. “Let’s back up, shall we?”

Ryan started pacing. Motherfucking, goddamn, horse shit, ball clamp. This was precisely why he avoided the city. No matter what, it was always a shitshow. Why hadn’t he gone to Denver after leaving Alaska instead of coming here?

Denver was home base—not that his family knew that. The sixty acres of stunning countryside he picked up for next to nothing was where he’d hung his hat for the past year when he wasn’t traveling the world in his role as the face of Lloyd Outdoors. For reasons he didn’t care to pick apart, the real estate acquisition was a secret that only he and his personal lawyer knew anything about.

“Feel free to throw it into reverse,” Ryan grumbled, “but I’ll tell you this. Ain’t no way I’m falling into a marriage trap with a cold fish like Quinn. And believe me, dude, I’ll be explaining that to those two meddlers as soon as I can.”

As if she’d been waiting in the wings for her cue, Jen breezed into John’s office after a halfhearted knock and gave them both a look so dry he got windburn from it.

“Let’s do this.” She rather pointedly consulted her watch before looking from John to him. “I don’t have all day.”

Dead silence greeted her remark, so she snapped her fingers and clapped her hands once. “Hello?”

Twenty minutes ago, the idea of cornering Jen into having lunch with him seemed like shit tons of fun. He liked messing with her. Jenna Carlton and her uptight ways were practically the only reason he ventured into the despicable concrete jungle. But right now, the last thing he wanted to do was wrangle with her. Not when what he really wanted was …

When he remained still and silent, she turned to John. “Is he having a stroke or something?”

“He didn’t know about Quinn.”

Ryan felt a little less like strangling her when she gasped and gave a little groan. “You told him?”

John nodded.

His world wobbled when he heard Jen murmur, “You didn’t have to, John. I planned to take the hit.”

He learned two things right then. One, Jen Carlton wasn’t quite the shrew he imagined, and two, she was uncommonly loyal to his brother. To borrow a tired business reference—in his eyes, the lady’s stock immediately went up. Maybe lunch wasn’t such a shitty idea after all.