The Academic Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book One (3 page)

Chapter 5

Janel rolled over, checked the time on her cell phone, and groaned.

Shopping day.

It wasn’t that she disliked shopping; it was just that she’d spent hardly any money on herself for years. Fashion didn’t matter when she was sequestered in the library or out in the summer sun on a dig in Utah where no one cared if you wore name-brand clothing.

As she made her bed, she found the copy of
The Five Love Languages
Tina had handed her yesterday on the way out the door. “Why do I need this?” Janel had asked.

“It’s required reading for all brides and grooms.”

“Why?”

“It talks about the way people receive and give love. We like to use it as a tool to help couples express appreciation.”

Janel had cringed at the idea of being part of a couple because it fit like a size-too-small shirt, Janel pressed the button for the elevator.

“You’ll need to read it before your prenup meeting.”

“No problem.” She doubted she would get much sleep anyway.

Fluffing her pillow, Janel acknowledged that she’d been right about not getting any sleep, but the love book had little to do with it. Instead, resurrecting her files on the Guatemalan dig had kept her reading, planning, and daydreaming about what she was going to do with her new income till the wee hours of the morning.

She resisted the urge to call Professor Ford and tell him that the dig was back on thanks to some private funding she’d lined up. It was better to wait until she was locked into the contract and everything was sure. Besides, it was all a bit much. Mr. Ryburn might be some kind of a jerk, and Janel could end up as Pamela’s fourth early termination contract. Wouldn’t that be a great way to start out on the new job?

If all went well, she could live off her expense account and sock away the salary. She could send in the funds and the paperwork to get approval in the first month. Once she got that, she could buy plane tickets and supplies the next month, and it would continue like that until she was knee-deep in ancient Mayan ruins and done with the “Ryburn account.”

She tucked the required reading into her purse and headed out the door to meet Trish. Upon entering the Billionaire Broker’s building, she spied Trish leaning against the security guard’s desk, looking like a supermodel or superhero with that half pink hair, waiting for her close-up.

Trish linked arms with Janel, spun her right back around, and ushered her outside and into the back seat of a waiting limo. “We have an appointment in fifteen minutes at Salon Lemonnier. Depending on how long it takes them to shave off the rough edges, we’ll order in lunch or grab something quick. Then we’ll spend the rest of the day shopping.”

In no time, Janel was caught in Hurricane Trish. She had her hair wrapped in enough foil to receive images from the Mars Rover, her feet soaked in a pool where little fish ate the dead skin off her heels, one woman buffed her fingernails and she sat taller, no doubt a byproduct of the massage that took six years of grad school tension out of her shoulders.

Trish had other brides scheduled at the salon for “maintenance,” and she took this time to catch up with them, making sure they had their calendars organized and giving them fashion advice for upcoming events.

Janel was introduced to both girls in passing. As she settled into her stylist’s station, she gave the other brides a careful once-over.

The taller one had everything together. Though she closed her eyes to relish the hand massage, she didn’t seem haughty, just happy to have a moment to relax.

The shorter girl had a hint of country twang in her speech, and her blond hair would have made a pageant queen jealous. She talked to her stylist about her little brother, a high school bulldogging champion, saying how much she missed him and was proud of his accomplishments.

Janel’s first impression, that BMB brides were gold diggers, took a hit.

Janel put aside her curiosity about the brides and opened her book. She read through the introduction and was halfway through the quiz to find her own love language when her stylist, Clair, scooted her back toward the sinks to wash out the colorant. Once in the swivel chair, Janel looked for a difference, but her dark hair just looked dark. Clair swung her around and pulled out a pair of scissors.

“I want to keep the length.”

Clair patted her shoulder. “Of course. I’m just going to shape it. How do you feel about bangs?”

“I prefer not to have them.”

“Are you sure? They’re really in right now.”

“I’ve never had good luck with bangs. They’re so high maintenance.”

Clair exchanged a look with Trish. Trish backed up Janel with a shake of her head.

Clair sighed with enough drama to fill a stage and agreed, “No bangs.”

For what seemed like an eternity, Clair pulled and snipped while the pile of hair on the floor grew to alarming thickness. Janel was sure she’d have nothing left. Clair finally set the scissors down and pulled out bottle after bottle of hair products, slathering them all over her scalp and down to the tips.

“You have a great wave and I want to use that.” She pulled out the blow dryer and a hand-shaped diffuser and set to work.

When she was finished, Janel tentatively reached up to touch her hair. “Wow.”

Clair beamed. “Do you like it?”

Turning this way and that in the mirror, Janel took in her luscious waves. She rarely wore her hair down, and when she did, she flat-ironed it smooth. Clair had amped up the body, and the romantic waves, cut in choppy layers, framed her face and cascaded down her back. It was a little shorter than before, but not much.

“Instead of going with one color, I added low lights to your natural shade.”

Trish stepped forward. “I like it. It’s not as dramatic as a solid black would have been, but the waves don’t need the drama. Did you do her eyebrows too?”

“Yep.”

“It works with her skin tone.”

“Her eyes really pop, don’t they?”

“Love it,” said Trish. “What do you think?”

Janel pointed at her head and asked, “Can I do this?”

“Sure, it’s all in the diffuser. I’ve put together a basket with the products I used and there’s a blow dryer with the attachments. They’ll have it for you at the front desk.”

Blow dry and go—I can totally handle that.
“Thank you, that was very thoughtful.”

As she handed over her credit card to pay for the morning, she chewed at her lip.

Trish gave her a knowing smile. “That’s what the money’s there for. Don’t fret.” She picked up the basket, all wrapped and tied with a teal ribbon, and headed for the door where their limo waited out front. “Besides, we’re about to set that card on fire.” She grinned mischievously as she handed the basket to the driver who moved to put it in the trunk.

Janel sighed. She hoped Mr. Ryburn’s love language, or “language of appreciation” as she preferred to call it, wasn’t gift giving. If he intended to express his appreciation by showering her with flowers, jewelry, or shopping trips, he’d stress her out.

She chewed her lip again. What if his language was gifts and she’d be required to buy
him
something?! She had no idea what men wanted. Janel slid into the limo, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. No matter how many times she told herself this was just a job, it felt like a lie. She did the only thing she knew how to do when she was worried: she pulled out her book and studied, determined to pass this test and get the money for the dig if it killed her.

Chapter 6

As Janel exited BMB’s elevator the next morning, she tugged at her new teal leather jacket. The short heel on the brown, calf-high boots clicked against the tile, causing Tina to turn in her direction. Janel’s cheeks flushed.

Tina’s eyes widened. “Wowza!”

Pressing her hands to her cheeks, Janel whispered, “It’s too much.”

Trish
! This was all Trish’s fault. She’d pulled this outfit together in a small boutique when Janel was too worn out to put up a fuss. A teal leather jacket—
for the love
! When she’d dressed this morning, she’d felt like a million bucks. Now, waiting to meet a man who really was worth a billion bucks (or more), she felt like an imposter. Panic seized her chest and she let out a small squeak.

Tina rushed around the desk and wrapped Janel in a warm embrace. “It’s going to be okay.”

Janel managed to ask, “Is he here?”

Tina pulled back. She kept a tight grip on Janel’s upper arms, as if her job was to keep prospective brides from running away.

Janel looked around. She couldn’t find the entrance to the stairwell, and since the elevator shut behind her and rushed off to another floor, it wasn’t like she had anywhere to go or hide.

“He’s waiting in Pamela’s office. Listen, if you need a minute, I can bring you a bottled water or something and you can wait here until you’re ready.”

Janel shook her head, releasing the floral smell of some product she’d run through her hair that morning. Lavender. The deep perfume soothed her nerves. She looked down the hall.

“No, I’m ready.”
As ready as I’m going to be. Just rip off that Band-Aid and be done with it.

Tina let go of Janel’s arms, and Janel’s stomach jerked. She could use a friendly face in the room. “Can you bring me water anyway? My mouth is really dry this morning.”

“Sure thing. Just go on in and I’ll be right behind you.”

“Thank you.”

Pressing her lips together to make sure she hadn’t licked away her lip gloss, Janel turned to face her future. Whatever happened in this meeting would mean the difference between achieving her lifelong goal and having to erase the last two years of research and start over.

She knocked lightly on the cracked door before pushing it all the way open and waiting to be invited in.

***

Nick’s leg bounced as he waited in Pamela’s office. He still had a hard time believing he was engaged. It was a good thing Reggie was a master barber, because Nick’s hands weren’t steady enough to hold a razor today.

Pamela’s phone beeped. “Janel is on her way back,” she said, nodding toward the door as there was a small knock.

Nick stood to meet his bride and almost fell back into his seat at the sight of her. She was stunning. He’d spent every spare moment studying her picture, trying to acclimate to her beauty, but she still managed to take his breath away. Her hair was different, wavy, and it seemed like there was more of it, but maybe that was just the new style.

“Hello, darling. Come in, come in.” Pamela moved to take Janel by the hand. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Nicolas Ryburn.”

Nick offered to shake hands. When they touched, he had the strangest urge to turn her wrist and kiss just above her knuckles. Mentally shaking himself, he withdrew his hand. This wasn’t going to be
that
kind of marriage, and he needed to stay professional if this was going to work. One day, he’d have a woman to romance and the family he’d always hoped for. But for now, he needed time away from the singles’ scene.

Janel pressed her lips and held eye contact.

“Nick, this is Janel Fendrick.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

“The pleasure’s mine.” Nick realized it was a true pleasure to finally shake the hand of the woman who had been on his mind for days. Besides staring at her photo, he’d dodged questions about his engagement and fiancée. Finally speaking to her would take a lot of stress out of his life.

“Shall we get started?” Pamela gestured to the two seats in front of her desk.

Nick put his hand on the back of Janel’s seat and pulled it away from the desk just a bit. He kept his hand there until she’d seated herself.

Janel smiled up at him, and he noticed that her blue-gray eyes, accented with charcoal liner, held a vulnerability that made him want to hold her close and slay dragons.

Why didn’t he notice them in the picture? She adjusted her glasses, and he realized he hadn’t been able to make out her eyes in the photo because her glasses had a slight glare. He tore himself away before things became awkward, and took his seat.

“We have a few things to go over before your meeting with Lisa Marie.” Pamela pulled out a black leather book and flipped open to the first page. “You two will need to pick rings.”

Nick leaned forward to get a better look at the five rings and their descriptions on the page. The rings were included in the fee he paid for the service, so the prices weren’t listed. They were big, “notice-me” rings with real diamonds and expensive metals.

“Which one do you like?” he asked Janel.

Janel rubbed her ring finger. “Are they all that size?”

Pamela tipped her head. “These are the rings included in the wedding package. If you want something different, we could send the two of you over to the jeweler’s.”

Nick tried to hide his irritation. The rings weren’t cheap.  Pamela had assured him they didn’t charge overhead on the bands, and said he was welcome to pick something out himself and bring it in for the wedding. Choosing a ring for a woman he’d never met was not Nick’s idea of an enjoyable afternoon, so he had signed for the invoice and tried to forget about it.

If Janel was the type that wanted big jewelry—and her earrings indicated that she liked big and shiny pieces—then they might be in trouble.

“No, they’ll be fine.” She continued to rub her finger, which was turning red from the abuse.

Nick sighed. “What is it?”

Janel shifted in her seat. “I work in a lab with a lot of dust, and sometimes I’m elbow deep in plaster. I’m afraid I’d get something that showy dirty, or lose it in a mold.” She shrugged apologetically. “It happened to my professor once. We had to disassemble the display and redo the whole thing.”

The tension in Nick’s shoulders melted away. She didn’t want something bigger; she wanted something smaller, more functional. He turned back to the page. “What about this one? It has a band and the stone setting. That way you could wear the band at work and put on the stone to go out.”

“I didn’t notice that before. It’s got gold and platinum, so I could wear it with anything. I like it.”

Pamela beamed as she flipped the page. “Okay, how about your ring, Nick?”

He turned to Janel. “What do you think?”

“It’s your ring.”

“I know, but I’d like your opinion.”

She looked closely at each ring, then flipped back and forth between the women’s and men’s pages. “How about this one? It looks like they belong together.”

The ring was wide and flat with a band of gold inlaid against platinum. The design was simple, yet elegant. It was the one he would have picked. He took it as a sign and nodded at Pamela.

“Now, I need to know which love language you speak and hear.”

It took Nick a moment to realize she was talking about that book he’d had to read. He’d been embarrassed by his test results. What kind of a man ties his love language score between quality time and physical touch? How needy did that make him sound?

He’d spent a couple days contemplating the test results, and determined that his best memories growing up were the times his family just hung out together. That explained the quality time, but the physical touch one still made him blush and wonder at the validity of the test. He’d had plenty of women use physical affection to get at him, and it always turned him off.

At any rate, he wasn’t going to embarrass his bride by telling her he required physical contact to feel appreciated in the marriage. Janel shouldn’t think he was buying his way into her bed. Even though Pamela assured him that Janel knew that
he
knew the bedroom boundaries outlined in the marriage contract, Nick didn’t want to approach the off-limits area.

Curious about her results, he gestured to Janel, who blushed. “I was a tie between acts of service and physical touch,” Janel intoned.

Pamela typed that in and then looked at Nick.

If the deep blush making its way through the smattering of freckles across Janel’s cheeks was any indication of her embarrassment, then she was brave to share her full results. Maybe hearing his would ease her discomfort.

“Quality time and physical touch,” he said, grateful that his voice held steady.

He was rewarded for his bravery with a smile of gratitude. Janel was honest, even when it was hard for her. He liked that.

They talked for a few minutes about their schedules. Besides her teaching and the time she’d need to write her thesis and prepare for a dig, she was pretty free.

“I hope you won’t be bored with me. I work a lot,” he said.

Janel laughed, and Nick found that he enjoyed the way the sound made his chest warm. “It doesn’t sound like much,” she said, “but I’ve got a lot of research to do. I think I’ll be fine.”

Pamela pressed her palms together. “That wraps things up here. I’ll take you two down to Lisa Marie’s office and you can sign the prenup. After that, we’re good until Monday.”

She turned to Janel. “Are you packed up? The movers will be there at seven on Monday morning. You’ll have time to give them instructions before you leave for the ceremony.”

“Thanks. That will help out a lot.”

“Is her suite ready?”

He nodded. “The paint is drying as we speak. The furniture should be there later today, and the designer was going to work Saturday on the finishing touches.”

“Sounds like everything is in place. I’ll see you two on Monday. Don’t be late.”

Nick held the door open for Janel as they walked down the hall. He almost placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her into Lisa Marie’s office, but caught himself just in time. He looked down at his hand. It was an inconsequential gesture that he’d done a million times when escorting a women to a table at a restaurant. So why did he hesitate now?

Did it mean more because this woman would be his wife?

He’d have to watch himself. With her living just across the hall ... well, the space between their rooms was more like private sitting rooms what with the couches and all. They could become too familiar and lose the professional barriers they’d need if this was going to work. He steeled himself to proceed with caution.

***

Janel tried to keep her breathing steady as they entered Lisa Marie’s office. Nick was better-looking in person than he was in his picture, a picture she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind last night. With the way she concentrated on it, she could have picked him out in a police lineup in a matter of seconds.

He was clean shaven today, and she could smell the deep scent of sandalwood. He also looked like he’d just had a haircut. Though she appreciated the effort, she wondered what he looked like tussled.

Slow down there, girl. This is your new coworker, not your boyfriend.

Janel took her seat as Nick held the chair for her again. It was nice to be with a man who treated her with respect. She found herself responding like a duchess. It was a side of herself she’d never really seen before, but then, she’d never been with a man who treated her like a lady. The men she’d dated were polite, just not truly attentive.

Two sets of identical papers were placed before them, and they were directed to initial or sign almost every page as Lisa Marie explained each clause.

Basically, she wasn’t entitled to any of his money or other assets, ever. Even if he died while they were married, the money would go to his mother as stipulated in his will. Janel was fine with that. The only money she wanted was her salary, and that would be waiting in her savings account when the year was up.

She refused to look at Nick as Lisa Marie went over the physical relationship clause. She signed quickly to get that part over with. It wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable if she didn’t find herself attracted to her fiancé. She’d worked with other men she found attractive, and as long as they didn’t encourage those feelings, they would get along just fine.

Halfway through the stack, there was a knock on the door.

“Sorry,” said Tina as she came in. “I thought you all might like something to drink.”

As she handed a cold plastic water bottle to Janel, she raised one eyebrow. Janel gave her a quick nod. Things were going well. Nick took a water and Lisa Marie asked for coffee.

“You know what? I think we could all use a quick breather. I’ll grab my own coffee and be back in a minute.”

Lisa Marie walked out behind Tina, leaving Janel alone with her fiancé. Nick twisted the lid to his water back and forth. He stared at the western painting on the opposite wall, but his eyes weren’t focused.