The Academic Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book One Read online

  Nick ran his hands through his hair. “I’m not looking for a one-nighter. I just want someone I can rely on, someone real. Pamela specializes in bringing two people together who can help further one another’s goals.”

  He paused. There was no point revealing his desire for a family. That wasn’t what this marriage was about. For him, it was about putting up a wall between him and the women who thought he could be bought with long legs and a bright smile. According to Pamela, Janel needed funding for her PhD. As far as reasons went for a short-term arranged marriage, that seemed like a good one. How many people worked on campus for a tuition waver or applied for grants to support their academic endeavors? He could understand how Janel would see this as a viable way to fund her education. While the women who chased after him wanted a free ride, Janel was busy working her way through school. And it wasn’t like she was out to trap him into anything. She’d sign the papers and walk away in a year.

  “We’ll be married for a year, and then there’s an evaluation. If we want to continue the marriage as is, we can extend it or renegotiate the prenup. If not, we can get a divorce.”

  He forced himself to meet Brenda’s shocked gaze. Brenda had been married for fifteen years and claimed they were the best years of her life.

  “I’ve looked for someone, I really have, but I’m tired of it all. I hate the games, the cryptic text messages, and the constant emotional drain. It shouldn’t be this hard.

  “One of my buddies used this service, and he seems happy with the way things are going. The money chasers leave him alone, and his wife is a wonderful person. So, I decided to look into it. I met the owner, Pamela, one day for lunch, signed a contract and a code of conduct, and now she says she’s found a wife for me.”

  If Brenda’s eyebrows got any higher, they’d fall off her forehead. “And you haven’t met her?”

  “I’ll meet her on Thursday.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I’m only telling you all this because you’re going to have to work with her. She’ll need access to my calendars, both work and personal. I’ll also need her informed about the company meetings when spouses or dates are included in the invitation.”

  Brenda’s fingers flew as she took down the instructions.

  Nick paused. “I want her to have access to me. If she calls, let me know. If she comes in, I want to see her. I need you to treat her like she’s really my wife and not some glorified intern. If you do that, then the rest of the office will follow.”

  “Shall I also buy her flowers on Valentine’s Day and pick up something for Christmas?”

  “No … Maybe. I’m not sure how all that’s going to work out.”

  “What’s your cover story? How did you meet? And why hasn’t anyone met her before?”

  “Ah. Well, I’ll talk to her about that on Thursday. It would be best if we were on the same page.” Nick ran his hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. He needed a haircut. “Will you make time for me to get to the barber tomorrow?”

  Brenda smiled knowingly. “I’ll get you the first appointment with Reggie on Thursday morning. You should have time for a shave and a haircut before meeting your ...?”

  “Fiancée.” Nick slapped the table. “In fact, let’s start letting people know I’m engaged. Just start a little rumor. Then, in a week or so, I’ll tell everyone we eloped.”

  Nodding, Brenda said, “Sounds good.” She clicked the sleep button on her pad and stood to leave.

  Nick rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He didn’t realize how hard it was to tell someone he was getting married. Married. How could one word hold so much promise and responsibility?

  “Thanks, Brenda. You’re good at what you do.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  Nick clicked on the image of Janel to make it fit the screen. She was pretty in a wholesome way he hadn’t seen in a long time. She was more real than he expected, with her hair coming out of the ponytail and her basic attire—she didn’t sparkle or flash. He liked it. She was comfortable with her beauty.

  He read her bio again, taking in every little detail, although there weren’t many. She was almost done with her PhD and he’d barely graduated with a bachelor’s. At least she had goals in life. Most of the women he’d dated had him at the top of their to-do list. He realized all that was behind him now, and felt free for the first time in years. Instead of the strain and stress of socializing, he’d have a partner who would guard him from the gold diggers—and Pamela guaranteed her brides weren’t gold diggers; they were honest and hardworking employees.

  As she was an equal partner in this contract, though a wife who would share his home, Nick needed to keep a professional distance. If Janel was as beautiful in person as she was in the picture, staying professional could be difficult. He already felt a connection to her.

  Another email popped up from Pamela—Janel’s preferred color was purple. He quickly scrolled through his contacts until he found the interior designer’s number.

  “Hi. It’s Nick. Hey, you can go ahead and finish that suite. Purple. It’s up to you. Thanks.”

  Everything should be ready for Janel to move in on Monday. His house had two suites on the east end. He had his own suite done in tans and natural stone, but no one touched the other suite in the five years he’d lived there. When he met with Pamela and she mentioned needing a room for his wife, he felt like the space was waiting for that exact moment.

  It was going to be a busy weekend.

  There was a strange thunk under his desk. When he looked, he realized his leg was bouncing. Every time his shoe hit the floor it made a noise. Placing his hand on his knee to hold it still, he wondered, Am I nervous?

  He was always a little on edge when signing contracts, but as long as his attorney gave the thumbs up, it was something he got through with a semblance of calm.

  This was a good move for him. Not only would it take him off the meat market, it would bring someone into his home. He’d built his dream house and then dreaded walking through the door to find it empty. Someone to come home to—a wife—was going to be very good for him.

  If it was so good for him, why was his leg bouncing again?

  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 liv
e 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 l
ightly 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.