The Organized Bride (Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book 2) Page 4

  MaKayla tucked her hair behind her ear. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  Gabe liked the way she wore her hair down. Most of the women he knew pulled their hair back into messy buns or braids to keep their hair out of the way, and while that was fine every once in a while, it was nice to see a woman who wasn’t afraid to be a little more free with her tresses. While she concentrated on opening the box, his eyes quickly took in her graceful movements. He was suddenly grateful Pamela had been picky.

  When MaKayla slid the iPad out of the box, she said, “Thanks,” like she wasn’t quite sure about it.

  Gabe smiled and plucked the pad from her hands. “I thought this would make things easier for you.” Using his left hand, he tapped the on button, and the screen flashed to life. “It has both your calendar and my calendar here—Pamela’s crew set that up. But then I downloaded all the information you’ll need for the events this year, including a list of contacts and the vendors we’ve used in the past. Here.”

  He handed it back to her, and she spent the next few minutes becoming acquainted with the software. They drove to the office in silence. There wasn’t time to ease MaKayla into the business. She was officially hired.

  As he turned into his parking spot at the downtown office, she looked up. “Thank you. This will be very helpful in getting organized and finding my feet.”

  “No problem. I’m relieved to have you get started.” He couldn’t express how relieved he was. Running his company took forty to sixty hours a week, not to mention the charities, which could take that much and more, especially during the holidays. The past two weeks had been merciless and he knew he was missing things. There simply wasn’t enough of him to spread around, and he knew he was doing subpar work because he hurried.

  Gabe jumped out of the car and went around to her side to open her door. Despite his relief, he couldn’t help but worry that turning things over to someone else also meant he had to trust them. MaKayla seemed competent. However, he wasn’t looking for someone who was merely competent; he wanted someone who would care about things the way he did. MaKayla’s background was a mystery. Had she faced hard times? Did she have the compassion it took to drive a person to beg for money for abused children or the elderly? Only time would tell. For now, he planned to keep a close eye on her and see where her loyalties lay. He was prepared to step in if needed. No way would he turn a blind eye again.

  As MaKayla exited the car, the smell of blooming lilies assaulted him. She still held the ridiculous bouquet in her hands. What was with her and flowers? They could be a problem. He didn’t want to explain to people that they had driven from the ceremony to work. Nope. That would just not do. The matching outfits were bad enough—though they didn’t match as much as coordinate. His pants were so dark they were almost black, and the jacket was creamy white. Next to her brown, they looked like they could go together, but weren’t set up that way. Besides, her dress was classy and feminine and his suit was kind of bad-A. Not exactly twins, but the two looks complimented one another, like their contrast was part of what made them work.

  Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he asked MaKayla, “Can we leave that in the car?”

  MaKayla pursed her lips. “I guess it’s cool enough that the flowers won’t wilt if they’re here for a while.” She placed it carefully on the passenger seat, making sure the leaves weren’t being flattened and that the short ribbon wasn’t kinked.

  Her efforts made him wonder if she was offended he didn’t wear the flowers she’d sent. When she’d looked for them, he bristled. However, now that he reflected on the moment, it could have been much worse. Natasha would have pouted until he promised to take her to lunch or shopping to make up for it. Gabe shook his head, he needed to forget about Natasha and move on. If MaKayla was disappointed, she didn’t show it; neither did she hold it over him. Two points for MaKayla.

  MaKayla looked around as though she just realized where they were. Perhaps the ceremony was a bit of a shock for her. He’d had months to anticipate getting married, and from what he heard, she’d had only a few days. If she was reeling, she covered it well, with squared shoulders and a determined glint in her eye. That glint took Gabe off guard. Was she enjoying the challenge?

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  Gabe gestured toward the doors. MaKayla walked a couple feet and then stopped so fast that Gabe bumped into her, knocking her forward. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her against his chest to keep her from falling.

  For just a moment, they both froze, and Gabe could smell her deep scented perfume. A tremor went through her body—or both of theirs, he wasn’t sure—and he released her shoulders.

  “Sorry.” She ducked her head as she tucked her hair behind her ear again, and Gabe had the insane desire to reach out and try that himself. “I was startled because that’s my name.” She pointed to the fresh paint on the concrete. “Well, it would be if I was changing my name.” Her cheeks colored slightly.

  Gabe hurried to explain. “That’s your parking spot. I should have warned you about the name, but I thought it would be best if my colleagues knew you as MaKayla Russell.”

  MaKayla smiled, but it looked more like a beauty-queen-on-a-parade-float smile than the one he’d seen in her photo. “You’re the boss.”

  She started toward the doors again, and Gabe fell in step beside her, partially to present a united front when they walked through the door and partially so he wouldn’t run over her again if she stopped. It wasn’t the running over her that bothered him, so much as the holding her close. That had churned up feelings he hadn’t seen in a long time, feelings he needed to keep a lid on, because he was, as she so aptly pointed out, the boss, not someone who could pursue those feelings, even if he wanted to.

  Chapter 8

  The next couple hours were a whirlwind of introductions, orientations, and directions. MaKayla took meticulous notes and noted that a few people’s jaws dropped when Gabe introduced her as his wife, but for the most part they recovered quickly. For her part, MaKayla wasn’t sure she’d get used to being someone’s wife. The title sounded false in her ears, like the laugh track they used on sitcoms.

  By the time they settled in the conference room for a meet and greet with deli sandwiches and several of MaKayla’s new coworkers, she needed headache medicine. It was in her purse, where she always kept an emergency supply, but she thought it would be rude to down them in front of people who were going out of their way to make her feel welcome.

  Gabe placed his arm on the back of her chair and leaned close. “Are you okay?”

  MaKayla ducked her head and looked up at him shyly. She wasn’t used to letting men get this close, and Gabe’s powerful frame was distracting. She refused to think about the way she’d trembled against him in the parking garage. It had been because of the shock of seeing her new name painted brazenly on the asphalt that caused her to shiver, not the way his strong hands had felt against her arms. At least, that was what she told herself. Gabe was as off-limits as the moon. She felt that the ceremony—if one could call it that—had gone well. She needed to keep her head on straight and prove that she was every bit his equal in this arrangement. Showing weakness would not help her establish a firm footing. Giving into it would create an impression that she was weak, and it could take months to erase a bad first impression. “Just a little headache. It’s nothing.”

  David, Gabe’s assistant, patted their shoulders. “Okay, lovebirds, break it up. We need to get this meeting started.”

  MaKayla turned her attention back to those around the table as Gabe’s arm vacated her chair. She was supposed to head the committee that organized the Thanksgiving Day fun run, and she needed to take charge of the meeting.

  “Why don’t you fill me in on what’s been done so far.” Pushing her half-eaten sandwich aside, MaKayla tapped her new iPad, threw Gabe a thank-you smile for the new tech, and brought up the notes app. Typing as people talked, she listened to their r
eports, asked clarifying questions when needed, and kept them from going off topic by redirecting random comments.

  Twenty minutes later, she had a handle on the event and a few ideas. Turning to the man who was over all things graphic design, MaKayla said, “David, why don’t you design a flyer we can distribute to the businesses along the route? Since the race has been happening for several years, they are aware of it, but new customers may not be. The more we show them that we appreciate their cooperation, the more support we’ll get in return. It could also bring in a few more participants.”

  David nodded, and she moved on to the next item in her notes.

  “Sharon, the prizes are fantastic, you’ve done a great job. Is there a way we can separate the professional runners from the amateurs in the prize categories?”

  Sharon’s eyes narrowed slightly. David may be fine with a little extra work, but Sharon would be a hard sell. “Why would we do that?” asked Sharon.

  MaKayla wondered if she was stepping on toes by heading the committee when she didn’t have experience with the company. Some people would resent an outsider coming in, that was to be expected. She’d have to win them over with competence and praise. “It adds an extra level of fun for those who don’t race competitively without taking away from those who do. Perhaps we could offer them in a drawing? That way all the participants would be eligible.”

  Sharon’s eyes danced to Gabe and back to MaKayla. Would he back up his longtime employee or his new wife? MaKayla was sure that was the question on everyone’s mind, including her own.

  “We’ve never done that before and we’ve always had a good turnout,” stated Sharon.

  MaKayla purposefully didn’t look at Gabe. If he was questioning her plan, she needed to forge ahead with confidence. If he offered encouragement, she had to appear as though she didn’t need it, or her coworkers would smell blood in the water. She bounced her leg under the table and kept her voice light. “I don’t doubt that; this is one of the city’s biggest charity races and your crew has done an excellent job every year. However, there are several other races—the 4th of July one sponsored by MetCraft and the Valentine’s Day race sponsored by Trembler Technology come to mind. They have at least a thousand more participants and they offer prizes for both categories.”

  MaKayla offered a silent thank you to her sister for dragging her out of bed for these things year after year. They’d run together since MaKayla graduated from college and moved close enough that they could meet up every couple of days at the high school track. On their off days, MaKayla usually went to the gym and hit the treadmill, preferring to zone out to music while she punished her legs.

  Sharon scrolled through her notes without looking up, and MaKayla could tell she was weighing how much to push back in front of the boss.

  MaKayla took the offensive, hoping to defuse a power struggle before it started. “Many runners don’t have the time and may never have the stamina to compete on the professional track, but they could win something in a drawing. It’s fun, adds goodwill to the event, and people like to see the mother of three who came in fifty-third walk away with a prize. It gives the feeling that anything is possible, and we can tell them that with their help, it’s possible to get help for these abused kids and teens.”

  Sharon nodded slowly and made notes on her iPad. “I’ll see what we can do. Since most people have already registered, it would be difficult to have them go back and answer one question. Perhaps we could have them fill out an entry ticket at the race.”

  MaKayla did a silent victory dance. “The simpler, the better.”

  “I agree. If it works out, then we can put it on the entry form for next year.”

  It was a small concession, but it felt like a major victory.

  “How do we account for the prizes on the balance sheet? If we have to provide a few more for the drawing, will it take away from the donations?” Gabe asked MaKayla.

  The concern on his face set her off-kilter, and she barely kept her mouth from hanging open. Gabe hadn’t spoken the entire meeting, and his first worry was the minimal cost of a few prizes? What a miser! “From what I understand, they are considered donations from the company and are fully deductible.”

  “We won’t have to take money out of the funds raised to pay for them?” Gabe clarified.

  Sharon jumped in. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  MaKayla quickly checked the time in an effort to hide her irritation. It wasn’t Sharon’s job to watch over MaKayla’s shoulder. The first chance she got, she’d familiarize herself with the accounting side of things so she’d have the right answer on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you all for coming. We’ll meet back here in a week.”

  She stood to shake hands with people and accepted their congratulations on her nuptials. Gabe stood dutifully by her side. MaKayla figured it was as close as she was going to get to a reception line on her wedding day.

  “I’ll walk you down,” said Gabe after the room cleared out.

  MaKayla snapped the cover on her iPad. She was still irked at Sharon for jumping in and at Gabe for asking a question he knew she wasn’t prepared to answer. This whole thing was as new to him as it was to her, except that she had a mountain of information to consume in the next few days and all he had to do was clear out a spare bedroom. He could have waited to ask about the prizes. Instead, he’d embarrassed her. Not cool. “I have to be to the hotel by one. How long with it take to get across town to my car?”

  Gabe considered her frosty tone before waving away her concern as they entered the elevator. “I have a car and driver scheduled for you for the rest of the week. I thought it would be easier if you didn’t have to worry about a car, and you could work during your commute.”

  Well, that was unexpected.

  MaKayla reasoned that time was money for Gabe. It made sense that he would value others’ time as much as he valued his own. And he should value her time, because he knew exactly how much it was costing him. However, she did appreciate the gesture and so softened her tone. “That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “It was the least I could do after Pamela told me you still had to finish out a week at the hotel.”

  MaKayla exited the elevator first. Gabe didn’t want to, nor did he need to hear about her misgivings over Tera. Once again, she censored her response to exclude anything personal. “I’ve been training my replacement, so the transition for the hotel should go well.”

  They stopped at the glass doors. Gabe reached from behind her to open it, and MaKayla thought she smelled crisp lemon. Coupled with his arresting blue eyes, the scent did funny things to MaKayla’s insides. Funny how things between them could go from frosty to sizzling in a matter of seconds.

  “From what I’ve seen today, your transition here should go well, too.”

  MaKayla felt her cheeks grow warm and chided herself. Twice Gabe had made her blush: once in the parking garage, when he’d saved her from falling and possibly ruining her wedding dress, and now here with a compliment and a sincere look. If she kept reacting to him this way, she’d burn more calories from being with Gabe than she did on her daily run.

  “Th-thanks,” she stammered. That was smooth.

  “I’ll see you later?”

  MaKayla noted the slight lift in his voice at the end of the statement. It wasn’t a command, but a question. She shook her head. “I have an event tonight that will run late and meetings at the hotel tomorrow morning, so I was planning on sleeping at my place.”

  “Oh.” Gabe’s dimple disappeared.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon to go over details for the shareholders’ luncheon.”

  He gave an efficient nod. “Sounds good.”

  MaKayla walked across the small plaza in front of the building and climbed into the car. Whipping out her phone, she dashed off a text to Brooke. Married check. New job orientation check.

  Brooke’s answer came fast. Hot husband?

  MaKayla hesitated before ty
ping. Check.

  When do I get to meet him?

  That was a good question. At what point could she bring her personal life into the situation without it being unprofessional? There were no self-help books on arranged marriages or business partnerships that included living together. This was one she’d have to play by ear. Not sure.

  Coward.

  MaKayla laughed. Nag.

  Luv U.

  U 2.

  Leaning back into the plush leather seat, MaKayla pulled out the iPad and checked her weekly calendar, filling in the blanks. When she got to Saturday, her hands hovered over the screen. Her appointments were in yellow and Gabe’s were in orange; anything that they were both supposed to be at was in green. Saturday morning there was a yellow appointment that read “pack moving truck,” followed by a green appointment that read “move in.”

  Frantically digging through her purse for her headache medication, MaKayla opened the complementary bottled water in the cup holder and downed two regular-strength pills. Her body reacted like a child’s to medications; anything stronger than regular strength and she’d be sick to her stomach.

  Things had gone well today. The wedding was smooth as plain vanilla ice cream and about as exciting. A justice of the peace, exchanging vows, and acquiring some bling didn’t take all that long. MaKayla admired her ring. Funny, she hadn’t paid any attention to it since Gabe slipped it on her finger.

  Speaking of Gabe … he looked amazing in his suit. Just like she knew he would. His willingness to go along with her last-minute plans won him some points in the husband department.

  Looking up at the salt-and-pepper hair of the driver, she smiled. It was thoughtful of Gabe to arrange for her transportation. He didn’t have to do that, but the fact that he did told her he had considered her predicament and then done what he could to ease the strain of balancing two fulltime jobs all without being asked.

  She shrugged. He was probably like that with everyone. Her luck with men wouldn’t have produced a Gabe Russell. If it wasn’t luck, then what was it?