The Academic Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book One (6 page)

Chapter 11

“Janel?”

Pulling the covers up over her head, Janel tried to hide from the voice that was bound and determined to ruin her few good hours of sleep.

When Nick’s secretary called last night to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner, she’d asked, “Do you know what time they will be done?”

“These meetings have gone on all night before. It could be an hour or it could be six hours. I’m sorry, I wish I had more information.”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks for thinking to call me.”

“Mr. Ryburn asked me to.”

“Well … thanks.”

“Have a nice night.”

She’d tried to wait up for Nick, thinking that they should at least say good night to each other on their wedding day. She’d propped herself up in bed with the laptop to familiarize herself with the house accounts. There was a lot more to running the house than she would have ever thought possible. After an hour of checking shift changes for possible overlap, she decided Pamela should have found Nick someone with experience in the hotel industry. But then, Janel wouldn’t be lounging on half a dozen pillows in her own private suite. She gave a wicked little grin. The perks far outweighed the stress.

Long after the exterior safety lights clicked on, making her view of the rear gardens enchanting, her wedding day caught up to her. She slid the laptop to the other side of the huge mattress and conked out.

“Janel!” The voice was in her room.

Trish
.

“What is it with you and waking me up? Do you hate me?” Janel threw the covers off her head.

Trish waited at the end of the bed, her hair pulled back in an intricate braid that hung over one shoulder and her clothes completely wrinkle-free. The only thing worse than being woken up when you’re still tired, is being woken up by someone who looks
that
good in the morning.

Trish ran her fingers over the pad resting in the crook of her arm. “You have a meeting with your personal trainer in fifteen minutes.”

“Where?”

Trish looked up. “Here.”

Janel pulled the sheet up to her chin. Not that her pajamas were skimpy; she’d worn a light cotton pair of shorts and a fitted tank to bed. The idea of a strange man in her bedroom made her uncomfortable. An image of some guy holding her feet down while she did sit-ups on the plush rug flashed through her head. “He’s coming to my room?”

“No, he’ll meet you in the gym downstairs. You just need to throw on some workout clothes and I’ll brief you on the rest of your day on the way.”

Janel stumbled to the closet and pulled out a pair of cutoff sweats, a sports bra, and a t-shirt with a small hole over her left shoulder blade.

When she stepped out of the closet, Trish made a face like she’d swallowed bad fish. “What are you wearing?”

“Workout clothes?”

“What happened to the yoga pants?” asked Trish as they left Janel’s room.

“I wear those in public, I’m not going to get them all sweaty.”

Trish clenched her jaw. “Okay, I will put ‘shopping for proper exercise attire’ on our list of things to do this week. And unless you are going to a yoga class, never wear those in public again. Got it?”

Janel nodded absently as she craned her neck to see into Nick’s room. It looked like he hadn’t slept in the bed last night. A maid bustled out carrying the shirt he wore to the wedding, and Janel wondered if he’d slept at all or just changed clothes. Janel nodded a greeting to the maid as Trish started down the list on her pad.

“You’ll meet with Steve, your personal trainer, every Tuesday morning at seven.”

Janel bristled. Why should she have to work out? She was not a trophy wife; that wasn’t part of the deal. If B.M.B. was trying to turn her into one, she’d have a few words with Pamela. “Why do I need a personal trainer?”

“It’s part of our ongoing services. We find that people who exercise are generally happier in life, they are better and more creative at problem-solving, and can participate in a variety of activities due to their physical stamina.”

Janel paused on the stairs. “What happens if I get fat?”

Trish looked over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“If I get fat, do I get fired?”

Trish’s mouth dropped open. “What? No.”

“Then why do I have to work out?”

Trish stepped up so they were on the same level and put her arm around Janel. “This marriage is as much about you as it is about Mr. Ryburn. You’re a busy student, you teach classes, and you’re planning a huge archeological dig in another country—you need to take care of yourself, and we’re trying to help. A personal trainer is a perk. You don’t have to work out; but you’ll be healthier and happier if you do.”

Janel considered Trish’s words. It couldn’t hurt to get in better shape. She’d need to haul her own gear into the Guatemalan jungle, and she might as well be strong enough to do it. “Okay. This guy isn’t going to yell at me or anything is he?”

“Steve will walk you through the machines in Nick’s gym so you understand how to work each one on your own.”

Nick’s gym. Was he offered the same “perks,” or did grooms get off easier than brides?

“On subsequent visits he’ll teach you different types of workouts so you don’t get bored.”

“Uh-huh. Does Nick work out?”

Trish didn’t miss a step. “He alternates weightlifting and running.”

Janel remembered the way Nick’s suit fit, and his broad shoulders.
Yeah, he works out.
She quickly changed her focus from Nick’s physique to Trish’s instructions.

“Now, after your session, you’ll have time to shower and get dressed for the day. Then you’ll meet with the staff—Did you read the information Nick put together for you?”

“Yep. Wait, how did you know about that?”

They reached the bottom of the grand staircase and crossed the gathering room to the stairs that led to the basement. This level was just as impressive as the rest of the house. The theater room was located under the garage, the game room was insane, the gym was immaculate, the mother-in-law apartment was stunning, and a hot tub waited off the patio. There was also a bar, a pool table, a water feature, a reading nook, and a couple of guest rooms. Janel could spend weeks down here!

“Standard procedure. Nick gave us a job outline when he signed up.

“We’ll have a short break for lunch and hit the stores for some workout clothes. I have to be back to the office by three, so you’ll have some time this afternoon to input your school schedule into the system. I have a new phone for you.”

Janel started to protest—there was already so much “new” in her life that she was off-balance.

Trish held up her hand. “We kept your old number. The new phone is compatible with Nick’s. You guys can see real-time updates to your calendar, talk at the push of a button, and do a whole bunch of other things that I don’t have time to tell you about because Steve hates it when people are late.” Trish opened the door and motioned for Janel to go in first.

Janel entered the gym, took one look at Steve, and stepped backward into Trish.

Steve was built like a locomotive. He had more muscles in his arm than Janel had in her whole body. She wondered if he took steroids.

Steve smiled in welcome, and Janel thought her heart would jump out of her chest in fear. He looked at her like the mechanic looks at her car every time she brings it in—she was a lemon and he was about to make lemonade. At that moment, Janel swore she would never be late for her workout, because if that was Steve’s welcome face, she had no desire to see Steve’s upset face.

The day went by quickly, and by the time Janel returned home with an arm full of shopping bags, she was ready to go to bed. Nick’s chef, Enzo, made two dinners, and she found hers in the warming drawer under the oven.

A warming drawer was a luxury Janel never thought she’d have. It was beautiful with its stainless steel finish and easy-grip handle. She spent the next couple of minutes running her fingers over every surface in the kitchen. The long day listening to Trish give her the dos and don’ts of fashion was worth it to come home to this room.

As she sat down at the table to eat, she realized she hadn’t heard from Nick all day. She played with her new phone, finding the text icon and debating over what to say. She finally just typed a quick hello and asked if he wanted her to keep his dinner warm or put it in the fridge.

Fridge, we ordered take out. Thanks.

Janel speared an asparagus and chewed as she read through his schedule for the next couple of days. He was booked from sunup to sundown, which didn’t leave much time for them to see each other.

As far as employers go, Nick was pretty easygoing. The staff all seemed to like him. Since they were aware of the sleeping arrangements in the house, she wondered if they would resent her coming in and taking over, but she didn’t sense any hostility. They were good at their jobs, and as long as the quality of their work stayed the same, she didn’t foresee any problems.

After finishing her dinner, a chocolate craving took hold and wouldn’t let go. Janel rummaged through the kitchen and found minimal baking supplies. She couldn’t make her grandma’s brownies without chocolate chips, so she grabbed her keys and headed to the store. She bought enough supplies to make brownies, cookies, and a cake, should the mood hit. She hadn’t had a real kitchen in years and she wasn’t about to let this one go to waste. Someone should be able to enjoy the household amenities, because it wasn’t going to be Mr. “I’m At Work” Ryburn.

Back at home, Janel put the brownies in the oven and spent the next thirty minutes filling out her calendar. When she hit “save,” her and Nick’s days blended together.

Well, at least she was cyber-connected to her husband.

Chapter 12

Nick scrolled through his calendar, which had officially become the “Ryburn calendar”, with his events highlighted in green and Janel’s in purple.

Janel started school in one week and it looked like she’d be teaching a couple classes as well as monitoring a lab. She had a few hours set aside for research and writing her dissertation.

A biweekly visit to the salon appeared excessive. Janel didn’t seem like the type to go overboard on pampering herself, but Pamela had said that was part of the package when he signed up, so he shrugged it off. All in all, Janel was busy, but her evenings were free.

He tossed his phone on the desk in front of him. It wasn’t like his schedule was going to open up anytime soon. If they hadn’t gotten married on Monday, it would have been three, maybe four weeks before he’d be able to take a morning off again. Development for the new chip had hit a snag, and the late nights stretched out before him like a lonely country road.

Much later that night, or more accurately, early the next morning, Nick finally made it home. The house was dark, but not empty. Funny how just knowing Janel was asleep upstairs made a difference in the atmosphere.

Entering the kitchen, Nick was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh-baked goods.
Chocolate
baked goods. He followed his nose to a white plate holding a large brownie, covered in thick chocolate frosting and topped with chopped walnuts, waiting on the bar. There was a purple post-it note next to the plate that simply read,
For Nick
.

He fished a fork out of the cutlery drawer.
This
brownie demanded a tool for consumption. He took the plate and the note over to the table to eat. After two heavenly bites, he needed milk, and opened the fridge to find a half-gallon of chocolate milk, only partially drunk, waiting on the shelf. Nick shook his head in amazement. He could get used to having Janel around real fast.

The brownie disappeared in no time. Nick leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly. For some reason, he was proud. Proud that this brownie came from the kitchen he’d designed. He downed the last of his chocolate milk and set the glass in the sink, pondering the strange effect Janel had on him. He hadn’t seen her since the wedding, and yet she’d managed to make him feel cared for just by leaving a brownie.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Nick noticed Janel’s door was slightly open. If they were more familiar with one another, he’d consider it an invitation to let her know he’d made it home. Even though they were married, they weren’t
familiar
—yet. He grinned. There were ways to fix that.

He ran back down the stairs to his office and wrote his own post-it note, sticking it just inside her door.

Nick quickly got into bed, shut his eyes, and willed sleep to come before he thought any more about how close he and Janel could really become.

Chapter 13

The next morning, Janel found a post-it note on the light switch just inside her bedroom door. It said,
Best brownie ever! Couldn’t find the pan—please make more.

Grandma always said her brownies were magical. Perhaps they were. She flipped the post-it over, wondering if Nick was still in the house. She wasn’t about to go knocking on his bedroom door. Maybe she’d catch him in the kitchen.

Throwing a robe on over her pajama bottoms and tank top, Janel ran down the stairs. She pulled up short at the sight of Nick rinsing his bowl in the sink. She’d forgotten how stinking gorgeous he was. He was already dressed for a day at the office.

Squaring her shoulders, she tried to appear casual—like she didn’t feel at all conspicuous in her bathrobe in a stranger’s house. Funny, she’d only been here a few days and already it felt like home.

“Morning,” she chirped.

Nick looked up from the soap bubbles and fumbled with his bowl.

Janel opened the freezer and pretended not to notice the flush climbing up his neck.

Recovering quickly, Nick replied, “Good morning.”

Retrieving two individually wrapped brownies from the freezer, Janel held them out to Nick. “I, um, got your note. If I’d known you wanted more, I wouldn’t have frozen them. But—” She pumped her eyebrows. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Grandma’s Brownies frozen.”

“Really?” Nick looked intrigued as he accepted both brownies.

“Go on.” Janel inclined her head.

“I just had breakfast.”

Janel crossed to the pantry and found the oatmeal. “I won’t tell.”

Nick grinned wickedly, and Janel’s grip tightened, bending the cardboard oatmeal tube.

He sucked in a breath as his teeth cut through the cold frosting, and chewed slowly.

Turning away, Janel was able to regain her thoughts. “Well?” She measured out a serving of oatmeal and added water. “Good, right?”

“Oh, my, ghoofreid.”

Janel laughed. “I’ll take that as a 'yes'.” She put her bowl in the microwave and set the cook time.

Nick took another bite. Tipping his head to the side, he looked from the brownies in his hand to the freezer and back.

“What?” Janel asked.

Nick swallowed. “I’m not sure frozen is my favorite.”

“You like them better at room temp?”

“I think I’m going to have to try both, together, in order to figure it out.”

The microwave beeped, and Janel retrieved her breakfast. “Are you trying to tell me you need
more
?” she asked over her shoulder. “There’s a whole pan’s worth in the freezer.”

Nick tore open the freezer. He looked in and then shook his head. “I just don’t see how those are going to last.” He snatched three bags. “See, they’re disappearing fast.”

Janel laughed. “Okay. Lucky for you, I bought enough supplies for two batches.” She’d bought enough for four, but she had a feeling Nick didn’t need to know that.

“No rush.” Nick snatched another brownie baggie.

Janel’s hand went to her hip. “No rush?! At this rate, they’ll be gone by dusk,” she teased. She didn’t mind at all that Nick loved her baking.

Nick lifted his shoulders. “I’ll be gone all day. I need to stock up.”

“In that case ...” Janel retrieved a brown lunch sack from the pantry. “You’ll need a way to carry them.”

Nick’s eyes sparkled. “Good idea.”

Janel opened the bag and Nick emptied his hands. After folding over the top, Janel handed it to Nick.

Nick leaned over and kissed her cheek, causing Janel’s heart to thump loudly against her ribs.

“Thanks for the sweets.” Nick’s breath caressed Janel’s cheek.

Paralyzed by the jolt of desire that coursed through her, Janel didn’t reply as Nick pulled away. They made eye contact, and he looked as surprised as Janel felt.

“Have … Have a great day.” Her words came out raspy, and her stomach flipped.

Nick stepped back. “I will, now.” He blinked twice and then held up the lunch sack. The movement was an afterthought, and Janel wondered if he’d meant that something other than the brownies had improved his day.

***

Grandma’s magic brownies broke the ice. Later that day she received her second text from Nick.

How was class?

Janel stared at it for a moment. Should she answer right away? She checked his calendar. Nick was in a budget meeting. She didn’t want to bother him, but he’d sent a text so she could at least reply.

Good/Busy. I always have a couple students who want to add the class late and then have to scramble to catch up. Correcting first assignments now.

She bit her lip as she hit send, wondering if she’d said too much. Maybe she should have kept it short.

His reply was encouraging.
They’re lucky to have you. I remember a couple instructors who weren’t that nice.

Janel smiled. That was sweet of him. She stared at the phone. Was she supposed to text back? Ugh. She was so unskilled at electronic conversations. It gave her way too much time to second-guess herself, and she much preferred to see the guy’s face. Now that she’d waited this long, it felt awkward to send another message. Besides, wouldn’t that make her look needy or something?

With a beep, a picture came through. Janel squinted and pulled the phone closer. She burst out laughing. The image was of the bottom of the lunch sack, where one lonely brownie, with smashed frosting no less, awaited its fate.

Wow, you have a serious chocolate problem. ;) I’ll see what I can do to help.

Not fair to tease…

No teasing, what time are you going to get home?

There was a delay, and Janel tapped her fingers on her desk. Was she being too presumptuous?

Eventually his answer came.
Sigh. Late. Sorry.

The disappointment ran deep. Deep enough that it made Janel wrap her arms around her middle. Janel was usually pretty even-keeled: she didn’t get too upset about things, or too excited about them either—unless they involved Mayan mummies and tombs. What was it about Nick that caused these caveman reactions—or rather, cavewoman reactions? First she’d had the desire to taste the chocolate on his lips this morning, and now she felt let-down enough that all she wanted to do was blow off correcting papers and hit the hot tub for some R&R. That type of thinking was so unlike her.

With a start, she realized Nick was waiting for her response.

No worries. Chocolate will keep.

Thanks. ;)

Janel looked at her desk calendar. Since she’d explained—as much as the confidentiality agreement would allow—the private funding she procured for the expedition to Professor Ford, he’d helped her create a timeline to complete preparations for the dig. She might not be in the right mindset to correct papers, but she was always ready to work on her thesis.

Even as she perused applications from grad students who wanted to be a part of the crew, her mind wandered back to Nick. He’d looked so good this morning: his hair still wet from the shower, and the way it felt when his lips brushed her cheek! If a kiss on the cheek felt like that, she could hardly imagine how incredible a real kiss would feel.

The image of Nick pulling her close overtook all thoughts of applications. Janel spent a few minutes in her new happy place before jerking herself away. Crossing her arms on her desk, she dropped her head onto them.

Stupid cavewoman!