The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three (3 page)

Pamela nodded matter-of-factly. “Pretty much.”

“Hmm.”

It was Pamela’s turn to lift her eyebrows.

Amber glanced back to the image of Rym and saw a masculine independence in his eye. It was as attractive as it was alarming.
It could mean trouble.

Pamela’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “I’ll admit that it may seem … eccentric for Michael to add the clause to his will.” She moved her hands away from the keyboard and clutched a pen. “He’s on a tight deadline.” She glanced at the clock.

Amber gripped the chair. “You mean, he’s dying—now?”

Paula cleared her throat. “I expect a call from his attorney at any moment.”

“I’m so sorry, Paula. He was obviously dear to you.”

Paula nodded and ducked her chin. Amber wanted to hug her, but wasn’t sure if Paula would feel awkward receiving sympathy from an employee. Instead she settled for the much less personal pat on Paula’s hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Paula lifted her head. “You can help me fulfill Michael’s wishes. He built his business, tended it, and grew it, and more than anything, he wants Rym to succeed him as the owner. He told me Rym had the same love for it as he did. It’s in his blood. And we both believe that, with a strong mentor, he’ll do wonderfully.”

Amber pulled her hand away. “I know we’re divorced, but I wonder how this will affect Jeremy. It will look like I left him for Rym. I don’t want to do that.”

“Leave that to Lisa Marie. She has a few ideas about keeping the press out of this one.”

Amber had one other concern. “What if he’s dating someone?” She had no desire to come between a happy, unhappy, estranged, engaged, or any other type of couple.

Swiveling the screen back to face her side of the desk, Pamela said, “He’s been single for a while.”

Amber chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to turn this opportunity down. Another contract would bring her closer to her goal of retiring by the time she was thirty-five. There was a lot of the world out there for her to explore. With the right investments, she could see as much of it as she wanted and buy a place of her own to come home to. Besides, helping people change, grow, and succeed fulfilled her in a way no other work could. It was her calling in life. With the right attitude, she could make this work.

She stood up and adjusted her purse over her shoulder. “Should I call you when I get back into town and we can set a date?”

Pamela typed on the computer for a moment before looking up. “Didn’t I mention the wedding is Friday?”

Amber dropped back into her seat.
Four days?
“You left that part out.”

Gone was the woman mourning her friend; Pamela the boss had returned. “It doesn’t matter. Everything is ready. Your code of conduct is on file, you can sign the prenup before you leave, and I just emailed Trish; she’ll have your boarding pass for the flight waiting at the front desk.”

Amber pressed her palms to her head to stop the spinning. She grabbed the first question that came into focus. “Boarding pass?”

Pamela focused on typing for a moment, and Amber wondered if she was ordering a car to pick her up at whatever airport she was headed to. “Rym lives in Park City.”

“Utah? But it’s cold there.” Images of warm beaches and hot sun turned into mounds of snow and puffy coats.
Ick!

Pamela brought up the weather channel. “It was fifteen degrees yesterday. Do you ski?”

“No.”

“It’s like riding a bike, I’m sure. Once you get the hang of it, you never forget. I’ve been to Michael’s little resort several times. They have wonderful instructors. I’m sure you’ll pick it up.”

Amber doubted that. But she wasn’t going to Utah to ski; she was going to get married and help Rym organize his life. That, she could do.

“Okay, I guess I’m going back to see Lisa Marie.” She stood up again and took Pamela’s outstretched hand.

“I’ve got a good feeling about you,” said Pamela.

I’m glad one of us does.

“I’ll be calling for monthly updates this time. If you need help, let me know. I owe Michael at least that.”

Amber cringed. During her first marriage, Trish, the bride manager of sorts, had been in constant contact. She’d been a huge resource for Amber. After that, she did what came naturally to her. Her second and third marriages were almost completely hands-off from BMB. She and Trish still met up every couple of months for lunch as friends. She worked best on her own and didn’t like the idea of Pamela hanging over her shoulder.

Besides that, she was going into this contract just as blind as Rym. She’d need several hours to research the resort, Rym, Grandpa Michael, and anything else that might help her understand what she’d gotten herself into.

Amber caught a small bit of desperation in Pamela’s eyes. Rym’s grandfather must have been a good friend for Pamela to take an invested role in the marriage.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you.”

Amber excused herself and hurried down the hall to Lisa Marie’s office. The divorce papers had been cleared away and a prenuptial agreement, still warm from the printer, with Rym’s name under the signature line, waited.

Lisa Marie, who now had two pens holding up the messy bun of curls at the back of her neck, gave her a quick smile as if she didn’t have time to finish it. “You are the fastest turnaround I’ve had.”

Amber wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, an insult, or just an observation, so she didn’t reply.

“I’m not going to file this until Thursday morning. I think it will be best to have a couple days between the divorce and the marriage. Otherwise the marriage will be too easy for the paparazzi to pick up on.”

Amber nodded. “Thanks.” The last thing Amber needed was more bad press. On one level, she could ignore it; sticks and stones and all that. On another level, it stung to have someone believe such horrible things about her.

“I’m also going to file it in Utah to put as much distance between that marriage and this one as possible.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’s the same prenup you’ve signed before. The only difference is the groom’s name. If you’re good, we’ll cruise through. If you want me to go over anything slower, just ask. Okay?”

Amber threw her long hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, Amber collected her plane ticket from Lisa Marie and was headed towards the elevator, still reeling from the fact that she would be married again in less than a week.

“Hold up!” Trish hurried down the hall.

Amber smiled at Trish’s zebra-striped dress and bright green high heels. A pair of black sunglasses perched on her head and a gold chain belt hung around her middle. Amber preferred a more subtle look, but adored Trish’s taste in clothing.

They exchanged a quick hug. “So, you’re back in business?”

“I guess so.”

Trish bounced on her toes. “I’m flying out as soon as possible to take you shopping. I just found the cutest boutique on Main Street. Promise you won’t go without me.”

Amber laughed. “I promise.”

“Okay. I’m going to research the latest winter clothes and I’ll email you pictures. Have you seen the fur-lined hats? They’re adorable.”

Amber was a bit weary of all things winter. “I’m sure you’ll look great in one.”

Trish’s shoulder sagged dramatically. “Let a girl have a dream, will you? I’d love to turn you into the most adorable snow bunny. Especially since your groom is so yummy.”

Trish said the same thing about husbands number one and number three. Poor Derik, husband number two: what he lacked in looks, he more than made up for in his sense of humor. If only women could see the amazing man under the big nose, gangly arms, and toothy grin. “I’d rather be that bunny with the drum and the batteries. I’ve got tons of research to do over the next couple of days. Besides, it doesn’t matter to me how handsome Rym is; this is business.”

“Spoilsport.” Trish stuck out her tongue.

“You know I don’t mix romance with work.” Since BMB marriages did not include any form of physical relationship unless both parties consented—which Amber never did, ever!—work was just work for Amber.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not blind, though. Tell me you didn’t swoon at his profile pic and I’ll forget about any clothing with fur.”

Amber considered denying the way she’d appreciated Rym’s rugged looks, just to get out of trying on a bear-skin coat or whatever else caught Trish’s eye. Trish might seem fickle for her love of shopping, but she was truly gifted when it came to finding flattering clothes and designing a look that brides felt comfortable wearing. Her advice was one of the reasons BMB brides were so successful. She often told Amber that when you looked your best, you did your best. “Snow bunny it is,” Amber said, unwilling to say the actual words:
Rym is gorgeous.

Trish wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll call you when I schedule the trip.” With a quick hug goodbye, Trish hurried back to her office and Amber stepped into the elevator.

She bit her lip. Trish’s visit was the least of her worries. Rym was something of a mystery with his estranged grandfather, big inheritance, and single status despite his obvious good looks. Amber frowned as the elevator doors opened and a cool breeze touched her face. Growing up on the beaches of California, she’d avoided the cold at all costs. Now she was headed into fifteen-degree weather to marry a man who had been, for all intents and purposes, forced into the marriage. For the first time in her life, she wondered if her good sense had disappeared.

Chapter 3

Two nights later, Rym stalked across Iron Mountain’s main lodge, disgruntled and dismayed.

The giant building had an open feel thanks to the vaulted ceilings held in place by timbers bigger around than three men, fastened with black, steel joists and bolts longer than his arm. The great stone fireplace had a modest fire inside, and guests roamed wearing everything from ski clothes and clompy boots to suits and ties. Most everyone here had attended Grandpa’s scattering ceremony at the top of Grandpa’s favorite run, Big Blue.

Rym had to admit that standing on the edge of a drop-off where the whole of Park City lay before him, the sun resting on the next rise and watching Grandpa’s ashes catch a mountain breeze and spiral up before blasting to every corner of the ski run, was a stirring sight. Some of them were probably still flying around, waiting to catch a ride to the backcountry section of the resort.

The ceremony was short. Buddy, Grandpa’s lifelong friend, said a few words and read a letter Grandpa had written when he found out he was dying. Then the groomers had shot all seven of the avalanche cannons in succession. Finally, once the sun disappeared and the light faded, the employees of the resort, in full uniform, skied down the run carrying torches.

Those who couldn’t ski rode the lift back down the hill. Rym had skied. There was no greater tribute he could think of than to wear the skis Grandpa gave him the year he started teaching. He could imagine the smile on the old man’s face. For a moment there, when Rym had cut through the trees and popped up and out onto the trail, he would have sworn he heard Grandpa’s chuckle.

Since being summoned to Grandpa’s bedside less than thirty-six hours before, Rym’s life had taken on a surreal quality that left him feeling like someone had taken over his body and was pushing it through a series of events that were beyond his control. Half the time he wondered if it was all a dream, and the other half he doubted his brain could make something like this up.

The door to Grandpa’s office was open. Rym paused in the doorway and tapped the natural stained wood with his knuckle.

“Ah, Mr. Hoagland. Come in.” Mr. McGraw waved Rym into the room. “I’d like you to meet Pamela Jones. Pamela, this is Rym Hoagland.”

Rym shook hands with Pamela. She had soft skin, and though she had to be close to his mother’s age, her skin was flawless—unlike his mother’s skin, which always looked dull and carried the story of her disappointing marriage in its wrinkles.

Also unlike his mother were the red-rimmed eyes. Mom hadn’t shed a tear over Grandpa’s passing and refused to come to the service. Grandpa’s marriage clause had ruffled her feathers in a whole new way. She’d glared at the heavens and said, “If you can’t say anything nice …” before clamping her lips shut and refusing to talk about Grandpa at all.

Rym couldn’t blame her, but he also didn’t have the luxury of ignoring the situation. Instead, he had to meet with the marriage broker.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“You too.” Pamela didn’t release his hand. Instead, she stepped closer and closed her other hand over the top of their clasped ones. Peering closely, she said, “I am so sorry for your loss. Your grandfather spoke very highly of you over the years.”

The same comments had come pouring in before the scattering service. People Rym didn’t even know offered him condolences or told him how proud Grandpa was of him. If only Grandpa had been able to tell Rym before he was on his deathbed. Rym gave his standard answer. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Mr. McGraw motioned for Rym and Pamela to take a seat while he leaned against the desk, his back to Grandpa’s empty overstuffed dark leather chair. He didn’t waste any time. “Paula has brought several documents that need your signature. She’s asked me to sit in on the meeting as your legal representation. I’ve had time to review each document and I’ll walk you through them.”

Rym scooted forward in his seat.

“The first document is a confidentiality agreement. It’s for those who contract with Billionaire Marriage Brokers. Because of the high-profile status of some of their clients, as well as the sensitivity of the nature of the agreements, you’re not allowed to discuss the particulars of your marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Rym asked.

“BMB operates under strict confidentiality,” Pamela said. “We do not advertise our services and we screen both brides and grooms thoroughly. Because we specialize in partnerships that are mutually beneficial to both parties, are short-term, and fulfill unconventional needs—”

“Unconventional needs?” asked Rym.

“Perhaps a woman needs someone to run her fitness company, or a man needs a woman to run his charities. I put together individuals with specific skill sets. The marriages usually last a year, though some contracts extend as needed.”

Rym narrowed his eyes. “And what did you and Grandpa decide my needs were?”

The corner of Paula’s mouth twitched, and Rym wondered if she were fighting off a smile. “Michael specified a woman with knowledge of investments, an understanding of management, and someone who could teach those skills to you so you could carry on alone, if you choose.”

Rym didn’t miss the twitch of Pamela’s lips once again when she said “if you choose.” Did she think he would want to stay married? Not likely. “That’s all fine and good, but can this woman ski?”

Pamela brushed her hair over her shoulder. “No, I’m afraid she does not.”

Rym clenched his hands. “How can a person who doesn’t know how to ski possibly understand how to run a ski resort?”

“Management skills are transferable,” Pamela said, her head held high with buckets of confidence.

Rym wasn’t buying it. “Pamela, with all due respect, I believe the reason Grandpa Mike was able to make Iron Mountain into the world-class resort it is today is because of his love of skiing. It guided his decisions in everything from purchasing water rights in order to make snow during mild winters to where to build the lifts. His love for the sport clearly showed and he desired to share it with the world. Unless someone has that fire deep inside, they cannot run this resort.”

Pamela nodded. “Rym, you have that fire; what you’re lacking is training. Amber has the training. Perhaps over the season, she’ll develop that same passion you have for the sport.” She shifted in her seat. “However, I’m quite confident, and so was your grandfather, that Amber is the right person to train you for your new position.”

Rym slumped forward, his teeth clenched together as he said, “Grandpa picked her out?”

“We discussed several candidates. Amber has dual degrees in business and finance and has years of experience as a life coach; she’s dealt with the press on numerous occasions, and she helped create a brand for her last husband.”

“She sounds bossy,” cut in Rym.

Pamela’s posture relaxed. Her lips lifted into a toothless smile. “I understand that your world has shifted this week. Michael’s death has affected us all. On top of grieving for your grandfather, you’ll be married in two days. Moving into a new house, a new office … a new life. If there’s one guarantee I can make you in all this, it’s that Amber is not bossy. Nor will she force you to do anything you don’t want to do. She’s meant to be a resource as you face the challenges that lie ahead. Challenges your grandfather could foresee, but felt personally incapable of preparing you to face. He did the next best thing: he found you a partner who wasn’t your clone, but who had all the training you didn’t.” Pamela covered his hand with her own. “Amber will help you succeed, if you’ll let her.”

Rym looked to Mr. McGraw for help. He silently pled for the man to find a way to get him out of this.

“Shall we proceed with the confidentiality agreement?” asked Mr. McGraw.

Apparently there would be no help arriving from that quarter. “I don’t really have a choice now, do I?”

Pamela pulled her hand away. “You always have a choice, Rym.”

Rym didn’t see it that way at all. A spouse always turned out to be a burden, in one way or another. Even happy marriages didn’t come without a price, and he’d always considered it much too high a price to pay.

He could refuse to marry this Amber woman, lose his inheritance, and pretty much ruin the lives of everyone who worked at Iron Mountain. Or, he could marry Amber and lose a part of himself in the process. How could he break the hearts of the people that worked there just to save himself? He couldn’t. However, he couldn’t just turn himself over to a wife and let her run his life and the resort either.

He’d marry her, but that didn’t mean he had to listen to her. “Let’s get started.”