The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three by Lucy McConnell Page B

neck. They were like four icicles on his bare skin, and he jumped away. Laughing, she said, “I think I already am.”
    He grabbed her hands and rubbed them between his own, just like he’d done for countless kids on the ski slopes. When he pulled her hands up to his mouth to blow on them, time slowed down. Rym forgot where they were, any worries he’d carried through the courthouse door, and that he was supposed to keep Amber at arm’s length. Amber’s lips parted slightly, and he found himself stepping closer.
    Just as the urge to lean down and kiss her seized his chest, someone cleared their throat. “Let me guess, you’re the one o’clock.”
    Taking a step back, Amber looked toward the middle-aged man with silver hair and said, “That’s us.”
    Rym let go of Amber’s hands and instantly regretted it. He remembered something they’d taught him in back country survival class: a dehydrated person was a desperate person. If there was one thing he didn’t ever want to be, it was desperate. He’d spent two-thirds of his life taking care of his basic needs, buying shampoo and soap for him and his mom when he was just a kid and learning to live without things or act like it didn’t matter. He never showed desperation because that meant you were weak.
    His actions with Amber, the way he let her draw him close and crave contact, made him feel needy. Stuffing his hands in his sweater pockets, he resolved to get through the wedding and the marriage with his dignity intact.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 5
     
     
     
     
    Amber was relieved that the justice of the peace took his job seriously. He sure didn’t waste any time. They were in, married, and out the door in a matter of ten minutes. It was a good thing. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep Rym from having another come apart. All three of her previous husbands had sought out BMB. They had specific requirements for their wife and were pleased, if not even excited, to marry Amber. Talking someone into marrying her felt manipulative and bordering on dishonest business practices.
    They drove through Park City in a comfortable silence. Rym had taken on a reflective, though determined, aura. There were no second thoughts floating between them, and she took it as a good sign that his shoulders were relaxed. Apparently the worst was over.
    In the short time she’d known Rym, she’d already ascertained that he cared about others, as evidenced by the blanket he wrapped around her in the car and the coat he’d loaned her; took pleasure in the small things in life, like hot chocolate; and had some confidence issues that came through with his inability to take a compliment on his looks.
    Confidence she could work on. Though some people were born with it, confidence was something a person could learn, and Rym would be a quick study.
    His attention to the people around him set others at ease, and he’d soon find that it was probably one of his biggest strengths.
    His other strength, the one he didn’t know he had, was his looks. He’d probably been riding on them for years and didn’t even know it. His strong jaw line and wide smile commanded attention. Well, they commanded her attention. When he’d taken her hands, she’d felt a thrill go through her body. At first she passed it off as a chill, but when his warm breath touched her skin, she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with him.
    Even though her other husbands were good-looking, she’d never felt more for them than affection, the kind of affection she had for family. They were much more than clients; they’d become the deepest of friends. They held hands, hugged, posed for pictures, and made all sorts of small gestures that were easy, natural, calming. But having Rym close was not at all calming. It scattered her thoughts and had her frantic for a deep breath.
    Even wearing his coat was distracting. Since his frame was much larger than hers—probably mostly muscle, since