by Noelle Adams
“Okay. I really have to go before I drop all my bags, but I’ll send you an email with directions and such. I’m glad you can come!”
When she hung up, she hurried to the elevator, pleased that Jack could make it. All eight of the people they’d invited had said yes. She’d never thrown a party before—not once in her life—so she was quite relieved that no one was blowing them off.
But the upcoming party wasn’t her primary concern at the moment. Her plans for the evening were far more important.
She took several deep breaths as the elevator ascended, and then she steeled her will as she walked down the hall to their apartment.
It was going to be a good night. She desperately wanted this to happen, and she was pretty sure Nick did too. She didn’t want to wait any longer. If that meant she had to be the one to initiate, then that was what she was going to do.
She had it all planned out. And she had Nick’s wedding ring in a little box in her purse.
She was going to give it back to him tonight.
When she stepped inside, the first thing to hit her was a warm, savory scent. She gasped in outrage. “I said I was bringing dinner!”
Nick stepped out from the kitchen area, frowning. “I sent you a text saying I decided to make something, so you didn’t have to bother.”
“I didn’t get a text.”
“I sent it to you like forty-five minutes ago. I bet you were busy and didn’t look.” He was wearing his normal T-shirt and flannel pants, and his hair was a mess. He obviously wasn’t going for romance this evening.
“But…but…” She swallowed hard. She’d spent a fortune on the takeout meals from their favorite restaurant. She’d been planning to fix them up all nice to make the evening special.
But if Nick was already making something, it would be strange to tell him to stop cooking it.
“I didn’t see the text, so I brought something for dinner,” she said at last. “But it will save.”
She half expected him to say whatever he was cooking could be saved, so they could eat what she’d brought, but he didn’t. He just nodded and headed back to the stove.
So Jenn felt weird and awkward as she put the takeout containers into the refrigerator.
“I got a bottle of wine too,” she said. It was champagne, but she felt self-conscious about mentioning that now.
“No need. I’ve already opened something. Why don’t you just go change clothes and get comfortable.” Nick wasn’t even looking at her. He was busily working on whatever was in the pan on the stovetop.
Jenn sighed and stuck the bottle in the refrigerator with the takeout containers.
So much for her careful, detailed plan. Now she didn’t even know what to do. She headed back into her bedroom, trying to sort through her options.
She’d been planning to change into something pretty, but that would just be strange now. Instead, she put on a pair of soft leggings and a thin sweater that clung to her body, making her look like she had more curves than she actually did. At least she looked nice in it, and it was as casual as Nick’s dinner evidently was.
When she stepped out of her bedroom, she sniffed the air. “Nick?” she called. “Is something burning?”
“I don’t think so.” She was surprised to hear his voice coming from behind his closed bedroom door.
“Are you sure? It smells like smoke or something.”
She waited at his door until he swung it open. He sniffed the air too, frowning when he must have smelled what she’d smelled. He strode back to the living area quickly.
Jenn followed him, her eyes widening as she saw that he’d started to make a fire in the fireplace while she was changing clothes. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I don’t even know if that thing works.”
“Why wouldn’t it work?” he grumbled, hurrying over. The fire hadn’t really started, but there was smoke wafting out from it.
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t they be cleaned and stuff before they’re used? Why were you even making a fire? It’s not that cold tonight.”
“I know it’s not cold.” He sounded almost grumpy as he poked at the fire, but that only made more smoke come out.
“Damn it.” Jenn looked at the smoke for a minute and then ran toward the windows. “We better open these before the fire alarm goes off.”
“It’s not going to go off.” Nick was scowling at the fireplace, more bad tempered than she would have expected from such a minor thing. “I’m sure I can get this thing working.”
“Please don’t even try. The alarms in this building are interconnected. If one goes off, they’ll all go off, and the entire building will have to be evacuated.” For the first time, she looked around the room and saw that he’d set up a small table, complete with white table cloth, crystal glasses, her best china, and lovely peonies in a vase.
She froze, staring at it. Then looked back at the fire. “What’s going on here?”
“The damned fireplace isn’t working,” he grumbled. “I better get a fire extinguisher before everyone in the building hates us.” He hadn’t turned around, so he hadn’t noticed her expression.
“Why did you fix that beautiful table?” she demanded. Then her eyes found a silver ice bucket in which was chilling a bottle of champagne, even better than the bottle she’d bought herself.
She gasped, her hand moving up to her chest. “Nick?” she asked, her voice wobbling slightly.
Her tone caught his attention, and he turned to look at her. His face softened at her dazed expression. “I was fixing dinner,” he said, his voice slightly thick.
“Dinner?”
“I wanted it to be special.” He glanced down at himself, half wryly and half self-consciously.
Her eyes followed his gaze, and she realized he’d changed pants. The ones he was wearing were still flannel pajama pants, but they were new and black with a repeated pattern in the shape of two rings.
Wedding rings.
She gasped again, her eyes flying up to confirm what must be happening.
He gave a little shrug. “I thought tonight was the night.”
She choked on the emotion rising in her throat. “I thought tonight was the night too.” She ran over to her purse and pulled out the box in which she’d put his ring. “I was going to give it back to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other, lost in deep emotion, until they were distracted from their sappy daze by the blaring of a fire alarm. First theirs. Then the alarms in the hallway. Then all over the building.
Nick groaned and ran to the kitchen to pull the fire extinguisher out from under the sink, where they kept it. He sprayed down the fireplace, effectively killing the fire, but it was too late to get the fire alarms to go off.
Jenn had been looking out the window at the sidewalk in front of their building. “Everyone is already leaving. I think the fire trucks are even going to come.”
With another groan, Nick grabbed his phone and then reached for her hand. “I’ll see if I can call them and tell them not to. Shit, everyone is going to hate me.”
“Yes, I’m definitely going to tell everyone it’s your fault and not mine. We better turn off the stove, or that’s going to burn and make everything worse.”
So they headed downstairs, the alarms still blaring, and Nick was talking to someone at the fire station when the first fire truck pulled up to the curb.
By that point, Jenn had resigned herself to a big scene, and that was definitely what it was.
Despite Nick’s assurances that everything was fine and it was all his fault, the firefighters made them all wait outside until they’d checked out the building.
Nick sighed as he and Jenn stood on the sidewalk.
Jenn was trying not to giggle.
“Go ahead,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Mock me all you want.”
“Why were you even building a fire?”
“I thought we could burn our marriage contrac
t,” he admitted, taking both of her hands in his. “I’d printed out a copy.”
She gasped, torn between amusement and tenderness. “Really?”
“Yeah. I had it all planned out.”
“I had it planned out too, but my plan didn’t include a visit from the firemen.”
“Mine didn’t either.” His eyes were softening as he gazed down at her face.
She leaned closer to him. “Where did you find those pants?”
“Online. Do you like them?”
She giggled. “They’re certainly better than your collection of ancient ones.”
“Don’t mock the pants. I know you secretly like them.” He leaned down to kiss her and then reached his hand into his pocket.
When he pulled his hand out again, he was holding her wedding and engagement rings. “I know this isn’t turning out to be a romantic evening, but I’ve got something to give you anyway.”
She almost lost her breath at the look in his eyes. “I want you to give them to me,” she whispered. “I don’t care what the evening turned into.”
“I love you, sweetheart. I’ve loved you for a long time. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. But now I don’t know how I ever lived without loving you the way I do. I want to be able to love you forever.” Nick slid the rings onto the finger of her left hand, his eyes holding hers with a look full of such love there was no way for her to misinterpret it.
She was tearing up slightly when she took his hand then and retrieved his wedding ring from the box she still held. She slipped it onto his finger too. “I love you too. With everything I have in me to love. I didn’t think it was possible, but I know you’re never going to walk out on me. I trust you, Nick.”
The words meant something to him. She could see it on his face.
And she didn’t care if they were standing on the sidewalk, surrounded by their annoyed neighbors and disapproving firefighters and any number of cars who’d been trapped by the trucks. She didn’t care that none of her plans for the evening had worked out in any way or that Nick was wearing the most ridiculous pajama pants she’d ever seen.
She loved him, and she wanted to be married to him for the rest of her life.
And she knew—without fear or hesitation—that Nick wanted that too.
***
If you enjoyed Married by Contract, you might check out the excerpt from A Princess Next Door, which features Jack Watson and can be found on the following pages.
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Excerpt from A Princess Next Door
They say some children are born with silver spoons in their mouths. I wasn’t one of those children.
I am Amalie Rothman, and I was born with a crown on my head.
I assume those silver spoons are figurative, unless there are strange goings-on in certain quarters involving newborns and high end cutlery. But the crown on my head was entirely literal. My mother has a photograph of me, only one hour old and wearing a tiara, in her private lounge to prove it.
She took the same picture of my older brother and my two younger sisters. She’s very proud of her husband’s royal lineage. My parents kept having children, hoping for a spare heir after my brother, Henry, but they only ended up with more daughters. Not that extra princesses of Villemont are useless. After all, there are plenty of dull, unattractive men of distinction to marry us off to.
My mother had a certain Edward Farmingham Channing IV in mind for my future husband. He wasn’t noble, but he was the heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune. Noble blood is well and good, but money is even better.
Four years ago, when I was twenty, I dug in my heels and told my mother I wasn’t going to marry the man. I wanted to go to university and study art instead. After endless rounds of debate and argument, I finally announced I was leaving whether she wanted me to or not. She still says I ran away, although all I did was move to Minneapolis for college, on the assumption that I’d return home when I graduated.
That was how I ended up getting whistled at in the hallway of my apartment building.
I was unlocking my door, but I paused when I heard the wolf whistle. It was so out of place and so unexpected that it took me a minute to even recognize.
I finally turned my head to see Jack Watson grinning at me from down the hall.
“Did you just whistle at me?” I asked, trying not to smile back as he approached.
Jack lived in the apartment next door, and he wasn’t anything like the men I was used to, who were all well-groomed, over-educated, and oozing a kind of privileged ennui. Jack was big and handsome with rough edges and a blunt candor that always surprised me. I’d known him since he moved into the building last year, although we only ever interacted in the hall or the parking garage.
“I did,” he admitted, his eyes traveling up and down my body with open appreciation. “You look good.”
It was an unseasonably warm day for April, so I was wearing a little green sundress. I’d thought I looked pretty when I finished dressing that morning, and it was nice that Jack thought so too. “But why did you whistle?”
“That’s what guys do here. Didn’t you know that?” His brown eyes were still warm and amused, but I could tell he was asking a genuine question.
As much as I tried to speak with a normal American accent, I still sounded European. Villemont is a microstate tucked in the Alps between France and Germany. It’s been a sovereign nation for more than three hundred years, but it only spans twenty-five square miles and boasts a population of about 15,000. I’ve been told my accent sounds in between French and German, which makes sense since they’re both official languages of Villemont.
There was a lot about American culture that was new to me, but I did know about wolf whistles. “Yes, of course,” I said, answering Jack’s question. “But I thought it was a rude thing men did to women on the street.”
“It is.” He glanced away, looking momentarily sheepish. “It was dumb. Sorry.”
I wasn’t used to guys apologizing so easily. “So why did you do it?”
“Because I do a lot of dumb things around you.” His mouth twitched up slightly. “Haven’t you realized that by now?”
He’d made no pretense of his attraction to me over the months I’d known him. At first, he’d always been asking me to go to dinner or the movies with him. After a while, when I kept telling him no, he stopped asking me out, but it was clear he was still interested.
I tried to remind myself that I was graduating next month and would have to return home—probably to marry someone politically or diplomatically advantageous to my family. There was no sense in indulging the flood of attraction that suddenly consumed me when I stared up at Jack’s handsome face, broad shoulders, and sexy smile.
I’d always turned down his advances because it was smart and because I knew the relationship could never go anywhere. But I was finding myself more and more tempted to say yes.
“Oh,” I said, lowering my eyes, wishing I was just a normal college girl who could respond to any man I wanted.
“Are you going out tonight?”
“No.” It was a Friday night, but I never went out much. I had some casual friends, but it was hard to get close to anyone and keep the fact that you were a princess a secret.
No one knew who I was here, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“I was thinking about ordering a pizza. You can come over and have some if you want.”
I swallowed hard, giving myself a quick mental lecture about how silly and futile it would be to hang out with this man, when a future was already mapped out for me back home. “Thank you. I probably won’t, though.”
“I was afraid you’d say that, but it’s a standing offer. Just knock on my door any time you want.” Jack wore khakis and an untucked black T-shirt. I knew he ran his family’s sporting goods franchise, but he rarely dressed up for work. He looked around thirty, and I liked just about everyt
hing about him—even the way he always needed to shave at the end of the day.
He was so different from everything I was accustomed to.
“Okay. Thank you.” I inhaled deeply and then let my breath out, forcing myself to turn away and finishing unlocking my door.
I glanced back one more time before I stepped inside. He was still standing there, gazing at me with those deep brown eyes and an almost wistful smile.
Damn, it was hard to say no to him.
But I was Amalie Rothman. I was a princess of Villemont. And Jack Watson wasn’t for me.
***
You can find out more about A Princess Next Door here.
About Noelle Adams
Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she writes full time, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website: noelle-adams.com.
Books by Noelle Adams
Eden Manor Series
One Week with her Rival
One Week with her (Ex) Stepbrother
One Week with her Husband
Beaufort Brides Series
Hired Bride
Substitute Bride
Accidental Bride
One Night Novellas
One Hot Night: Three Contemporary Romance Novellas
One Night with her Boss
One Night with her Roommate
One Night with the Best Man
Willow Park Series
Married for Christmas
A Baby for Easter
A Family for Christmas
Reconciled for Easter
Home for Christmas
Heirs of Damon Series
Seducing the Enemy
