The Billionaire Bride Test

by Elle James

  Max gritted his teeth. He liked to be in control of his life. Everything about the BODS system made him feel like he was not the one in control. He didn’t like that at all.

  “Max, it’ll be all right.” Leslie patted his arm. “You don’t have to marry the woman if you don’t like her.”

  “Who said anything about marriage?” Max said, his voice tight. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m going on one date. If things don’t work out, that will be the only date.”

  The light in Leslie’s eyes twinkled, and her lips twitched as if she were holding back a smile. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind. If a date is all you want, a date is all you’ll get.” She raised an eyebrow. “I screen all my clients.”

  “I hope you do. I’d hate to think you cater to crooks, thieves or felons.”

  “You don’t understand.” Her lips pressed together, and she poked a finger at his chest. “I screen all of them. Including you.” She dropped her arm to her side.

  “Will my match know all about me?”

  She shook her head. “Only what you chose to tell her on your questionnaire.”

  “She won’t know how much money I have in the bank or that I played NFL football?”

  “Not if you didn’t put it in the questionnaire.”

  “I didn’t use all of my name,” he said. “It would’ve been a dead giveaway.”

  Leslie frowned. “What name did you use?”

  “Max Smith, instead of Maxwell Smithson or Moose.”

  She nodded. “I suppose that’s all right. It’s close enough without being exact.” Her frown cleared. “I guess you’re done then.”

  “Wait. What about my preferences in the woman?”

  “As I said, the computer will match based on your likes and dislikes. The program works. Give it a chance.” She herded him toward the conference room where his buddies were waiting.

  Max felt as if he was swimming against the current and no amount of muscle was going to get him out of the flow.

  Leslie opened the door to the conference room and gave him a gentle shove, propelling him inside. “He’s all yours. You might take him for a beer. I think he’s bordering on a full-on panic attack.” With a wink, she added, “Really, Max, you’re going to be all right. Trust me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run a program.”

  “How long will it take to find Moose’s match?” Sean asked. “We can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  “Not what,” she corrected. “Who. And it shouldn’t take long at all. But it will take a day or two for the parties involved to agree to a time and place for the first date.” She pinned Max with a pointed stare. “Be thinking about it. You can only make a first impression once.” Then she was gone.

  Tag pushed to his feet. “I think I’ll go help her.”

  “She needs help?” Max ran a hand through his hair, his pulse hammering through his veins.

  Tag waggled his eyebrows. “No, but you know me. I like computers.” He glanced at the other men. “Let me know where you’ll be if you decide to take the man out for a beer.”

  “By the panicked look on Moose’s face, there will be beer,” Cooper said with a chuckle.

  “We’ll text the location once we get there,” Sean said. “Let us know what she comes up with, will ya?”

  Tag frowned. “I can’t do that. Names are confidential to the clients. If the woman selected agrees to a date, Moose is the only one who will know.” He turned toward Moose. “We’ll expect full disclosure when you find out who she is.”

  Moose snorted. “Only if I agree to the date as well.”

  “Oh, you’ll agree,” Tag said with assurance. “BODS knows you better than you know yourself.”

  “Put your money where your mouth is, Tag,” Moose shot back. “Let BODS find your perfect match.”

  “I told you, I have a few things to wrap up before I take the plunge. But I will. I trust Leslie and her program to find my perfect woman.” He left the room, hurrying after Leslie.

  “Well, that leaves us to drag your ass to a bar and get you shitfaced.” Sean pushed to his feet. “Let’s do this, before you come unglued. You’re looking a little shell-shocked.”

  “I just signed up for a blind date,” Max said, shaking his head and feeling a little woozy on his feet. “You remember the last blind date I went on? It did not end well.”

  Coop laughed. “You mean, you didn’t enjoy your date with Candy Schepanski? What was she, six-feet-four inches with a voice that would make fingernails on a chalkboard sound like a lullaby?”

  “Her height wasn’t so bad, and I could have put up with the voice, but she was absolutely psycho,” Max said. “She thought one dinner and a movie made us a couple. It took me a full year of avoiding her before she finally quit stalking me.”

  “I remember,” Gage said. “You couldn’t step out of your apartment without running into her. Didn’t she crawl through your window and surprise you by stripping naked and lying in your bed, waiting for you to get home from football practice?”

  Max nodded. “It got so bad, I had to move with no forwarding address—and she still found me. I didn’t have a life for that entire year. I couldn’t go anywhere but class, practice and games.”

  Gage’s eyes narrowed. “Who set you up with her?”

  Max turned to Sean. “You set me up with her. You said she was a tall, gorgeous drink of water, and I should get to know her.”

  Sean held up his hands. “She was a tall, gorgeous drink of water. How was I to know she would turn stalker on you?”

  Max glared at his friend. “I still owe you for that one.

  “It’s been ten years,” Sean said. “You should be over it by now.”

  “I’m having flashbacks.” Max spun toward the door. “I’m calling this off. I can’t do this.”

  Coop grabbed his elbow. “Time for that beer. Everything will be okay. Things will work out.” He led him out into the hall.

  Gage gripped his other arm. Between his two friends, he was hustled out of the building and into Coop’s truck. The other three men climbed in, and they set off to find one of their favorite Austin watering holes, where they could get a beer without being hounded by the paparazzi.

  Max sat in the front passenger seat, with what felt like a permanent frown scrunching his face. “What about my truck?”

  “You won’t be in any condition to drive after we’re done with you.”

  “Shouldn’t I remain sober?” Max had been in some pretty tight situations on the football field, but he’d never felt as out of control as he was at that moment. “What if Leslie calls me with my match? What kind of first impression will I make if I slur my words?”

  “It won’t happen that fast,” Gage said. “She’ll contact the woman, first. If the woman agrees to see you, she’d contact you next. You’ll have time to sober up. Right now, you need to relax.”

  Max drew in a deep breath. “I could relax on my ranch and be perfectly happy.”

  “Yeah, but we wouldn’t be around to enjoy watching you lose your shit.” Sean laughed and clapped him on the back from his position in the backseat of the truck. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Moose this tightly wound.”

  “I’m not wound,” Max said.

  “The hell you’re not,” Gage said. “I want to be there when you get the call.”

  “Me, too.” Sean said. “I say we camp out at Moose’s ranch until it comes.”

  “I’d love to be there, too,” Coop said, “but I’m getting married in less than two weeks. I’m thinking Emma will have me running errands and tying up loose ends until the big day.”

  “Yeah, and I haven’t invited any of you to camp out at the ranch,” Max said. “Unless you come prepared to work. I just did a cutting of hay. You can help me get it into the barn tomorrow and the next day.” Max turned in his seat, his brow raised. “Well? Any takers?”

  Sean held up his hands. “I just remembered; I left the iron on in my penthouse.”

>   “And I have to help Coop with his wedding errands,” Gage said.

  “Yeah.” Max crossed his arms over his chest. “Thought so. Well, if you free up, you know where I’ll be. And I won’t be waiting around for the phone to ring.”

  “Damned shame,” Sean muttered. “I’d love to see how you handle it.”

  “Me, too,” Gage said.

  “I’ll handle it just fine,” Max assured them. “On my own time. After I’m done in the field.”

  “Have you thought about where you’ll take her on the first date?” Coop asked.

  Max nodded. “I have. I’m taking her out to the ranch.”

  “Holy shit.” Sean leaned forward. “You’re not going to make her haul hay, are you?”

  “No, dumbass.” His lips twisted. “But I want to know she can handle ranch life.”

  “That’s right. You want a woman who isn’t afraid to get dirty.” Sean sat back. “On a first date?”

  Gage shook his head. “You’re doomed.”

  Max’s jaw tightened. “I also want to know she’s up for any adventure. She has to be spontaneous and flexible.”

  “On your first date?” Coop also shook his head. “You’re supposed to impress her by taking her to a nice restaurant and bringing her flowers, not taking her out to the barn to shovel horse manure.”

  Sean reached out and knocked on Max’s head. “Are you sure you didn’t get hit once too often and suffer some traumatic brain injury?”

  Max shoved Sean’s hand away. “No, I did not. I want to know from the get-go that she’s the kind of woman who isn’t afraid of a challenge. If she’s not up to it on the first date, I see no reason for a second date.”

  Sean clapped his palm to his forehead. “Doomed, I tell you.”

  “Shut up. I’m not going to be a complete jerk,” Max said. “I’ll wine and dine her…but I’ll do it my way. Now, take me back to my truck. I have work to do before I meet Leslie’s pick. You all are welcome to join me. I pay in beer…when the hay is safely stored in the barn.”

  “Moose, you have enough money to pay someone to haul your hay,” Coop pointed out. “Why are you still doing it?”

  Max straightened and tipped up his chin. “I like to be reminded where I came from. We didn’t always have it so easy.”

  Coop nodded. “I remember hauling hay in the summer to earn money so we could eat during the fall semester at Texas A&M.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Let me give Emma a call. If she doesn’t have anything on our agenda for today and tomorrow, I’ll help.”

  Gage nodded. “What kind of beer are you offering?”

  “Whatever kind you want.” Max grinned.

  “Well, damn.” Sean sighed. “I guess you all are going to shame me into hauling hay with you.” He gave a chin lift. “I’m in. But I want Guinness—none of that cheap shit.” He lifted his phone. “I’ll text Tag and tell him to bring his work clothes out to your ranch.”

  They didn’t make it to the bar. Instead, they swung back by Leslie’s office building and collected Max’s truck and Tag. With the whole gang together, they headed out to Max’s ranch to haul hay.

  The hard work over the next couple of days helped keep Max’s mind off the results of the BODS program. But every time his cellphone rang, he jumped, expecting a call from Leslie. By the end of the second day, he was beginning to think there wasn’t a perfect woman out there for him.

  Chapter 3

  Jane only had to wait until the end of the day before Leslie called to say she’d found a match.

  Quietly, she’d thanked Leslie and told her she’d call her back, that she was busy with a project. She’d held herself together until she’d ended the call, and then went into a full-on, meltdown panic attack.

  She wasn’t ready to date. It was too soon. Somehow, she’d thought it would take days of scouring through potential candidates to come up with one who matched her profile. Not less than four hours!

  Since it was the end of the day anyway, Jane put off returning Leslie’s call. That night, she didn’t sleep at all. Every scenario she came up with for a first date ended badly. He’d pick his nose. She’d drink too much wine. He’d want to get to first base before they had dinner. She’d choke on her salad.

  Just how long had it been since she’d been on a date?

  She thought back. Other than publicity stunts, she hadn’t been on a date in the past five years. And the last one had been a total disaster. The man had been a superstar athlete. She’d thought he would be a safe bet. Athletes trained hard. They had to be disciplined.

  Who knew hockey players were so violent in the rink and totally full of themselves? He’d asked her out because she’d been on the cover of Sports Illustrated Magazine, modeling a bikini. He’d only wanted the publicity of dating her, not the actual emotional connection.

  He’d even scheduled the press to show up at the restaurant he’d taken her to. When the cameras arrived, he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her in front of everyone.

  She’d been so shocked, she hadn’t put up much of a fight. But when he’d flirted with the waitresses and didn’t talk to her throughout the meal, he’d grated on her last nerve.

  Jane had ordered the most expensive dessert on the menu. When the waitress delivered the chocolate lava cake, something Jane would never normally have ordered, she took one bite and dumped the rest of the gooey, syrupy mess over her date’s head.

  On her way out of the restaurant without him, she’d alerted the press lurking by the door to the condition of the player. They’d surged into the restaurant and photographed the hockey player à la chocolate lava cake.

  The media had had a field day with the photos, siding with the hockey player and calling her all kinds of nasty names, like ice princess and psycho model.

  The incident hadn’t hurt her career at all. In fact, she’d been in even higher demand than before, because everyone wanted to see what the “psycho model” looked like.

  Some women cheered her. Others condemned her for attacking the handsome player. Men avoided her. She didn’t care. Jane had a growing career, demanding all her attention, until now.

  Earlier in the year, her financial advisor had told her that she had enough money saved and royalties coming in from her lines of clothing and perfumes to last her the rest of her life. If she wanted, she could quit modeling.

  The idea had taken root and spread.

  She could stop starving herself and, finally, eat a hamburger. She could take up cooking and actually eat the food she made. Jane loved to bake and had dreamed of writing her own cookbook.

  Now that she’d set her plan in place and had slowly scaled back her commitments, she was ready to get on with living the rest of her life.

  She sat on the covered porch of her house in the suburbs of Austin, staring out at the swimming pool she’d only swim in after sunset to keep from getting a sunburn.

  Part of getting on with her life was starting to date again. But she wanted to date a real man. Not a cocky, limelight-hungry athlete or movie star. Not into the bar scene, she’d agreed to give her friend Leslie’s Billionaire Online Dating Service a try to take the guesswork out of finding a match.

  Now that she had…

  Nothing was more awkward than sitting across a table, coming up with small talk at a restaurant. Why did dates have to be at restaurants?

  Holy hell. She wasn’t ready. What would she wear? What would she say? What if she hated him? What if he hated her?

  All she had to do was walk away or try again. She couldn’t move on with the rest of her life if she didn’t take that first step.

  What was she waiting for?

  She held her cellphone in front of her, her hand shaking as she keyed in her text response to Leslie.

  Let’s do this

  A moment later, her cellphone rang.

  “I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth,” Leslie exclaimed. “Let me tell you about him before I tell him about you.”

  Jan
e leaned forward, her heart slamming into her ribs. “You’re not going to tell him who I am, are you?”

  “Not that you’re a supermodel. Only about what you put in your profile. If he’s okay with everything, I’ll give him the email address we set up through BODS. He’ll contact you through it.”

  “Good. I don’t want him to know anything about my modeling life, my businesses or that I have a bank account big enough to buy a state.”

  Leslie laughed. “It’s called the Billionaire Online Dating Service for a reason. My clients want to match with someone based on their own personal merits, not based on their bank accounts.”

  “Good,” Jane said. “Now, give me the goods on my match.”

  “He’s thirty-four years old, blond and blue-eyed, and is six-feet-four inches.”

  “Good. I can wear heals if I like.” Which she didn’t, if it wasn’t on a runway or a public event, but it would be nice to have the option.

  “He likes animals,” Leslie continued.

  “I had a cat once,” Jane said. The cat hadn’t liked people and had barely tolerated her. But it was the only pet her mother had let her have growing up. “Go on.”

  “He likes the outdoors.”

  Jane stared at the sunshine glinting off the water of her pool. “I like being outside.”

  “He believes in working hard but taking time off to have fun.”

  Jane sighed. “I think I’m already in love.”

  Even though she was giving up modeling, she knew she couldn’t laze around doing nothing. Moreover, she didn’t want to feel like she had to entertain a man to keep him from getting bored while she managed her businesses and wrote her cookbook.

  “Does he like food?” Jane asked.

  Leslie laughed. “I’m sure he does. Most men do.”

  Of course, men liked food. It was only women who fought to live up to society’s expectations of what a woman should look like and eat.

  “Is that all you have about him?” Jane asked.

  “He’s only interested in a long-term relationship…and children.” Leslie hesitated, and then added, “The man is looking for a bride, but adds it has to be the right woman.”