Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,102

my fault.

“No. No. Goddammit no!” She ran inside and went for the phone, about to dial Bennett and beg for mercy and explain that she would fix this and that she hadn’t meant to hurt him or ruin him or…

Shit. Everything he’d said to her in the morning about his fiancée stabbing him in the back came rushing into her head. He’ll never forgive me. And as her finger was about to hit the last number to complete the call, she realized that she’d never be able face him again. What she’d done was simply unforgivable.

I burned his bridge to redemption. She’d burned it to the ground and ruined the man she loved.

No. You haven’t. You’ve lost the man you love, but you can still fix this.

She hung up and dialed the concierge. “Can you help me? I need to get a taxi to the airport and the first flight to Paris.”

Eighteen hours later

Once again, Taylor had had a lot of time to kill on the plane. She’d thought about every word she would say to Mary Rutherford. She thought about how she would explain to Bennett why she’d left without a word. He would think the worst. And when he learned the truth, he’d hate her guts.

Fine. But you can’t not try to fix this mess. And she couldn’t be the reason Bennett’s project went down the tubes. Obviously, Mary’s decision not to do the merger was because Bennett had used the fake coaching. Oh, God. He must’ve kept telling her how nice she looked. Page eight, section three.

Still wearing nothing but a red bikini and her beach tank dress, she entered the pink marble lobby of the Dame Marie. It was just after seven in the evening so she knew most everyone had gone home, but she prayed she could convince someone there to get a message to Mary. Chip was not answering her calls. So if needed, she planned to camp out all night and mow Mary down first thing in the morning.

“No. Not you again,” she said to the smarmy looking security guard at the reception desk, who gave her a vinegary look.

“Okay, I know you think I’m some crazy woman, but I know Mary Rutherford. I have to talk to her. Is she here?”

He puckered his little lips and made a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe oui. Maybe no.”

Gah! She was going to pull that stringy hair right from his little head! “Okay. Is her assistant still here? Can you get a message to her?” The French were notorious for keeping late hours.

“Oh…So sorry, I cannot,” he said in a snide, sassy little man voice.

“I am just asking you to get a message to her or her assistant. Tell her Taylor Reed needs to see Mary. Please? I’m begging you.”

He barked at her in French, something obviously very rude, probably like…“Get your pale hippy ass out of my lobby.”

Okay. I totally don’t have time for this.

She leaned over the desk, a look of death and destruction radiating from her eyes like Mothra on a bad day. Or was it Godzilla who’d had laser beam eyes? Oh, who cares? Give him hell, Tay! Because she would not let Bennett’s project go down without a fight.

“You listen to me, you piece of judgmental frog crap. I will find out where you live, and when you least expect it, I will be waiting in your closet. I will put a bag over your head, chloroform you, shove your bony ass body into a duffle bag, and then drop you over a bridge where you will scream in horror as you drown in your own sick. So do not fuck with me!” She pointed her finger in his face as his jaw flapped. “Pick. Up. The fucking phone. And call Mary’s assistant.”

He reached a shaking hand out and dialed.

“Ms. Reed?” said a woman’s voice from behind.

She swiveled in her sandals and found herself facing Mary, who was dressed to the nines in a pink Chanel suit. Chip was standing at her side, smirking with evil joy.

“Mrs. Rutherford, thank God you’re here!” Taylor slapped her hand over her heart. “I need to talk to you.”

“I just stopped by to pick up a few files from my office.” Mary’s critical eyes swept over Taylor’s unladylike outfit—a lightly translucent sundress spattered with mud and a red bikini underneath—as if questioning her sanity.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I was in Bali on the beach when I read the press release. I hopped on the