Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,26
on his waist and whooshed out a breath.
No, that wasn’t why, and she felt a tiny tug on her insides for being dishonest with him, but too frigging bad. “Yeah.”
“So you’re not angry about Lady Mary?” he asked, looking back up at her.
Why the hell would he care? And yeah, I am pissed.
“Oh. That?” Taylor waved it off. “I overreacted. I’m sure your deal with Lady Mary has nothing to do with me.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I am?”
Bennett pulled her away from the limo, out of earshot from the driver. “The truth is, I do need you to close that deal,” he said softly. “However, I’m not at liberty to tell anyone details just yet—it’s complicated.”
Taylor wanted to smack those lying lips right off his beautiful face. “Sure.” She shrugged. “Whatever. It’s really none of my business. I’m just here to train you. Whatever you do with the material is your choice. After all, you’re the customer.”
Bennett frowned and then tilted his head as if suspicious. “Why aren’t you snapping at me?”
“Huh?”
“It isn’t like you to roll over.”
How would he know what she was like? Oh, because he slept with you. Dontcha know?
“Why would I snap at you, Mr. Wade?” she said innocently. “There’s nothing to snap about. You hired me. I’m going to help you. Your business is your business.”
His eyebrow went up. “I’m Mr. Wade now?”
Taylor smiled pleasantly. “Yes. That’s what you asked me to call you, right?”
The expression on his face was somewhere between distrusting and pleased. “I have to get back.”
Taylor nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll send the car for you in the morning at eight—we’ll start then since I’m sure your brother needs you tonight.”
That was thoughtful. Don’t buy into it, Tay.
“Thank you, Mr. Wade. I appreciate that.”
Bennett bobbed his head, still appearing a bit agitated. As he slid into the limo he looked at her with those penetrating blue eyes. “I think I’d prefer it if you call me Bennett.”
But that’s only for his mother and the women he’s…
Taylor’s mouth went dry, while her heart went roller-coaster wild. Knees? Oh, they were down there somewhere doing their own thing.
Wait. Don’t you dare get all flustered! He only wants you to call him Bennett to keep up the charade for the bet he won.
“Okay…Bennett,” she said in a controlled voice.
“And we’ll be on the road for several weeks—pack accordingly.”
“What? Where are we going?” she asked.
“Tokyo and Paris, then on to Bali. And Ms. Reed?”
He wasn’t kidding about the intense schedule. That would be a lot of flying. “Yes?”
“Don’t ever turn that phone off again. Got it?”
What was with him and the phone? Stalker!
“Yes, Mr. Wade.”
Taylor caught a glimpse of the beautiful, horrible man scowling and shaking his head before the chauffeur closed the door. She stood there and watched the limo pull away, her mind a giant whirling mess. Dammit if he didn’t have a way of getting under her skin even when she wanted nothing more than to see him suffer.
She turned and headed inside for her car keys. She’d go grocery shopping for poor Jack and make him a nice dinner. Then she’d pack and start creating her really awesome, specially “taylored” training program. Oh, yeah. Taylor knew exactly what pushed Mary Rutherford’s buttons. It had been her job to hire people who worked directly under the woman, and Mary had very specific likes and dislikes. Before the two weeks were through, Bennett would have Lady Mary so turned off and annoyed that she probably wouldn’t even take his calls.
Yeah, but think you can handle two weeks of chewing that jalapeño?
Of course, now that Taylor knew the truth, she need only remind herself how he’d profited—six million dollars—from her public shame, and allowed people to think they’d screwed. Then there were men like Charles who were always so busy trying to get in her pants they probably never even saw what fantastic work she’d done for them. She had a knack for reading people and gauging their fit for a particular role, and those men had benefitted from her skill. But all she was and all she’d ever be to them was a piece of meat, not a person.
Assholes.
—
The next morning, Taylor looked in on Jack before lugging her insanely heavy suitcase downstairs. Her brother was out cold and would probably have one heck of a hangover today, so she’d written him a note telling him there was Gatorade and ready-made salads in the fridge, and a ton of those healthy organic frozen meals in the freezer. She would