let that bother you. He can snooze almost anywhere. He does it all the time.” Candy stood a few feet from Taylor, smiling down at Bennett’s masculine, scruffy face.
Taylor raised her brows. “Really? All the time?” How the hell did Candy know that?
Bennett’s probably sleeping with her, too. Maybe the ladies on this plane are his traveling harem.
Candy went on, “Sometimes he groans like he’s in pain. Sometime he mumbles random names or screams at his ex, Kate. But if I were you, I wouldn’t bring it up; he gets very upset when anyone mentions his nightmares. Or his ex.” So the guy suffered from nightmares about his ex, huh? She’d probably left him after discovering he had a lump of coal in place of a heart.
“So you spend a lot of time with him, then?” Taylor asked.
“Well, you know. We’re together at least once a week. Sometimes it’s an all-nighter. Sometimes, it’s just a quickie.” She winked. “But whatever the man wants, the man gets. More champagne, sweetie?”
Taylor tried to hide her shock. A quickie? An all-nighter? So Candy was his travel buddy slash booty call babe.
“No, thanks. I’m good. Champagne’s not my thing for breakfast.”
“Silly me. Where are my manners? It’s just that Mr. Wade has a rule. Once on board, we all set our clocks and pretend we’re already in our new time zone. Helps him acclimate faster to the time change—of course, it’s almost 1 A.M. in Tokyo, so I suppose I should be serving scotch.” She leaned in. “But would you like some coffee, dear? I’m sure Mr. Wade won’t mind if you bend the rules a little.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
Candy disappeared to the back of the plane, leaving Taylor alone to stare at Bennett who’d now settled down. His dark lashes fanned along the crease of his lids, his square jaw was thick with black stubble—except for the spot where he had the scar on his chin—and his lips were pursed into a sensual pucker. How’s that possible? The man is asleep and still looks sexy.
And something about the way his size took up the space around him and his thick arms crossed over his chest left her unable to peel her eyes away.
Oh, get over it, Taylor. That man’s had his wick in every candle from here to Timbuktu. Taylor pulled her laptop from her tote and got to work on “What Style of Leader Are You?” She planned to have Bennett answer a long list of situational questions and then give him some bogus profile of his strengths and weaknesses. And what’ll ya know, Bennett, you need to focus more on kissing ass. Actually, not so far from the truth—he could do with being a little nicer—however, she had another angle.
Fact: Mary Rutherford loathed kiss-ups just about as much as she hated people who were fake. The woman was a straight shooter with a feather-light fist—meaning she never forgot her manners or lost her composure, even when she was removing someone’s head. Metaphorically speaking of course.
Taylor hit the save button and glowed triumphantly at her work of art. This is going to be so fun.
Before she knew it, they were touching down in the small Napa Valley airport, surrounded by green rolling hills and endless miles of neat rows of vines. Candy gave Bennett a gentle nudge. “Mr. Wade, we’ve arrived.”
Bennett cracked open his good eye and then rubbed his face with a groan.
No, you are not going to think about him pleasuring himse—Dammit! She thought about it.
Taylor turned her head toward the window, keeping her gaze firmly on a small tree standing at the edge of the runway. Focus on the little tree. Nothing sexy there. Nope. Tree. Tree. Tree.
“Sorry about that,” Bennett said to Taylor, forcing her to look at him. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Taylor gave him a polite nod. “No worries. I’m here to work on your sched…” her voice faded off as Bennett rose from his seat and folded his thick arms over his head, yawning and stretching. The hem of his T-shirt lifted away from the low-slung waistband of his jeans, exposing a dark happy trail of hair that started at the most beautiful man-belly-button ever and disappeared into his jeans, right above his substantial bulge.
Oh crap. Seriously? That’s just not right. The man was perfect, right down to his navel. And the peek she’d gotten of his abs—well, she just knew that was only a prelude to the hard perfection hidden beneath