Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,31
his shirt.
“Ms. Reed?” Bennett said looking down at her with curiosity.
Oh no. I’m ogling him again. Taylor slowly peeled her gaze away from his lower torso and shamefully laddered up his chest. When she met his eyes, he didn’t look annoyed. Instead, the man gave her a little wink.
A wink? What’s that mean? What’s a wink mean, Tay? I hope he doesn’t think I want him. Because I don’t. He’s a total jerk face. Wait. Oh, no. Does he think I want him? And that was him accepting? Oh no. He told everyone we slept together. So now he just wants to make good on that. Not gonna happen!
“We’re not having sex,” Taylor blurted out before she could process the real-life implications of saying something so ridiculous.
Bennett cocked his head, staring at her with an indiscernible expression. Then he burst out laughing with that deep masculine voice before turning toward the back of the plane where Candy had opened the rear door to disembark. Shaking his head the entire way, he disappeared out of sight.
Taylor covered her mouth, mortified. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m an idiot.
“Ms. Reed?” Candy called out. “Mr. Wade wants to know if you’re coming or if he should, and I quote, ‘waste more of his valuable time on a woman who’s not going to give him any?’ ”
Taylor’s eyes went wide before she dropped her face into her hands. Oh, the shame. She stood, grabbed her laptop tote, and made her way toward the smirking stewardess.
Taylor flashed a sheepish smile when she passed. “It was a joke.”
“Uh-huh.” Candy nodded, stifling a laugh.
Taylor made her walk of shame down the portable staircase to the awaiting town car. She slid into the back where Bennett already sat, his head thrown back and his sunglasses on.
She glanced at him, feeling relieved that he’d apparently dropped it already. But as she closed the door she heard a small chuckle radiating from his direction.
She glanced over and saw those tiny little dimples puckering.
“Stop. It’s not funny.” She swatted him on the leg.
“Like hell it’s not.” He removed his sunglasses and stared with those mesmerizing blue eyes.
Taylor looked away. This was so damned humiliating.
“Oh, come now, Ms. Reed.” Bennett slipped his hand on her thigh. Whether or not he’d meant to comfort her didn’t matter. His touch made her feel painfully aware of how long it had been since any man had gotten that close to her womanly parts. “How do you expect me to respond? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman shut me down like…that.”
“Like what?” she scowled.
“When I hadn’t even done anything—hell, the thought never even crossed my mind.”
“Oh.” Taylor looked away, adding “sexually shunned” to her list of embarrassments. “Well, for the record, I didn’t think you had done anything. I was merely trying to make it clear that our relationship is strictly professional. It just came out the wrong way.”
And seriously, given her track record of clients always hitting on her, who could blame her?
He chuckled again and scratched his rough, stubble-covered jaw. “You might want to rethink your little habit, then. That is, if you want to avoid giving men the wrong impression.”
She didn’t have to ask which “habit” he referred to. She already knew. The bulge-ogling.
Taylor turned her attention back to the safety of the window. The car had already hit the main road. She hadn’t even noticed they’d left the small airport.
“Not that I find it offensive, Ms. Reed. After all, I am Bennett Wade—I have my fair share of admirers.”
Wha-what a pompous—she turned her head back to sneer at him, but he’d already put his glasses back on and had his head tilted back, that large Adam’s apple sticking out on his strong neck. For a very brief moment, she wanted to pet it. She found a man’s apple very sexy.
“For the record, however, you’re not my type,” he added.
Taylor huffed and shook her head. What a jerk. “Yeah. I’ve seen your type. I’m not impressed.” Actresses with fake boobs, models with fake smiles, his secretary—okay, Robin was nice, maybe Candy and the pilots, too. But the list went on and on.
He shrugged. “Last time I checked, my cock wasn’t looking for your approval.”
Taylor’s mouth fell open. What a pig.
She slipped out her laptop and opened the file. Time to start dishing out a little sweet revenge to Mr. “my cock doesn’t need your approval.”
—
Ten or so minutes after departing the airport, a phone call—some news that riled