Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,5

person in the world she wanted to see. It was bad enough hitting rock bottom without him there to witness the big, ugly, festering event.

“Get in,” he finally said, breaking the long silence.

“What are you doing in Seattle?” she snapped.

“Get. In,” he snarled.

“I don’t work for you, and even if I did, I’d never let you speak to me like that. Have a nice life, Mr. Wade.” She turned, heading down the sidewalk opposite the flow of traffic. There was a hotel a few blocks over. Maybe she’d have luck catching a cab—

“Ms. Reed.” A strong hand grabbed her arm, and when she spun around, she found Bennett Wade hovering over her, those nearly translucent eyes staring down with an odd expression—contempt mixed with…she didn’t know really, but it made her insides jitter.

“What do you want?” she hissed.

Damn, he’s tall—six-three or -four, maybe? She was five-seven so that gave him a leg up on the intimidation factor.

“It’s raining,” he said. “I want to give you a ride. And to talk.” His eyes momentarily flashed to her mouth before he offered her a charming smile, one that appeared to be well-rehearsed—and probably totally insincere—yet still managed to make her notice how his lips seemed a little more sensual, possibly fuller, when he wasn’t trying to verbally inflict damage.

“What could you and I possibly have to talk about?” she asked.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

She blinked.

“That is twice your going consultant rate, is it not?” he added.

“But—How?—Why?” Her new company, HumanitE, provided individualized, one-on-one training for executives, specifically geared toward increasing profitability by reducing turnover rates through compassionate leadership techniques. “We Put the Humanity in Executives.” In other words, “Stop being such a dick to your people and you’ll make more money!” But she couldn’t use that as a slogan. And of course, she didn’t have any clients so she was seriously beginning to think her plan had flaws or that she wasn’t such a great salesperson after all. In any case, why would Bennett Wade want to take her coaching course?

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

His smile melted back into that intimating scowl. “I’m standing in the fucking rain, ruining a very nice wool coat and running late for a very important conference call. Ask me again, Ms. Reed, if I’m fucking serious.”

Who the hell does this guy think he is, speaking to me like that?

“Then you’ve barked up the wrong tree. Wait. Sorry.” She laughed and yanked back her arm. “You’ve barked up the wrong fucking tree.” She pivoted on her soggy heels and continued walking.

This time, Bennett Wade didn’t come after her nor did she turn around, but she somehow knew he wasn’t done with her yet. Men like Bennett Wade didn’t take no for an answer. In fact, nos only made them more determined.

Whatever. Bring it on, she thought, but that was her pride talking. The less egocentric part of her was whining like a six-year-old in the candy aisle at the grocery store: “Fifty thousand dollars! What’s the matter with you? Come on. Come on. At least hear what he has to say. Pleeeeease?”

Taylor ignored the shallow thoughts and continued to the hotel to find a taxi.

—

“Taylor Reed?”

Taylor looked up from her seat in the crowded Southwest terminal, having just taken a bite of her veggie sub and wondering if today was payback for every bad thing she’d ever done. Wasn’t it enough to get a rejection, face bankruptcy, and have to see that despicable Bennett Wade? Apparently not because she’d also missed her flight, and there were no open seats until eight o’clock in the evening. It was twelve-thirty in the afternoon.

And now this?

She quickly chewed and then swallowed. “Yes, Officer?”

The large, African American man with endless biceps spoke into the radio clipped to his shoulder, “Found her.” He then looked back down at Taylor. “Come with me, please.”

“What’s this about?” she asked. Of course the other passengers in the terminal thought she might be packing a bomb or something equally deadly because everyone began inching back. One mother grabbed her baby and darted away, leaving behind her stroller.

“This can’t be happening,” Taylor said under her breath. She looked up at the officer. “What did I do?”

“Ma’am, I’m just here to escort you to your flight.”

Taylor felt relieved for a fraction of a second until she realized how strange that sounded. “What flight? Because mine doesn’t leave for another seven-something hours.”

And since when do airport cops provide personal escorts?

The officer looked like he was about to lose his patience