Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,53

him go already?

“Okay. Thank you.” Taylor rushed outside and grabbed the first cab back to the hotel. Another forty minutes and three traffic-jams later—What? Thirteen-thousand Yen? You’re killin’ me, Japan—Taylor charged into the lobby and headed straight for the clerk who hadn’t bothered to call her.

“Is he here?” she said frantically.

“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”

“Mr. Wade. He’s not at the hospital.”

“He’s not?”

“No. Can you call his room?” He was on her floor, but she didn’t know the room number.

“Yes, of course.” The clerk dialed and waited, but then shook his head. “He’s not answering.”

So Bennett was drunk, suffering from exhaustion, had a head injury, and was running around Tokyo. WTH! Someone needs to spank that man.

An image of doing just that popped in her head. Only, he was smiling and had no clothes on. Neither did she.

She cleared the naughty thoughts from her mind. “Where the hell could he be?” she wondered aloud. The restaurant owner had been with him so maybe he knew where Bennett had gone?

Taylor decided she’d go wake up Candy—she spoke Japanese and could go with her to the restaurant. If anyone was still there, they’d know how to get ahold of the owner.

First, I need to change. She still wore her dress and heels and her feet were killing her. A quick tinkle-chat with her toilet also sounded nice, too.

“Call me immediately if you see him,” she said to the clerk.

She headed upstairs, chewing the corner of her bottom lip the entire way. When she got to her floor, she charged down the hall, pausing with a sharp screech when she reached her room and noticed the door ajar. Not by much, a centimeter or two at most, but enough that the lock hadn’t caught.

She was about to turn right around—hell, she had enough on her plate and didn’t need to be playing hotel security on top of everything else—when a familiar groan caught her attention.

“Bennett?” He had a distinctive voice. Deep, masculine, wholly sensual and capable of instantly fogging up her panties.

She slowly pushed open the door and immediately spotted him sprawled out facedown on the bed in his slacks and dress shirt.

“Bennett! Ohmygod.” She rushed inside and kneeled over him, brushing his messy dark hair off his forehead. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

She shook him. “Bennett?”

He groaned, “Leave me alone.” And then rolled onto his back. Her laptop had been under him—luckily it didn’t seem to have suffered permanent damage. “I have a meeting in the morning,” he mumbled. “Bali.”

Taylor looked at him curiously. “Bennett, why aren’t you at the hospital?”

He began sawing logs. Like, shake windows and rattle doors logs.

Taylor gingerly rolled his head to the side, looking for the spot where he’d been bleeding. She found a small bandage.

Okay, Bennett was stubborn, but not stupid. If he’d left the hospital, then the doctor had probably looked him over and told him there was nothing serious—no concussion or anything.

She shook her head. “Well, I hope you’re all right because I promised your mother I’d look after you.”

She reached for the phone and called the front desk to let the young man know she’d found Bennett. “Can you tell me what room is his?” The clerk replied that Bennett was next door.

That’s weird.

Maybe he wanted to be near me?

The silly thought sparked little tingles in the pit of her stomach.

Oh stop. He’s not into you.

She reached for his blazer, which was flung over the foot of the bed, dug out his room key, and then reached for his arm and pulled. “Okay, Mr. Workaholic, let’s get you to your bed.” How the hell had he ended up in her room anyway?

She gave him a tug, but he wasn’t moving. The man outweighed her by—well, she didn’t know how much, but whatever his weight, he wasn’t budging.

With a sigh she slid her computer into its case, thinking how strange it was that she’d left it out. Normally, she made sure that sort of stuff was out of sight or put into a safe.

Then she sank down next to Bennett for a moment to catch her breath. Her head was pounding like she’d been the one who’d passed out in the street.

She laid her arm over her eyes, her body and mind spinning.

“Taylor,” he mumbled.

She turned and looked at him. His eyes were closed and his lips rested together in a slight pucker. She smiled. Was the man dreaming about her?

She continued staring, drinking in his male beauty. He looked