Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,68
reply; I was agreeing with you about me being difficult. And what do you mean four?”
“The dinner is with Mary Rutherford and her son, Chip.”
“Oh.” Of course it was. She’d helped him arrange it. Indirectly, anyway.
She felt a tiny twitch of disappointment. A dinner alone in Paris with him had sounded romantic and far better than being fired, but she just couldn’t figure out what was going on with this man. Was he using her? Interested? Was this business or pleasure?
“So you need a wingman, huh?” She obviously knew both Chip—dirty, dirty man whore—and his mother—a dictator in a pink suit—so it would make sense he’d want her to come along as buffer.
He gently pinched her chin, tilting her head up toward him. She wondered if he might kiss her again. “Ms. Reed, I’m Bennett Wade. I don’t need a wingman. I’m asking you to be my date.”
Her insides got all jittery and cancan-y. She liked the sound of being his date. She liked it too much. “And then what? I mean, what happens after?”
“What would you like to have happen?” he asked suggestively.
She would love it if he kissed her again. She would love it even more if he held her down naked and thrust his thick hard cock—Tay!
She shrugged coolly, trying to mask her dirty thoughts. “Long term or goal line?” she repeated her question.
“Are you asking for a relationship? Because I don’t do those—not anymore.”
“What? No!” Ohmygod. He thinks I was begging him to be my boyfriend? And why “not anymore?” Was it because of that Kate woman?
“I was referring,” she said, “to your commitment to the program—but what’s your issue with relationships?”
“I thought you just said you weren’t talking about that.”
“You brought it up. Now I want to know.”
He shook his head. “Dinner. Yes or no.”
She wanted to say no, just to see what he’d do, how far he’d go to make her say yes, but that would be childish.
Don’t neglect your inner child.
Okay. Compromise.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
Agitation flickered in his eyes. “I’m going to get some sleep. When I wake, you can give me your answer, and we can go through your training. I have some questions about the material and want to make sure I handle Mary correctly.”
Taylor scratched her head. His comment made her feel uncomfortable, like she was helping him deceive Mary.
“She’s not an animal, Bennett. You can’t ‘handle’ her.”
“No. She’s not. She’s a woman—complex, stubborn, and intelligent. Just like you. Which is why you are the perfect person to help convince her to sell fifty-one percent of her company to me.”
Anything to win. Anything.
Taylor sighed. She needed to get off this mental roller coaster before she lost her damned mind. One minute, she swam in Bennett’s ocean, wanting him. The next she was angry because she felt like he was using her for this deal. One second, he flirted with her, the next, pushed her away or acted like it was all business. Being around Bennett felt like being in a crazy bipolar-flea rodeo.
Tay, you’re letting him wag you. Stand firm. She understood there was more going on with him than he wanted to share, but she needed to put her foot down.
She stared up into his eyes. “I’ll go to dinner with you. But after that, Bennett, you’ll either have to tell me what’s going on—really going on—or I can’t stay.”
He placed his hand on his hip, jaw pulsing, and looked toward the tiny window.
Now she felt bad. Dammit! Fucking flea rodeo! “I’m not trying to be mean or ungrateful, but within the space of a few hours, I’ve been snubbed, rescued, yelled at, kissed, flirted with, asked to work on your deal, tickled, pushed away, and then pulled closer. Not to mention, you still haven’t explained why you participated in that a-hole-category bet with your friends that has absolutely reduced my self-confidence down to the size of a shriveled raisin, which is smaller than an actual raisin. And all you can say is ‘trust me.’ And that you have panic attacks when you can’t reach people. Are you beginning to see how you might be asking a little too much?”
Bennett’s strong jaw clenched hard, and his dark brown brows furrowed with deep emotion.
“Look at me, dammit,” she said.
He did, and then she wished he hadn’t. The anger in his eyes was palpable.
“I’m doing the best a man like me can be expected to do. Given the circumstances,” he added.