Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,70

that doesn’t mean he can’t fire you and then date ‘the hell’ out of you.”

Taylor took the bag of ice and plopped it on her aching head. “You’re mistaken, Candy. He just needs help closing the deal.”

She shook her head, grinning. “Sure, honey. Whatever you say.”

CHAPTER 13

Taylor awoke to yet another gentle nudge after having passed out from exhaustion. With the time difference, constant lack of sleep, and drama, she’d just…gone away. Candy gave her another quick push. “Honey, here’s your ticket to San Francisco. I made sure to get you a pass to the Admiral’s Lounge so you can shower, change, and eat, but the flight leaves at 7:30 P.M. That’s in three hours.”

Disoriented, Taylor took the ticket. “Uh. Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the empty plane.

Candy caught on. “He’s gone. Off to his hotel and then the meeting with Mrs. Rutherford. Told me to give you his regards and the number for his ear, nose, and throat specialist. Honey, have you ever had that snoring looked at? Dear baby Jesus, you’re loud.”

Taylor grimaced. “No. I didn’t really know.” Of course, she hadn’t really been with anyone in a while and her last boyfriend never spent the night—had to get home to his schnauzer. Not that she’d complained because the guy wasn’t a natural-born spooner like Bennett, and a guy who didn’t know how to cuddle or keep her feet warm at night didn’t make for a good bed bud. Bennett, on the other hand, knew how to keep every part of her warm.

Taylor stood slowly and collected her things. She felt so torn up, as though she’d been inside a crazy blender for the last few days and it had finally spit her out.

“Your suitcase has been sent ahead, Taylor. But if you need anything, anything at all, just call me.”

“Thank you, Candy. I really mean that.”

Candy flashed a consoling smile. “That’s what I’m here for darlin’. It’s been my pleasure.”

Taylor moved toward the open doorway. “Hey, why don’t you give me a call when you’re back in S.F.? We can catch a drink.” She quickly dug a card from her purse and handed it over.

“I’d just love that, Taylor.” Candy snapped up the card and gave her one last hug. “You’re a survivor, girl. Keep that chin up.”

An hour later, Taylor was clean, in her gray sweat pants and tee—the spares she carried in her laptop case for emergency travel lounging or for doing exercise—and she’d found food. The spa-like facilities in the Admiral’s Lounge were probably better than anything she’d ever experienced even at a real spa—steam room, massaging shower head, fru-fru shampoo—but the soothing atmosphere did little to get Bennett out of her spinning head. She really, really hated leaving things between them so unresolved.

Finding a quiet spot in the lounge next to the window, she got out her laptop and began writing Bennett an email:

Dear Bennett—

No. Stupid. Erase.

Hi Bennett!—

No, too enthusiastic.

Hey, Bennett. I know you’re busy and probably don’t want to hear from me—

No. Too pathetic.

Bennett: I know you’re busy, but I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye and I feel like there are some things I need to get off my chest. First, you need to know that I like you. A lot. And I don’t mean in the way a person likes a movie or a new pair of socks. I mean that when I’m in a room with you, I get lost. In your smell, your voice, and the way you touch me. I know there’s so much more going on with you than you let on and that I can’t understand it, but I’m willing to trust you. I’m willing to give you time. Your mother told me that you think all women are after your money, and that’s just crazy. It also means that whomever you’ve shared your life with thus far has caused you to form that opinion, an injustice I’d like to help you overcome. What I mean to say is that I like you. Not because you’re good looking or wealthy, but in spite of those things. I’m also a stupid lame ass for writing this email and should be shot because we both know I don’t have the balls to send such a sappy piece of rat turds. I suck. Kill me now.

Taylor highlighted the entire thing and hit Delete.

Bennett: I need to talk to you. Call me. Taylor.

She was about to hit Send when she realized she didn’t actually have his