Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,80
he didn’t give her the chance—
“Well, it worked,” he said. “And that dress…” He looked her over. “I didn’t like him seeing you in it. Or anyone, for that matter. Even right now I’m having a hard time not getting angry at the stream of men walking by and ogling your body.”
He was jealous?
Bennett stepped in a bit closer, and she felt the heat of his body. He slowly moved his hand to her face and stared deeply into her eyes. “I kissed you in Tokyo because I thought of you leaving, and then I panicked. Because no one has ever looked at me like you do, like they truly get me, the real me.”
Taylor’s heart was thumping away like an unevenly loaded washing machine. She thought she might actually fall over.
He continued, “And I sent you home because every time you look at me, I want more. More of you, more of those lips, more of your sassy little mouth. And it scares the hell out of me.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Did he really just say that? Really. Because I don’t think I can believe it. I really, really don’t.
“Because you think I’m after your money?” she asked hesitantly, her body going numb with the overload of emotions she felt.
“No.” He dipped his head, holding his mouth an inch from hers. “Because I know you’re not.” He leaned down and kissed her. Not soft. Not hard. Just enough pressure to let her know it was an invitation for more.
He slowly pulled away. “I’m not going to try to talk you into anything, because I don’t want you to think I’m manipulating or using you, but if you really want to see what’s underneath this suit, then there’ll be a ticket to Bali at the Air France counter. However, Ms. Reed, you should be warned: I am a greedy man—but it’s not for money.” His eyes slowly moved to her lips, down her neck, to her breasts, and up again. “Your flight leaves in two hours. Enough time for you to think long and hard about this next step.”
“Long? Hard?” She gulped.
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowded terminal.
Fuck, he’s hot.
—
Taylor took the appropriate amount of time, standing in the terminal, trying not to fall over in her wobbly red hooker heels, thinking about his offer. Yep. Two. Uh-huh. It took her all of two whole seconds to decide she’d be getting on that damned commercial flight to Bali. But it wasn’t for the reason anyone might think: Sex with Bennett Wade. Okay, that was part of the reason. Her body didn’t just ache for the man, it felt a raging, searing, gnawing heat that started at the tips of her toes, scorched its way right between her legs, torpedoed through her stomach, speared her heart, and ended somewhere in her brain where it latched onto every thought she had.
However, and a big, big however at that, the biggest reason she wanted to go was because she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t. Her heart wanted this badly. And if she didn’t listen to that part of herself, she’d spend the rest of her life wondering if she was meant to love this hot mess of a man and if he was meant to love her back.
Oh boy. She pushed her hands to her abdomen, feeling like she was on that roller coaster again. Danger mixed with euphoric exhilaration. But with a porn element to it.
Okay. You know, know, know you’re going. But how would she, a very inexperienced woman, handle a fuck-stallion like Bennett Wade? She could never meet his worldly expectations.
She glanced at her watch. It was just after ten at night, which meant one-ish in the afternoon California time. Sarah would be at work, finishing up her lunch hour.
Taylor found a quiet corner near the security checkpoint and called.
“Taylor! Hey, honey. How’s the trip going with that client?” Taylor hadn’t told Sarah or Holly who her client was—she had figured it didn’t really matter at the time and that they’d chew her out for agreeing to work with Bennett (aka a-hole who’d gotten her fired).
“Umm…it’s not good,” Taylor confessed.
“Oh no. What happened?”
“I think I’m falling in love.”
Taylor heard Sarah spit something out. Coffee? “What? How the hell did that happen? You’ve only been gone for what, a week?”
“Four or five days. Depending on the time zone?”
“Are you sure it’s not a hard case of lust?” Sarah asked. “You haven’t gotten laid in forever.”