Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,81
Thanks awfully for pointing that out, though.
“So, who is he?”
“My client,” Taylor replied.
“One of those asshole billionaire guys? The ones you said you’d never ever date because you don’t date clients?”
“Yes.”
Again, Taylor heard spitting on the other end of the phone. Sarah must’ve been bathing her entire office in coffee. “No. Taylor, please tell me you have better taste than that.”
“I’m afraid not,” she said dejectedly.
“This is bad.”
“Would it sound better if I told you that he’s not entirely an asshole?” Taylor said.
“Not entirely an asshole implies he’s still an asshole.”
True. “What I need to know, Sarah, is…I don’t know what to do. He’s invited me to Bali, and I know I’m going to go but—”
“So why are you calling me? Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“I’m afraid,” Taylor replied.
“Why? Is he into kink? Just make sure you agree on a safe word.”
“What? No. I mean—he might be into that, but I didn’t get that vibe. I meant I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle him.”
“In what way? Is he really hung?”
Yes. Absolutely, but…“Can you get your mind out of the gutter? I’m trying to say he’s intense, Sarah. Really fucking intense. And he’s also damned sweet. But I can tell he’s damaged. And I’m not sure how bad that damage is.”
“Intense, sweet, and damaged. Hmmm…sounds fuckably hot,” Sarah said.
“He’s that, too.”
“I’m still not seeing the problem,” Sarah said. “You’re a grown woman. And I’ve never known you to be reckless—a little crazy and hotheaded sometimes, but never reckless. If you like the guy, then go for it. Just keep an open mind and see where it goes.”
“Honestly, I guess…I’m afraid he won’t ever love me back.”
“Awww, sweetie. You’re wonderful. And smart. And beautiful. What’s not to love?”
“We’re talking Bennett Wade, here. He’s not easy to please, and then there’s the fact that women throw themselves at him—gorgeous women—like twelves on a scale of one to te—”
“Stop the bus. Taylor, did you just say your asshole billionaire is Bennett Wade?”
“Yes?”
“And you’ve been flying all over the globe in his private jet, looking at him, sharing the same air, hearing his voice, smelling him, maybe even touching him?”
“Yeah?” Where was she going with this?
“And you haven’t fucked his brains out yet?”
Huh? “No!”
“Hold the hell on.” The line went silent for a very, very long moment and then Sarah came back on. “Taylor, you still there?”
“Yeah?”
“Holly, you there, too?” said Sarah.
“I’m here,” Holly’s sweet voice piped in. Taylor groaned.
“Holly,” Sarah said, “Taylor is going to Bali, and you’ll never guess who she’s going to fuck.”
“Saraaah…” Taylor warned.
Before Holly could respond, Sarah spilled the beans. “Bennett Wade. Can you believe that?”
Holly squealed. “And you called Sarah first? WTF, Taylor. I’ll forgive you, but only because I want details. Lots of details.”
“Guys,” Taylor said, trying to rein them back in, “I thought you hated the guy? Remember, he’s the one who degraded my ex-boss?”
“Oh, we were only trying to be supportive when you told us, Tay,” said Holly. “Your boss sounded like a complete bitch. We were kind of happy about all that.”
They were?
Holly continued, “Then there’s the fact that Bennett Wade is a fucking sex god. Sex. God.”
Seriously? This is their response? “Whatever,” Taylor said. “I called because I really need—”
“Taylor,” Holly interrupted, “you tap that cock hard. You hear me. Hard. And let him stick it anywhere he wants. Make us proud!”
Taylor pulled the phone from her ear and looked at the caller ID, wondering if her two friends were on something. Sarah was an uber-conservative, uptight, by the book goodie-goodie when it came to sex, and Holly was a plain, sweet-as-can-be girl next door who worked as an appraiser for a major auction house based out of L.A., meaning she was very big on taking her time and evaluating things before acting.
“Oh. Tay!” Holly added. “Make sure you measure it and tell us if he hangs to the right or the left.”
“I bet he’s uncut,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “He looks like the type who’d be all raw and natural with a big dick.”
“But you know he man-scapes, down there,” Holly said. “Bennett Wade does not go native with that bush. No way.”
Eck. What in the world? “Did I just call a male-genital-enthusiast chat line?” Taylor objected.
“Yes,” Holly said, “and you will do it in every position known to humankind. Take notes—pictures, too, if he allows it—you have morals, obviously—but don’t have too many—and then you will share every detail with us. You got it, Taylor? That’s an order.”