Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,83
the seats in business-class lay down flat and how badly she needed sleep. Especially, if she was going to be in good shape for sex with a man like him. Then again, he’d been driving himself so hard that he’d been passing out from exhaustion on a regular basis; maybe she stood half a chance of impressing him.
Not in these clothes, she thought, checking herself out in the mirror. She’d put back on her sweats and T-shirt from earlier, which now looked exceptionally rumpled and sloppy. She’d written off her suitcase entirely as it had been tagged for her flight to San Francisco.
She splashed some water on her face, dried it with a paper towel, and then put her hair up into a high ponytail.
She left the boarding gate area, carrying only a purse and her laptop case. The moment she passed the security checkpoint, she noted how the air smelled thick and dank. It reminded her of Hawaii or Florida.
A man, standing in the small crowd awaiting their loved ones just outside the cramped but sterile customs room, held up a sign with “Reed” written on it. He wore a long green skirt and a red and white linen shirt.
“Hello. That’s me,” Taylor said, pointing to the sign.
He tilted his body, peering behind her. “No luggage, ma’am?”
“Uh, no. I’m traveling light.”
“Very good. Right this way.”
She followed him through the doors to a square-ish minivan waiting at the curb. It was pitch-black outside, and a gentle tropical breeze wafted over her warm face.
“He will take you to Mr. Wade,” the man said to Taylor, gesturing to the driver.
Taylor thanked him and slipped inside the car. She didn’t know where she’d be staying, but she’d expected them to head south—that’s where the luxury resorts were located according to the map she’d studied on the plane. But instead, they headed north, up the eastern coast. Trust Bennett to catch her off guard again.
“Excuse me, but where are we going?” She leaned forward between the front seats.
“Mr. Wade has a room for you at the Pacific Palace, ma’am. Near the golf course. But his family estate, where he grew up, is another few hours beyond that. He said he did not want to make you drive so far this late at night.”
Bennett grew up here? Did that have something to do with his project? In any case, she couldn’t at all picture him growing up in such a laid-back vacation destination. Everything about him screamed city boy and structured, sophisticated and disciplined. Even when he doesn’t wear a suit, he still wears a suit. Which made her start to wonder…was it just a façade?
That was what his mother had said. He had a big heart and tried to hide it.
Will the real Bennett Wade please stand up?
“Thank you.” Taylor looked out the windows as they drove through town. Despite being well past midnight, hordes of small mopeds zoomed by. The urban sprawl reminded her of the many tourist towns she’d seen all over South America when she’d gone backpacking in college. Lots of small, cement block homes, and mom-and-pop stores that sold either fruits and vegetables or local cuisine.
Without warning, rain began coming down in big sloppy drops, pelting the windshield.
“I thought this was the dry season,” she commented. Yeah, she’d had a lot of time to kill on the plane so she’d done the requisite Internet surfing on her laptop using the plane’s WiFi. Honestly, she’d never thought much about going to Indonesia, but now she wondered what had kept her away. The country seemed to have every activity known to man—river rafting, hiking, sailboating; lovely ancient temples and stone monasteries; and then there were the beaches, with water ranging from dreamy deep blues, perfect for surfing, to the clear turquoise found in the quiet glassy bays. All of it skirting deep lush jungle and steep mountain terrain.
“Yes, this is the dry season,” said the driver. “But we still get the occasional storm—like the one coming in tonight. Should be gone by the end of the week.”
End of the week? There go my beach excursions. Not that she was there for vacation. Unless one counted marathon sex with Bennett Wade?
An hour later, they pulled up to the sprawling, open-aired lobby area of what looked to be a very upscale resort, complete with marble floors and elegant furniture made of dark wood with white upholstery.
She thanked the driver and tried to give him a twenty, but he refused, telling her everything had been