Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants) (2 page)

Vera shook her head. “I—I don’t understand.”

Pinning Vera with his eyes, Mr. Wade slowly eased back in his chair, his black suit stretching across his shoulders. “Only my mother and women I fuck get to call me Bennett. So unless I got stinking drunk last night, which would have to be the case for me to ever touch a woman like you, then you’ll refer to me as Mr. Wade.”

Whatthehell?
Taylor felt a fire of outrage ignite in the pit of her stomach. “You know what?” She slapped the table, stood, and then pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Mr. Wade blinked his blue eyes at her as if he wasn’t quite sure what she’d just said.

“In fact,” she added, “get the hell off my planet. People like you are what make this world a shitty place for the rest of us who are just trying to be happy and make a living.”

Vera popped up from her seat. “Taylor, don’t.”

“Oh, no,” Mr. Wade said, with a superficial smile, “by all means, please go on, Miss…”

“Reed. And that’s
Ms.
Reed to you. You…pig in a suit.”

“Taylor! Outside. Now!” barked Vera.

But Taylor had really had it with guys like this who thought that they could behave any way they liked simply because they had money. She thought of the countless times she’d had to fend off unwanted solicitations by half her male clientele over the past few years. They always made it a point to want to talk business over dinner. Just last week, in fact, one of Mr. Wade’s golfing buddies, a rich asshat named Chip who worked for his mommy’s big perfume company had actually proposed a “weekend dinner meeting” in Vegas. Who did that in this day and age? But of course, these pompous billionaires didn’t seem to care that she found their advances offensive. The more blunt she became with
no
, the more they seemed to enjoy pursuing her. And what had Vera said about it? “Taylor, these are professional, successful businessmen who know better, especially considering the damage one lawsuit could do to their companies. I’m sure they’re just trying to be friendly—that’s all.” Vera clearly didn’t understand that while women and minorities had come a long, long way, the boys’ club was alive and well in corporate America. Just take a look at the annual report of any large company. Female faces were scarce and there was generally only one shade of the rainbow.

Begrudgingly, Taylor had listened to Vera and let it go. Again and again and again.

Well, no more.

Mr. Wade let out a deep chuckle. “Pig in a suit? This is good.”

“You think it’s funny?” Taylor snapped. “You come in here and insult this woman because you think you’re some god, some all-powerful being who has been granted the right to trample over those you perceive as lesser. But strip away your money, that suit,” she flipped her wrist through the air, “and that handsome face—you’re no different from the rest of us, buddy. You’re going to die someday! Yep. That’s right. Die. Just like the rest of us.”

Vera had now moved to her side and was tugging on Taylor’s arm, trying to usher her out the door.

“You’re right, Ms. Reed,” Bennett said in a slow, overly pompous tone. “I will die. And so will you. But when I go, I’ll have something to show for my hard work. People like you, on the other hand, will find that you’ve plowed your way through life, complaining and pointing fingers at others for what
you
perceive are their shortcomings. But in the end you’ll realize that is all you’ve done. Because people like you are all bark and no bite. Don’t like what you see in this world,
Ms.
Reed? Try getting off your pedestal, woman, and do something about it.” Mr. Wade rose from his seat, staring at her with an expression of blatant amusement on his gorgeous, smug face. “Now, folks, if you’ll excuse me; I have some golf to play. I only stopped by for the tax write-off, anyway. My business is firing people and replacing them with machines, not hiring them. So I’m afraid I have no need for your recruiting skills.”

Oh. My. God! What a horrible, disgusting man!
Taylor watched Mr. Wade disappear out the door and debated whether to follow him to the elevator so she could punch him right in his pearly whites.

“My office, Taylor. Now,” Vera hissed.

Taylor didn’t make eye contact with anyone as Vera left the room. She already knew what her boss was going to say: “The customer is always right, even if they’re not.” To Vera, that meant allowing people like Bennett Wade to humiliate her in public. It just wasn’t right. Of course, Vera was a divorcée with two kids to put through college. She saw things a little differently than Taylor did.

Taylor’s team silently left the room while she remained standing, hands planted on the table and head hung low. Bennett Wade’s jarring, blunt words began circulating through her mind.
Crap. Crap! He’s right. It’s not good enough to complain.
She thumped her fist on the table. That smug SOB had given her a dose of the truth, and while it hurt like hell, she couldn’t look away simply because the person who’d delivered the message was an insensitive prick.

Instead of going to Vera’s office, Taylor headed for the elevator, down to her tenth floor office. She grabbed her gym bag from the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside the bag, she placed a picture of her with her best friends, Holly and Sarah, sipping hurricanes in Vegas. They were going to flip when they heard about this a-hole client. They would definitely agree that she had done the right thing.

Taylor then picked up her other photo—the one of her three brothers standing with her father at the Grand Canyon—and cringed. They were going to give her hell for leaving behind a steady, well-paying job. It would be just like the time she left the college volleyball team because it was cutting into her study time. They saw it as quitting. She saw it as doing the right thing. But they subscribed to the school of “suck it up” and “no pain, no gain,” which meant they’d always been extra-tough on her—the youngest, weakest “brother.” Only she was a girl, which meant her head wasn’t up her ass half the time and her view of the world was a teensy bit different.

Well, it’s my life, not theirs, and you only live once.

She shoved the frame into her bag, took one last look at her big office, and shut the door behind her.

Present Day

As Taylor stood in the rain, unable to believe that it was Bennett Wade glaring at her with those icy, pastel blue eyes from the back of a stretch limo, she didn’t know if she wanted to spit, scream, or cry. This man—a horrible bastard of a human being—was the last person in the world she wanted to see. It was bad enough hitting rock bottom without him there to witness the big, ugly, festering event.

“Get in,” he finally said, breaking the long silence.

“What are you doing in Seattle?” she snapped.

“Get. In,” he snarled.

“I don’t work for you, and even if I did, I’d never let you speak to me like that. Have a nice life, Mr. Wade.” She turned, heading down the sidewalk opposite the flow of traffic. There was a hotel a few blocks over. Maybe she’d have luck catching a cab—

“Ms. Reed.” A strong hand grabbed her arm, and when she spun around, she found Bennett Wade hovering over her, those nearly translucent eyes staring down with an odd expression—contempt mixed with…she didn’t know really, but it made her insides jitter.

“What do you want?” she hissed.

Damn, he’s tall—six-three or -four, maybe?
She was five-seven so that gave him a leg up on the intimidation factor.

“It’s raining,” he said. “I want to give you a ride. And to talk.” His eyes momentarily flashed to her mouth before he offered her a charming smile, one that appeared to be well-rehearsed—and probably totally insincere—yet still managed to make her notice how his lips seemed a little more sensual, possibly fuller, when he wasn’t trying to verbally inflict damage.

“What could you and I possibly have to talk about?” she asked.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

She blinked.

“That is twice your going consultant rate, is it not?” he added.

“But—How?—Why?” Her new company, HumanitE, provided individualized, one-on-one training for executives, specifically geared toward increasing profitability by reducing turnover rates through compassionate leadership techniques. “We Put the Humanity in Executives.” In other words, “Stop being such a dick to your people and you’ll make more money!” But she couldn’t use that as a slogan. And of course, she didn’t have any clients so she was seriously beginning to think her plan had flaws or that she wasn’t such a great salesperson after all. In any case, why would Bennett Wade want to take her coaching course?

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

His smile melted back into that intimating scowl. “I’m standing in the
fucking
rain, ruining a very nice wool coat and running late for a very important conference call. Ask me again, Ms. Reed, if I’m
fucking
serious.”

Who the
hell
does this guy think he is, speaking to me like that?

“Then you’ve barked up the wrong tree. Wait. Sorry.” She laughed and yanked back her arm. “You’ve barked up the wrong
fucking
tree.” She pivoted on her soggy heels and continued walking.

This time, Bennett Wade didn’t come after her nor did she turn around, but she somehow knew he wasn’t done with her yet. Men like Bennett Wade didn’t take no for an answer. In fact,
no
s only made them more determined.

Whatever. Bring it on,
she thought, but that was her pride talking. The less egocentric part of her was whining like a six-year-old in the candy aisle at the grocery store: “Fifty thousand dollars! What’s the matter with you? Come on. Come on. At least hear what he has to say. Pleeeeease?”

Taylor ignored the shallow thoughts and continued to the hotel to find a taxi.

“Taylor Reed?”

Taylor looked up from her seat in the crowded Southwest terminal, having just taken a bite of her veggie sub and wondering if today was payback for every bad thing she’d ever done. Wasn’t it enough to get a rejection, face bankruptcy, and have to see that despicable Bennett Wade? Apparently not because she’d also missed her flight, and there were no open seats until eight o’clock in the evening. It was twelve-thirty in the afternoon.

And now this
?

She quickly chewed and then swallowed. “Yes, Officer?”

The large, African American man with endless biceps spoke into the radio clipped to his shoulder, “Found her.” He then looked back down at Taylor. “Come with me, please.”

“What’s this about?” she asked. Of course the other passengers in the terminal thought she might be packing a bomb or something equally deadly because everyone began inching back. One mother grabbed her baby and darted away, leaving behind her stroller.

“This can’t be happening,” Taylor said under her breath. She looked up at the officer. “What did I do?”

“Ma’am, I’m just here to escort you to your flight.”

Taylor felt relieved for a fraction of a second until she realized how strange that sounded. “What flight? Because mine doesn’t leave for another seven-something hours.”

And since when do airport cops provide personal escorts?

The officer looked like he was about to lose his patience when another policeman showed up—a tall, thin blond man with a buzz cut.

Great, now there are two. How embarrassing.

“This her?” asked officer number two.

The first man nodded and reached down for her roller bag. The second man grabbed her purse from the floor and said, “Hurry up,” before walking away.

“Wait!” Taylor stood up from her seat, still holding her sandwich. “Where are you going with my stuff?”

The two officers ignored her and continued down the long corridor at a swift pace. Obviously, she couldn’t
not
follow. They had her stuff—wallet, boarding pass, and cellphone included.

She tossed the sandwich into a trashcan and ran after them, fuming. “Excuse me, but could you please stop?”

“There’s no time. Mr. Wade’s plane is about to take off,” said the African American officer.

“Mr. Wade?” Her mouth dropped open.

The officers stopped at a locked door at the end of the corridor and the blond proceeded to punch a code onto the keypad next to it.

“After you,” said blondie as the door popped open.

Taylor was about to blow a massive fuse, but realized yelling at two police officers wasn’t the wisest choice. “You’re not giving me back my things, are you?”

The two men stared back with stone cold expressions.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Taylor sighed. “Fine. I’ll take this up with Mr. Wade.”

She followed the two men down a stairwell and outside to a waiting police car. She seriously didn’t know what sort of game Bennett Wade was playing, but he had just crossed the line.

When the squad car pulled up to a sleek, gleaming white plane with a roll-away staircase at its side, Taylor headed straight for it, ignoring the pouring rain. By the time she got to the top of the steps, her hair was once again dripping wet.

“Ah, Ms. Reed. There you are.” A redheaded flight attendant, who wore a navy blue skirt suit and had her hair in a neat bun, handed Taylor a towel and then quickly took Taylor’s bags from blondie, who’d followed right behind.

Taylor swabbed the rain from her damp face and then glanced around the elegant cabin. There were five rows of double black leather seats and a set of doors in the back that looked like they might lead to a bathroom and storage space, but no sign of Bennett Wade.

“Where’s Mr. Wade?” Taylor asked the flight attendant who was now shutting the plane’s door. “Wait!” Taylor held out her hand. “Don’t close that!”

The attendant looked at her, puckering her red lips. “Sorry, Sugar?” she asked with a slight twang.

“I’m not flying on this thing. Where the hell is Mr. Wade?”

An awkward expression crossed the woman’s face. “You’re not flying?”

“Not even close. I came to tell Mr. Wade—” The plane jarred forward, and Taylor nearly fell over.

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” said the attendant, sounding slightly worried. “Once the plane starts moving, I can’t open the doors again without clearance from the captain. Well, that and the plane has to stop moving, of course.”

I can’t believe this. I’m not flying on this thing!

“Let me speak to the captain.” Taylor reached for the cockpit door, but it was locked.

At the same time, the attendant picked up the phone situated to the side of the door and pushed a little button. “Captain, the young woman would like to speak with you. She says she doesn’t want to be on this flight.” The attendant listened for a moment. “Yes. All right. I’ll tell her.” She hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, ma’am, the captain says we’re on a schedule so it’s time to take your seat.”

What a complete assho…
Taylor gasped. “Wait. Mr. Wade is flying the damned plane, isn’t he?”

The attendant smiled. “Of course. But don’t you worry, Sugar, he’s a very good pilot. The best. I go everywhere with him.” She winked.

What was the wink supposed to mean? Was she his girlfriend? Lover? Or was it just one of those friendly southern hospitality winks meant to create an atmosphere of levity?

Who cares!

“You can’t do this,” Taylor protested. “You can’t kidnap me to…to…where is this thing going?”

The woman continued smiling politely. Did she ever stop? “San Francisco.”

“Fine. You can’t make me go to San Francisco.” Ironically, that was her hometown, but not where she lived. In any case, this was kidnapping!

“Oh. Don’t worry. I’ve already booked a connecting flight to Phoenix for you. Mr. Wade says we would’ve taken you all the way home, but he has an important early dinner appointment in San Francisco. You
are
going on to Phoenix, right?”

“That’s not the point. I want to speak—”

A little bell chimed. “Please take your seat, Ms. Reed. We’re about to take off.” The attendant moved past her, sat in the first row, and buckled her seatbelt.

“I can’t believe this. Seriously. Can’t. Believe this.” Taylor sat down on the other side of the aisle, her mind filling up with the many unsavory things she planned to say to that miserable asshole Bennett Wade the moment she laid eyes on him, starting with how insanely insensitive he was.

Don’t forget predictable.
Yep, she’d been dead-on about his inability to accept “no” for an answer. And this was just the sort of bulldozer tactic Mr. Wade was famous for. Didn’t he understand that forcing people into situations wouldn’t win him anything but animosity? It was the exact behavior her program warned against doing. Employees wanted leaders who not only respected them as individuals and sought to understand them, but who also inspired. That was the key to running a successful company. Empowering versus dominating. Collaborating versus dictating. A man like Wade would never understand these concepts.

Hire me to train him? What a frigging joke! He wouldn’t make it past session one.

She dug a pack of gum from her purse and popped a piece in her mouth, preparing for takeoff.

After about thirty minutes, the small jet was up in the air and leveling off. The attendant unbuckled, stood, and immediately went for the phone. “Hello, sir, just checking in to see if I can bring anything to the cockpit.”

How about a kick in the pants?
Taylor thought.
I deliver free of charge.

The attendant listened for a moment. “Yes, sir. I’ll let her know.”

“What? Is he ordering me to parachute out now?” Taylor said. Why not? The man
was
completely ridiculous.

“No, silly. That door won’t open in flight. That’s why Mr. Wade uses the Cessna for skydiving. This Grayson-500 is only for short business trips.”

“Of course he has a plane just for skydiving. Why wouldn’t he?” Taylor commented to herself out loud.

“And he has one for international flights, too—needs a bigger engine.” The woman crinkled her pert nose. “By the way, sweetie, my name is Candy. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No thank you, Candy. I’m just fine.”

Candy shrugged and pulled out an apron from the closet. “You let me know if you change your mind—oh! And Mr. Wade says he’ll be with you shortly.”

I can’t wait.
Taylor mentally rubbed her revenge-hungry hands together.

Candy turned her attention to making coffee and setting up a tray. After a few minutes, the cabin filled with the delicious scent of rich, nutty java, and Taylor inhaled deeply.

No. You don’t want any of his goddamned coffee. He’ll think he’s winning.
Winning what? Taylor didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to settle in and get comfy in his big, fancy, stupid plane.

A few minutes later, with tray and coffee in hand, Candy knocked on the cockpit door. It popped open, and Bennett Wade’s imposing frame appeared in the doorway, his intense blue eyes immediately locking onto Taylor’s face. He had taken off his jacket and was wearing just his white button-down shirt and black, nicely tailored pants that accentuated his muscular thighs. Taylor tried not to notice how attractive his shape was.

He stepped out into the small galley, allowing Candy to pass. She flashed a nervous glance at the back of his head before closing the door behind her.

“Who’s flying the plane?” Taylor asked.

Bennett smiled, and it was that condescending grin Taylor was learning to loathe. “Frank, my pilot. Who else?”

Whatever. Now that that’s out of the way…
Taylor unbuckled her seatbelt and stood. “You have some fucking nerve. Who the hell do you think you are?”

His condescending smile turned smug. Did the man think he’d won some giant victory?

“I think I’m a man who always gets what he wants. One way or another.” Crossing his well-built arms, he leaned sideways against the doorway separating the cabin from the galley. With his considerable height, he had to bend his neck just a little.

“You’re not getting anything from me,” she shot back. “Not now. Not ever.”

His smile faded into that icy look, making Taylor suddenly aware of every inch of her skin and every breath her body took. The man knew how to set a vibe and intimidation was his special gift.

“I wanted to talk to you, didn’t I? I think I got that,” he gloated.