Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants) (7 page)

She leaned in closer to inspect and then reached for his shades. He didn’t attempt to push her hand away when she slid them off. Underneath was a shiner—black, purple, blue, and red. “Christ, Bennett. Are you okay?”

“It’s a black eye, Ms. Reed. And before you ask any more questions, I’ll request that you don’t—I’m not in the mood to talk.”

The guy looked like he’d had one hell of a night—probably someone forgot to call him “your holiness” or “Mr. Wade, your awesomeness.”

She nodded. “As you like, Mr. Wade.”

He snatched his glasses from her hand, placed them back on his face, and threw the Jeep into first, screeching out into the street.

The cool morning air gusted through her hair as they hit the freeway on-ramp. Had she known they’d be four-wheeling it to the airport at eight in the morning, she would’ve worn something warmer and put her long hair in a braid. “Achew!”
Dammit, I am getting a cold.

“Bless you,” Bennett said without looking at her.

“Thank—blah-
pft!
” She spit a wad of her long hair from her mouth. “Thanks.”

She remembered she had a few extra rubber bands and clips in her purse so she plucked it off the floor and began digging. That’s when she noticed the news alerts on her cellphone. She’d set them up to tell her when anything about Bennett or his company came up.
Yes, I’m a stalker. But now I know we have that in common.

She nonchalantly scrolled through them, reading quickly.
Bar Brawl at the Wade Ball? What?
She read on and the article said that Bennett had gotten into a fistfight with a Mr. Charles Thorup. Both men had been arrested for assault and public drunkenness.

Arrested?
Taylor covered her mouth and bit down on her lips, stifling a laugh.
Ohmygod. I wish I’d been there to see that. Karma, you’re my hero.

She slid the phone into her purse. “So, what was the fight about?” Taylor asked with a smirk.

Bennett kept his gaze fixed to the road. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” he snarled. He accelerated into the fast lane.

You think I’m not going to rub this one in?
He’d gotten into a drunken fistfight at his own charity event.
Public humiliation kind of sucks, doesn’t it Bennett?

“I’m sure you don’t,” she replied, speaking loudly over the engine, wind, and traffic, “but I’m spending the next two weeks with you. And frankly, I don’t know you. I’m also a woman, and you’re a big guy.”

He glanced at her quickly with a sneer. “What are you implying, Ms. Reed?”

She shrugged knowing what she said next would piss the bejeebers out of the man.
Oh the joy.
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable traveling the world with a man who’s prone to violence.”

With utterly sadistic delight, she watched his jaw muscles pump away and the veins and ropes of hard muscles in his arms bulge out as his grip tightened around the steering wheel.

“Watch yourself, Ms. Reed. I’m not appreciating the tone.”

“And I’m not appreciating yours,” she replied. “You sound angry, and angry men do crazy things like fight—”

“Enough, Taylor. I had my reasons. That’s all you need to know.”

Taylor.
He’d called her Taylor. Why did that make the old knees start doing their own thing again?

“Perhaps,” he continued, “your time might be put to better use going over the training program with me.”

Oh. With pleasure. First, I plan to take my awesome training program, pump it up full of some rather odiferous, fly-infested bull crap, and then cover it with rose petals and serve it to you with a big fat smile. How’s that sound to ya, Bennett?

“That’s an excellent idea, Mr. Wade. I have the program broken into four steps, starting with the client evaluation—we should be able to knock that out today. From there, we’ll work with ten different modules,
tailored
,”
harhar
, “to your needs, that focus on modifying your leadership style.”

“And the other two steps?” he asked.

Oh, we won’t ever get to those. You’ll be too busy losing your mind, wondering where it all went wrong, because your deal fell through.

“Those will be practical application and then the final follow-up, which is really just a postmortem to see how the techniques are functioning,” she replied happily.

“That sounds excel—” His phone buzzed in the cup holder. “Can you check that? I’m expecting a message from Robin.”

“Uh, sure.” Taylor grabbed the phone and looked at the screen. “It says, ‘No phone number but I got an address.’ ”

“Dammit. Fine. Tell her to have a car ready at the Napa airport.”

“Napa?”

“We’re taking a quick detour before heading off to Tokyo. It should only take a few hours.”

Taylor punched in the reply without indicating she wasn’t Bennett. Robin quickly responded:

Will do, Mr. Wade. And thank you for last night. (Winky face.) Bonnie and I had great time.

Thank you for last night?
Taylor repeated the words in her head. So he
was
sleeping with his secretary. And some woman named Bonnie. What other reason would there be for winky faces? A man like Bennett wasn’t the type to chum around and trade emojis with his staff unless they had a very personal relationship.
What a predictable slime bag.
And he didn’t even let Robin call him Bennett.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the private airport parking lot where the security guard greeted Bennett with a fist bump. “Skydiving today, Mr. W?”

“Not today, Dave. Just business,” Bennett replied.

The security guard, a large man with black hair, glanced at Taylor and winked. “Whatever you say, Mr. W. Have a nice flight.”

Bennett gave him a nod and they continued on into a large hangar. The door was open, so he drove right inside, parking his Jeep in the corner. Inside were six different planes—one about the size of a small commercial jet and several other sleek-looking models with longer, narrower bodies. They all said
Wade Enterprises
on the side.

“They’re all yours?” she asked.

Bennett turned off the engine and got out. “I like planes.”

“Ya think?” But honestly, having three older brothers and a father who was crazy about cars—he had at least ten antiques—she knew all about boys and their toys. It didn’t really surprise her.

He grabbed her suitcase from the back and effortlessly lifted it out with one hand. Once again, Taylor found herself watching with fascination as those biceps flexed into half-cantaloupe-sized bulges.
Oh, come on. That’s not fair.
She also noticed that he wore a pair of well-loved brown leather boots that looked like something one might wear hiking through a jungle. Or while kicking the crap out of pompous a-holes named Charles.

The man is definitely sexy. Not that I care.

He plunked the bag down, extended the handle, and headed for the larger plane. Immediately, two blond women in pilot’s uniforms appeared in the plane’s doorway at the top of the stairs.
Of course! Lady pilots!
She bet he was dating them, too.

“Ladies, this is Taylor Reed—a consultant who’s working with me on some coaching techniques.” Bennett moved up the stairs and flashed a glance over his shoulder at Taylor. “Ms. Reed, these are Brianna and Joanne, my pilots.”

“Oh, I thought you flew your own planes—with Frank.”

“Short flights are one thing, but it’s easier to let the ex–Air Force pros handle these longer trips. I need to get work done and get some sleep. Otherwise I’m shot by the time we land.”

Ex–Air Force. Impressive
. But weren’t Air Force pilots supposed to be smart? Because smart women wouldn’t sleep with this guy.

Taylor gave both women a smile as she passed them and went inside.

The first thing she saw was Candy’s welcoming face in the forward galley. “Ms. Reed, so nice to see you again, honey!” She had a bottle of champagne uncorked, set in a silver bucket, and two filled glasses ready to go.

Candy shoved a glass into Taylor’s hand and then handed one to Bennett, who plunked down in the front row, removed his sunglasses, and held the drink against his black eye.

“Oh, Mr. Wade,” Candy said. “I heard all about it on the news. Let me get you some ice.”

He held up his hand. “No, it’s alright, Candy. Ice won’t do anything at this point.”

He sipped the champagne and then set it down on the little tray next to the seat. He glanced up at Taylor who still stood near the door holding a glass of champagne, dumbly gawking at his beautifulness.

“Well, Ms. Reed,” he said. “We haven’t got all day. Take a seat so we can get started.”

The way Bennett had stretched out his long muscular legs, slouching a bit, made her realize he might have some bruised ribs too.

“You sure you’re okay?” Taylor asked him.

“Fine. And in much better shape than Charles—asshole.”

Taylor lifted her brows. She was definitely going to get the story from him before the two weeks were up. “Okay. Well, I’ll get the questionnaire pulled up, and we can begin.”

“Great.” He nodded. “Hey, Joanne,” he called out. “We need to make a quick stop in Napa.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded from the cockpit. “Anywhere you like.”

It didn’t escape Taylor’s attention how these women were so ready to serve his needs, like they’d do it for free if he decided to stop paying them.
God, how could anyone worship this man?

Thirty minutes later they were up in the air, and Taylor couldn’t bring herself to wake Bennett. He’d fallen asleep within seconds of taking off. Frankly, he looked like he could use a quick nap, and she hadn’t gotten very far on her fake training module last night, so she welcomed the extra time.

Bennett suddenly began mumbling. She couldn’t make out the words, but he sounded angry, like he was yelling at someone.

What a surprise, the guy’s a dick to people even in his sleep.
“Don’t let that bother you. He can snooze almost anywhere. He does it all the time.” Candy stood a few feet from Taylor, smiling down at Bennett’s masculine, scruffy face.

Taylor raised her brows. “Really? All the time?” How the hell did Candy know that?

Bennett’s probably sleeping with her, too. Maybe the ladies on this plane are his traveling harem.

Candy went on, “Sometimes he groans like he’s in pain. Sometime he mumbles random names or screams at his ex, Kate. But if I were you, I wouldn’t bring it up; he gets very upset when anyone mentions his nightmares. Or his ex.” So the guy suffered from nightmares about his ex, huh? She’d probably left him after discovering he had a lump of coal in place of a heart.

“So you spend a lot of time with him, then?” Taylor asked.

“Well, you know. We’re together at least once a week. Sometimes it’s an all-nighter. Sometimes, it’s just a quickie.” She winked. “But whatever the man wants, the man gets. More champagne, sweetie?”

Taylor tried to hide her shock.
A quickie? An all-nighter?
So Candy
was
his travel buddy slash booty call babe.

“No, thanks. I’m good. Champagne’s not my thing for breakfast.”

“Silly me. Where are my manners? It’s just that Mr. Wade has a rule. Once on board, we all set our clocks and pretend we’re already in our new time zone. Helps him acclimate faster to the time change—of course, it’s almost 1
A.M.
in Tokyo, so I suppose I should be serving scotch.” She leaned in. “But would you like some coffee, dear? I’m sure Mr. Wade won’t mind if you bend the rules a little.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

Candy disappeared to the back of the plane, leaving Taylor alone to stare at Bennett who’d now settled down. His dark lashes fanned along the crease of his lids, his square jaw was thick with black stubble—except for the spot where he had the scar on his chin—and his lips were pursed into a sensual pucker.
How’s that possible? The man is asleep and still looks sexy.

And something about the way his size took up the space around him and his thick arms crossed over his chest left her unable to peel her eyes away.

Oh, get over it, Taylor. That man’s had his wick in every candle from here to Timbuktu.
Taylor pulled her laptop from her tote and got to work on “What Style of Leader Are You?” She planned to have Bennett answer a long list of situational questions and then give him some bogus profile of his strengths and weaknesses.
And what’ll ya know, Bennett, you need to focus more on kissing ass.
Actually, not so far from the truth—he could do with being a little nicer—however, she had another angle.

Fact: Mary Rutherford loathed kiss-ups just about as much as she hated people who were fake. The woman was a straight shooter with a feather-light fist—meaning she never forgot her manners or lost her composure, even when she was removing someone’s head. Metaphorically speaking of course.

Taylor hit the save button and glowed triumphantly at her work of art.
This is going to be so fun.

Before she knew it, they were touching down in the small Napa Valley airport, surrounded by green rolling hills and endless miles of neat rows of vines. Candy gave Bennett a gentle nudge. “Mr. Wade, we’ve arrived.”

Bennett cracked open his good eye and then rubbed his face with a groan.

No, you are not going to think about him pleasuring himse—Dammit!
She thought about it.

Taylor turned her head toward the window, keeping her gaze firmly on a small tree standing at the edge of the runway.
Focus on the little tree. Nothing sexy there. Nope. Tree. Tree. Tree.

“Sorry about that,” Bennett said to Taylor, forcing her to look at him. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Taylor gave him a polite nod. “No worries. I’m here to work on your sched…” her voice faded off as Bennett rose from his seat and folded his thick arms over his head, yawning and stretching. The hem of his T-shirt lifted away from the low-slung waistband of his jeans, exposing a dark happy trail of hair that started at the most beautiful man-belly-button ever and disappeared into his jeans, right above his substantial bulge.