Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants) (3 page)

Taylor clamped her mouth shut.

He dropped his arms and frowned. “I said, ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ not the other way around. So feel free to give me the silent treatment. Probably easier, anyway.”

Why did every word out of this man’s mouth have to be about proving his dominance? “You had no right to pull me out of the terminal and put me on this plane.”

“I did you a favor,” he said calmly in his deep, slow voice, oozing with loathsome, annoying confidence.

“A favor? Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? The entire terminal thought I was some mad terrorist woman being arrested.”

“Your flight was delayed by seven hours. I simply asked Jim and Stan to offer you a ride.”

“They didn’t give me a choice,” she growled.

“Perhaps because I offered them box seats for the Super Bowl if they persuaded you successfully.”

Taylor shook her head. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. She just wanted to kick him. Really, really hard. In his man parts.

He gestured toward the seat behind her and took the other seat for himself. “And, since you’re already here, why not take ten minutes to hear what I have to say?”

“Do I have a choice?” She looked down at him expecting to hear…

“No.”

Shocker. But okay. Fine.
That would give her the satisfaction of watching his face when she turned him down. Again. She wasn’t afraid of him. Okay, maybe a little, but not enough to let him bulldoze over her.

I’m not your mound of dirt, buddy.

“All right.” Taylor sat in the first row, opposite the aisle from Mr. Wade, and turned her body to face him. “Speak.”

He stretched his long, muscular legs into the aisle and then rubbed his face, making a deep, throaty groan.

The raw, masculine sound suddenly triggered a very erotic image in her head—specifically, of Bennett Wade pleasuring himself, his thick, long cock in his hand, while he groaned in that gravelly voice.

Holy, crap. What’s the matter with me?
Completely embarrassed by her unwelcome, highly sexual thoughts, Taylor crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, searching for any distraction she could find.
The floor, the beige ceiling—oh look! Magazines.

“Ms. Reed?” Mr. Wade held his snapping fingers in her face. “Are you even listening to me?”

Oh crap
. Had he been speaking while she’d been picturing him naked with an enormous erection?
Oh, the shame.

“No, I was too busy thinking about how to thank you for this
favor
,” she lied.

He stared for a moment, and then his neutral expression turned into a bitter scowl—brows furrowed, full lips smashed together, and eyes locked on her as if she were a dirty little bug he might squash just for pleasure. It was then that Taylor noticed how even his posture changed when he became upset. His spine got straighter, his large chest inflated, and his jaw muscles flexed with tension. Maybe that was his vibe-setting trick. He used his size to subconsciously make others feel smaller. Add to that his cold, unwavering stare and deep, authoritative voice, he could scare the crap out of a Navy SEAL.

“Ms. Reed, don’t provoke me.”

“Provoke you?” she asked innocently.

“Is your brain waterlogged from standing in the rain?” he asked.

Gasp.
“No. Is yours?” she fired back.

“I guess I was wrong about you.”

“Wrong about what?” What had he said? And dammit, how could she have missed it?

“I thought the woman I met in Phoenix had a pair of balls on her. I thought she was the kind of person who perhaps enjoyed a challenge.”

“I happen to love challenges,” she countered firmly. “I simply didn’t hear—”

“So you accept coming to work for me?”

“What? Absolutely not,” she said.

“You afraid? Or just trying to milk more money out of me?”

What a horrible thing to say!
“No and no. I’m not interested in your money, and I don’t want to work with you—”

“
For
me. Work
for
me,” he corrected.

“Or for you!”

“And why not?” he said, in a perfectly controlled voice.

“Because you are an insensitive prick who only cares about making money. Because I’ve seen how you treat people, and ever since the day I met you, I realized you read me completely right. I
was
one of those people who did nothing but complain, and it was time to step up. I thought that meant creating my own company to help assholes like you behave like real human beings, but I’ve come to realize that’s a complete joke because men like you only give a crap about yourselves. So why bother caring about the lives of the people who work for you, even though it could actually make your company more successful? Hell, it might even make you feel good to not be such a prick all the time.”

Taylor realized Bennett was no longer scowling. In fact, he was listening. To every goddamned word. Not only that, but one corner of his mouth had curled into a tiny smile. A genuine, bona fide smile. There was even a little pucker in the middle of his sculpted cheek. It was absolutely stunning. The most gorgeous smile she’d ever seen.

Taylor also noticed that she’d stopped talking and the two of them were just sitting there with their gazes locked, those cool blue eyes of his burning right through her, making her heart accelerate.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he said, breaking the silence, “that you’re very beautiful when you shut your mouth?”

What!
His words jarred her back to reality. “Has anyone ever told you, Bennett, that you’re a pompous asshole?”

“Yes. And that’s Mr. Wade, to you.”

“Nope. You’re Bennett from now on. I’m demoting you in the human hierarchy.”

He growled and was about to speak when an ear-splitting siren sounded over the intercom, flooding the cabin.

Whatthehell?
Taylor instinctively gripped her armrests.

Candy burst from the cockpit door, her face ghost white. “Mr. Wade?”

Taylor looked at Bennett. “What’s wrong?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath as if collecting himself. When he opened them, he looked straight at Taylor. “Stay put. And buckle your seatbelt.” His tone indicated he wasn’t fucking around.

Oh shit.

Bennett disappeared into the cockpit, and Candy sat down in his place, strapping herself in. “I’m sure it will be all right. Just a little engine problem,” she said cheerfully, answering Taylor’s unasked question.

But then why was Candy breathing so hard?

Taylor glanced out the window and saw liquid draining from the wing.

They were dumping their fuel.

Ohmygod.
She popped from her seat and darted into the cockpit, where she saw Bennett and another man, presumably the captain, speaking into his headset. Bennett held the controls with one hand and was flipping switches with the other. Both men looked worried, but focused.

Candy appeared at her side. “Ms. Reed, please come sit back down. You need to let them work.” She tried to tug Taylor back into the cabin, but she refused to move. All Taylor could see were images of the four of them crashing, going up in a ball of flames.

“Taylor?” Bennett was now shaking her by the shoulders. How did he get in front of her? “You need to sit down.”

Taylor blinked and looked up at Bennett. His dark brown brows were pulled together, but there was a soothing confidence in his eyes.

“Are we going to die?” she asked, her voice trembling along with the rest of her.

He placed his warm hand on her cheek, and the gesture instantly calmed her. “Yes. One day. You said so yourself. But if you go sit down, Frank and I will do our absolute best to ensure that it doesn’t happen today.” Just then, Bennett’s phone rang, playing Mozart’s
No. 13, Taylor recognized bemusedly.

“It’s my mother. Could you tell her I love her?” He dug the cell from his pocket and handed it to Taylor.

Taylor took the phone into her shaking hand and blinked at him.

“Please?” His full lips curled into a subtle, but sinfully charming smile.

“Uh. Sure. Okay.” Taylor bobbed her head, and Bennett gently nudged her back into the cabin and toward Candy who shoved her into a seat and buckled her in. All the while Bennett’s phone kept vibrating away in Taylor’s hand.

Ohshit. Ohshit. He really wants me to say goodbye to his mother?
This was not good.

Taylor pressed the green call button and held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Robin, dear. Is that you?”

Who was Robin?
Probably one of his gazillion girlfriends.

“Uh, no. This is Taylor.”

“Taylor? What’s happened to Robin? Bennett better not have pissed her off. He can’t find his own asshole without her.”

This was Bennett’s mother?

“Um, no ma’am. I’m just a…friend of his.” Not that they were friends, but what else could she say? This wasn’t the time to explain their hostile relationship.

“Ah. I see,” the woman said. “Well, please let my son know his mother is on the phone. It’s important.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wade, but Bennett is busy right now.”

“Too busy for his own mother? Bullshit! You tell him to get his ass on the phone right now, or so help me God, I will find him and hang him by the gonads.”

Lord.
Was Bennett’s mother an ex-gangster? Or perhaps a medieval-torture revivalist?

“I—I’m sorry, Mrs. Wade but…he really can’t…” Taylor heard the plane groaning and grinding away. She glanced out the window and saw smoke pouring from the engine. Then she glanced ahead into the cockpit where Bennett flipped more switches while speaking frantically into his headset.

This is bad
.
So, so bad
.

“What is it, dear? What’s that noise? What’s going on?” Mrs. Wade’s voice suddenly sounded panicked.

Taylor swallowed and closed her tearing eyes as the plane began violently shaking. “Mrs. Wade, Bennett wanted me to tell you that he loves you and that you’re the best mother he could’ve ever hoped for.” Okay, so Bennett hadn’t shared that last part, but it’s what she would say to her own mother if her mother were still alive.

Oh no, I need to call my Dad.

“Wh-where are you, dear?” Mrs. Wade asked, her voice now calm, but clearly terrified.

“We’re on his plane. Somewhere over Oregon, I think.”

“Taylor, dear?”

Taylor wiped the tears from under her eyes. “Yes?”

“Don’t you worry, honey. My Bennett won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

“There’s smoke coming out of the engine. He had to dump the fuel.”

“You listen to me, young lady. My Bennett learned to fly when he was ten years old. If anyone can land a broken plane, it’s him. Well, and Frank. Yes, Frank is a much better pilot. But either way, you’re in good hands. For the most part.”

For the most part?

Mrs. Wade went on, “And you tell him he’d better be at my house at six. I made meatloaf, his favorite.”

His mother was his important dinner meeting. That was so very sweet.

“Oh,” she continued, “and I need to make sure Robin gave him that package with the cookie. It should be on his desk, and it’s very important that he eats it. The cookie, of course. Not the package. Can you ask him to do that, dear?”

The woman was mad. They were about to die, and she was talking about cookies?

“Cookie. Desk. Got it. I have to go now,” Taylor said.

“Okay, dear. Keep your head between your legs! And don’t worry about a thing!”

Taylor ended the call and began to dial her father, but her hands shook so hard she could barely hold the phone.

Suddenly, Bennett was there, kneeling in front of her, grabbing the device. “What did she want?” he asked, punching some numbers into his cell.

“She made meatloaf, and there’s a cookie on your desk.”

Bennett didn’t seem to be listening. “Here. Take this.” He shoved the phone back at her.

“Why?”

He growled impatiently and jammed the thing into her pant pocket underneath her seatbelt. “It’s got a tracking device on it, so they can find you faster if anything should—”

“I need to call my dad,” she blurted out.

“There’s no ti—”

The plane plunged, and Bennett fell back, slamming into the wall to the side of the cockpit door. He winced with pain and then looked at Candy. “Do you have your tracker on?” he yelled.

Candy nodded, her face pale.

“Good. Make sure you both keep your heads down.”

Candy glanced at Taylor. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay. Put your head down.”

Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
Taylor felt her body being pulled down, hurtling toward earth along with the plane.

“Head forward,” Candy screamed.

The sound of the groaning engine suddenly stopped and everything went deathly quiet. Taylor’s body felt weightless, like they’d been sucked into outer space.

Panting hard, Taylor closed her eyes and gripped the armrests for dear life. They were falling out of the sky, and the only thing she could hear was Bennett’s voice in the background, yelling at someone to have their crews ready. Taylor braced for what was to come, but nothing could prepare her for the horrific, deafening sound of the plane’s hull slamming into the ground.

“Taylor? Can you hear me?” Taylor felt a warm, rough hand stroking her cheek. “I need you to tell me if you feel any pain.”

She knew she was in a state of shock, but more than anything she felt too terrified to open her eyes and see the damage. Not to the plane, but to the people on board and to her own body. The plane had slammed belly first into the ground, the crushing metal groaning and screeching as they came to a grinding halt.

Still strapped into her seat, she carefully began flexing her limbs, fingers, and toes. She didn’t feel any discomfort.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced over at Candy, whose red hair was a tangled mess.

“Taylor? Can you hear me?” Bennett bent down in front of her, those startling blue eyes intensely focused on her face. Taylor noted a small cut on his forehead and a little blood on his white shirt, but all-in-all he looked pretty damned pristine. Even his thick, brown hair was only mildly ruffled. As for the plane, bits and pieces of the aircraft’s interior covered the floor, but Taylor imagined the exterior resembled a junkyard sculpture.

“Is everyone okay? Are
you
okay?” she said, trying to catch her breath.

“Yes.” Bennett smiled, and it was a full-blown genuine smile. Luscious male lips curling up in the corners, complete with puckering dimples smack dab in the middle of each cheek. And those eyes: they were filled with a devilishly triumphant twinkle.

It was then that Taylor noticed a small scar right under his lower lip, running diagonally toward the tip of his cleft chin. The stubble of his beard didn’t grow in that spot, so it must’ve been a deep cut. She wondered what story he’d tell about it. Another plane crash, perhaps? Skydiving accident?

Why the hell am I staring at his chin? I just survived a plane crash.
The sound of sirens screamed in the background, growing louder as the vehicles approached.

“Where are we?” Taylor asked, unbuckling her seatbelt with her shaking hands.

“Portland Airport. You stay in your seat until the paramedics look you over,” Bennett said. “You might have head trauma or a concussion.”

Candy was already up and trying to pry open the door of the plane.

“How come she’s walking around?” Taylor asked.

“She’s an employee,” he said dismissively.

Taylor’s jaw dropped.

“I pay her well,” he added, “and it’s her job to ensure the safety of the passengers first.”

That didn’t mean she couldn’t be injured or that she wasn’t in shock and deserving of his compassion, too.

“She almost died because of you,” Taylor snapped.

“She almost died because the plane’s computer had a glitch, and she lived because I landed the plane safely. Well, Frank and I.”

“She works for you and almost lost her life on the job,” Taylor ranted. “Doesn’t that matter to you? Or what about you putting me on a plane against my will, and me almost dying because of it? But there you are congratulating yourself like you just won the gold medal in the Olympic daredevil medley. Do you have a heart or a soul anywhere inside there? Anywhere at all?”

His icy disposition returned, and it seemed he was about to speak—no doubt to dish a heaping helping of ego-infested insults meant to belittle her—but the door pushed open and the emergency personnel poured in past Candy.

Bennett stepped out of the way, and the paramedics descended upon Taylor. As they flashed lights in her eyes and held fingers in her face, Taylor caught a glimpse of his eyes, their expression somewhere between wounded and irate. Then they whisked Bennett away.

All of a sudden, Taylor felt like the heartless one. Bennett Wade had saved her life. Why had she yelled at him like that?

Shock. You’re in shock
. And she’d lashed out at the man because of it.

“Bennett! Wait!”

But he was gone. And had he stayed, Taylor didn’t know what she would’ve said.

Maybe…I’m sorry?

Two Weeks Later

Taylor pulled into her brother Jack’s driveway and turned off the engine. The two-day drive from Phoenix to Berkeley, California, had given her plenty of quiet time to think—something she’d not had much of since the crash.

During her brief visit to the hospital that day in Portland, Mr. Wade’s assistant—a reserved, statuesque brunette with warm brown eyes, named Robin—had shown up to ensure Taylor was taken care of, including all of her hospital bills. Miraculously, no one had been hurt in the crash, but the press still mobbed her outside the hospital. Luckily, she’d gotten a call in to her father before he’d even seen the news.

The scene didn’t look much different when she landed in Phoenix at two in the morning, or when she arrived at her apartment. “What thoughts were going through your mind, Taylor?” “What caused the crash?” “What were those final moments like with Mr. Wade before you hit the ground?” “Are you his lover?” The press lobbed dozens of inane questions at her every time she went outside. How the hell did they think she felt? The crash had scared the ever-loving crap out of her! And no! She wasn’t his lover—how could they even ask that stupid question? And how would she know what caused the crash? All Taylor knew was that they’d all survived with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises. A damned miracle.

After a week, the press finally moved on to chase something shinier, and Taylor began the soul-bruising task of packing up her apartment to move back to California. Everything would go into storage, and she would stay with Jack, the youngest of her three older brothers. Recently divorced with no kids, he had plenty of extra space and insisted Taylor stay as long as she needed.

That was the second miracle Taylor experienced in recent days: Her family hadn’t said a word about her failed business venture. Nor had her father uttered a peep about how she’d quit her job—something that had been a topic of many heated debates since last February. But this time, not a word.

They’re probably saving up all the lectures and criticisms for when they see me in person tonight. Like a school of judgment piranhas.
It didn’t matter how old she got, the men in her family always treated her like she was a child in need of a “good strong talking-to.” But they liked to do it gang-style.

Nevertheless, as Taylor stared from her car up at her brother’s two-story home with its dark brown shingles and its orange tree in the front yard, she felt grateful to have somewhere to land. She needed time to digest, to untangle the mess inside her head, and to figure out what to do next. With her debts, getting a job was certainly highest on her priority list, but her heart wasn’t ready to let go of her dream: HumanitE.

I could reconsider Bennett’s offer
, she thought for the five-hundredth time. It certainly would resolve her financial problems and give her the opportunity to pilot her training program. Not to mention having a client like Bennett Wade would make a nice springboard.

But Bennett Wade?
Bennett. Wade.
There was simply no way for her to maintain her professional demeanor in his presence. The domineering, tactless, playboy-bully provoked so many emotions—outrage, fascination, disgust, and…well, she didn’t know, but those undecipherable sentiments were the source of many restless nights and cleaning episodes.

On the other hand, maybe I need to give him a chance? After all, he did track me down in Seattle.
Of course, he had probably already been there for some other business and just happened to realize she was in town at the same time.

Fine. Okay. But he saved my life.
He’d also taken care of her before and after the crash.

The phone on the passenger seat of her car made a little chirp, reminding her that the battery was low again. She still felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement every time she looked at the thing. It was Bennett’s phone. He hadn’t disconnected the device after she’d forgotten about it being inside her pocket, but it also hadn’t rung even once. Odder still was the lack of a passcode.

Of course, the only thing on the device—yes, she’d snooped, okay? Who wouldn’t?—was a record of that call from his mother plus some apps, including the tracking one, which as far as she could tell had remained active.

At first, Taylor had thought to mail the thing back, but then two days after the crash, a text came in:
I’m sorry. -B

That’s all it had said.

And, yes, she believed it had been meant for her. Bennett knew perfectly well she still had the phone. (Tracking app. Phoenix. Who else?)

That was when Taylor felt an odd sort of closeness or connection or…
something
—she didn’t really know—with Bennett. He could’ve had Robin ask for it back. He could’ve deactivated it. But he hadn’t. And she knew he could check her location whenever he liked. Was he checking it now and knew she’d left Phoenix?

Admittedly, it was a bizarrely intimate, private kind of thing, knowing that either of them could break the link at any time, yet neither of them had.

But what was his excuse? Taylor obviously felt there was some unfinished business, but what about him? Was Bennett waiting for her to reply to the text? Was he waiting for her to apologize for having yelled at him after the crash? She didn’t know.

Why not ask?

Taylor thought it over for a moment. A quick conversation
would
help her settle the question related to accepting his offer. It would also allow her to finally say that she truly felt sorry for having yelled at him—it hadn’t been the time or the place to sermonize and was a complete knee jerk in the heat of the moment.
Not my best moment.

Taylor glanced at her watch. The question would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, Jack had invited over the whole family and her closest friends to welcome her home.

Home.
It really was nice to be back where she had all the support and love she needed to start over. Even if her brothers would give her a hard time for making some bad career choices.

Taylor got out of the car, stretched her back, and then rang the doorbell. The door flew open and there was Jack, big strong Jack with his shaggy, light brown hair and bright green eyes, wearing a Forty-Niners apron and an oven mitt. His face immediately turned into a giant grin, and he pulled her inside for a rib-crushing hug.

“Our Little Tiger is back.” Then, without warning, her brother began to cry.

Taylor was speechless. Where was the customary dude-salute—the punch on the shoulder followed by the “When are we gonna toughen you up?” Or her other inspirational favorite, “What did you do
this
week to fuck up your life?” Also, he hadn’t called her “Little Tiger” in years. It was a nickname her brothers had given her because they said that she reminded them of a scrappy little tiger runt, all growls and tiny claws. In their minds, it was a term of endearment.

Jack’s body shook with sobs as he hugged her, and Taylor simply couldn’t understand what was happening.
Maybe he’s still not over Doris?

After several awkward moments, Jack pulled away and stared down at her. “Sorry,” he wiped away his tears. “I guess I’m upset.”

“
I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were still such a mess over Doris.” Taylor patted his arm.

“What? No. I’m talking about you!”

“Me?”

“When we saw that news footage and you were on the plane…we all thought you were dead until Dad called us and…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes teared up again.

Oh my God
.

Jack reached for Taylor and hugged her again, holding her tightly, sniffling. “I’m just so happy you’re here, Taylor.”

Taylor tried to process, but it wasn’t easy. She had no idea he’d taken it so hard. She’d spoken to her father en route to the hospital that day, and while he hadn’t even heard the news himself yet, he had seemed fine.
Plane engine trouble. Bumpy landing. Taylor’s safe. No problem.
That’s what she remembered from the conversation. Her father had been the one to call everyone, including Sarah and Holly, to let them know she was all right. Of course, Taylor had spoken to her girlfriends about a dozen times since then—the three were already busy making plans for a girls’ night out—but she really hadn’t spoken to any of her brothers. She figured they were busy with their lives and since she was okay, no biggie.

“I’m fine, Jack.” Taylor patted him on the back, her heart thumping at an uneasy pace. She’d always thought of her brothers as…well, sort of a bunch of tough guys, at least when it came to displays of emotion.

If I was wrong about my own family, who else have I been wrong about?