Tailored for Trouble

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “You’ve accused me of lying. The least you could do is provide me an opportunity to tell the truth.” He smiled, but this time it was another of those genuine, charming smiles that felt like being hit with a hammer. A hammer made from a hot man in a tux.

  Her knees went a little shaky, and she once again felt herself succumbing to the hope that she might find a real live beating heart inside his chest. Dammit. I’m such a sucker. “Fine. I’ll stay for a little while.”

  “Good. I’ll return shortly.” Bennett turned and headed back into the crowd. Taylor remained where she was, watching with fascination how he entranced the guests with his smiles and charisma, reducing each person to a little glob of happy putty.

  Once again, she just didn’t know what to make of it. The man was such an enigma—one minute shrewd and calculating, the next warm and charming and so…magnetic. She couldn’t figure him out.

  Stop being such a stalker. Taylor pulled her gaze away and headed to the bar. At least she could have a drink in her hand or something to make her look less out of place.

  As she stood waiting her turn, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  “Taylor Reed. What a surprise!” She turned and gave an internal groan. Or maybe it was more of a silent gag. It was Bennett’s golf buddy and her ex-client from HRTech, Charles Thorup. The guy owned the biggest chain of hotels in the world and thought he could own Taylor, too.

  “Hi, Charles. How have you been?” she said politely, careful not to give off too friendly of a vibe. The last thing she wanted was to spend the next hour fending off his unwanted sexual advances.

  “Not as good as you, I hear,” he slurred his words and had a little bit of something—a piece of tomato?—stuck to the lapel of his tux. He also smelled like whisky, and his tufts of stiff brown hair were fighting against the unnatural flow of his comb-over.

  “Sorry?” she said.

  He leaned his bright red face toward her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Why him, Taylor? What did the old B-man do?”

  She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  He shook his finger in her face, laughing. “I tried every trick in the book, but you wouldn’t even let me take you out for a drink. Come on. Tell me. What did he do?”

  “Do for what?” she snapped.

  “To get you to open those pretty little legs of yours.”

  Taylor froze. There were no words to express how offended she felt. She wanted to smack his stupid red face.

  “I didn’t sleep with him,” she growled. “And you have no right to speak—”

  “I was standing right there. You called him Bennett, and everyone knows only his mother and women he’s fucking get to call him that.”

  Ohmygod. Is that what people thought every time she used his first name? No wonder everyone had been acting so bizarre. She suddenly recalled his words to Vera during that first meeting; in her defense, she really thought he’d only said that to make a point!

  “I think you’re drunk, Charles,” she said. “And you should get the hell away from me before I do something I’ll regret.”

  “Oh no, baby. I’m not leaving until I have an answer. I just had to hand the asshole a million dollar check for winning the race—gloating bastard!”

  Taylor wasn’t sure what she’d heard. Because…because…then that would mean…“A million dollars? For what?” She almost didn’t want to ask, because if he’d meant what she thought he meant, there’d be no redemption for Bennett. No forgiving him, no excuse in the world he could give to explain such a horrible thing.

  Charles swayed a little and grinned sloppily. “He took money from Robert, Clyde, Steve, Chip, and Blake, too.”

  Taylor’s jaw dropped. Those were all names of her ex-clients. “You’re telling me you guys all had a bet going?”

  “The race into Taylor’s pants,” he slurred. “Or was it more like a marathon because it took forever for someone to win the pot?”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, horrified beyond words. Who would do such a thing?

  “Why else would he go out of his way to hire—” Charles made air-quotes with his fingers “—you? Not for that stupid training program you’ve been peddling.”

  Taylor’s pride crashed to her feet. Bennett Wade was just after her for some fucking bet? No. No way. But it explained everything; how he’d gone out of his way to track her down, why he’d insisted she spend the next two weeks traveling with him. It was all some big joke to him. A bet. As for Lady Mary, he probably didn’t need her at all for his deal; but being the horrible, money-grubbing sleazoid that he was, he likely thought it wouldn’t hurt to have her on Team Bennett. After all, she did know Mary and what Mary expected of people.

  “I can’t believe this,” Taylor whispered to herself.

  “Oh, come now, Mith Reed,” Charles garbled. “You had to know. I mean…” He swayed again. The guy was wasted. “Why else would so many men sign on to be your clients at HRTech? And hey,” he leaned close, his alcohol-breath wafting over her face. “Now that Bennett won, can I just pay for a fuck?”

  Taylor slapped him as hard as she could, sending him reeling. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, asshole.”

  She turned and left, ignoring the stares of the people who had been standing near her, unsure if she was going to cry or kill Bennett Wade. Both! This definitely calls for both!

  She hurried outside, her devastation spilling from every pore in her body. She wanted to go back inside and give Bennett Wade a taste of her knee. But that was too good for him. That would only produce a moment of pain. What he needed was to suffer. Suffer and endure the sort of humiliation she experienced at that very moment, knowing that those men had been laughing behind her back, using her for some sick, disgusting billionaire sport. She’d truly believed that she’d earned her keep at HRTech because she’d been good at what she did. She’d spent the last five years of her life living a lie. Then she’d gone out on her own, thinking she had a chance in hell to create her own business. No wonder she had failed.

  She shoved her ticket and a twenty in the valet’s hand so he’d hurry up. I’m nothing but a joke. A fucking joke. But the worst part was Bennett’s role in all of this. He’d gone out of his way to become her client in order to win a bet. Then he’d actually let everyone believe they’d slept together so he could profit from her pain. She counted off the names Charles had listed in her head. Six. Six million dollars. That was the price tag for crushing her soul, pride, and dreams.

  I am going to ruin him. Ruin. Him.

  The valet pulled up in her car, and she slid inside. Suddenly, her brown leather purse vibrated. She glanced inside. It was a text on the Bennett phone.

  Bennett: Why did you leave?

  “Because you’re a disgusting pig!” she yelled at the thing.

  She was about to respond, but stopped her herself. No. Don’t say anything. Let him sweat it out.

  Bennett: I’m coming to see you after the party.

  Taylor turned the phone off and threw it on the floor. Then get ready, Mr. Wade, for a new kind of training. A program that will be Taylored just for you…

  CHAPTER 6

  Taylor pulled her car behind Jack’s BMW with its plates that read “Fix U” and wiped the tears from her face. She didn’t want to alarm Jack or tell anyone what had happened. The humiliation was just too much. She’d lost everything. Hopes, dreams, self-esteem—poof! Just like that.

  Well, at least you still have your health.

  “Achew!” She launched a sneeze right into her hand. Great. Just great.

  She slid from the car and went in through the front door. Jack sat on his couch with a beer in his hand, staring blankly at some baseball post-game whatever. “Hey, Jack.”

  He jerked his head, but didn’t look at her.

  She paused halfway up the stairs. “You okay?”

  He didn’t move. Something wasn’t right.

  She went back into the living room, and when his face came into view
, she noticed the glazed look in his green eyes. His grease-stained Giants sweats were another bad sign.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Yep.” He continued staring at the TV.

  Oh no. This was what Jack did when he lost a patient. He always took it hard. Always.

  Taylor sat beside him on the pink, floral overstuffed couch. It was one of the many leftovers from his marriage, but Jack had refused to throw out perfectly good furniture even if the style was overtly girly—almost like Doris had been trying to overcompensate for who she really was. Not girly. Not even a little.

  “What happened?” Taylor said.

  Jack shook his head no. “She had two children—ten and twelve—and a husband.”

  Taylor placed her hand on his leg. There was nothing she could say that he didn’t already know. Jack wasn’t a rookie, and patients died sometimes. In his case, it was usually a reaction to the anesthesia, but it still happened from time to time. It was simply unavoidable. What made him great, though, was that he never stopped caring. It was what made him careful and extremely good at what he did.

  “I’ve never seen a man cry so hard,” Jack said with numbness in his voice. She knew he was trying to hold it together.

  “You did your best, Jack.”

  “The weird part was I kept thinking to myself that the man was an idiot for loving her because they all leave. One way or another, they just…” He sighed. “Leave us.”

  Taylor leaned her head into his shoulder. “Well, I’m here for you. And I love you.”

  “Thanks. I love you, too, Tiger.” He flashed a quick glance at her with his bloodshot eyes.

  It was strange how she hadn’t seen it before, but this divorce had really changed him. He never used to cry or say “I love you” back. It was always “Suck it up,” “Don’t let ’em see you sweat, Taylor.” “Weakness is for losers.” Of course, that had been years ago, but clearly she hadn’t made an effort to stay close to him the way she should’ve. The same could be said for her father and other brothers. She really needed to fix that.

  “Can I get you anything? Real food? Another beer?” She wasn’t about to stand in the way of him getting hammered. Hell, she might even join him.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m good.”

  The doorbell rang, jarring Taylor in her seat. Who could it be? She knew Mr. Two-Faced Loser had threatened to show up later, because—oh no, God forbid—she hadn’t done as she was told and hadn’t stayed at the party to hear more of his lies, but she’d only been home for ten minutes, and Bennett’s event was far from over. Maybe it was Sarah or Holly.

  “I’ll be right back.” Taylor pulled herself up from the couch and opened the door.

  A simmering, tux-wearing Bennett stood there, his face an angry shade of red.

  “Wh—what are you doing here?” Taylor stammered, shocked as hell. They were almost at eye level, with Bennett down a step and her in the doorway.

  “Why did you turn off the phone?” he growled.

  Taylor blinked at him. Is he serious? “You came all the way here, in the middle of your charity event, to ask me about the phone?” Her brother lived in the Berkeley hills—over the Bay Bridge and about thirty minutes away from the Fairmont.

  The man is crazy. And, frankly, so was she. Crazy-peeved. Crazy-hurt. Crazy-vengeful. She felt inches away from losing it and telling him off, but then she reminded herself of the six million dollars, her public humiliation, and the whole hiding the Lady Mary deal.

  Let’s see how you feel getting used and having your world smashed to pieces. When she was done with this guy, he might not be in ruins, but he sure as hell would think twice before ever doing something like this to another woman.

  He ran his hands through his thick hair and blew out a breath, almost a sigh of relief. “I thought—and then I—fuck, never mind.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I have to get back to the ball.” He pointed at her. “But you and I aren’t finished yet. I’ll be back later.” He turned and headed toward his waiting limo.

  “Wait!” she scurried after him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You can’t come here like this, acting all crazy, and then run off.”

  He stopped short of the open car door where the driver stood, waiting for him to get inside. “Why did you leave the party like that?” Bennett asked, clearly displeased.

  “I—I—well, I…” she couldn’t tell him the truth. Then he’d catch on. But what did he think happened?

  “And you’ve been crying. Why?” his eyes narrowed.

  Taylor cleared her throat. “Oh. That. Um…well…my brother is a surgeon and,” she pointed inside, “he lost a patient today. A mother of two. He takes it pretty hard—guess it made me a little emotional, too.”

  The hardness in Bennett’s blue eyes faded away. “Oh.” He glanced down at his polished black shoes.

  Look at the size of that man’s feet. I wonder if it’s true what they say about—

  “So that’s why you rushed home.” He placed his large hand on his waist and whooshed out a breath.

  No, that wasn’t why, and she felt a tiny tug on her insides for being dishonest with him, but too frigging bad. “Yeah.”

  “So you’re not angry about Lady Mary?” he asked, looking back up at her.

  Why the hell would he care? And yeah, I am pissed.

  “Oh. That?” Taylor waved it off. “I overreacted. I’m sure your deal with Lady Mary has nothing to do with me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I am?”

  Bennett pulled her away from the limo, out of earshot from the driver. “The truth is, I do need you to close that deal,” he said softly. “However, I’m not at liberty to tell anyone details just yet—it’s complicated.”

  Taylor wanted to smack those lying lips right off his beautiful face. “Sure.” She shrugged. “Whatever. It’s really none of my business. I’m just here to train you. Whatever you do with the material is your choice. After all, you’re the customer.”

  Bennett frowned and then tilted his head as if suspicious. “Why aren’t you snapping at me?”

  “Huh?”

  “It isn’t like you to roll over.”

  How would he know what she was like? Oh, because he slept with you. Dontcha know?

  “Why would I snap at you, Mr. Wade?” she said innocently. “There’s nothing to snap about. You hired me. I’m going to help you. Your business is your business.”

  His eyebrow went up. “I’m Mr. Wade now?”

  Taylor smiled pleasantly. “Yes. That’s what you asked me to call you, right?”

  The expression on his face was somewhere between distrusting and pleased. “I have to get back.”

  Taylor nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’ll send the car for you in the morning at eight—we’ll start then since I’m sure your brother needs you tonight.”

  That was thoughtful. Don’t buy into it, Tay.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wade. I appreciate that.”

  Bennett bobbed his head, still appearing a bit agitated. As he slid into the limo he looked at her with those penetrating blue eyes. “I think I’d prefer it if you call me Bennett.”

  But that’s only for his mother and the women he’s…

  Taylor’s mouth went dry, while her heart went roller-coaster wild. Knees? Oh, they were down there somewhere doing their own thing.

  Wait. Don’t you dare get all flustered! He only wants you to call him Bennett to keep up the charade for the bet he won.

  “Okay…Bennett,” she said in a controlled voice.

  “And we’ll be on the road for several weeks—pack accordingly.”

  “What? Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Tokyo and Paris, then on to Bali. And Ms. Reed?”

  He wasn’t kidding about the intense schedule. That would be a lot of flying. “Yes?”

  “Don’t ever turn that phone off again. Got it?”

  What was with him a
nd the phone? Stalker!

  “Yes, Mr. Wade.”

  Taylor caught a glimpse of the beautiful, horrible man scowling and shaking his head before the chauffeur closed the door. She stood there and watched the limo pull away, her mind a giant whirling mess. Dammit if he didn’t have a way of getting under her skin even when she wanted nothing more than to see him suffer.

  She turned and headed inside for her car keys. She’d go grocery shopping for poor Jack and make him a nice dinner. Then she’d pack and start creating her really awesome, specially “taylored” training program. Oh, yeah. Taylor knew exactly what pushed Mary Rutherford’s buttons. It had been her job to hire people who worked directly under the woman, and Mary had very specific likes and dislikes. Before the two weeks were through, Bennett would have Lady Mary so turned off and annoyed that she probably wouldn’t even take his calls.

  Yeah, but think you can handle two weeks of chewing that jalapeño?

  Of course, now that Taylor knew the truth, she need only remind herself how he’d profited—six million dollars—from her public shame, and allowed people to think they’d screwed. Then there were men like Charles who were always so busy trying to get in her pants they probably never even saw what fantastic work she’d done for them. She had a knack for reading people and gauging their fit for a particular role, and those men had benefitted from her skill. But all she was and all she’d ever be to them was a piece of meat, not a person.

  Assholes.

  —

  The next morning, Taylor looked in on Jack before lugging her insanely heavy suitcase downstairs. Her brother was out cold and would probably have one heck of a hangover today, so she’d written him a note telling him there was Gatorade and ready-made salads in the fridge, and a ton of those healthy organic frozen meals in the freezer. She would call her father on the way to the airport to tell him to check in on her brother later.

  When the doorbell rang, she expected to find a chauffeur waiting to take her to the airport. Instead, she found Bennett—unshaven, thick bare arms crossed over his broad chest, hip thrown to one side, and dark shades covering his baby blues. He wore a wrinkled navy blue T-shirt and faded jeans and looked like he’d stayed up all night misbehaving. Probably with a few wild women, which would explain the hair. It was exactly the style he’d have if she’d been in bed with—