Tailored for Trouble

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  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.

  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 be
came 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.