Tailored for Trouble

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Taylor looked at her watch. Almost five o’clock. There was no way in hell she could get on that plane without speaking to Bennett first, and she still had a few hours before her flight.

  But I’m totally out of money, and I can’t sprint to Paris. Thinking, she paced and then paced some more, before deciding to call her brother.

  Doctors were never really off duty, so he’d answer no matter what.

  It rang three times before she heard Jack’s reassuring voice. “Dr. Reed,” he said, all groggy.

  “Jack! Are you at your house?”

  “Taylor? Yes, I’m home. And why haven’t you come home yet? Are you still traveling with that slimeball? If yes, tell him I’m going to kick the crap out of him for tarnishing your reputation.”

  Jack was clearly still mad about the picture in the tabloid. Taylor could only imagine what he and her brothers would do if they ever found out about the bet.

  Castration or eyeball-plucking for sure. Which obviously was no good. Those parts of Bennett’s body held a special place in her sad, dirty little heart.

  “I’m in Paris right now, but I need your help. There’s a check for fifty thousand from Wade Enterprises on the dresser. Think you can deposit it for me?”

  “I’ll do it if you come home and bring that shmuck with you to dinner.”

  “No, Jack. I’m not going to let you beat up Bennett Wade. And he didn’t do anything.” At least, not what you think. “I’ll explain everything later, but I’m in Paris and out of money and—”

  “I’ll get over to the bank later, but it’s going to take at least a few days to clear.”

  “Sometimes they make a portion of the funds available immediately.”

  “I’ll just loan you a few thousand,” he offered.

  “No, Jack. I can’t—”

  “You can pay me back when your check clears,” he said.

  She really, really hated to borrow money from him, especially after he’d been so generous with giving her a place to live, but what other choice was there?

  “Thank you.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’d land on your feet like you always do, Tiger. Now get your ass home.”

  “Love you. I’ll text you once I’m on my way.”

  “Money will be in your account in a few minutes. Love you, too,” he replied.

  She ended the call and headed out of the lounge to start looking for some clothes while she waited for the transfer to come through. She wasn’t getting into any office buildings or nice restaurants in Paris dressed in her quasi jammies or the wrinkled, stale travel clothes that she still had with her.

  She grabbed her laptop bag and purse and sprinted for the nearest airport boutique.

  —

  After the world’s most awkward hour-long cab ride with a French driver who wanted to practice his English and then lecture her in “Frenchlish” about the shortcomings of Americans, Taylor entered the Dame Marie headquarters and abruptly found herself being pushed out onto the sidewalk by a very smarmy-looking security guard with a lazy eye and large mustache. Oddly, the man reminded her of that Sebastian man she’d met at Ms. Luci’s house.

  “Well, whatever to you, too!” she bellowed back, ignoring the snickers of the nicely dressed professional Parisians flowing in and out of the Renaissance Period office building. Located on Avenue du Maine, near the tower of Montparnasse, which looked like a giant erection defiling the skyline of the historic city (as the cabby had bitterly pointed out), Lady Mary’s offices were supposed be near all of the world-famous tourist attractions like the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. But she hadn’t seen anything she recognized yet, apart from a multitude of mopeds and boulangeries that reminded her of Ratatouille. She so needed to get out more and stop speed-dating these amazing cities.

  She looked down at her outfit, wondering what the hell to do. She had to get in to see Bennett—if he was even still there—but she looked like a complete tart in the skintight red dress that showed her cleavage and was far too snug wear for underwear. She’d been in a huge hurry and the options at the airport had been limited. It had been this or a bikini the size of a Post-it with dental floss in the back. And yes, she wore red, glittery spiked heels, but it had been that or her flip-flops. Standing out front, trying to ignore the abundance of catcall action, Taylor’s mind went to work. There had to be a way to get in touch with Bennett before he did himself in with Mary.

  She glanced at her phone again. Why hadn’t Bennett called her back?

  Shit. Maybe she should call his mother. She’d help, wouldn’t she? Worth a try.

  Taylor scrolled through her contacts and passed a name that caught her attention. “Dirtbag.” Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Dirtbag was code for “Chip,” Mary’s son.

  She hit Call.

  “Well, well, well,” said a deep, entitlement-laced voice that repulsed her. “If it isn’t Taylor Reed.”

  “Chiiiip,” she said cheerfully, trying her best to not let her revulsion show. “How are you?”

  “A million dollars poorer, but otherwise well, I suppose.”

  Taylor wanted to punch him in his man parts—not that he had any, because real men didn’t slither.

  She played the innocent card and threw out, “Oh, no. That’s awful. I know a person you can call for gambling addictions. She’s not cheap, but she’s really worth every penny.”

  “How can I help you, Taylor?” Chip asked.

  “Actually, I’m looking for Benn—Mr. Wade. He’s having dinner with you and your mother tonight, and I’ve been trying to reach him—it’s urgent.”

  “What kind of urgent?”

  “Oh, you know; complicated business matters involving math. Nothing you’d understand.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, maybe you should try calling his assistant. Goodbye, Tay—”

  “Wait! I’m sorry.” Not really, you cockroach. “I tried his assistant, but she’s not there. It really is important, and for whatever reason, Bennett’s not answering his cell.”

  “Bennett—” he emphasized the fact she’d used his first name “—is not answering for you, perhaps. In which case, it’s none of my business.”

  Oh, you little fucker.

  “Chip, don’t hang up. I’m standing outside your headquarters, and I really need your help.”

  “Really, now? You sound desperate, Taylor. And I think I like it.”

  Of course he would.

  “You got me. We had a misunderstanding, and I really need to talk to him. Please,” she added in her best Bennett tone.

  “He’s already left the building.”

  Oh no. “How did the meeting go?”

  “Your usual boring crap—numbers, empty promises—you know.”

  “So your mother didn’t throw him out? Never mind. Do you know where he went?”

  “He said he was going to see a friend, but didn’t share where. However, I know where we are having dinner.”

  Thank God. She could get to him before he made any huge mistakes. “Where?”

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  Slimy sycophant. “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I want a taste of what you gave Bennett.”

  She wasn’t sure which taste, but she had to assume the worst. “If you mean what I think, the answer is no.”

  “Why? I’ve been told I’m fun. And it would make me happy—happy enough to tell you where we’re having dinner.”

  “I am not going to ‘make you happy,’ Chip.”

  “You made Bennett happy,” he argued. “Am I so unworthy of your pussy?”

  Ewww. “Just so we are clear. I did not make him happy either, and yes, you are unworthy.”

  “You didn’t sleep with him?”

  “No.” She felt a pang of guilt for getting Bennett into trouble, but then she remembered it was his fault for making such a stupid fucking bet in the first place. “Want your money back?”

  “So I paid him for nothi
ng?” Chip laughed. “Slimy son of a bitch. Wait, but doesn’t he let you call him Bennett?”

  “He doesn’t let me; I just do,” she replied.

  “Then he must be into you.”

  “Bennett?” she deflected nervously. “Into me? No.”

  “You’re lying. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Our relationship is complicated,” she blurted out.

  “In that case, you have something I want.”

  “I already told you I’m not sleeping with you, but I will help you get your million dollars back.” She wasn’t really sure she could, but maybe Bennett planned to give back the money anyway, given what he’d said about making things right.

  “I don’t want it back,” Chip said. “Bennett lost the last three rounds of golf, so I’m still ahead.”

  How much do they bet on golf?

  “Be my date tonight,” Chip said.

  “What? No,” she replied sharply.

  “You want to see him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll have to be my date.”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because if he’s into you, there’s no greater prize than watching his face when he thinks he’s lost you to me. And you better do a good job, or I’ll tell my mother that Bennett lied about sleeping with you to get a million dollars out of me. I’m sure she would love that.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Taylor seethed. It wouldn’t matter to Mary who instigated the bet. She would want nothing to do with Bennett if she found out he had taken part in it.

  “I would. And then she won’t sell her company to him. She hates liars.”

  Wow. Chip really was as low as they came.

  “Fine. I’ll be your date,” she said.

  “Excellent. And maybe you’ll change your mind about the fun after that.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “We’ll see about that. I’ll text you the address once I’m on my way to the restaurant so you can meet me out front. And wear something nice.”

  Was a hooker red dress from the airport considered nice these days in Paris?

  CHAPTER 14

  Taylor stood outside the posh restaurant nestled between a very fancy handbag shop and a shoe store she’d never be able to afford in a million years, shivering in the cool evening air. Chip had given her strict instructions to wait out front.

  She’d tried to reach Bennett several more times, stopping only to book herself a new flight home, but the calls kept going straight to voicemail. Had the pouty bastard blocked her? Still, she hoped to at least intercept him before he entered the restaurant. But then again, if she did that, Chip might tell his mother about the million-dollar lie, and Bennett would lose the deal. It was a lost cause. She had to go along with Chip.

  Well, maybe Bennett won’t care if you show up with Chip. After all, it wasn’t like she and Bennett were dating. They’d shared two kisses, and he’d had a little sleepy time fun with her privates, but other than that, they were…acquaintances. No, that’s not exactly right either. Honestly, she didn’t know what they were.

  Well, whatever it is, we’re about to become nothing. Less than nothing, because Bennett would be furious when he learned about the fake module.

  This is the right thing to do, Tay. You’d never live with yourself if he lost his big deal.

  Chip pulled up in a sleek black Jaguar and handed the keys to a valet. When he got to the sidewalk, his brown eyes practically shot from his head. “Taylor. Don’t you look…that is one…that dress is so…” He ran his hand self-consciously over the top of his thinning blond hair and then licked his almost nonexistent lips. The man basically had just a hole for a mouth, which made his drooling look worse than it probably was.

  She sighed. She knew she looked like a woman ready for some serious action, but she hoped he would remember what she said: Not getting him happy!

  “Thanks,” she said coolly. “So where’s your mother?”

  “Oh, she’s inside already. With Bennett.”

  Taylor growled under her breath. She’d been standing outside while Bennett had been in there. She should’ve realized.

  Chip reached out and tried to pull her close. “Now, how about a little warm-up kiss?”

  She winced and pushed away. “I said I’d be your date, not make out with you.”

  “You have to make it convincing, or I tell Mother.”

  Taylor shook her head. “Why do you always have to be such a pig? And what’s with you, anyway? You and Bennett are supposed to be buddies.”

  “Wade and I go way back to college, yes. But I can’t count the number of girlfriends I’ve lost to him.”

  “Bennett stole your girlfriends?”

  “Technically, they weren’t my girlfriends. Yet. But getting any woman’s attention with Wade around is impossible.”

  So how was that his fault? The man couldn’t help that he was smokin’ hot any more than Chip could help not having lips.

  He continued, “This is my chance to take someone from him.”

  “Bennett and I are not in a relationship. We’re just—”

  “Stop. He lets you call him Bennett in public, he’s been seen with you more than once, and he took you on a business trip—”

  “As a consultant,” she argued.

  “Trust me. I know the man. He doesn’t spend that much time with anyone. Ever,” he added.

  His words made her stomach all twisty. She really wished she meant something to Bennett, but it simply didn’t seem to be the case. “You’re wrong. I’m telling you; he won’t care.”

  Chip wiggled his brows. “Let’s just see about that.”

  This was going to be so horrible. She’d tell him that the materials she “gave” him were not to be used. He’d ask why. She’d say something vague like they weren’t good enough. He’d press for more, and she’d be forced to admit the truth of what she’d done in front of Mary and Chip. Then Bennett would yell at her in front of the entire restaurant and have her thrown out. She would leave with her tail between her legs, having saved Bennett from blowing up his merger, but he’d never speak to her again.

  The thought set off all sorts of strange emotions. Uh, that would be called sadness, Tay.

  “Shall we?” Chip extended his arm. “Hope you like sushi.”

  She swallowed back her laughter as they entered together. A French sushi restaurant? Seriously? Please don’t let them serve fugu.

  Chip spoke to the host in fluent French, and they followed the man through the upscale restaurant. It wasn’t like any sushi restaurant she’d ever seen—white tablecloths, waiters in tuxedos, and abstract paintings of fish on the walls. No floating sushi boats in this place.

  As they passed through the dining room, she caught all sorts of attention with her scandalous red dress. And these were the people who gave the Fifty Shades movie a PG-12 rating. Nothing shocked the French. Except your revealing, horribly tight outfit, which is now displaying your hard chilly nipples.

  When they approached the table, she spotted Mary Rutherford’s short, wavy, white hair and Bennett’s full, thick head of dark hair. He and Mary were leaning toward each other, deep in discussion. Mary was smiling but looked subtly annoyed. Oh no! And Bennett was just rattling on, but didn’t seem to be noticing.

  Wait. Who’s she?

  A stunning redhead with a face, eyes, and body only seen in movies or on the covers of airbrushed magazines sat beside Bennett. She had full lips, ample cleavage pouring from the low-cut neck of her black dress, and she couldn’t be a day over twenty-two.

  Bennett brought a date. I think I just might die.

  Bennett glanced at Taylor and then back at Mary and then his head snapped back to Taylor, his eyes widening and sweeping over her body.

  Mary looked right at Taylor, too, then at Chip.

  “Chip, honey,” Mary said, her tone deceptively sweet, “you’re late. And you brought a…date.” Her critical gaze landed back on Taylor and then she lit up. “We
ll, hello Ms. Reed. I almost didn’t recognize you in that dress. I had no idea you were in town.”

  “Nice to see you again, Mary,” Taylor said, trying to keep her body from shaking in a fit of jealousy. And seriously? Did Bennett have to bring someone so hot? She was a perfect ten. Per. Fect. Meanwhile, Taylor was average height and had the sort of body one acquired from a lifestyle dedicated to the pursuit of trying to stay employed and working behind a computer. Totally normal. A solid six.

  Chip took Taylor’s hand. “Yes. Sorry about the last-minute headcount.”

  A waiter appeared with an extra chair, setting a place for Taylor at the large round table, directly across from Bennett.

  Bennett slowly rose from his seat, his eyes bouncing between Chip and Taylor.

  “Wade, old boy,” said Chip. “I believe you know my date, Taylor.”

  Bennett frowned and dipped his head. “Ms. Reed. So you’re still in Paris.”

  “You two know each other?” Mary asked, her eyebrow rising slightly.

  “She works for me. Or used to anyway,” Bennett explained.

  “I see.” Mary looked at Taylor. Although Mary had to be in her late sixties or early seventies, she didn’t look a day over fifty with her smooth creamy skin. Publicly, she attributed it to her products, but no one could look that good without a little help from a scalpel. “Well, Ms. Reed, it is a pleasure to see you again. I heard you left that headhunter company.”

  “I did. I started my own business,” Taylor replied.

  “That’s lovely,” said Mary, approvingly. “I am a firm believer in blazing one’s own trail.” That was certainly true. Mary had started Lady Mary when she was in her early twenties after her husband—an older man—ran off with his secretary, leaving her with a new baby and little income. What had started as a door-to-door business, with Mary selling hand-blended perfumes just to make ends meet, had resulted in a global empire. “Life is about living your most beautiful dream” became her company’s slogan, and it made her billions.

  “Taylor was waiting outside my apartment,” said Chip, “and I insisted she join us for dinner.”

  Mary gave him a harsh look. Chip had made it sound like Taylor had been hoping to seduce him or something.