Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Staring forward, her mind a fog, she whooshed out a breath. “What was that?” she asked, refusing to make eye contact, and thoroughly afraid of what she might do if he happened to look as blown away as she felt.

  “I don’t know,” he said, stiffly. “But it never happened.”

  “Nope. Never happened,” she agreed.

  Yeah, but it did.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him slide on his glasses, cross his arms, and lean back his head.

  Taylor didn’t take offense. If she had remembered her sunglasses, she’d be hiding behind them, too.

  He’s right. That never should’ve happened. Never. And they didn’t have any convenient excuses. There was no liquor, no near catastrophe—like a plane crash that sometimes heightened people’s emotions—no nothing. It was nearly eleven in the morning and except for a little sleep deprivation, they’d both been of sound mind.

  And I completely loathe the despicable man. It must’ve been that odd house. Or the cookie. Not that she believed for a moment it had supernatural powers. Ridiculous. But the mind worked in mysterious ways, and clearly they’d both—on a subliminal level—been thinking about falling in love. Sure, if there were a cookie that could magically summon your special someone like in a fairytale, how wonderful would that be? But that wasn’t real. Real was waiting and dating. Then waiting and dating some more until you gave up or finally…settled.

  Oh, crap. She resisted covering her mouth. He’s right. I’m a settler. He’d said that about her yesterday in his office, and he’d been right. No she hadn’t settled yet, but she’d been planning to. She’d planned to meet some guy who was nice enough, and when ready, she’d “settle” down. Not passion down. Not head-over-heels down. Settle down. No wonder she was avoiding relationships like the plague, focusing entirely on her career instead.

  And now her true desire—to find someone who made her feel like she was being carried off on a ride filled with peril and lust and discovery and triumph and failures and crazy hot love—had bubbled to the surface.

  Okay, maybe I’m not a settler. I just didn’t know what I wanted.

  But now she did. Not with Bennett, of course—the man was a player, not a stayer, and she loathed him. But he’d given her a glimpse into her own heart’s desire.

  Seven days, huh? Well, I will be traveling. That meant she’d be meeting a lot of new people, right? Taylor decided to keep an open mind. What was there to lose?

  Bennett’s phone suddenly went off, jarring her from her thoughts. He tipped the phone toward his face, read whatever message was on it, and then tilted his head back again. After several moments, he finally said, “It worked. Mary accepted.”

  Taylor grinned proudly. “You’re welcome.”

  —

  Is the man all right? Taylor squinted at Bennett sleeping in the reclined seat, but with the dimmed airplane cabin lights, it was difficult to tell. He kept mumbling the name “Kate.” No actually, it wasn’t a mumble, it was more like a growl. Candy had said Kate was his ex, but he also kept repeating a sad-sounding word she didn’t recognize: waya or wayang? She didn’t know, but every time he said it, something tugged at her heartstrings.

  On the other hand, she was a firm believer in reaping what you sowed, and he’d clearly done this poor Kate some wrong and felt bad about it. Maybe? Taylor returned to her laptop; she had been taking advantage of Bennett being asleep by doing some work on her fake training course, but now she wanted to snoop.

  She pulled up her web browser and typed in “Kate and Bennett Wade,” but nothing came up. That only piqued her curiosity even more. Maybe I’ll ask him? On the other hand, Candy had said it made him angry when anyone mentioned his nightmares or his ex, so he probably wouldn’t open up.

  And you’re not here for that. Back to work, Tay.

  She had already strategically modified the necessary modules, subtly tweaking them so Bennett wouldn’t suspect she was providing coaching that would undermine his relationship with Mary.

  For example, Taylor knew that Mary Rutherford loathed kiss-ups. Therefore, training module number three, which focused on “How to Build a Positive Relationship with Women in Power,” would now stress “recognizing that women enjoy compliments in any setting.”

  Taylor snickered to herself. Honestly, most women would probably be fine if a male coworker or business partner complimented their appearance. “You look great today, Betty” or “New shoes, Martha? Very nice.” But Mary would see it as a sign of general smarminess.

  Planting similar landmines, Taylor typed the final finishing touches in the other modules, grinning proudly at her work. Let’s see how far your cockiness gets you now, Mr. Wade.

  An image of Bennett staring deeply into her eyes flashed in her mind. It was the moment his plane took a nosedive, when he’d risked his safety just to assure her she’d be okay, including giving her his cellphone so that rescue crews would be able to locate her first. His strength and cockiness had kept her from losing her mind.

  She stared at the final phony coaching lessons, having second thoughts. Maybe this plan of hers was a mistake. Maybe there was an explanation for what Bennett had done.

  Or maybe you’re getting suckered, just seeing what you want to see. She couldn’t deny that Bennett had a way about him that made her want to like him despite his bulldozer tactics. And having a man like Bennett even remotely interested in her—which she wasn’t saying he was—made her feel…well, kind of…she didn’t know really. But what woman wouldn’t appreciate a little attention from such a good-looking man, even if only a superficial kiss probably fueled by curiosity. Or the fact you told him you would never sleep with him.

  Oh, boy. She hit her forehead and laughed quietly. Of course. Tell that man he can’t have something, and he’ll go after it just to prove you wrong. She’d seen it on the day she’d told him she wouldn’t work with him. His response had been to corral her onto his plane.

  Still, despite the evidence, she wanted to believe there was more substance to this man.

  Taylor felt like she was at a crossroads. Why? She barely knew Bennett.

  She sighed, shut down her laptop, and lay back, staring at the beige ceiling of the plane. I can’t do this. I can’t. Whether or not he’s done something wrong, this isn’t me. I’m not the person who goes after people.

  Yes, he’d wounded her pride. And betting a million dollars with one’s buddies on whether or not you could bag a chick was depraved. Lying to get someone to work for you, claiming you wanted to be a better person simply so you could make money on some big merger was lower than low. Telling a woman he’d have to be drunk to ever sleep with her and commenting on her appearance at a business meeting, as he’d done to her ex-boss Vera, was barbaric. Having two police officers drag a lady off in an airport to force her to talk to you was underhanded not to mention unethical. And then there’s the way he demanded you keep that cell on you at all times because he thinks he owns you…

  Taylor found herself completely riled up again.

  But what’s any of this going to prove, Tay? Nothing. The man was who he was, and her undermining his merger wouldn’t change that.

  As soon as they landed in Tokyo and Bennett was awake, she’d tell him she couldn’t take his money or train him. She wouldn’t give a reason other than she felt she couldn’t offer him anything of value. He’d understand that. And a guy with an ego that large would buy the whole “Oh, but you’re so smart already. What could I possibly ever teach you?”

  Problem solved.

  —

  Taylor awoke to a gentle tug on her shoulder and a cold block of cement inside her head. “Ms. Reed, we’re here,” said Candy.

  She cracked open one eye and Candy’s face—perfect makeup, creamy complexion, red lips, and red hair in a neat bun—came into focus. Taylor slowly sat up and noticed Bennett’s seat empty.

  “Oh,” said Candy, “he had a four o’clock meeting so he needed to get going, but he said he’d see you brigh
t and early in the morning for breakfast.”

  “What time is it?”

  Candy glanced at her watch. “Just after two in the afternoon, Tokyo time—a day ahead from when we left, of course.”

  Taylor nodded. There was a sixteen-hour time difference, and her body felt it.

  “You all right, honey?” Candy asked.

  Taylor ran her hand over her brown bird’s nest. All it was missing were the twigs. “Yes, I just really needed to talk to Bennett.”

  Candy gave her a look.

  “What?” Taylor said, her voice scratchy and tired.

  “If I can offer you a little advice, Ms. Reed; I wouldn’t call him that. People will get the wrong impression.”

  “I’m not sleeping with him,” Taylor grumbled, trying to get her seat back into the upright position.

  “Oh, I know.” Candy said it like the idea was impossible.

  “How?” Taylor asked, a little offended.

  “That’s easy. Mr. Wade would never, and I mean never touch a woman who works for him. That man,” she shook her finger, “is a gentleman. They don’t make ’em like that anymore. But his mama raised him right. No hanky-panky with the staff.”

  “But what about you?” Taylor blurted out before she could stop herself.

  Candy’s jaw dropped, and she placed her hand on her chest. “Me? What would give you the impression that Mr. Wade and I have ever…?”

  “You said you have quickies and overnighters a few times a week.”

  “Oh! No, I’m sorry.” Candy laughed. “I meant I check on him during our flights to see if he needs anything. He’s asleep half the time on these long trips.”

  “And Robin? Is he dating her?”

  “Dear God, no.” Candy leaned in. “Robin bats for the other team.”

  She does? Taylor never would’ve suspected that.

  “She’s been with her partner Bonnie for years.”

  “Oh.” Taylor now felt silly for assuming Bennett had slept with every woman he made contact with. “I guess I misjudged him.”

  Candy sighed. “Well, honey, there was a time I had a little thing for Mr. Wade, but now I see him more as family.” She shook her head appreciatively. “That man is my guardian angel. He’s done more for me than anyone on this planet, including my own parents.”

  “Like what?”

  Candy grabbed a small black carry-on from a small closet near the front of the plane. “Well…I…it’s a story best told over a drink. Let’s get you to the hotel, and then I promise I’ll share, but only if you promise never to speak about it to anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  She smiled knowingly. “That’s part of the secret.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The entire way through customs and immigration, Taylor’s mind itched with curiosity. What would Candy tell her? Was Bennett really just some closet old-fashioned gentleman? Come on…gentlemen don’t ask women if they “fucked last night” in the middle of a meeting. Which was why Taylor really wanted to hear Candy’s story.

  Together they checked into the Ritz Carlton Tokyo, and Taylor found herself feeling very uncomfortable with the room Robin had booked for her. The check-in form she’d been asked to initial had a room rate of one hundred and twenty thousand Yen per night.

  “But don’t you have anything more—” Taylor leaned a bit over the counter toward the reception clerk “—modest?”

  “Ms. Reed,” the young woman said with impeccable politeness, “this is your room. We are all booked up. So sorry.” She bowed her head.

  “But this is too much. Maybe one of the other guests would—”

  The clerk slid the key across the marble counter and then snapped her fingers for the bellhop. “Your dinner reservation is at eight. Your after-dinner massage is at ten. That may be done in your room if you so desire, or in our members-only spa.”

  Taylor blinked. “Massage?”

  Candy, who stood at Taylor’s side also checking in, quickly interceded, “Ms. Reed, that’s standard procedure when you do a long trip with Mr. Wade. He likes everyone well rested and feeling their best.” She glanced at her watch. “See you at eight for drinks and dinner?”

  “Uh…sure.” Taylor nodded. She understood that this was Bennett’s way of doing things, but she didn’t feel right taking a room that cost one thousand U.S. dollars a night or a massage that likely cost a few hundred.

  She looked at the clerk. “Thank you. But please cancel the massage. I’ll be going to bed early tonight,” she lied. She was wide-the-hell-awake, but no way could she take a perk like that.

  Taylor made her way to the nicely appointed room with a view of the Roppongi district, and the bellhop arrived shortly after with her enormous suitcase. She’d been to Tokyo once before on a client visit, so she wasn’t a stranger to the no-tipping rules. That said, it still felt unnatural simply thanking him with a bow so she just gave him a stupid little wave.

  After he left, she went to use the bathroom and ended up staring at the toilet. “You again.” She’d forgotten about the talking contraptions.

  She poked a few buttons before sitting down, but this one seemed only to speak Japanese.

  Oddly, though, the toilet’s voice was female and sounded mildly submissive. That sort of bothered her, considering what people did in the toilet. Why couldn’t the toilet have been male instead? It also played music and had ten electronic features including a seat warmer and bidet function. I wonder what the other eight buttons do. She’d have to play around with it later.

  She then made a quick call to check her voicemail. There was only one message from Jack, which left her dialing back the moment the recording ended.

  “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with that sleaze bag Wade! He’s engaged to Victoria Preston. What the hell are you thinking, Tay?”

  What in the world was he talking about? And Bennett was engaged again? But hadn’t he just gotten out of a relationship with some woman named Kate?

  Of course, Taylor’s return call went into voicemail, and she was left skimming the online gossip magazines—Jack’s secret little addiction that he claimed was for keeping up on the latest fashion in rhinoplasty and breast augmentation, even though his expertise was facial reconstruction for accident victims.

  Sadly, it didn’t take her long to find what had riled her brother up: A picture of Bennett and the actress Victoria Preston—big boobs and pouty lips—with her face glowing and hand extended toward the camera. The caption read: Bennett Wade and the glamorous Miss V to tie the knot this summer? The article went on to quote multiple “close friends” of the couple as being very excited about their upcoming nuptials.

  However, the worst part came when Taylor toggled down to the next article highlighting a photo of her and Bennett kissing in the back of the car at Ms. Luci’s ranch.

  “Who. The fuck! Took that picture?” It wasn’t that Taylor had done anything wrong, but her privacy had been violated. Big time. As she studied it, it became clear from the angle that the driver had done the dirty deed.

  The caption read: Bennett Wade, slumming it with the help only two months away from his wedding.

  Where did those fuckers get off calling her “the help” and insinuating she was trashy? A-holes! Wait. She suddenly felt nauseous as the other information sank in. Bennett is engaged. Bennett is engaged. Oh my God.

  Taylor could not believe that the rat bastard had had the nerve to kiss her.

  She fumed for several moments and then decided to take a shower to cool her head. Not like she could do anything at this moment anyway.

  After all, Bennett was with his business partners, and she wouldn’t see him until morning. But once again, she found herself wondering how she could let such an unscrupulous man off the hook. Liar. Cheater. User. Womanizer. Every time she felt like taking the high road, something like this popped up and told her that Bennett was the sort of man who gave penises all around the world a bad rap.

  —

  Wearing her favorite a
ll-occasion little black dress and heels, with a white cardigan thrown over her shoulders, Taylor sat at the small table for two in the elegant steakhouse slash sushi bar in the hotel, surrounded by men in suits having business dinners. Oh, look. An ocean of little multicultural Bennetts. Of course, no one could compare to him on any level—looks, size, success, arrogance, or man-whoring. Yep. He’s cornered the global market.

  The odd part for her was knowing that so many of these men probably aspired to work for a man like Bennett. Or be him.

  “Taylor, honey!” Candy’s sugary-sweet twang rang out through the restaurant, drawing more than a few heads. She wore a green skirt and blouse that made her red hair pop like the flame on the tip of a match.

  “Hi, Candy,” Taylor made a little wave as the woman strutted forth, shamelessly owning the room.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me.” Candy took the seat across from Taylor. “I travel so much, it gets old having room service or dinner alone.”

  The waiter, a young man wearing a red apron, came over, greeted the two in English and gave them both menus.

  “I’ll have a vodka tonic. Make it a double,” Taylor said.

  “My my. Are we drinking to something special tonight?” Candy asked.

  Taylor opened her menu and grumbled, “Yeah, I’m drinking to men being pigs.”

  Candy ordered her drink in Japanese. She sounded impressively fluent.

  “Where’d you learn to speak the language?” Taylor asked.

  Candy made a little shrug. “I picked it up. You know us flight attendants. So…is it your boyfriend or fiancé you’re trying to forget tonight?”

  “Neither.” Taylor stewed for a moment and then leaned in to whisper. “Did you know that Bennett’s engaged?”

  Candy smiled and leaned back in her seat. “So you are interested in Mr. Wade. I knew it.”

  “No,” Taylor replied defensively. “Why would you think that?”

  Candy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you looked like you wanted to claw someone’s eyes out when you said the word ‘engaged’?”