Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants) (12 page)

Candy continued, “After I finished college, I decided I wanted to work in the travel industry and see the world—sober this time—so I applied for a few jobs. When I asked Mr. Wade if he’d be a reference, he said no.”

“No?” Taylor blinked.

“He said I should come work for him—for as long as I wanted. I’ve been with him ever since.”

Taylor simply didn’t know what to say. Candy’s story was so tragic and it could’ve ended in a very dark place if not for Bennett. “Wow,” Taylor murmured again, quietly. It seemed to be the only thing she could say.

“Now, don’t you go feelin’ sorry for me. I think in a lot of ways, the experience made me a better person, a person with a purpose. Now, I spend time volunteering to help women in similar circumstances. There’s a lot of good that’s come out of all this.”

Taylor nodded, trying to digest the horror of Candy’s experience. “Well, you’re a stronger person than I am.”

Candy shrugged. “We all have our stories. So,” she took a sip of her wine, “what’s yours?”

Taylor made a little
pft
sound. “Compared to you, mine is pretty…well, I guess uneventful. I’m feeling like a spoiled brat, actually.”

Candy laughed. “Why’s that?”

“Up until five minutes ago, I kind of felt sorry for myself. I come from a long line of crazy-successful overachievers and haven’t really done anything with my life.” Yet, she’d been given every opportunity—a safe home, a demanding but loving father, three brothers who looked after her in their own way, a good education, and some wonderful friends. But somehow she’d always felt lacking—maybe because she had grown up without her mother—when all along she’d had the building blocks to make something of herself. Instead of using them, she just…settled.

Dammit.
Bennett had read her like an open book when he’d said that she was the sort of person who always settled. It was true; she needed to stop lying to herself.
And I need to get on with my life and turn things around, not waste my time with some childish scheme to destroy this man.
Whoever he really was, he wasn’t evil.

Flawed? Maybe.

Domineering? Absolutely.

Sexy? Yes, ma’am.

But she’d stepped into a situation she’d felt was crystal clear and now treaded in muddy waters.

“You okay, sweetie?” Candy asked.

Taylor waved her hand. “I’m fine. And thank you for sharing your story.”

“No problem. I just wish it could help you get over your little issue.”

“My issue?” Taylor asked.

“You’re not the first woman to have a thing for Mr. Wade.”

“I don’t have ‘a thing.’ I just…it’s complicated.”

Candy raised her glass. “Well, it’s none of my business. So here’s to complicated.”

An hour and two more cocktails later, Taylor made her way upstairs. Candy had gone to the spa, but Taylor was ready to find Bennett and have that talk. She’d start by asking him about the bet and why he’d lied about Lady Mary. He never had explained that to her, and before Taylor admitted what she’d done—or had planned to do—she wanted to hear what Bennett’s story was.

She exited the elevator and immediately heard Bennett yelling at someone out in the hallway, around the corner. “Who the
fuck
do you think you are?” he roared.

Oh crap
. Who was he talking to?

“I trusted you,” Bennett ranted, “I put my goddamned faith in you, and you repay me by going behind my back and sabotaging my deal?”

Taylor had expected a man to respond, but instead heard a Japanese-sounding woman with a soft voice. “Mr. Wade, sir. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“I give people one chance. One. You’re fired. So get the hell out of my face. And you better believe I’m going to make sure everyone, and I mean
everyone
, knows what sort of crap you pulled.”

“I’ll be ruined,” she sobbed quietly.

“You should’ve fucking thought of that before you screwed me.”

Taylor covered her mouth.
Oh no.
If this was how Bennett reacted with this woman, she could only imagine how he’d respond to her confession.
He’ll kill me. Then he’ll ruin me. Or the other way around.

Taylor heard the tapping sound of footsteps approaching right before the woman appeared, almost crashing into her. Without stopping to say a word, she hurried on toward the stairwell, tears in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor turned the corner. Bennett was there, his face bright red with anger. From the look of his well-tailored, immaculate black suit, perfectly combed hair, and navy blue tie with spatters of gray, he’d just come from his business meeting. Aside from his purple eye, he looked like he’d walked right out of a fashion magazine.

“Bad date?” Taylor asked.

“I wish.” He looked at her intensely. “You’re coming with me.”

“Wh-where?”

“You look like you’ve already been drinking, so you can keep me company while I catch up.”

“Oh. No, I really should get some rest.”
And think about how to tell you I’m not going to train you.

“You slept for eight hours on the plane. And I had to listen to you snore, so you owe me.”

I snored? In front of him? Oh the shame…
On the other hand, he yelled at people in his sleep. How weird was that?

Bennett grabbed her hand and dragged her to the elevator, his square jaw flexing and pulsing the entire way down to the lobby.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Taylor asked.

“No.”

“Okay.” She leaned against the wall of the elevator.

He sighed. “That looked pretty bad, didn’t it?”

Yes. But not for the reason you think
. Now she felt stuck between wanting to get everything out in the open, and being frightened by how he might react if she told him the real reason she’d come along on the trip.

“I suppose you sounded…
upset,
” she finally said.

The elevator doors opened, and he took Taylor’s hand again. His was warm and strong and the tiny little tingles he provoked from the skin-on-skin contact made her tighten her grip.

Her heels clacked across the gleaming beige and black marble floors of the lobby as she jogged behind him, trying to keep up.

“Where are we going?” She’d thought they’d just be staying inside the hotel, but he headed for the doors.

“Somewhere quiet, without prying eyes and opportunistic chauffeurs.”

Oh.
So he knew about the picture of them kissing. She would’ve commented, but she had zero desire to discuss the incident. Or think about that kiss.

He dragged her along for several blocks down a busy narrow street lined with tall light gray buildings lacking any real personality. It was difficult to articulate the architectural style in this part of Tokyo other than to call it functional and somewhat sterile. Nothing at all like San Francisco.

They turned right, down what looked to be a back alley, but was probably just a regular old residential road. Trees and a long iron fence lined one side, and more of those tall, skinny, industrial-style apartment buildings that had shops on the first floor lined the other. Off in the distance, peeking over one of the buildings, the glowing orange lights of the Tokyo tower pointed up at the sky, like a laser beam ready to blast Godzilla right from the clouds.

Or was it Mothra who always attacked?
She couldn’t remember.

Walking at a brisk pace, her feet beginning to burn, they passed a 7-Eleven (yes, a 7-Eleven) and then came upon a quiet little hole-in-the wall restaurant. A lonely lamp hung over the open doorway where a long white and blue curtain blocked the interior from view.

The moment they entered, Bennett was greeted by a short, bald man wearing a
kimono
and
hakama
outfit. He bowed deeply with a warm smile. “Mr. Wade, so nice to see you again.” Bow, bow, bow.

Bennett bowed back.

Taylor offered a little half bow and half head dip sort of thing, feeling ridiculous the entire time.
I suck at foreign diplomacy.

The quaint little establishment only had a few small wooden tables and a sushi bar on one side. Bennett gestured to the open spot next to them and then pulled Taylor’s chair out for her. As she sat, she realized she really hadn’t eaten enough because the three double vodkas were definitely making her head spin. She also had the munchies and began drooling over a delicious-looking platter of Kobe beef, pate, and cold cuts at the table next to them.

“So, French-Japanese fusion food, huh? Looks good.” It was a culinary combo she’d never tried before, though her favorites were Chinacan—Chinese Mexican (Peking duck burritos rocked)—or Italique—Italian-style BBQ (aka cooking pizzas on the grill).

“They serve sushi, too,” Bennett said, taking his seat and then loosening his tie and releasing the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “But only the rare stuff—the delicacies for the adventurous.”

Taylor hated to ask, but she did, if only to keep her mind off how good the man across from her looked undressing. “Please, please don’t tell me you’re going to eat that puffer fish stuff.”

He smiled, his blue eyes flickering with a devilish twinkle. It reminded her of the day of the plane crash when he got them all safely to the ground. “Fugu.”

Yep. The man loves his danger
.
Or was it the challenge?
“Please. I really don’t want to watch you keel over.”

“Did you know that it numbs the lips and gives one the feeling of having done a few shots of tequila? That is, if you don’t die.”

Wow. Yum
, she thought dryly.

The waiter returned with a white bottle of sake, two miniature ceramic sake mugs, and a square dish with an assortment of odd-looking raw things, one of them still moving on the plate.

Taylor covered her mouth.

“You must try this, Ms. Reed. It’s a flavor like no other,” Bennett said, unwrapping his chopsticks.

“No.” She shook her head. “Thank you. And what the hell is that?”

“It’s baby octopus—very fresh.” With his large yet surprisingly nimble hand—a hand that made her wonder about his adeptness at other activities requiring finger skills—
God, you’re so naughty, Tay
—he plucked a wriggling octopus tentacle from the plate, dipped it into the special “live suffering critter” sauce, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed before washing it down with the entire mug of sake.

Taylor took a sip of her drink, trying not to look at the horrific plate of moving food right in front her.
Maybe you should go back to thinking about his fancy fingers
.

“So, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

“I don’t wish to talk about it.”

She leaned back in her chair. “What
do
you want to talk about?”

He was silent for a long moment, maybe debating if he wanted to tell her what had happened. “Nothing. Let’s just drink.”

That sounded boring. “Did you know my talking toilet is female? It’s incredibly offensive. I tried to change it to be male, which seems far more appropriate in my opinion, but I don’t think they even offer that setting. Can you believe that?”

Yep, I’m sauced.

He looked at her briefly and then grabbed another wiggly thing. “How about we finish your questionnaire? That seems like a more suitable topic while I eat and get drunk.”

This was her moment. She had to take it. “About that, Bennett, I wanted to talk to you—”

“I realize I wasn’t being very cooperative earlier. My apologies. I’ve got a lot going on right now.” He took another drink, and she noticed how his large, normally rigid broad shoulders seemed to be sagging a bit. He looked tired and somewhat beaten down.

It made her think that whatever happened tonight must’ve been bad. All the more reason to put an end to this ridiculous sham.

“I’m sure you do,” she agreed. “But what I wanted to say was that I can’t go through with this.”

He stopped chewing, set down his chopsticks, and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her cautiously. “If this is about that kiss—”

Taylor held up her hand. “No. It has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what?” Now he looked like he just might reach across the table and throttle her with those large nimble hands. “You want more money, is that it?”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. “What? No! Bennett, how can you say that?”

He reached for the sake, poured himself another mug, and drank it down. “That’s what they all want.”

Taylor bit back her irritation. She wasn’t a gold digger. “I don’t want your goddamned money, Bennett. In fact, I’m giving you back your check, which I haven’t even deposited yet. I just don’t think I can be of service to you.”

He eyed her critically. “Seriously, Ms. Reed. You shock me.”

“Why? Because I’m being honest? I can’t teach you anything you don’t already know.”

“I think you’re afraid.”

Yeah, that you’ll find out the truth about why I came on this trip
. Now that she had really, really started to think things through she felt ashamed of herself. She was better than this. Or, at least, she should strive to be. However, none of that meant she had dismissed what Bennett had done. It simply meant she’d handled it the wrong way. “Think whatever you like. I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of whether or not your program has merit?” he asked. There was an intimidating timbre to his deep voice that seemed to fill the room.

Don’t let him shrink you, Tay. Stand your ground.
“No, Bennett. I’ve already made up my mind.”

His brows furrowed. “I suppose I was wrong about you—doesn’t happen often, but I was.”

She sighed, knowing he was trying to egg her into debate. One she might lose because Bennett knew how to keep his cool and still get his way. “I don’t want to fight with you. I can’t give you what you want.”

“How the hell do you know what I want?” He pierced her with his eyes. “You think you know me?”

This conversation had headed in the wrong direction fast. It hadn’t helped that he was in a pissy mood to begin with and that she’d had too much to drink.

“Nope. I don’t know you,” she replied, looking down at her empty mug, wondering if mixing sake and vodka had been a good choice.
Sadka. Not going on my list of faves.