Read Online Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants) by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff - Free Book Online Page B

are like oil and water.
As were their companies. Those two didn’t even speak the same language.
    Wait. Oh my God. Bennett lied to me. He lied to me!
He’d said he wanted to evolve, implying that he wanted to be a better boss. But this merger was why he wanted Taylor’s help. He couldn’t care less about treating his people better or learning anything from her. This was all about trying to win over Mary Rutherford.
And speaking “her language.”
    Taylor tightened her grip on the steering wheel, wishing it were Bennett’s neck. He’d completely pulled the wool over her eyes. And he’d obviously lied because he knew she would refuse taking him on as a client for such a materialistic reason.
    The air pissed out of her happy little balloon. There was no way she could work with him now. He didn’t believe in her, in her company, or in anything but making money.
    Motherfucking, rat bastard, turd face!
    Taylor mentally censured herself.
Check the swearing, Tay. You will not swear. You will remove his testicles like a lady: with your bare hands and a smile on your face.
    Ten minutes later, Taylor pulled up to the Fairmont, one of San Francisco’s most famous historic hotels on Nob Hill. “Keep it close,” she said to the valet, handing over the keys to her red Audi. “I’m not staying.”
    All around her, guests in tuxedos and sequin ball gowns poured inside, stopping to pose for pictures with a photographer in the opulent lobby with its gleaming brown marble floors and ornate crown moldings.
    Once past the bottleneck, she made her way to the 1920s-style ballroom where a shimmering crystal chandelier hung from the gold-trimmed ceiling, and an enormous golden “W” stood as a backdrop to the speech platform at the far end of the floor. Off in the corner, opposite the bar, a swing band played to an empty dance floor. Everyone in the crowded room seemed too absorbed in mingling to even hear the music.
    Her eyes scanned the crowd.
Where are you, you sonofabitch?
And to think, she’d started growing soft on him, believing there might actually be a heart somewhere underneath the expensive suits and tight, gym-sculpted muscles that she knew a man like him would surely have because he demanded perfection even from his own ass and abs.
    It’s your own damned fault, Taylor. You were too busy ooh-ing and ah-ing over him when maybe you should’ve been paying attention.
    Her eyes darted around the room and zeroed in on Bennett, who stood out from the silver-haired crowd with his height and thick head of brown hair.
    She wove her way through the mass of people, and as she approached Bennett she couldn’t help noticing how perfect he looked in a tux, all handsome and smiles, like he’d just walked out of a wedding magazine.
Don’t get distracted, Tay. Remember what he did—who he really is. A snake.
    He spotted her approaching, and his beautiful smile immediately dissolved.
    Taylor felt a little satisfaction from that. Bastard didn’t deserve to feel happy.
    “Bennett, may I speak to you for a minute?”
    The people surrounding Bennett made little noises as if they were shocked or amused by something.
    His eyes moved up and down her body, surveying her business attire. “Of course.” He excused himself from his guests, and they walked to the side of the room.
    “Was there an issue finding a dress?” he said in a quiet, abrasive tone.
    Yeah, there was. She’d needed to keep her mind clean out of the date-zone fantasies. A suit would keep her in check. Wearing an evening gown would not.
    Taylor scoffed. “No. I wore a suit because I’m here to work. At least I was.” She suddenly noticed the people Bennett had just been speaking to were looking over at them and laughing. “What’s their problem?” And did he have to stand so close? He smelled really nice—fresh clean man mixed with something citrusy. It was distracting. Not to mention the way he towered over her five-seven frame, forcing her to look straight up at