Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (17 page)

Without any
warning, he gripped her waist and lifted her onto the counter.

She nervously
tugged at the t-shirt. Having no desire to wear dirty underwear after her
shower, she wore nothing beneath it.

“Well?” he
challenged.

Focusing on
the issue at hand, she removed the dryer and ignored its roars while she peered
inside. When she pressed a lever at the bottom, the roaring stopped. “The
weight of the dryer presses a lever and cuts the circuit. Clever.” She placed
the dryer back in its holster.

Trent lifted
her off the countertop and set her down. “Not half as much as you. Thank you
for realizing I needed food. I thought I might have a traumatized brain.”

She peered up
at him and grimaced. “I probably wouldn’t have figured it out if not for the
giant mirror and the excessive lighting in here.”

He tilted his
head, letting her know she had yet to make sense.

“When I
undressed to take my shower, I could see my ribs, which made me think about the
last time I ate.”

He ran his
fingers across her ribs setting her body on fire. “Okay, we’re going on a food
binge. Three meals a day, no exceptions. And I’m having Mars bring you more
soup.”

“I just ate a
full meal,” she said as she stepped away from his tantalizing fingers.

“The hell you
did.” And now he was yelling at her again! Had she inadvertently hurt his
feelings when she moved away? In an effort to take it back, she shuffled
forward.

“Did too! I
only weigh eighty pounds. I don’t eat half what you do.”

“Yes, but you
still have to eat! You’re skin and bones.”

“I realize
that. I’ll admit I skipped too many meals when in Taiwan.”

He ran his
hands through her freshly dried hair. “In the future, I’m going with you. That
way we can take care of each other.”

She smiled at
his grumpy declaration. God, she really, really liked him. If only he wasn’t
her boss…and a rich socialite. The former they might manage to work around but
the latter seemed an impenetrable barrier.

With a heavy
sigh, she met his intense gaze. “Well, right now, we both need sleep, so let’s
put each other to bed.”

* * * *

Feeling Carrie’s
ribs greatly upset Trent. He would call Lenard in the morning and have her
examined. If she turned out to be an anorexic, he’d help her recover. Hopefully,
Lenard would know how much food a woman her height should consume.

He shuffled to
the center of the bed and pulled her against his chest.

“Trent…”

“Just
spooning. Friends can spoon. It’s soothing.”

She made no
further protest or attempt to move away from him, which meant she’d conceded.

Before Carrie
came into his life, sleep mostly eluded him as he worried about one thing or
another. Then she arrived and started making action plans for all his problems.
Soon major problems became smaller and doable tasks.

He ran his
hand over her hip. Definitely naked beneath his t-shirt. God, he couldn’t wait
until he got his new improved staff on board.

Sam returned late
that night and nodded to Mars, diligently standing guard until the last soldier
came off duty.

“I’ve soup and
bread in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Sam’s stomach
growled with excitement. “Starved. I don’t think I’ve eaten since this
morning.”

“Do I need to
follow you people around all day to ensure you eat?”

“You people?”

“Neither Miss
Carrie nor Master Trent appear to have eaten either.”

“Well, Miss
Carrie did eat early this morning. But that very well could have been her last
meal and since she only eats about five bites of food at a sitting, maybe you
should follow her about.”

“She ate an
entire bowl of soup tonight.”

More
likely, she gave it to Master Trent.
However, he wasn’t going to argue with
a friend who’d stayed up waiting for his return. “Go on to bed now. I promise
to put my dishes in the dishwasher without supervision.

A slight grin
crossed Mars’ face.

He nodded at
the three suitcases. “Shall I carry those to Master Trent’s room?”

“I’ll do it.”
Sam grabbed the bags and headed to the master suite. Upon opening the door, a
heavy lump of lead formed in his stomach. Carrie’s head rested on Trent’s bare
chest. Both had that peaceful, after-good-sex vibe.

He breathed in
deep to verify his conclusion but could only smell Trent’s stupid cologne. No
musky sex odor. Maybe they hadn’t had sex, but how Trent could avoid the
temptation when she lay on his bare chest, he had no idea.

Without a
question, I would’ve jumped her bones.

He returned to
the kitchen and threw out his soup, having lost his appetite. Instead, he
opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.

“You okay?”
Mars asked from the door.

“Great,” he
said and took a deep swig of his beer.

Mars continued
to study him. Finally, he spoke. “It won’t last. She’s not of his world.”

“I know. I’m
just tired of leftovers.”

His right
eyebrow arched. “At our age, every woman we meet is somebody’s leftover.”

“I don’t
expect my women to be virgins. I just don’t want
his
leftovers.”

“Then why did
you fall for her, when anyone could see where those two were headed?”

He shook his
head. “You hang around her for a day and see if you can guard your heart. I
understand why Trent wants to buck society and go after her. I just wish for
once he’d stop and think about someone other than himself. He’ll not just break
her heart; he’ll break her spirit. Then the woman I want won’t even exist
anymore.”

Mars sat across
from him at the table and met his gaze. “When did you promote Carrie to the
woman of your dreams?”

Mars always
could nail something with a single blow. “Yesterday,” he muttered.

“And how long
have you been driving Miss Carrie about?”

“Two years.”

“So what
changed yesterday?”

He shrugged.
“I really don’t want to discuss this.”

“No, the truth
is uncomfortable, I’ll grant you that.”

Sam slammed
down his beer. “So you’re ‘all seeing.’ What’s the truth I’m dodging here?”

Mars leaned
forward, his hands cupped together, his eyes stern. “This last month when Miss
Carrie went to Taiwan, Master Trent realized how much of his happiness depended
upon her.”

“So?” Sam
didn’t like where this was going at all.

Mars stared at
him a long moment before replying. “So don’t you find your identical turn of
affections a bit too coincidental?”

“Are you
saying I want Carrie only because Master Trent does?” Anger boiled within him.

Never one to
fear a battle, Mars calmly maintained eye contact, even as he replied with
calmness. “That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

Enough!
Sam pushed himself up. “I’ll expect an apology when you fall in love with her
too.”

Mars stood. “
If
I fall in love with her, you will receive one. If I don’t, will you face the
truth and leave the poor girl alone?”

“Are you
giving the same lecture to Master Trent?”

Mars just
glared at him.

“No, I didn’t
think so!” Master Trent got to do whatever he wanted, while the rest of the
world danced about serving his every whim.

“Sam…You
really need to think about leaving this job. It’s not resolving your anger.”

His hands
shook with rage. “Fuck you! I’m sorry I ever told you the truth!” He stormed to
the backdoor. “Tell Master Trent I returned to Long Island and he can take a
taxi tomorrow.”

“Sam, don’t
drive out to Long Island. If you can’t stay here, then go to your parents.”

“Parent,” he
snapped.

“The man
is
your father. He raised you and loves you.”

Sam pressed
his head against the door. Maybe he should quit this job. Mars had nailed the
truth to the wall. He only wanted Carrie because ‘Master Trent’ did.

“I’ll find
someplace local,” he promised as he took in a deep breath.

Mars squeezed
his shoulder. “Call me when you settle. Else I’ll worry all night.”

He nodded and
left the penthouse.

* * * *

Sam couldn’t
argue with Mars observations about Carrie. He needed to fixate on someone else,
someone who had no connection to ‘Master Trent’ whatsoever.

The bar lights
went off as he pulled in the parking lot. Closing time. He’d help send the drunks
home; that should help him release some of his pent up anger.

After he’d
bullied the last drunk out the door, he sat at the bar and watched Dawn clean.

Her long blond
hair, which normally rained down her tight knit top, resided in a ponytail. His
loin stirred as she leaned far across the table, wiping it down. She had great
legs. They went on forever before reaching the tight jogging shorts his
barmaids wore as a uniform. They didn’t look like a uniform on her firm ass;
they looked like they legitimately belonged. “You run marathons?”

She moved to
another table and stretched across it as well. “When I can afford to. I did the
Boston two years ago.”

“How much is
the entry fee?”

“A hundred and
thirty dollars. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. When you include meals
and a place to stay, travel costs, you need about five thousand.”

“If you want
to go next year, we’ll do a fundraiser. These guys would love to do something
nice for you.”

She chuckled
as she finished wiping down the last table and hurried behind the bar. “Would
that be the guys you just manhandled out the bar?”

He grimaced.
He shouldn’t have taken his anger out on them. Other than not wanting to go
home, he had great customers—didn’t give his barmaids more grief than they
could handle, never skipped out without paying their tabs, and never broke much
when they had a fight. “Hopefully, they’ll be too drunk to remember.”

She poured the
dregs in coffee machine into a cup and put it in front of him. “Hair of the
dog. It’ll clear your head.”

He took one
sip and spat it out. “That’s the worst shit I’ve ever tasted.” He studied the
faint smile on her face. “You mad at me over something?”

She sighed and
wiped the counter he’d just spewed with coffee dregs. “Disappointed.”

He motioned
with a rolling hand to move on with what looked to be a lecture. God, he really
had to be a mess if the new barmaid felt compelled to straighten up his life.

A heavy sigh
told him he wouldn’t like whatever she planned to say. His responding scowl
evidently changed her mind.

She slapped
her hand on the bar. “Not my business.” A turn towards the office warned him
she intended to run. He snared her wrist before she’d taken a single step. “Say
it anyway.”

Her focus went
to his hand gripping her wrist. “I need to call a taxi to pick me up then get
this place closed down before they get here.”

“I’ll take you
home.”

She laughed
but he heard no humor in it, just a ‘God, I’ve been here before and it never
goes well’ thought.

Her blue eyes
met his. “Not after I piss you off with my lecture, you won’t. I’ll be lucky to
keep my job.”

“Tell me.” He
held firm to her wrist.

She stared at
him then sighed. “Sam, I really like my job here. I don’t want to screw this
up.”

“And how are
you going to screw it up?”

Her eyebrows
rose as if she thought it a stupid question. “By talking when I should just
keep my mouth closed.”

She did have a
pretty mouth. The plump bottom lip looked downright edible.

Her slight
tugging caused him to focus on the wrist he held.

“If you fire
me for my opinion, I’m going to really be angry with you,” she warned.

“I will not
fire you for any verbal castration you wield.”

She leaned
across the bar and stared straight into his eyes. “Sam, you’re a good looking
man and charming as hell. You can have any woman you want. So why are you
plying teenage girls with alcohol to get them into bed?”

His eyes
rounded in outrage as he jumped from the bar stool, knocking it over. “Whoever
told you that is a damn liar! And I want his name right now.”

Her outrage
matched his. “Sam, I saw you with my own eyes! At your insistence, I brought
the little girl a drink strong enough to bring down a full-grown man.” She
shook her head. “Something I regret and will never do again.”

His rage
dissipated into laughter as he realized her mistake.

“How can you
laugh about this?” She hit him with her dirty towel with enough force that it
hurt.

He decided he’d
better explain before she smacked him with a bottle.

“Carrie's
older than you.”

“She told you
that and you believed her?” Dawn rolled her eyes.

“I know she
graduated from college about two years ago and has been Master Trent’s right
hand, left hand, and brain ever since. Without her, his business would’ve gone
under. In fact, when she arrived I had no hope for the company.”

Dawn frowned.
“Are you certain she didn’t go to college as a child protégée?”

“No, but I’m sure
she went to Taiwan all by herself, and owns a house. I seriously doubt airlines
and bankers would let a child do either.”

She breathed
in then smiled. “Thank you for setting me straight. It really upset me.”

“Glad to
unfreak you. For the record, Master Trent fired her today during one of his
infamous tantrums. I thought a bit of alcohol would calm her down. I would’ve
just ordered her a half shot, but I didn’t think she’d drink it. So I had you
hundred-proof her coke, knowing she’d only take one swallow.”

Dawn laughed
and opened the register to count the money. “That had to be the most costly
shot in the history of bar keeping.”

“Yeah, and she
didn’t even drink a half shot’s worth.” He rolled his eyes. “Good thing.
Otherwise, I would’ve had to carry her to the car. Turned out she only ate five
tiny bites of an egg today.”

She tilted her
head and narrowed her eyes. “So what’d you do with her when you left here?”

He held up his
hands in surrender, certain he was innocent of whatever she crime she had in
her head. “I returned Master Trent’s toy to him. Without his right hand and
brain, he somehow managed to run into a glass door and hurt his pretty face.”

She stopped
midway through the stack of bills and glared at him. “You’re making shit up
just to screw my count.”

He shook his
head. “No, I swear! The idiot ran into a glass door and broke his nose.”

Her eyebrows
rose nearly to her hairline. “For real?”

“Yes. Evidently,
it didn’t open fast enough.”

She burst into
laughter, and Sam joined her. God, he hadn’t laughed in weeks and it felt good!

He assisted
her in the rest of her cleanup. Seemed wrong to watch her work.

Once done, he
led her to his car.

She frowned at
the limo. “This thing’s a freakin’ tank.”

“Bullet proof,
thank God. Master Trent insisted we cut through Harlem yesterday and some punk
took a shot at the car.”

“You know,
when you said you drove a limo, I thought that had to be the dullest job in the
world, but evidently not with Master Trent. What type of fool drives a limo
through Harlem?”

“Someone
raised in a world where servants spends their every waking moment making his
life better.”

Dawn climbed
into the front seat without asking. Sam thought the better of her for that.

He slipped
into his seat and brought the engine to life.

“Whoa! Is that
a V8?”

“V12. This
baby can go two hundred miles an hour in less than sixty seconds.” He revved
the engine again.

She tilted her
head and listened to its powerful rumble. “Shame you’ve no place to take her
out for a spin.”

“There’s a
place in Vermont I can drive her full out. It’s where I learned defensive
driving.”

A soft snort
burst from her chest. “You don’t seem like a person who would care in the least
about defensive driving.”

“The place trains
drivers for the president and world leaders. It’s not about avoiding a fender
bender, it’s about keeping your passengers alive when bombs blow up around you
and angry mobs attack the car.”

She reached
over and patted his shoulder. “Now
that
sounds like something you’d
enjoy.”

“Yep. Master
Trent pays for me to go up one weekend a month to practice, so all the money he
paid won’t go to waste.”

“That’s nice.”

“No, he’s just
making sure I’ll save his pampered ass when one of his employees tries to lob a
bomb his way.”

“If he’s so
horrible why don’t you get another job? And why did Carrie get so upset over
losing hers?”

“Because I
love to torture him, and she loves to be needed, and believe me, never has
there been a needier man-child in the history of mankind.”