Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (2 page)

Scooby-doo
shook his head.

“You can’t
find it? Or you’re not even going to try?”

“Our system
doesn’t generate any sales reports.” He then clicked on an email. “Oh…he sent
you the only report the system generates.”

“What is it?”

Scooby
cringed. “A one liner.”

Trent took
over his laptop. A fancy banner declaring NET INCOME and then the number
$(353,000) centered on the page. This looked nothing like the financial reports
Carrie provided him.

“What the hell
is this?”

“I didn’t make
the report. But the story I heard is that you told Bob you were only interested
in one thing, the bottom line.”

Trent opened
his mouth to deny that, but before Carrie helped him understand how to read
financial statements, he did quote his father a great deal. The man had been a
big ‘bottom line’ fan.

He frowned as
he noticed the brackets around the number. “Why do you have brackets around the
number?”

The fellow
chewed his lip again. “That means it’s a negative number.”

“We’re in the
red?”

Scooby nodded
and stood up. “I’ll let you get to work on that.”

Before Trent
could question him further, the kid fled from the room.

He considered
calling him back but saw another way to address the matter. Carrie. The most
recent email came from Carrie. He opened it, intending to demand she come home
at once and discover why brackets surrounded his number. Before Carrie, he’d
been bleeding money every month, but for the last year and a half, they’d
become profitable. Thus, this setback gave him a legitimate reason to call her
home.

Without
reading her email, he hit reply and typed…well hunted and pecked. He’d never
learned how to type.

carriecomhomenowwearelosingmoeney.

Just before he
sent it off, the odd subject line caught his attention.

RE
: Typhoon
Arriving-Ending Trip Early

Hope springing
eternal, he returned to her email and read.

A Typhoon
will hit Taiwan soon, so I am cutting the trip short. If not, I could be here
several more weeks. All objectives achieved.
She then gave the details of
her flight.

He felt as if
the heavens had opened and rays of Carrie shone down upon him. She’d never been
‘just an employee’ but now he realized how critical she’d become to his
happiness. Carrie was the sun to his earth, rotating around him, warming his
life.

Never would he
let his sun wander off again.

Carrie Hanson
stumbled off the plane with swollen, aching feet. She’d endured seventeen hours
of turbulence, crying babies, and the crush of the middle seat in the back of
the plane. Evidently, the man behind her didn’t appreciate her slow escape from
the plane from hell. The moment she stepped from the plane onto the ramp, he
shoved past her, sending her straight into a handsome flight attendant’s chest.

Righting herself, her face flushed
with a mix of outrage and embarrassment.

“You all right, miss?” the attendant
asked. A lock of blonde hair fell out of place and hung above his concerned
baby blues.

“I’m fine. My feet just went to sleep
on the flight.”

The guy knelt down, lifted her pants
leg, and studied her ankles. “They look a little swollen. If that doesn’t clear
up before you leave the airport, you should see a doctor. You could have DVT.”

Taking her arm, he escorted her down
the chute to the main building. “That’s when blood clots form in the veins due
to the lack of exercise. Were you in coach?”

She grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.
This was the only flight available.”

He nodded in sympathy. “Everyone
wanted out of Taiwan before the typhoon hit.”

As they entered the lobby, someone
gripped her arm and pulled her away from the attendant. She looked up at Trent
Lancaster, her out-of-sorts, but excessively good-looking, boss.

“Thank God! I feared you’d missed your
flight and were now stuck in a hurricane.”

“Typhoon,” the attendant corrected
him.

Trent glared at the young man then at Carrie,
evidently holding her responsible for the fellow’s audacity to correct him.
“Who’s this?”

She was tempted to declare the guy a
souvenir from Taiwan, but changed her mind. Trent’s angry eyes indicated he had
no sense of humor right now.

“I’m Carl Lite,” the attendant said to
Carrie, holding out his hand.

She shook it then looked up at her six-foot
boss looming over her like an angry bear, albeit one with perfectly cut hair
and manicured nails. “This is Carl Lite. He’s the flight attendant who saved me
from falling on my face when leaving the plane.” She refocused on Carl and gave
him a playful curtsey. “Thank you for your rescue, kind sir.”

The young man grinned. “My pleasure.
Don’t forget what I said about your ankles.”

“I…”

Trent had evidently grown tired of
their chitchat and pulled her away.

“…won’t. Bye,” she called out as her
ill-tempered boss dragged her down the busy corridor.

She focused on keeping up with the
grump. “Has something happened?” He hadn’t been this out-of-sorts in quite
awhile. In fact, for the six months before she’d headed to Taiwan, he’d been so
pleasant she’d begun to like him. However, his lack of replies to her email
updates during her month in Taiwan had worried her and his present bad behavior
bordered on annoying.

He glared at her. “Ankles?”

“Pardon?”

“He was discussing your ankles!”

“And?” Exhaustion no doubt impaired
her thinking, but honestly, he normally made more sense than this.

Trent stopped abruptly, his firm grip pulling
her to a halt. A heavy body crashed into her back. A man cursed and rushed
ahead.

She moved in front of her boss so his
tall, broad-shouldered body could block the angry stream of traffic. “Has
something happened at work? Did I do something wrong, or not do something? You
seem pissed off at me, and I haven’t a clue as to why.” Being forthright always
worked best with Trent. He respected that.

Pinching the bridge of his perfect
nose, he closed his eyes. “Other than your absence from work, nothing’s wrong.”

My absence from work?

Anger began a slow burn in her chest. “You
do realize I was in Taiwan improving their margins. That was work. Hard work…Miserable
work, if I’m being honest. No one likes having their expenses cut, so I’ve just
spent a month in a foreign country where I know no one, don’t speak the
language, and had to deal with angry, uncooperative people. And now I come home
to a snarly boss declaring my trip a vacation of some sort!”

He settled his giant hands on her
shoulders. “I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant when you aren’t with me,
nothing seems to go right.”

She couldn’t stay angry when he
humbled himself like that. Apologizing was contrary to his nature. Yet even
here, in a mass of people, he’d stepped back when she called him out for
crossing the line. Intending to reward his bravery, she attempted a smile, but
a giant yawn burst out instead.

Turning her around, he hurried her to
customs. As they entered the long queue for a customs gate, an oddity crept
into her tired brain. “How did you happen to be at my gate?”

 “I didn’t
happen
to be at your
gate. I waited for you, for several hours, in fact. You were late.”

He said this as if she had some say to
when her plane took off, and as annoying as she found his attitude, she really
wanted to stay on topic. “I meant how did you get to the gate? You can’t just
wander in and wait for planes anymore.”

His brow furrowed. “So I discovered
when Security refused me entrance. You have to have a ticket to enter.”

She waited for him to explain how he’d
managed to get around the rule then realized for a man with more money than he
knew what to do with, the solution was simple.

“You bought a ticket?”

He nodded once. “You once said I
should visit Peru. So I bought a one-way, first class ticket.”

She grimaced at how much that must
have cost. “A round trip coach would have been cheaper.”

His brow rose in what she called his
‘upper class disgust’ expression. “I would never fly coach.”

“But you didn’t plan to fly. You
simply bought a loophole to get past the security gates. May I see your packet?”

Trent reached into the vest of his custom
tailored suit, extracting a slender folder.

She studied the ticket, sucking in a
breath when she got to the price tag. $5,131. She breathed out when she read
further. “Thank God. It’s refundable.”

As Carrie returned the packet, she noticed
the pride in his eyes.

He thwacked the ticket on her head,
playfully. “You see. Your cost-saving tirades have not been in vain. I
specifically asked for refundable.”

She patted his muscular arm. “Good
boy.” For once, he’d managed to do something without creating more problems
than he solved.

When they approached the Customs
officer together, she learned a few things about Customs agents: they don't
like people arriving together at their station if they haven’t flown on the
same flight and they are not amused when rich tycoons buy a ticket to skirt
security regulations.

Instead of going home and getting some
sleep, Carrie spent the next three hours sitting on a hard plastic chair while
Trent’s lawyer negotiated their release.

Having no control over the matter but
assured Trent’s lawyer, Mr. Sedita, was more than capable of taking on the
American government, Carrie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the
hard concrete wall.

“Don’t do that. The wall is filthy,”
Trent complained and moved her head to his warm, comparatively soft chest. Way
too tired to object, she sighed with happiness at the change of pillows and
fell into the oblivion of sleep.

***

Her forehead furrowed even in her
sleep. Trent pressed his lips to the tiny creases, worried he’d caused her
troubled dreams. He hadn’t meant to get them arrested. He’d just wanted to meet
her at the gate. How that turned into a security crisis, he still had no idea.
He’d followed their stupid rules and bought a damn ticket. Nowhere did it say
you actually had to leave the country. If they require such then they should post
a sign stating so.

She murmured something in her sleep
that sounded like, “Margins need to be 30%.” He chuckled at his tenacious EA still
arguing with the Taiwan managers even in her sleep. At least she didn’t dream about
the playboy flight attendant.

Thank God, he’d arrived in time to
save her. She had no experience with wolves in color-coordinated polyester.
Poor thing was as naïve as a newborn kitten. Hell, to his knowledge, she hadn’t
dated anyone since she’d come to work for him two years ago. The blond Adonis
would’ve had her in his camper bed within a half-hour.

In the morning, Carrie would have hated
herself.

He slipped his arm around her and
shifted his body a bit so she could rest more comfortably on his chest. Thank
God, he finally had her back. He felt better already. He’d be even happier once
David made these idiots realize saving a young lady from the seductive hands of
a flight attendant did not in any way constitute an act of terrorism.

The door opened and David entered with
a man wearing a rumpled, poorly cut suit. “Trent, this is Mr. Adams. He has
personally signed your release but wishes to hear your assurance that you will
never pull this stunt again.”

David’s glare warned him not to screw
around with this request.

Trent looked up at the man. “I assure
you I will
never
do this again.” In the future, if had to send Carrie anywhere,
he would go with her.

The man studied him. His hard, angry
eyes softened when they lit on Carrie. “Then you’re free to go.”

Trent stood and lifted Carrie into his
arms. He now towered over the little man in the bad suit. “I’d shake your hand,
but mine are full.”

A faint smile came to the man’s thin
lips as he stepped back so Trent could get the hell out of there.

As they walked down the corridor,
David fell in line with him. “Is she okay?”

“She’s just exhausted from working
twenty hours a day, enduring a hellish flight in coach, and then having these
idiots arrest her for terrorism.”

“Lower your voice,” David snapped.
“The only reason I got you off with no charges, is because I convinced Mr.
Adams you were besotted with the young lady and the month separation had impaired
your normally good sense.”

Trent glared at him. “I am not
besotted. Though, my life has been utter hell without her. She seems to be the
only damn person worth a dime in my company. Nobody else knows their asshole
from a golf hole.”

David’s eyebrows rose. “Should I go
back and tell Mr. Adams I erred and you had no valid reasons for your
misbehavior?”

“Not if you want to be paid.”

“Given you dragged me out here at
midnight…trust me, I wish to be paid.”

“And so you shall be.” He smiled as
the glass doors opened for him automatically. He liked automatic doors. They
gave him the respect he deserved. He already had one installed in the lobby of
his company, but maybe he’d have Carrie look into the cost of putting one in
his private office.

 He walked directly to the space his
limo had been six hours before. An old green Subaru in desperate need of a wash
sat in its place. “Where the hell is my car?”

David pointed to the sign
Temporary
Parking, Violators will be towed
. “I hope you had a driver.”

“I did. So where is he?”

Carrie
muttered, “Call him.”

Startled,
he looked down at her but she still slept peacefully. Damn if she didn’t have
good advice even in her dreams. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach his phone with
her in his arms, and she’d definitely wake up if he put her down. “David, reach
into my side pants pocket and pull out my phone.

“You could just…” David rolled his
eyes and retrieved the phone. “Not besotted, right,” he muttered under his
breath.

“Dial two and put it to my ear.”

He did as requested.

Trent’s driver answered on the first
ring.

“Sam, where are you?”

“Getting gas. I’ve been circling so
long the tank was almost empty. Where are you?”

“Waiting where you left me.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Make it five.” He looked at David
“Snap it closed.”

His lawyer gently closed the phone.

Trent glared. Why couldn’t anyone
follow his instructions? “I said snap it. I wished to communicate my
displeasure.”

“Over what? Did he give up on you and
go home?”

“No, he went for gas.”

The man shook his head. “Would you
rather have him wait until you were in the car before taking you to some creepy
station in Newark? Or better yet, run out of gas on your way home?”

“Enough. You’re starting to sound like
Carrie. I know I’m being unreasonable. I’ve had a terrible month and my
fountain of reasonableness is tapped out.”

David leaned over and studied Carrie,
then placed his fingertips on her neck.

“What are you doing?” Trent snapped.
God,
did the entire male race need to touch his employee?

“Checking to see if she has a pulse.
I’m shocked anyone could sleep through this.”

“Does she?” he asked in a panic.
What
if she got DVT while crammed in coach?

His lawyer shook his head slowly and
laughed. “She’s alive.”

“Then why did you just shake your
head?”

“Because you keep saying you aren’t
besotted.”

“Damn it, David. You gave me a heart
attack just because you’re a closet romantic? I’m telling you there’s nothing
going on between us. She’s my employee, nothing more.” God only knows what
would happen if the matrons of society thought he was dumpster diving. They’d
make his life utter hell and rip poor Carrie to shreds.

David studied
him for a long moment. “Are you saying you’ve never…?”

“No, never.
Not even a kiss.”

 “Any reason why not? I mean she’s…”

Trent’s glare silenced him.

Moments later a
limo weaved through the crowded lanes of traffic, causing a great deal of ill
will among the other drivers, which they expressed in a cacophony of horn
blasts, shaking fists, and flying birds. Sam brought the car to a screeching
halt, triple parking in the road.