Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (23 page)

“I seriously
doubt that was her motivation,” Trent muttered.

Mars huffed.
“Doesn’t matter, since you fired
her
. Your current cook is male. Do you
wish anything else on the popcorn?”

“Could you
sprinkle curry on my half of the bowl?” Carrie asked.

Trent’s mouth
fell open at her outrageous request. “Your half? You’ll eat five bites and then
I’ll be stuck eating popcorn with curry crap on it.”

She sighed.
“Never mind about the curry.”

Now he felt
like a jerk. “Put the curry on a fourth of the popcorn, and if it’s good, I’ll
let you sprinkle it on the whole thing.”

“Thank you,
sir. I had planned to simply bring you two separate bowls, but this makes it so
much easier.” Mars turned and left the room.

Trent waited until
the door closed before he spoke. “Did that sound like sarcasm to you? I’m never
sure.”

Carrie
returned to the video as police swarmed forward and cuffed Trent, slamming him
face down on the car. She yelped and turned to him, touching his cheek as she
studied his face. “Did they break your nose again?”

He shrugged. “Not
sure. It hurts like hell.”

Her intense
focus remained on his nose.

“Can we watch
the video?” On the flat screen a four-foot-six tiger attacked the cop who
shoved him against the car. The guy didn’t even seem to notice Carrie pounding him
with her tiny fists. Another cop pulled her off, cuffed her, and led her away. He
smiled at his fierce protector. She’d come to his rescue. No one had ever done
that before. He wanted to kiss her, but when he leaned forward, her hands
pressed against his chest.

“We need to
get you to a doctor!”

He collected
her hands and kissed them instead. “I’m fine.”

She shook her
head. “No, you’re not. There’s a slight bend to your nose. If it sets this way,
you’ll have a crooked nose for the rest of—”

Trent grabbed
the phone and dialed his doctor.

When Lenard
answered, Trent didn’t bother identifying himself. “Your specialist set my nose
wrong. It’s crooked.”

“I’ll call him
and see if he has time to see you today.”

Trent hung up
and hurried to a mirror. “Oh God! My nose is leaning to the right. Why didn’t
you tell me before?”

Her hands
fluttered about like frantic birds. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit off my game. I didn’t
notice until now.”

He returned to
her. “It’s not your fault. I’m blaming…Mars!” he bellowed.

Mars didn’t
appear.

“Mars!”

Finally, the
man arrived with a cloth-lined wicker basket full of popcorn, one corner
bearing a reddish hue.

“Why didn’t
you tell me my straight nose had a bend?”

“I apologize,
sir, I failed to notice.” He placed the wicker basket on the coffee table.
“Would you care for a beverage with your popcorn?”

“Whiskey, tall
glass. Fill it to the top.”

Carrie shook
her head. “Give us hot cocoas instead.”

Trent threw
himself down beside her and glared as anger caused his temples to throb. “You
are undermining my authority again. Want to explain your reason?”

She smiled at
him, and his anger melted away. “I hoped the popcorn would calm you before we
take a taxi to the hospital and have the doctor fix your nose. They’ll want to
give you pain medicine, so you shouldn’t have alcohol now.”

“Excellent
reason. Thank you for ordering us cocoa.” He pressed his forehead to hers,
resisting the desire to kiss her. “I really don’t want to go out today.”

“I know. I’m
not looking forward to getting out of these sweats, either. But we’ll both
regret it if your nose sets at an angle.”

He knew he’d
regret it. In fact, he’d have to undergo a nose job to fix it. But why would
Carrie regret it? “Do you only like me for my good looks?”

She chuckled
and cupped both his cheeks. “Even with a slightly crooked nose, you remain very
handsome.”

“Then why
would you regret it?”

“Because it
would forever remind me of how I failed you. If I hadn’t wandered into the mine
field to collect customers’ papers, you wouldn’t have had to save my life, and
then the cops wouldn’t have slammed you face down onto the car.”

He sighed.
None of his other employees took responsibility for anything they did wrong.
Carrie, on the other hand, searched under rugs for blame she could take upon
herself. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Yesterday was not your
fault. And if we ever get through this video, I’m hoping somewhere along the
way it’s going to tell me Miss Schnell will spend the rest of her life in jail
as a terrorist.”

Carrie
scrunched her face, making it even harder for him not to junk his business and
make love to her right this instant. “Miss Schnell is not a terrorist.”

“Maybe not in
the traditional sense, but she did rain terror on the city, almost killed you
twice and, if not for you, she would’ve killed several innocent bystanders.”

Mars returned
with a tall glass of whiskey and two hot cocoas.

Trent waved
off the whiskey. “I may be on painkillers later if the nose guy can fit me into
his schedule today.”

“If?” Mars
stated in shock. “Allow me to call and ensure he will.”

Trent wouldn’t
have considered asking Mars to call his doctor in a million years but the man
never failed at his tasks. “By all means. Have a go.”

After the
butler left, Carrie pounced upon the red section with gusto.

Curious, Trent
snared one before the curry flavored top layer disappeared.

Turned out the
hot spicy curry blended well with popcorn.

Mars returned
a few minutes later. “You have a twelve o’clock appointment, sir.”

Trent handed
him the basket of popcorn. “Put curry on the whole thing.” His butler took the
popcorn and turned to leave.

“Mars, thank
you for getting me an appointment.”

His butler
stopped and stared at him as he if he’d grown a second head. “You are most
welcome, sir.” Mars turned and left with a spry step.

Carrie kissed
Trent’s cheek.

Her action
surprised him. She’d never kissed him before. God, she was so ripe for
seduction, but the world’s worst employees stood in the way. He needed to dump
his deadbeat employees ASAP. “Tomorrow we get to work on replacing the
employees. If Marshal hasn’t found us an HR person, we’ll go somewhere else.”

She turned the
video back on.

Trent didn’t
realize he’d somehow screwed up until Mars brought the popcorn back with its
curry topping and Carrie declared herself full.

What had he
done wrong? He’d complimented Mars for making the call, she’d kissed his cheek,
and they’d resumed watching the video.

The video.
Something on it must have upset her.

“Can you rerun
the last five minutes?” he asked.

“Why? Nothing
happened. They’re just waiting for the bomb squad to arrive,” she muttered.

If not
something on the video, what could it be?

What had
occurred between her kissing him and returning to the video?

Nothing.

Did she expect
a thank you too?

He kissed the
side of her head. “Thank you for running the video for me.”

She breathed
in deeply before replying, “My pleasure.”

He lifted a
curry-topped piece of popcorn and pressed it to her lips. After a brief pause,
her lips swallowed the tips of his fingers and she took the bait. She smiled
and leaned against his shoulder.

He put his arm
around her and pulled her tight to his chest, relieved a simple ‘thank you’ had
solved his problem. He relaxed and watch the video. Not much going on, other
than papers fluttering about. Before he could complain, Carrie fast-forwarded to
when the bomb squad arrived.

First, bomb-sniffing
dogs entered the debris field to assess the cabinet pile. The female beagle
barked excitedly at the center cabinet. The male bloodhound preferred a coffee
latté someone had dropped when running to safety.

Having
received a positive for a bomb, the handlers recalled the dogs and sent in what
looked like a child’s toy-tank with a long antenna, video camera, and two
pincher hands. It slowly maneuvered to the center cabinet’s top drawer where
the beagle had scented a bomb.

The robot
attempted to open the drawer, but its tedious progress made Trent antsy.
Evidently sensing his aggravation, Carrie hit fast forward.

Now the bot
moved at a reasonable speed.

“Any chance we
can get remote controls for our employees?”

She chuckled,
which told him she’d forgiven him for whatever he’d done.

Even at double
speed, the robot proved remarkably inept. “God, this thing
could
be one
of our employees.”

She notched up
the speed again and, while jerky, the robot now at least worked at a decent
pace and soon managed to open the door and extract the bottle of cologne. It
placed the bottle into a container then a second robot arrived to analyze the
liquid inside.

To liven up
the video, Carrie added words for the little bots.

“What is it?

“Shut up and
let me do my job.”

“I’m rusting
here. Think you can do your job any faster.”

“You’re
rusting? What about me? I could’ve had a total rebuild in the time it took you
to open the drawer and remove the bottle.”

Carrie
squeaked as the small robot disappeared in a cloud of concrete dust. Then the
tank robot shuddered as if grieving the loss of its frenemy and keeled over.

Carrie stopped
the video and replayed the section at normal speed. The testbot’s demise
resulted from the last of the cabinets crashing upon it and the cologne it
analyzed.

“How much did
the cologne cost?”

He chuckled. “I’m
guessing less than the robots.”

She leaned into
him and tugged on his shirt. “How much?”

He tilted his
head, giving the matter thought. “Robots, probably half a million. Cologne, two
thousand.”

Carrie
laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, the loss of the cologne seems
insignificant.” She sniffed him. “I hope you have more.”

“Plenty. To
reduce the cost of having a personalized scent developed, I bought enough to
last a lifetime. My father declared it a waste of money and assured me I’d be
sick of the scent before a year passed.”

She sniffed
him again. “If you do ever get tired of it, can I have the leftover bottles?”

“Why?” She’d
better not want to give it to some other guy.

She grinned
and shrugged. “So I can put it on my teddy bear.”

While a good
not-another-guy answer, he still frowned. “You have a teddy bear?”

She nodded as
if all grown woman possessed children’s toys. “I can’t sleep without it.”

He arched an
eyebrow. “You fell asleep just fine last night.”

She blushed
and turned her focus back to death of the robots.

Evidently, the
bomb squad didn’t take kindly to the murder of their minions. The camera pulled
back to show a SWAT team fighting with the front glass door to get in.

“I’ll call the
company again about the sliding door.”

Finally, they
forced their way in and disappeared.

Instead of waiting
while nothing more happened, Carrie fast-forwarded.

Eventually,
the SWAT team returned with Miss Schnell and her five nephews. The cops moved
in and handcuffed them all.

“They used
plastic strips that tighten like garbage ties on Miss Schnell,” Carrie stated
with pleasure.

“How do you
know that?”

“Detective
Pascal told me.”

He frowned.
The man had seemed a bit chummy with his EA when they walked out together.
“Carrie, exactly how did you avoid being charged for yelling out bomb?”

“When they
finally let me go to the bathroom, I explained to the officer watching me—”

Trent’s temper
blew. “Pascal watched you go to the bathroom?”

With rounded
eyes, she replied, “No! Officer Jenson watched me.”

He slapped his
pockets for his phone. “That’s it. I’m calling my lawyer and we are suing their
asses.”

She gripped
his arm. “For what? Detective Pascal and Officer Jenson couldn’t have been
nicer. Now I’ll admit the other eight I didn’t like—”

He stood, pulling
her up as well, and pointed to his room. “Change clothes, we’re going to the
hospital right now!”

Instead of
obeying, she stood her ground, planting her hands on her hips. “It’s not time
for your appointment. They’ll just make us sit in the lobby. My rear is sore enough
from—”

He pressed the
palms of his hands against his temples, trying not to lose his mind. “I’m going
to kill David for not rescuing you at once!”

She moved in
close and cupped his cheek in her hands. “What have you got going on in that
head of yours? I’m fine.”

Gathering her
hands, he kissed them. “No, you’re not. You’re incredibly brave and stoic, but
no way are you fine. Not after ten men abused you.”

Her forehead
wrinkled. “Abused? No one abused me. All right, I felt a bit roughed up by the
first eight. They made me go through the same things over and over.”

“God!” he
screamed, pressing his hand against his chest. His heart pounded like an
enraged beast determine to break free. “This just gets worse.” He pulled her to
him. “Don’t worry, I'll make sure everyone of the bastards are fired. Starting
with that jerk who led you out.”

She pushed
back and peered up at him. “What are you talking about? Pascal and Jenson
allowed me to go at my own pace and be as thorough as I wished.”

He pushed his
palms against his eyes, trying to hold back the angry migraine filling his
head.

“Granted, I
felt a bit weak and stressed before I got the bathroom break, but then Pascal
brought me a really good turkey sandwich on nine grain bread—”