He leaned back in his chair. “If you ever want to stop being an EA and become an E, let me know. I could place you in a second.”
His offer gave her concern. He knew nothing about her. How could he possibly know if she’d make a good executive? He couldn’t. God, was he flirting with her? She stepped back. “Thank you, but right now we need to rescue my boss before he has sex with Miss Parker in her office and then storms out of here, demanding I find a more professional group.” She met his gaze. “That is if you are willing to personally handle our situation.”
He chuckled and rose. “To be honest, the numbers don’t justify my involvement, but I am intrigued with the situation, so if your boss really wishes a change of advisers, I will take the project.”
Carrie proudly returned to Miss Parker’s office with Dan Marshal beside her.
Dan opened the closed door and walked into the office. Carrie followed. Miss Parker had joined Trent on the couch and presently covered him like a blanket. A second later, her boss shoved Miss Parker off him and leapt from the couch. “Good, you’re back. Let’s go.”
He rushed from the room. Carrie ran after him, grabbing him by the arm. “Wait, I’ve got us someone better.”
“We’ll get someone better at a different place.”
“No! This is the best firm, and I got us the senior partner. He’s supposed to be the best in the city.” She pulled harder on his arm. “Trust me!”
He stopped and stared at her. “We can’t screw around with my business.”
“I promise you, no screwing around will occur with the guy I found.”
“A guy?”
“Yes, didn’t you see him? He entered the room with me.”
* * * *
Trent hadn’t seen anything but Carrie’s look of horror when she saw the succubus trying to seduce him. She couldn’t hold him responsible. The woman wouldn’t take a hint. Evidently, no male had ever turned down her pheromone-laced perfume before.
Trent had managed by reminding himself Carrie would return any moment. His desire not to destroy their relationship before it even began enabled him to ignore his libido, which really liked the perfume.
A vaguely familiar man with dark hair approached and held out his hand. “Trent, if you wish, I will handle your unique situation personally.”
The fellow seemed to know him. Otherwise, he would have called him ‘Mr. Lancaster.’ Trent shook his hand. “And you are?”
A faint smile came to his lips. “Dan Marshal. We attended Harvard together.”
He had no memory of the guy. “Oh, Dan, how are you? Carrie says you’re the best in the business.”
“I’ve been listed as the top executive recruiter in New York City for the last five years.”
Trent frowned. “You do realize we wish to replace working people, not egg-heads. Carrie, retrieve the paper you wrote, explaining our situation.”
Dan chuckled. “She already gave it to me. Normally, this assignment wouldn’t reach my desk, but what you’re trying to do—fire two thirds of your people in a short time—is quite drastic.”
“They’ve left me no choice. It’s like having Dutch employees during the German occupation. They show up to work, but nothing ever gets done.”
“That’s actually a good comparison,” Carrie said. She then turned to Dan. “I believe their hatred for the boss began with Trent’s father, but since Trent learned his management skills from his dad, they hate him just as much.”
Dan frowned and held out his hands. “Hold on. I’m not putting good people in a bad environment.”
“No!” Carrie insisted, “Trent’s a good manager now. They just can’t see it. But I can. He’s become an excellent boss and any hardworking, intelligent employee will like him.”
Dan still looked as if he wanted to cut and run.
“Good people will like the new environment. I promise you.”
“Well, let’s return to my office and sign a contract for locating the human resource executive. Then we’ll go from there.”
Trent heard the unspoken part of his statement: we’ll go from there if the HR person believes the environment is viable. Which meant he planned to put someone who would report to him in the position.
He glanced at Carrie to see if she had picked up the nuance, but given her happiness, he guessed not.
He wished he could remember this guy, and more to the point, something bad about the fellow. His gut yelled for him to walk, but he needed a concrete reason to drop ‘the best resource firm in the city.’
* * * *
Once they returned to the limo, Carrie sat in the seat opposite his and pulled off her heels, replacing them with her brown flats.
“Those shoes don’t match your suit.”
“I’ll change into my slacks the moment we return.”
He sighed and rapped his knuckles against the tinted window. “I’ll probably fire whoever Marshal sends us for the position of HR.”
“Because the person’s going to spy for him?”
A sigh of relief escaped Trent. The man’s sophisticated charm hadn’t blinded her to his intentions. “Precisely.”
She slouched so she could prop her feet on his seat. He pulled off her ugly flats and contemplated throwing them out the window, but he didn’t want to distract her from his current concern. Instead, he tossed them on the floor, placed her child-size feet onto his lap and gently massaged them.
She closed her eyes and a smile formed on her beautiful lips.
“I want a person loyal to me, not Marshal.”
Her eyes opened and she met his gaze. “I understand, which is why I asked him to find us a superb HR person for our crisis who will then locate a lower level executive competent to manage our ongoing business. The truth is, the skills we need for our crisis are not the same as the ones we’ll need in the future. This way, he can find someone who can set us on the right path and then leave. Thus, long term, you’ll have a person who is solely obliged to you.
“And why shouldn’t I have that right now?”
“Because Dan has an obligation to the executives he places. Employment’s like a marriage. If both sides aren’t happy, it won’t work. If he sends top quality execs to you and you turn out to be a Nazi general abusing the poor Dutchmen, his reputation gets dinged. Nobody wants a bad matchmaker.”
Trent continued massaging her feet as he considered her defense of the man’s side. “He didn’t seduce you when you were alone with him did he?”
The limo jerked suddenly to the right then returned to its lane followed by a cacophony of horns complaining behind them. Sam never mishandled the car. He opened his mouth to give his driver grief, but Carrie turned in her seat and spoke first.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
“I’m fine,” his driver snapped.
“Good. I thought maybe a bee stung you. I had that happen to me once. I almost wrecked the car before I pulled over. The policeman who saw my crazy driving stopped as well, demanding I get out of the car and walk a straight line. Unfortunately, my left leg had swollen up like a balloon and didn’t want to walk a line.”
“When did this happen?” Trent demanded. “I want the policeman’s name?” He’d get the bastard fired.
“My last year of college, and I don’t remember his name now.” She nudged Trent with her foot. “Stop glaring. The story has a happy ending. When I fell to the ground and pulled up my pants leg, exposing my swollen leg, he hurried to the trunk of his car, returned with an EpiPen, and stabbed me. Then he waited with me until my friends arrived and took me and my car home—without giving me a ticket.”
“I’m surprised he even made you walk a line. Cops are pushovers for beautiful women,” Sam responded.
That had sounded too much like flirtation to Trent’s thinking. “Don’t distract my driver. He evidently doesn’t drive well when tired.” He never should have given Sam permission to sleep in the basement of her house.
To prevent further conversing, since Carrie would fraternize with a
nyone, he engaged the privacy glass between the front seat and theirs.
Carrie pulled her feet off his lap. “I thought you agreed to work on being nice and supportive to your home staff? Sam’s probably dead tired. You ordered him to drive me home, sleep on a hard bed in the damp basement of a house, which I’m sure is not nearly as nice as his normal surroundings, and in the morning, wake up early and take me to the city.”
Trent lowered the glass panel again. “I appreciate your hard work last night, Sam, so I’m overlooking the fact you nearly killed us back there.”
A sharp pain in his shin curtailed his positive words. He glared at Carrie, who glowered in return.
“You have to do better than that or we will never get a new staff because no one will send us anyone to interview.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. The headhunters could blacklist a company. He knew that from his efforts to find a decent EA. He had placed a sign on the front door because not one agency in New York City or New Jersey would send him any more people.
Recalling that sign had brought him Carrie, a new idea came to him. “Maybe we should try putting an ad in the window. It worked with you.”
She shook her head. “Fate gets the credit for me. I had graduated from school that very day and felt I could conquer the world. I doubt an unemployed, highly skilled Human Resource person would respond the same to your sad little want-ad if they walked by.”
Due to traffic, Sam dropped them off a block away from the office. To Trent’s embarrassment, Carrie insisted on wearing the ugly brown flats with her classy blue suit. At least she walked fast in the shoes, minimizing the danger of meeting someone he knew along the way.
Unfortunately, her power walk came to an abrupt halt a half block from their office as she stared at a vendor’s ghastly chair.
“Carrie, I don’t want another purple chair in my office!” he snapped. “Now can we go?”
Instead of jumping to his command, she stormed around the foldout table piled with office supplies and reached underneath the seat of the chair. He opened his mouth to yell at her, but the fury in her eyes silenced him. Thankfully, her rage vented at the vendor, not him. “Who sold you this chair?”
The young Chinese man smiled with pride. “I get from Taiwan. They go for six hundred but I give to you for four.”
Her fists clenched in anger. “You got this from behind my desk and you’ll tell me who sold it to you or I’m calling the police.”
“You crazy, lady. I bought this from Taiwan. I got receipt.”
“And you have a chair with my name engraved on the bottom of the seat.”
Now understanding what had set her off, Trent stepped up behind her so the vendor would know he dealt with more than one tiny young woman, although right now Carrie reminded him of a pint size Amazon warrior.
The vendor looked at him, eyes rounded with outrage. “I have receipt. I bought this chair from company in Taiwan.”
“Let’s see it,” Trent replied, placing his hand on Carrie’s shoulder before she began a fight to the death over her ugly purple chair.
The young man frowned clearly not expecting Trent to get involved. “Why you want to see? This not your business.”
Carrie dialed a three-digit number, which he guessed was 911. “Ah, Carrie, this isn’t considered an emergency.”
A moment later, she spoke into the phone. “Connect me with the New York City Police Department. I’m not sure.” She looked up at Trent. “Do you know the precinct number?”
“Not a clue.”
She then yelled out to the pedestrians who had nothing better to do than stop and watch Carrie fight with a vendor. “Anyone here know what police precinct works this area?”
Someone helpfully yelled back, “Just call 911, lady.”
Meanwhile, the vendor threw boxes of supplies onto his cart. To Trent’s eye, the fellow would have to leave the chair and a table’s worth of supplies to make his escape.
He gripped the boy’s arm. “Wouldn’t it be cheaper to tell us where you got the chair than to abandon half your supplies?”
“I told you—”
Trent flipped the chair over and smiled at the etched engraving.
Property of
Carrie Hanson,
Lancaster Chairs
Not for Resale
The young man’s eyes rounded in horror at the sight of it.
“Just give me the name.”
“I don’t know name. She bring me stuff cheap.”
“What does she look like?”
“Old fat woman with bushy hair and red glasses. Looks like Cat woman mask.”
Miss Schnell.
Carrie pushed in beside him and pointed angrily at the engraving. “See, that’s me. I have ID to prove it. Now let’s see your proof that you bought it.”
“Woman give me papers so the cops no think me thief. I no steal! I pay good money.”
“Then show me the invoices.”
He dug into his pocket and pulled them out.
Carrie grabbed the pile and handed half to Trent. “These are our invoices!”
“I pay good money for stuff,” the vendor muttered.
Outraged with Miss Schnell, Trent dialed 911. As he waited for someone to do their job and answer the phone, he stared at the vendor. “Hopefully, these invoices will keep you from being arrested. If not, I’ll hire you a lawyer as long as you tell the police the truth.”
The fellow groaned, and Carrie patted his back. “Since you paid for it and got invoices for the goods, I think all you’ll be in trouble for is operating a business without a license.”
Tears welled in his eyes, making him look very young and helpless now.
“Do we have to call the police?” she asked Trent.
“Yes, you do,” a gruff voiced male spoke behind her. Trent pulled her to him so the officer would know she had his protection. He also hung up on 911 hoping he’d never require their services in a true emergency.
He succinctly explained the issue and pointed out Carrie’s name engraved on the bottom of the chair.
“It has a GPS marker too,” Carrie added.
The cop frowned. “How much is this chair worth?”
“It retails for $600, but I bought it at cost for $200 and spent an extra $50 for the engraving and GPS,” Carrie replied with clear pride.
“Why?” Both Trent and the cop asked in unison.
She settled both hands on her hips. “Because people keep stealing my chairs. I wanted to find out once and for all what happens to them.”
“Can you prove this chair is yours?” the policeman asked.
His question so outraged Carrie she couldn’t speak, only point to her name on the bottom of the seat. Trent jumped on the moment of silence. “What type of proof do you want?”
“Well, some proof she’s Carrie Hanson and works at this place of business for starters. Hopefully, she can produce an invoice showing she bought it, as well, although I don’t expect her to have it on her.”
As Carrie burrowed into her purse and presented him with her company ID, Trent sorted through the paper. Finding the chair invoice, he pulled it out, and frowned at the print declaring Susan Schnell as the intended receiver.
“Ah…Carrie….”
She handed her card to the cop and then looked at the paper in his hand. “This invoice doesn’t belong to my chair. It’s not even for this type of chair. My invoice is upstairs. I’ll go get it now.” She ran full speed down the block.
The cop frowned and gripped the boy’s arm. “Don’t even think about following,” he warned.
Trent provided his own identification. “I don’t think the kid knowingly took stolen merchandise. He evidently required my thieving employee to provide invoices.”
“If you knew that why did you plan to call the police?”
“My supply costs shot through the roof this last month, but I had no proof of theft until we happened to pass this vendor selling a god awful purple chair.�
��
The cop chuckled. “It is ugly. Sure the girl didn’t just get tired of it and throw it out?”
Trent stared at the miserable boy. “Tell him what you told us.”
“Big woman, old, with cat glasses sell me stuff. Guy who ran corner before me told me of her, but she not come until last month. All this come from her.” He waved his hand indicated both tables of supplies before focusing on the cop. “She have invoice for all I buy. She say it surplus she don’t need. She say she is owner. She really old so I believe her.”
The cop pulled Trent aside. “Look, I can fine the kid for operating without a license, but even with a public defendant, he’ll get off, and in the meantime, all your supplies here and the pretty girl’s chair will take up space in our overcrowded evidence room.”
Trent thought that a terrible plan. “I don’t want the kid charged. What I want is the woman upstairs charged unless she agrees to resign and leave.”
The cop chuckled. “I might be able to help you there.”
He turned back to the kid. “Those invoices saved your ass. However, this stuff belongs to him, so don’t hightail it off the moment we go upstairs. You understand?”
The young man nodded slowly.
Trent didn’t believe the kid would stick. “If it’s all the same, I’ll take the chair with me.”
“Why?” the cop asked.
“Because I’d rather face a purple eyesore outside my office than a distraught assistant.”
When they arrived on the fifth floor, the return of the purple chair along with a policeman had Miss Schnell waddling to the bathroom. Trent ordered her to halt, but she just waddled faster.
Trent pushed the chair into his front office then followed the cop to the door of the ladies’ room. The cop pushed the door open. “Susan Schnell, I am a New York City police officer. You may either step out here so we can talk, or I will enter the lavatory and take you down to the precinct for resisting arrest.”
When she didn’t reply, his voice grew angry. “If you do not come out right this minute, I will come in and arrest you. And because you are non-cooperative, I will handcuff your hands behind your back, and believe me they will cut into your flesh and hurt like hell since they aren’t made for oversized wrists.”
Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) Page 11
