Terri set them back, confusion reigning in her. Why would Bastien have medical vials in his refrigerator? It only took her a moment to come up with the answer. Medical laboratories were one of his company's interests. Blood banks, medical research, and medical labs were specialties of Argeneau Enterprises. In fact, Meredith had said Bastien was at a meeting right now with lab guys. This was probably something to do with that.
Satisfied, Terri set the vials back in the refrigerator and surveyed the beverages. She settled on a Diet Coke, grabbed a glass from the collection under the bar and poured her drink, then carried it back to the couch. Of course, Terri forgot all about her purse, which she'd set on the floor out of the way. But not out of the way enough. She tripped over the darn thing, and stumbled forward.
She managed to save herself from falling any farther than to her knees by catching herself on the couch, but she had to let go of the pop to do it.
"Darn," she breathed, staring at the puddle of liquid on the carpet. She followed that with a stronger curse and leapt into action. Pushing herself to her feet, she whirled back the way she'd come and hurried behind the bar in search of a towel or rag. But, of course, there was nothing. Terri turned back to the room, her gaze shooting around until it landed on a door on the opposite wall.
"Please be a bathroom," Terri prayed as she hurried in that direction. She could have cried with relief when she saw that it was. And there were towels. Expensive, fluffy white ones. She'd replace them if she had to. It seemed better to ruin the towels than the carpet.
"Are the caterers here with lunch yet, Meredith?" Bastien asked as he walked into the outer office, loosening his tie. He hated wearing the bloody things, and he took them off every chance he got. He'd undo it now and not put it back on until necessary.
"No, sir, but Terr—I mean, Miss Simpson arrived a bit early. She's in your office, sir."
"Is she?" Bastien smiled at the news, then added, "If she's told you to call her Terri, then you're welcome to do so, Meredith. There's no need to call her Miss Simpson on my account."
"Yes, sir." His secretary smiled. "I'll be heading to lunch in a minute. Shall I switch the lines over to the receptionist's desk so that she can take messages?"
"Yes, please," he said. "Have a good lunch."
"You too, sir."
Bastien nodded as he walked to his office door, but waited there for Meredith to collect her purse and leave the office before he opened it and stepped inside. The sight that met his gaze made him pause in the doorway and stare. Terri was on her hands and knees, her behind barely covered by a dark blue skirt, wagging from side to side as she scrubbed a towel over the carpet. His entrance didn't faze her. She hadn't heard the door open, because she was muttering.
Bastien was so distracted by the view, it took a moment for her words to register. She was mumbling something about what an idiot she was. That was enough to make him tear his eyes away from her behind, close the door quietly, and move forward.
"Terri? What happened?"
She stiffened, her body stilling, then she glanced sharply over her shoulder at him and groaned. "Oh, Bastien, I'm sorry. I'm such a clutz. I tripped over my purse and fell and spilled my Coke all over your lovely carpet. I—"
"Shh, shh, shh. It's all right," he interrupted. Moving forward, he took her arm and urged her to her feet.
"No, it's not all right. Just look at it. I've—"
"It will clean," Bastien assured her, taking her towel away and dropping it on the stain without even really a glance. "You didn't hurt yourself when you fell, did you?"
"No. But I—I don't know if Coke stains, but if it does, I think I've ruined your rug."
"Terri, it's just a carpet. A thing. Things are replaceable. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters."
"But—"
When her gaze dropped to the stain again, he took her arm and urged her away from the couch. He moved her toward his desk to keep her from looking.
"Don't worry about it," Bastien said again, but he knew his telling her wasn't going to accomplish the task. Terri would worry; she couldn't seem to help herself. It was as much her nature to be responsible for her own actions and worry about things as it was his. If he gave her half a chance, she'd be insisting on paying for cleaning or replacing the carpet. He wasn't going to give her the chance. A distraction was needed, and Bastien decided that, if he had to sacrifice himself to the cause, he was more than willing to do so.
"Why are you grinning?" Terri asked.
"I was just thinking a distraction is the only thing that will keep you from worrying about spilling that pop."