The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (4 page)

Chloe stepped off the executive-level elevator with considerably more confidence than she had the day before. She had on her Louboutin knockoffs, black linen trousers, a white blouse, and a gray tweed sweater jacket. The jacket had been marked down about four times at Nordstrom. The only reason no one had snapped it up was that it had fallen off the hanger and was puddled on the floor under the round clothes rack. Even then it had been a splurge, but it was a classic she could wear until it fell apart at the seams.

She greeted Priscilla warmly and received a welcoming smile in return. All the people she’d met at Trainor Electronics were surprisingly friendly and relaxed. Considering that it was a cutting-edge tech firm, she’d expected more tension and competitiveness. Or maybe that was just because the last tech firm she’d worked for was on the verge of bankruptcy all the time, so everyone was worried about their jobs. The Russell jinx at work again.

Even the mighty Mr. Trainor didn’t give off a vibe of self-importance, just supreme confidence.

Chloe pulled out her desk drawer and dropped her bag into it before picking up a pad of paper. She knew she was old-fashioned, but she never quite trusted her notes to a computer tablet. Trainor’s office door was closed, and she hesitated outside it. The privacy light on the phone console wasn’t lit, so he shouldn’t mind being disturbed. She needed to let him know that she was at work on time. Well, ten minutes early, actually, but she wouldn’t clock in for that.

Chloe ran her hand over her sleeked-back hair and checked that her bun was firmly wound before she knocked on the door. There was no answer. Roberta Stern had said Trainor usually got in two hours before the rest of the staff, which made this seem odd.

She tried the doorknob. It turned in her hand, so she pushed the door open a crack and listened. No sound.

She opened the door wide enough to slip through it. The office appeared to be empty. Well, she’d just go back to her desk and wait for Trainor to show up. Then her glance snagged on a man’s raincoat tossed over one of the chairs in front of her boss’s desk. She looked more closely and discovered a briefcase leaning against the arm of the chair.

So he
had
been here.

Chloe turned to recheck his schedule, thinking she’d missed an early-morning appointment, when she heard a low, drawn-out moan coming from the direction of the desk.

The high-backed chair was swiveled so its back faced her. Remembering Teresa Fogarty’s presence the night before, she debated whether she might witness something she didn’t want to see if she walked around the desk. However, the chair hadn’t moved the entire time she’d been there, and judging by Trainor’s impressive physique, he would probably be fairly active when in the throes of passion.

She tiptoed around the corner of the desk and peered into the chair.

“Oh my God!” she gasped.

Her boss was slumped on the seat, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, while his head sagged to the side and his forearms hung limply over the armrests. His eyes were closed, and his skin bore a hectic, unnatural flush. “Mr. Trainor!”

She hurled the pad of paper onto the desk and dashed to his side. His eyelids fluttered open as she bent to look for injuries. “So hot,” he mumbled. “Who are you? Wait, the ringer.”

His eyes closed again. She laid the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin was on fire. She grabbed the phone and dialed Priscilla. “Mr. Trainor’s really sick. Is there a nurse’s office in the building?”

“I’ll send someone right up,” Priscilla said.

Chloe wasn’t sure if she should leave her boss alone, since he looked to be in danger of sliding right out of the chair. However, she decided the best thing she could do was try to bring down some of that temperature. She raced into the kitchen and improvised a couple of ice packs at high speed.

Jogging back to the desk, she held one pack against the side of his neck and put one on top of his head.

“Ahh,” he breathed out. “That feels good. You’re smart, little ringer.”

“I’m Chloe Russell, the temp,” she said, trying to pull him back to reality.

Priscilla raced in. “The nurse is on her way up, and they’ve called Mr. Trainor’s doctor. What’s wrong?”

“He’s burning up,” Chloe said. “I guess Janice’s flu germs got him.”

“He looks terrible,” Priscilla whispered. “Why didn’t he stay home?”

“I’m not sick,” Trainor mumbled. “I never get sick.”

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Chloe said, shifting the ice pack to the other side of his neck. He nuzzled his cheek against it with another blissful sigh. “I’ll bet he’s a difficult patient.”

The nurse came flying through the door, followed by Roberta and two male executives. Chloe stepped back as Trainor’s staff took over.

The electronic thermometer beeped. “His temp is 104,” the nurse said, her voice sharp with worry. She looked at the executives. “I can’t handle this. He needs to go to the hospital immediately.”

“No,” Trainor said, struggling to pull himself upright. “I’m not sick.”

The nurse gave him a professional smile of disbelief. “Your doctor will be here shortly. He’ll make that decision.” She glanced at Chloe’s homemade ice packs. “We’ll keep those on him.”

“I can make some more packs,” Chloe volunteered. It figured that Trainor would have a doctor who showed up on demand at his office.

The nurse nodded and Chloe hurried off to the kitchen again. She was holding a pack against the pulse point on one of Trainor’s wrists when a lean young man with dark-red hair strode through the door.

“Dr. Cavill.” The nurse’s voice brimmed with relief. “His temp’s 104. He’s hyperthermic, but I didn’t want to give him anything until you arrived.”

“And I’ll bet he claims he’s not sick,” the doctor said.

Chloe could see the effort it took for Trainor to open his eyes. “Damn straight. Just hungover. No, that was yesterday. Maybe I am sick.”

“Well, that admission means he’s on death’s door,” the doctor said. Chloe watched for signs of concern, but Cavill kept a poker face. “You should have taken that flu shot I recommended. Now you’re suffering the consequences.”

Trainor turned away from the doctor, his gaze stopping on her face. For a moment he looked puzzled. Then his face cleared. “Chloe Russell, the temp.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Feels good,” he repeated and drifted away again.

The doctor looked around the little group circling the big office chair. “Does anyone know how long he’s been feverish?”

“I found him like this when I came in to work at 7:50,” Chloe said.

“When did you start the ice packs?” Cavill looked at the nurse as he asked.

She nodded to Chloe. “She already had two on him when I arrived.”

“Quick thinking,” the doctor said. He lifted his bag and set it on the desk. “If you’ll give me some privacy, I’ll examine the patient.”

Chloe set the cold pack on the desk and followed the group out of the office, closing the door behind her. Priscilla returned to her post in the reception area, but Roberta and the two men hovered by the door. Chloe sat down and checked her boss’s calendar, finding virtually wall-to-wall meetings. She looked up at Roberta. “Should I cancel the rest of Mr. Trainor’s schedule for today?”

Roberta turned to the shorter man, the same one whose office Trainor had been in. “Phil, could you take a look at Mr. Trainor’s calendar and see if anything’s critical?”

Phil came around the desk to lean over Chloe’s shoulder. “Poor bastard, he really doesn’t do anything except attend meetings,” he muttered after a few seconds, his voice holding a trace of a foreign accent. “You can cancel everything but the three o’clock. I’ll take care of that one. If anyone has any questions, refer them to me. I’m Phil Riviere. Executive vice president.” He held out his hand to Chloe with a smile that must have charmed a thousand women.

Chloe shook his hand and nodded. “Cancel by e-mail or phone?” she asked, not knowing what the protocol would be at this level.

Phil considered the calendar. “E-mail is fine. If you draft it, I’ll approve it.”

Chloe nodded and began to type. She’d come up with a satisfactory paragraph when the door opened and Cavill came out.

“How is he?” Roberta asked.

“I got him to the couch, but that’s as far as he could make it,” Cavill said. “I think it’s just the flu, but I want to run some additional tests since the fever is so high. Let me set up transport to the hospital.”

He pulled out his cell phone and walked away from the desk to stand by the windows, where he spoke in a low voice Chloe couldn’t hear.

The office door opened and the nurse put her head out, glancing around until she saw Chloe. “Mr. Trainor is asking for you,” she said.

“Me?” Chloe’s fingers stilled on the keyboard.

“He says you make him feel better,” the nurse said. “The fever is making him delirious, so it’s better just to go along with his requests. It will calm him down.”

“Okay.” Chloe stood and smoothed her palms down the front of her thighs as the high-powered executives stared at her. She followed the nurse across Trainor’s office to the big suede couch in the seating area by the window.

Her boss lay with his head on one of the striped pillows, his tie gone and his shirt unbuttoned far enough so that she could see a dusting of brown hair over the muscles of his chest. He shifted uneasily and looked around with an unfocused gaze. “Make it feel better, Chloe,” he muttered. “Make it better, like the report.”

Chloe looked at the nurse. “How?”

“Maybe an ice pack again? You were the first person to use one. He might be remembering that. Don’t move. I’ll get it.”

Trainor rolled over so that one of his arms flopped off the edge of the cushions, making his hand hit the carpeting. Chloe knelt and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to lift it back onto the couch. It was like touching the wax melting off a candle. She’d never known human skin could feel that hot. No wonder he wanted it to feel better.

The nurse returned with the ice pack, and Chloe laid it against his neck as she had that first one. She was rewarded with a slight upward curve of her boss’s lips. He lay still, as though savoring the coolness against his neck. As she held the pack in position, she became aware of the fact that her hand was inside his open shirt, so her forearm grazed the burning skin of his chest whenever he inhaled, and his breath tickled her as he exhaled.

Even worse, her kneeling position put her right at face level with the sick man. She could see the way the texture of his skin changed from his jaw where he shaved, to the smooth skin at his temple. She could trace the wave of his hair back over the curve of his ear. She could count the tiny lines radiating from the corner of his eye. It was like being in bed with him.

She jerked back at the thought, letting the cold pack slip down onto his collarbone. He opened his eyes. Now she could see the striations of dark and light gray in his irises. He was frowning, and she guessed he was once again trying to remember who she was.

She dropped her gaze to focus on resettling the ice pack when the doctor walked over to the couch. “All set,” he announced. Chloe started to stand up, but he gestured for her to stay. Then he picked up Trainor’s wrist to check his pulse, frowning at his wristwatch. He muttered something under his breath before he gently placed her boss’s hand back on the sofa.

Much as she wanted to know how the sick man was doing, she didn’t dare presume to ask. She was just a temp, stepping in to help for a few minutes before she went back to canceling his appointments.

But he looked so ill, she couldn’t help feeling a tug of anxiety. After all, he was only human, despite all his money and power. When he was sick, he felt the aches and pains as much as anyone else did. Without thinking, she reached up to stroke his hair away from his face in a gesture of comfort. Despite all these people milling around him, he seemed oddly alone.

She wondered if Teresa would have taken care of him, had they not had a fight. As she tried to imagine the sophisticated brunette’s bedside manner, three men hauling a stretcher rattled through the doorway.

There was a great flurry of activity, which ceased abruptly when Trainor opened his eyes and saw the stretcher. “No!” he said.

“Nathan, your temperature is dangerously high,” Cavill said, leaning over the couch. For the first time, Chloe saw real concern on the doctor’s face. “You need to go to the hospital for tests.”

“No!” her boss said again. “No hospital.”

The doctor and Trainor locked eyes for a long moment. Cavill stood up. “All right, no hospital. But you’re going home in the ambulance because I’m not going to carry you to your car.”

Trainor closed his eyes. “Can walk.”

Cavill laughed. “Like hell you can.” He gestured the orderlies forward.

Chloe extricated herself from the knot of people helping Trainor onto the stretcher. Her boss made an attempt to stand up on his own, but his knees gave way and the orderlies barely caught him before he hit the floor. “Big guy,” one of them noted as they wrestled him onto the wheeled bed.

As they wheeled him toward the door, Chloe started to take her melting ice pack to the kitchen.

“Chloe,” Trainor said. “Come with me. Feels better.”

“What?” Chloe squawked. She looked at the doctor, who was following the gurney. “I’m not a nurse.”

“That’s not a problem,” Cavill said. “I’ll be with him.” He frowned suddenly. “Have you had a flu shot?”

“Yes.” Chloe always got the shot, because she didn’t want to endanger Grandmillie’s health by passing on germs. “What difference does that make?”

“I don’t want to have to worry about you catching what Nathan has.”

She shouldn’t have been so honest. “Am I even allowed to ride in the ambulance?” She was grasping at straws.

The doctor shrugged. “It’s a private ambulance. You can do anything Nathan wants you to.”

“Chloe.” Now Trainor sounded like a CEO as his voice crackled with command.

“Humor him,” Cavill said.

Chloe got a grip on the towel-wrapped pack and trailed after them, making a brief stop at her desk to grab her handbag from the drawer. As they passed Roberta, Chloe cast a pleading glance at the human resources director. Roberta misinterpreted it, saying, “I’ll get Priscilla to cancel the appointments.”