The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (5 page)

Then she was closed into the executive elevator, whooshing down to the waiting ambulance.

As the big vehicle lurched through the streets of New York, Chloe sat wedged in on one side of Trainor’s stretcher while Cavill sat on the other. Despite the jarring of potholes, her boss had fallen into a fitful sleep.

She had discarded the melted ice pack and was sitting with her hands twisted together on her lap, staring out the back window and wondering where they were going.

Her head jerked around as the doctor spoke. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before. Ben Cavill.” He held out his hand.

“Chloe Russell,” she said, putting her hand in his. “I’m Mr. Trainor’s temporary assistant. Janice has the flu.”

“Who doesn’t these days?” the doctor said. His grip was firm and dry, but his eyes were assessing. Chloe felt like a germ under a microscope. “How long have you been with him?”

“I was assigned yesterday.” Since the doctor had started the conversation, she decided she could ask. “Is he going to be all right? He’s so hot.”

The doctor’s lips twitched slightly, and Chloe noticed her unintentional double entendre. She flushed but decided to ignore it.

“He’s so rarely ill that I don’t know if he’s prone to high fevers, but I suspect that it’s just his body’s normal reaction to the flu. Of course, I’ll keep a close eye on him to make sure it’s not pneumonia or something more sinister.”

“Have you been his doctor long?” Chloe asked.

“Since I graduated from medical school,” Cavill said. “We were friends as kids, so I keep a close eye on more than just his physical health.”

It sounded as though he was trying to send her some kind of warning, but she couldn’t figure out why he would feel the need to. In fact, she felt better knowing Trainor had a friend watching over him during his illness. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Cavill’s eyebrows rose and he looked taken aback. “I’m not sure he’d agree at the moment.”

“Where are we going?” Chloe asked after a moment of silence.

“To Nathan’s home on the West Side.” Cavill continued to watch her closely.

To avoid his scrutiny, she looked down at the man on the stretcher. He still had that hectic flush in his cheeks but he had stopped tossing and turning as though every inch of his body hurt.

The ambulance swerved over to the curb. The orderlies leaped out and swiftly unloaded the stretcher. Cavill helped her out of the back of the vehicle and started to lead the cavalcade toward the front door of a modern high-rise building sheathed in granite.

“I’ll just catch a cab back to the office,” Chloe said. She was sure Trainor Electronics would foot the bill.

“I’d rather you stayed,” Cavill said. “In his delirium, he seems to have fixated on you as a caretaker.”

The doctor didn’t sound particularly happy about having her involved, but then Chloe wasn’t either. This was the strangest situation she’d ever found herself in.

As she followed the stretcher out of the elevator doors on the level marked P-2, Chloe gawked at the huge bronze-and-crystal chandelier hanging at nearly eye level with the gallery they walked onto. A beautifully carved wooden balustrade curled around three sides of the space before it plunged downward along a grand staircase, leading to an exquisite marble mosaic floor below. Cavill walked briskly toward a wide hallway, carpeted with a gold-and-blue Oriental runner, and Chloe had to jog to catch up.

The rich really were different.

A woman dressed in a crisp nurse’s uniform came out of the door at the end of the hallway to meet them. “I’ve got the IV set up for hydration,” she said to the doctor.

He nodded and directed the orderlies into the room before he turned to Chloe. “You can wait in that bedroom to the right. As soon as we’ve got him undressed and in bed, we’ll see if he still thinks you’ll make it better.” He gave her a tight smile before he disappeared through the big door.

Chloe wandered into the bedroom the doctor had pointed out. It was decorated in a mix of modern and antique furniture that was surprisingly harmonious. “I guess he hired a really good decorator,” she muttered, trailing her finger over the smooth curves of a Chinese ceramic horse sculpture. The room had no personal touches, nothing that said someone lived in it, so she assumed it was a guest room. Sliding doors beckoned her past the seating area furnished with a deep yellow chaise longue that looked perfect for a long session with a good book.

She tested the slider and found it unlocked. “Well, duh, no one’s going to climb up fifty floors,” she reminded herself. Stepping outside the door, she gaped. The terrace spread out in front of her and to her left and right. Full-size trees in enormous terra-cotta pots rustled in the considerable breeze, while everywhere she looked flower boxes glowed with brilliant fall blossoms. Lounge chairs sat on platforms, so their reclining occupants could watch the ships and barges pass by on the Hudson River or enjoy the autumn-burnished cliffs gracing the shore of New Jersey. There were tables to eat on, folded-up awnings and umbrellas to cast shade, and a couple of burbling fountains.

All Chloe could do was stare. This demonstrated a wealth beyond anything she could wrap her mind around. Pulling the lapels of her jacket together to combat the brisk wind, she walked across the big square tiles to the railing, took a deep breath, and looked over. The cars and taxis seemed like toys as they zipped along the narrow street below. She straightened back up and fixed her gaze on a tugboat laboring up the Hudson River with its bow nudged against a barge three times its size. There were times when she felt like that tug, trying to keep herself and Grandmillie moving forward against the current that kept thrusting her back toward the churn of the ocean.

“Ms. Russell!” Cavill sounded annoyed.

She scurried back across the terrace, hoping he hadn’t been calling her for long. “I’m sorry. It’s such an amazing view,” she said.

He didn’t bother to answer that. “Nathan wants you to read him a report,” he said.

“A report?” This just got weirder.

“Some marketing report he said you’d worked on.”

“Oh, the one I edited. It’s on the computer at the office.”

“You have a smartphone?” the doctor asked.

Chloe pulled her Droid out of the handbag she’d been carrying around with her.

“Get someone to e-mail it to you on that.” Cavill spun on his heel and went back into the guest room, clearly expecting her to follow him. “What temp agency do you work for?”

“Flexitemps,” Chloe said, jogging after him. Why did he care about that?

Cavill slowed as they approached the master bedroom. “His temperature has been coming down slowly, and he’s sliding in and out of consciousness,” he said in a low voice as he pushed the door open.

Once again, Chloe caught the anxiety in his eyes and forgave the doctor for his abruptness with her.

She stepped into the room and blinked. Across the room in front of her was a wall of glass, with a view similar to the one she’d been drinking in on the terrace. Cavill turned left, bringing her gaze around to the bed set against the wall facing the windows. She hoped there were some heavy-duty shades to block out all that light.

She forgot all about views when she saw her boss lying in the huge bed wearing a dark-blue T-shirt. A sheet was pulled midway up his chest, and an IV was taped to one arm. His eyes were closed and looked as though they had sunk into his head. The unnatural flush still tinted his cheeks, and his hands twitched on top of the covers. The nurse, a stunningly beautiful blonde who looked to be about ten years older than Chloe, stood on the other side of the bed, checking a monitor.

Cavill gestured the woman over to where they stood about ten feet from the bed. He spoke in a low voice. “Tricia Oliver, meet Chloe Russell.”

The nurse shook her hand. “Mr. Trainor was asking for you just a moment ago.”

The doctor’s lips thinned. He pointed to a spot by the windows. “You can call about the report from over there.”

Chloe retreated from the grumpy doctor and retrieved the report. When she approached the doctor again, he gestured for her to sit in an armchair pulled up beside the bed. “Go ahead and read.”

She enlarged the print on her phone and began. “ ‘Analysis of Marketing for Product Number Seven-Two-Two’ by Richard Sinclair.” She hadn’t changed the title, even though she’d longed to. She glanced over at Trainor. His eyes were closed and his hands lay still. That must be a good sign. She launched into the first paragraph, mentally editing it even more severely as her oral presentation highlighted additional problems in the sentence structure.

She forgot about her audience and plunged into the second paragraph.

A weak chuckle emanated from the bed. She stopped and looked up. Trainor’s eyes remained shut but a smile touched his lips. “Knew it.”

“Knew what?” she asked.

“You’re a ringer,” he said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sinclair has never written a sentence that good.”

“You gave me permission to do some editing,” Chloe said, not sure if he was offended by her corrections.

He turned his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, the striking combination of dark and light gray sending a shimmer of fascination through her. “Didn’t expect such a good job. You’ve been hiding your talents under a bushel basket.”

“Thank you.” Gratification sent a billow of warmth through her. “Shall I go on?”

“No,” he said, turning his head back again. “Wanted to confirm my suspicions. Who are you, Chloe Russell?”

Chloe sent a questioning look toward the doctor. She didn’t know if she should keep talking or let Trainor sleep. Cavill nodded for her to continue.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m just a temp,” she said. “But I’ve worked for several small companies, start-ups, so I’ve had to learn about every aspect of business. Even accounting, which is not my favorite.” She gave a comic grimace and then realized his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see it.

“Nor mine,” he surprised her by saying.

Cavill stepped forward. “Nathan, I have another house call to make, but I’ll check in on you in a few hours. Tricia will keep an eye on your temperature. And Chloe will keep you company.”

Chloe almost exclaimed out loud. Sitting beside a sickbed was not part of her job description. The doctor looked amused. As he walked to the door, Chloe jumped out of her chair and followed him. “Dr. Cavill, I’m not a home health aide.”

“Are you supposed to be working for Mr. Trainor today?” the doctor asked, stopping just outside the door.

“As his executive assistant,” Chloe said. “In his
office
.”

Cavill started down the hallway. “I’ll have Roberta explain your new assignment to your employer. I suspect she’ll be agreeable.” His tone had turned sardonic again. “I’ll see you later, Ms. Russell.”

Chloe put her hands on her hips and glared at the doctor’s back. She had no idea what to do.

When she walked back into the master bedroom, Trainor was twisting himself into the sheets again. “Talk to him,” the nurse said. “Your voice seems to help.”

“Um, Mr. Trainor, it’s Chloe Russell. I’m here.” Chloe reached out to touch the back of his hand, hoping that would bring his attention to her. The heat from his skin practically singed her fingers. She jerked her hand away.

“Shouldn’t have taken the bet,” Trainor mumbled, yanking at the bed linens. “Why the hell did Archer make it?”

Casting around frantically for a way to distract him, Chloe noticed a paperback sitting on the bedside table, a spy thriller by Gavin Miller. “Why don’t I read to you?”

He opened those incredible eyes again. This time they were clouded. “You’re the temp with the cool hands.”

“Yes.” She grabbed the paperback and flipped it open to the bookmarked page. “
Best faced Pasternak across the table in the interrogation room. Pasternak looked at his watch. ‘You’ve got two minutes to make up your mind.’ Best smiled. ‘I don’t need two minutes.’ Pasternak waited. Best kept smiling. Pasternak finally spoke. ‘Your smile irritates me. I’ll have Smeltin start with pulling out all your—’
”

An electronic alarm shrilled, making Chloe drop the book in a flutter of pages. The nurse muttered something under her breath as she checked one of the screens.

“What’s going on?” Chloe asked as the alarm vibrated through her skull and her pulse raced with fear. She checked Trainor’s chest to make sure it was still rising and falling.

“His temperature is spiking,” Tricia said, hitting a button that silenced the alarm. “We need to bring it down, stat.”

“I can make ice packs. Do you know where the kitchen is?” Chloe rocketed out of her chair.

“A lukewarm bath will work better.” Tricia pointed to a door across the room. “The bathroom’s there. Run the water at room temperature, and I’ll call for some help to move him.”

Trainor was plucking at the hem of his T-shirt. “My clothes! On fire!”

Tricia clasped Trainor’s wrists. “Mr. Trainor, remain calm. We’ll get your clothes off. You’ll be fine.”

“Burning!” Trainor shouted as Chloe started toward the bathroom. “Get the temp!”

Chloe spun back toward her temporary boss. He had pulled his hands out of Tricia’s grasp and was tearing at his shirt.

“Try to calm him down,” Tricia said. “I’m going to disconnect the IV before he pulls it out.”

Chloe approached the bed. Trainor had kicked the sheets off. She had no idea what she should do. “Mr. Trainor, I’m here. What can I do to help?”

He stared down at his pajama pants with a look of horror. He stopped yanking on his shirt and began to swat at his legs. “Put it out!”

Tricia was trying to catch the arm with the IV in it, but Trainor continued to flail wildly. Panic clutched at Chloe’s throat. She needed to get his attention. What was his first name? “Nathan!” she shouted, grabbing his wrist and clinging to it as if her life depended on it. “You have to hold still!”

Whether in shock or obedience, Trainor let her stop his flailing. Tricia swiftly removed the IV and slapped on a bandage. “Keep him quiet while I get the bath going and make that call.”

He began to tear at his shirt again. She put one palm on either side of Trainor’s scorching-hot head and turned his face toward her as she leaned in close. “I’m the temp. I’m here.”

Chloe found herself nose to nose with the hallucinating CEO of a multibillion-dollar corporation. She was half lying across his chest and could feel the heat of his fever searing through her silk blouse. She eased the pressure of her hands against his head, sliding them down to rest on his shoulders so she could push herself upright.

“No,” he said, his arms coming around her back and crushing her down against him so her face was smashed into his shoulder.

She gave an experimental push to see if he would release her, but instead his hold tightened. “Mr. Trainor, please,” she begged, turning her head. He had a chest like a steel plate, and his arms felt like cables tying her down. She could hear his heart beating at a frantic rate. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped.

“You stopped the fire,” he said.

Chloe went limp, since struggling seemed to make him press even harder. Despite his feverish strength, she felt an odd sense of security as she lay against his heated body; his grasp was persuasive, not threatening. He simply wanted her to stay.

“It’s my heart,” he said.

“Your heart hurts?”
Could he be having a heart attack?

“No, the asinine bet.”

“You bet on something?” Relief and embarrassment flooded her as she heard the door open. Tricia had gotten help. Chloe hoped it wasn’t the disapproving Dr. Cavill. Being caught half in bed with Trainor wouldn’t improve the doctor’s opinion of her.

“Okay, Chloe, you can get up now.” Tricia’s voice came from behind her.

“He won’t let go,” Chloe said, trying again to squirm free.

An older man with dark-brown hair graying at the temples, dressed in a navy-blue suit, moved into her line of sight. Giving her a quizzical look, he said, “Nathan, your office is on the line. You need to speak with Janice.”

The bands across her back loosened as she heard Trainor mutter, “My office.”

“The phone is in the bathroom,” the older man said. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

“The phone,” Trainor muttered, his arms falling away from her.

Chloe righted herself and took a hasty step back from the bed. She wasn’t giving Trainor a chance to change his mind. “Thank you,” she said, inhaling deeply.

“My pleasure,” the gentleman said before he turned toward Trainor again. “Let me give you a hand.” He slid an arm behind the CEO’s back and eased him into a sitting position before two muscular blond men in khakis and matching polo shirts stepped up to the bed. They got Trainor on his feet, supporting him as he staggered across the room, with Tricia leading the way and the man in the suit following behind.

Chloe blew out a breath and walked over to the window to stare at the Hudson River rolling on its oblivious way. No one had commented on her full-body contact with her boss, thank goodness.

She heard splashing from the open bathroom door and the soothing but authoritative voice of the older man. Which sent her imagination veering into the forbidden zone of what Nathan Trainor would look like without his pajamas on. The soft cotton T-shirt he’d been wearing had stretched taut over some darned impressive pecs and abs, although the loose pants hadn’t revealed much about his legs. Her memory kicked in with those few moments when she’d simply relaxed into his embrace. Warmth sizzled inside her as she remembered how her breasts had been crushed against the solid wall of his chest while his hands roamed over her back.

It had been a long time since she’d been locked against a man’s body. Clearly, too long, since she was fantasizing about her seriously ill boss. It was strangely flattering that he’d turned to her in his delirium.

“Where is he?”

Chloe spun around to see Cavill standing by the bed with a sleek steel case in his hand.

“In the bathroom,” she said. “Tricia’s trying to bring his temperature down with a bath.”

Cavill leaned in to peer at the bank of monitors, grunted, and strode to the bathroom door.

Chloe could hear the doctor’s voice in counterpoint to Tricia’s, in a series of rapid-fire questions and answers.

She went back to her river gazing until her stomach growled. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was lunchtime. Trainor’s penthouse undoubtedly had a kitchen somewhere, but she figured she’d better not leave while the distrustful doctor was around.

There was more splashing and voices. One of the blond gods dashed out, rummaged around in a dresser drawer, and carried what must have been fresh pajamas back into the bathroom. Did Trainor keep random strong men on his staff just in case he got sick?

Cavill interrupted her thoughts as he joined her by the window. “He keeps asking for you.”

“I’m not going in there if he’s naked.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “I assumed you’d already . . . ?”

Chloe waited for him to finish and was flabbergasted when he let the question trail off. “Are you implying that I . . . that we . . . ?” She sputtered to a halt. “I met the man for the first time yesterday! At work!”

“Sorry. You seemed to be . . . never mind.” Cavill raised a hand in apology. “I’m worried about him.”

His tie was crooked and his shirt and suit jacket showed large patches of dampness. He’d gotten splashed by his difficult patient. Chloe noted the tension in his jaw and decided to give him a pass on his offensive assumption. “Just so you know, I have a hard-and-fast rule against dating the boss.” A hard lesson she’d learned fast.

Cavill nodded and copied Chloe’s earlier pose, gazing out the window for a long moment before turning back to her. “For some reason, you’re the only person who can calm him when the delirium takes hold. I want you to spend the night here.”

“What! No.” She couldn’t leave Grandmillie alone overnight. She’d have a knot of worry in her chest the entire time. “That’s not in my job description.”

“You’re Mr. Trainor’s assistant, aren’t you?” the doctor said.

“I’m a temp, not a nurse.”

“I’ll authorize triple overtime pay.”

An involuntary mental estimate made her sigh at turning down such a hefty sum. “More money isn’t going to change my mind. I have responsibilities at home.”

The gathering frustration on Cavill’s face cleared, and he waved a hand in dismissal. “What do you need? A babysitter? A chauffeur? I can arrange all that.”

Grandmillie would have a fit if some stranger showed up to stay with her. She insisted that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, even though Chloe had begun to worry that it wasn’t true. “Look, my eighty-six-year-old grandmother lives with me, and I never leave her alone overnight.”

“No wonder you don’t date your boss,” Cavill said with an amused edge in his voice. “I’ll send a health aide to keep her company.”

“That won’t work. Grandmillie is very independent.” Chloe hesitated, not sure how to explain how ticked off her grandmother would be.

“I understand.” He really seemed to, because his expression softened. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if Nathan weren’t so ill. His fever is spiking to dangerous levels, and he could hurt himself during a hallucination.”

“But he’s got you and all kinds of other staff members.”

Cavill locked his blue eyes on her. “He needs you.”

Chloe hesitated. Having a CEO need her was truly bizarre.

“You can give your grandmother my twenty-four-hour emergency number,” the doctor said. “If she needs medical care, I can get it to her faster than you can.”

She glanced at the enormous bed, its rich wood frame and leather inlays contrasting with the high-tech monitors arrayed around it, and realized Cavill was right. “If Grandmillie agrees, I’ll stay.”

The doctor ignored her qualifying statement and went into organizational mode. “I’ll get a bed brought in for you.” Cavill pulled a prescription pad out of his pocket and scrawled a couple of phone numbers on it before tearing off the sheet. “Here’s my emergency contact number and the number here at Nathan’s. Someone always answers the phone here.”

“Which one, Romulus or Remus?” Chloe muttered, accepting the paper.

“What?”

“The matching blonds,” Chloe said.

Cavill gave a snort of laughter. “They’re personal trainers who work in the building. I don’t know their names.”

“And the older gentleman?”

“Ed Roccuzzo. Nathan’s butler.”

“Of course. Silly me, I should have known.”

“Maybe
butler
is the wrong term,” Cavill said. “He manages all of Nathan’s houses and staff. It’s a big job.”

“I’m sure it is.” She was beginning to understand how very far removed Trainor’s life was from her own. He practically breathed different air.

For the next twenty-four hours she was going to be breathing it right along with him.