The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (6 page)

Nathan came awake with a sense of relief and a raging thirst. Relief from what, he had no idea. He was lying on his back in his own bed, while a strange bluish glow washed over the ceiling above him. He turned his head on the pillow to see where it came from and found a bank of medical monitors. Beside them a male nurse dressed in immaculate white scrubs sat in a chair reading an electronic tablet. Ben had overreacted as usual. That was the problem with having your friend as your doctor.

Nathan rolled his head back to center and stared up at the eerie light, trying to piece together the fragments whirling through his memory. It was night. He’d gone to work that morning—at least, he assumed it was still the same day—despite feeling out of sorts. He’d convinced himself it was just the tail end of the previous day’s hangover.

Evidently, he’d been wrong.

He gazed at the ceiling some more. He remembered Ben needling him over his lack of a flu shot, so it must be the flu.

Other than that, all he came up with was a kaleidoscope of what were clearly hallucinations that involved his clothes being on fire, drowning in his own bathtub, and towers of paperwork crushing him to death. He grimaced. What did it say about his state of mind that his fever brought out images of death?

The one pleasant delirium dream he’d had was his new temp being draped over him in bed. He went back to that one, remembering the softness of her breasts against his chest and the curve of her hips under his hands.

That was better.

A shiver shook him and he realized that both his pajamas and the bedding were soaked and cooling rapidly. His fever must have broken. He needed dry pajamas and a tall, cold drink of water. He was about to throw the covers off and sit up when he realized there was a tube running into his right arm. He turned his head in the other direction to follow it, and his gaze landed on a cot holding the sleeping form of none other than the temp. Chloe Russell.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

A voice like the crack of a whip smacked Chloe awake. She sat up in a strange bed and glanced around an unfamiliar room bathed in a weird blue glow, wondering where on earth she was.

“Chloe?”

The voice. She knew it from somewhere. She swiveled around to find Nathan Trainor lying in a bed next to hers, scowling at her, and it all came back to her.

“You’re awake,” she said, pushing her hair back from her face and bracing herself for whatever new weirdness her delirious boss would come up with now.

“And his temp’s normal,” Arvind the night nurse said as he looked up from checking the monitor. He moved to the bed and tested the sheets near Trainor with his hand. “You’ll want dry pajamas and linens.” He disappeared into the bluish gloom.

Chloe heaved a sigh of relief. No bizarre feverish behavior to deal with.

Trainor’s scowl was still directed toward her. “Do you have any medical training?” he asked.

“No, sir.” Chloe swung her legs over the edge of the cot and straightened her blouse.

“Then why are you here?”

She eyed her boss. His damp hair clung to his skull while sweat stains spread across the fabric of his gray T-shirt. Even though the fever was gone, he couldn’t be feeling well. It would pay to tread softly. “Dr. Cavill asked me to stay.”

He made a gesture of exasperation. “In case I wanted you to type a memo? What the hell was Ben thinking?”

She sent a prayer of thanks skyward. He didn’t remember his fixation on her. “You found my voice soothing when you were delirious. It calmed you down.”

“Your voice.” His tone was skeptical.

“I think you associated it with coolness because I put an ice pack on you when I found you in the office this—I mean, yesterday—morning.”

His brows were still drawn together, but he changed the subject. “I’m fine now, so you can go home. Ed can get you a car.”

“Terrific,” she said, standing up with enthusiasm. She could run home to check on Grandmillie, and since it was four in the morning, she’d still get some nice overtime pay.

Arvind cleared his throat politely. “If you’d step outside, I’ll help Mr. Trainor change.”

Chloe scooped up her jacket and handbag from the foot of the cot. “I’m very glad you’re feeling better, Mr. Trainor. Good night.”

Trainor turned toward the nurse with an irritable wave of dismissal. “I can change my own damn pajamas.”

Cranky indeed. Chloe hustled out of the room, nearly colliding with Ed Roccuzzo in the hallway. He was wearing dark trousers with a knife pleat down the front and a white polo shirt. Surely he didn’t sleep in those.

“Is there a problem?” he asked. Despite his calm tone, she could see worry in the creases of his forehead. “Arvind rang.”

“Exactly the opposite. Mr. Trainor’s fever broke, so he’s sending me home. He said you wouldn’t mind arranging a car for me.” Ordinarily, she would get herself home to New Jersey, but at this hour she would accept the ride.

Ed still looked concerned. “Dr. Cavill felt you should stay until morning. Mr. Trainor’s temperature could go up again.”

“Mr. Trainor was pretty definite about my leaving.”

“The doctor will be here soon. Why don’t you take advantage of the guest bathroom’s amenities while I speak with him?” Ed indicated the room Chloe had wandered into hours before. “Please help yourself to any supplies you’d like to use.”

She smoothed a hand over her rumpled hair and thought longingly of a toothbrush. Walking into the guest suite, she pulled open a door and found a walk-in closet that made her sigh with envy. The shelving was made of some exotic, pale wood with a dramatic grain, and the hardware was gleaming brushed nickel. The rods were half-filled with clothes with tags hanging from them. She picked one at random and discovered it indicated the size of the garment and its fabric content. Men’s clothes were ranged on one side, while women’s hung on the other. Could these be for the use of Trainor’s guests?

Shoe boxes were slotted into custom-made cubbies. She couldn’t resist opening a Jimmy Choo box marked “Evening Sandals” with her size on the outside.

She breathed out an
ooh
of delight. Aqua and forest-green crystals sparkled on leaf-shaped straps that wrapped around the foot. A high, slender black suede heel added to the elegance. They were the kind of shoes she fantasized about as she trolled through shoe websites. And they cost nearly two thousand dollars. She ran her fingertip over a line of crystals, fighting the longing to find out what it would be like to see this work of art on her foot. She was in her stocking feet, so it would only take a second to slip it on . . .

She slammed the lid closed. It would just make her knockoffs seem cheaper and drearier if she tried on the real thing. Shoving the box back into its niche, she marched out of the closet and tried the next door.

It led to a bathroom fit for a palace—all gray-and-white marble with silver tile mosaic accents. The tub would accommodate four people, if they liked each other, and the array of toiletries made her sigh. Even the toothbrushes sported polished wooden handles. The thought of using one and throwing it away offended her sense of thrift, so she did a thorough swish with mouthwash, using her finger to scrub at her teeth. After brushing her hair and adjusting her rumpled clothes, she wandered over to the sliding doors that gave access to the huge terrace.

“The city that never sleeps,” she murmured, scanning the lit windows of the skyscrapers beyond the terrace’s parapet.

“Ms. Russell.” Chloe spun around to see Ed hovering at the door. “Dr. Cavill would like you to stay the rest of the night, if that’s all right with you.”

Chloe gave him a shrug and a smile. “It’s four in the morning. What better things would I have to do?” She started toward the door.

Ed cleared his throat. “Dr. Cavill and Mr. Trainor are not in agreement about where you should sleep, so you might want to wait a few moments before you go in there.”

“Let me guess. Dr. Cavill wants me on the cot, and Mr. Trainor doesn’t.”

“That’s correct.”

She couldn’t blame Trainor for not wanting a total stranger sleeping beside him when he felt lousy. “Let me know when they make a decision.” She hesitated before saying, “I walked into the closet when I was looking for the bathroom. I just wondered . . . who do all those clothes belong to?”

“They’re for Mr. Trainor’s guests. Please feel free to borrow anything you’d like.”

Chloe thought of strolling into Trainor’s bedroom in the evening sandals and had to suppress a giggle. “Thanks, but I was just curious.”

Ed nodded and withdrew, closing the door gently behind him. She sat down on the chaise longue, pulled out her cell phone, and checked for missed calls. There were none, so either Grandmillie was fine, or she’d fallen and couldn’t get up. Chloe grimaced at her gallows humor. Grandmillie was undoubtedly sound asleep in her own bed and wouldn’t appreciate all of Chloe’s worrying.

She could hear muffled voices from the next room, their tones testy. Trainor wasn’t giving in to the doctor’s orders without a fight. She stretched out on the chaise and closed her eyes, listening to the rise and fall of the argument next door.

“Ms. Russell.”

Chloe sat up abruptly. Cavill stood at the foot of the chaise, looking down at her. She’d nodded off while she waited. “Sorry,” she said, swinging her legs over so she could stand up. “It’s late.”

Cavill nodded. “I’m not going to mislead you. Nathan doesn’t want you in his bedroom, but I’ve insisted.”

She had to swallow a nervous giggle at his phrasing.

The doctor looked away and then back at her. “I’m sorry if he’s not as appreciative as he should be.”

Once again, she read the strain on Cavill’s face. “Is he still very sick?”

The doctor made a gesture of uncertainty. “Fevers often go back up.” He wasn’t indulging the whim of a rich and important man; he was worried about his friend.

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

Cavill gave her a tired smile and walked beside her into the master suite.

Trainor was sitting up in the bed, his broad shoulders and chest covered by a dry dark-green T-shirt. His damp hair was neatly combed, and his eyes were unclouded by fever. When his gaze fell on Chloe, his mouth tightened. “Your presence is entirely unnecessary. Please allow Ed to send you home in a car.”

“Your doctor believes I should stay,” Chloe said.

“My doctor is an infuriating ass.” Trainor turned his glare on Cavill.

“You’re too weak to throw her out bodily,” Cavill said, “so you might as well be gracious.”

“I can fire her,” Trainor said, although Chloe detected a lack of conviction in his voice.

“Then I’ll hire her,” the doctor replied.

She felt caught in the clash of the titans as the two men squared off.

Trainor sagged back on the pillow. “You win this round, Ben. Just leave me the hell alone.”

“Gladly,” Cavill said, picking up his bag. “I don’t envy Ms. Russell having to spend the next few hours in your unpleasant company.” He turned to Chloe. “Arvind knows what to do medically. Your job is to calm the savage beast.”

Trainor muttered something unflattering under his breath, and Cavill chuckled as he walked out the door.

Chloe stood beside the cot, wondering if she was supposed to talk to her boss or encourage him to sleep. Trainor lifted his head and locked his gaze on her. “You can sleep in the guest room. If I become uncontrollable, Arvind can call you in to the rescue.” His tone became heavily ironic.

Now what was she supposed to do? “Dr. Cavill told me to stay in here.” She cast a glance of appeal at Arvind. He nodded.

“Oh, for God’s sake, sleep wherever you want.” Trainor closed his eyes. Now Chloe could see the dark circles under his eyes and the way the skin stretched too tightly over his cheekbones.

She felt awkward lying down on the cot even though Trainor wasn’t watching. Her gaze landed on the paperback on the bedside table. “Would you like me to read to you?”

His eyelids snapped open and he skewered her with a look of utter disbelief. “In the middle of the night? No, I would like you to let me sleep.”

She was tired and worried about Grandmillie or she wouldn’t have snapped. “I don’t want to be here in the middle of the night either, but your friend is concerned about you, so I agreed to stay as an act of kindness. Clearly, that quality is wasted on you.”

She heard the nurse hiss in a breath as Trainor stared at her. Now he would fire her, and Cavill wouldn’t be around to rehire her. She squared her shoulders and met his eyes straight on, refusing to show how horrified she was by her outburst.

Incredibly, the corners of Trainor’s mouth twitched. “It’s completely wasted on me. Remember that in the future. Now go to sleep, my grumpy little temp. We’re none of us at our best at this hour.” He shifted downward on the pillows and turned onto his side so his back was to her.

She sank onto the cot, her eyes tracing the line of Trainor’s spine under the form-hugging T-shirt. She could see his shoulder muscles flex and shift as he settled into a more comfortable position. It was weirdly intimate to listen to his breath begin to slow and even rasp in a near snore.