The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (7 page)

Dropping her head into her hands, she massaged her temples with her thumbs. He hadn’t fired her. However, he wouldn’t be going to work for at least a day or two, so that left her without a position in the executive suite. She sighed. So much for the extra pay she had been counting on.

She flopped over sideways and brought her legs up onto the cot, pulling the pillow under her head and giving it a frustrated punch.

As always, it was the people like her who lost out when the big wheels had a problem.

Nathan rolled over with a groan. His arms and legs felt like they were made of rubber, and someone seemed to be rapping on his skull with a hammer.

With a Herculean effort, he opened his eyes, and once again found Chloe Russell asleep beside his bed, bathed in the pale light of dawn. At least this time he remembered how she’d gotten there. Too exhausted to move, he let his gaze roam over the not-unattractive picture of her streaked, sleep-tousled hair spread over the pillow, and the swell of her breast highlighted by her up-flung arm. Her lips, so firm and prim when she was awake, were full, and a soft shade of pink without their usual lipstick.

He felt an unexpected tightening below his waist and sprawled onto his back to fix his gaze on the ceiling. If he was lusting after the temp, he wasn’t as sick as Ben thought. The surge of desire dissipated as he remembered the long list of appointments he’d missed the day before. Not to mention the ones he would miss today, because he wasn’t kidding himself about being able to go into work. He’d barely been able to stagger to the bathroom last night, and he was probably contagious.

The thought made him turn back to Chloe with a frown. She’d been breathing in the germ-laden air around him, so she was likely to be the flu’s next victim. Then he’d have that on his conscience.

On the other hand, she’d already been exposed, so further contact with him couldn’t make it any worse. She could stay and help him work from home.

He felt more cheerful at the prospect and wondered why. He was accustomed to working from home without any assistance. It must be another sign of how badly the flu had undermined his strength.

One of the monitors beeped, and Chloe’s eyes came open. Their gazes met, and for one moment, those full lips of hers curved into a smile. The smile disappeared as confusion clouded her face and she sat up, clutching the covers to her chest as though she was wearing something more revealing than the now-wrinkled blouse she’d worn to work the day before. Guilt jabbed at him; Ben had upended her schedule without much concern.

“Wha—?” Chloe shook her hair out of her face. He saw the moment her memory of the situation clicked in, and she said, “You look better. How are you feeling?”

“Since I don’t remember much about the last twenty-four hours, I can’t say I feel better, but I suspect I do.”

The worry cleared from her expression, and she released the sheet. “I’m pretty sure you couldn’t have put that sentence together last night, so the fever must be down.”

So he’d been incoherent. “Did I babble like an idiot?”

“Well, you babbled, but since you were having hallucinations, I don’t think you were being an idiot. You just saw things that weren’t there.”

The hallucinations were beginning to fade from his memory. Only one remained vivid, and that was the feel of Chloe pressed against his chest as he lay in bed. A quick analysis offered two possibilities: either his brain preferred the pleasant image and held onto it, or the event had actually occurred. He decided to embrace the former explanation because the latter would make working with Chloe awkward.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said. The temp looked wary. “I’m sure Ben won’t let me go to the office today, and I have a lot to catch up on. You’ve already been exposed to my germs, which I apologize for but cannot fix. Would you consider working here with me?”

Her eyebrows drew downward as she untangled herself from the bedding and stood up. She had her lips pursed again. Instead of looking at him, she turned her gaze to the windows, where the tops of the buildings on the river’s western shore were just beginning to catch the early sun’s rays. “I’d need to go home first,” she said. She waved her hands down alongside her body in a movement that was meant to indicate her rumpled clothing but only succeeded in drawing his eye to her curves again. “To change.”

“There are clothes in the guest room you can use.”

A mixture of animosity and amusement scudded across her face. “I know.”

“If you’re tired, you’re welcome to use the guest bed as well.” She gave a tiny shake of her head, and he realized he didn’t want her to say no. “I’ll double your hourly rate.”

She brought her gaze back to him. “Dr. Cavill tripled it.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” He made a gesture of agreement. “Consider your rate tripled.”

She nodded. “But I still have to go home. It should only take about three hours, depending on traffic.”

“Where do you live?”

“New Jersey.”

“You can use the helicopter. That will eliminate the traffic and get you back faster.”

The look of astonishment on her face was worth the price of the aviation fuel it would take. “Use . . . the . . . helicopter.” She stared at him. “Where do you think it will land? I don’t exactly have a helipad on my roof.”

“The pilot can figure that out and set up a car to meet you.” When her brown eyes went even wider, he began to enjoy himself.

“You’re serious.” She shook her head as though she was trying to wake up from a deep sleep. “I guess I should be flattered that my time is so valuable to you.”

“You should be.” He allowed himself to smile as he touched the control panel on his bedside table. “Good morning, Ed. Get Kurt to fire up the small chopper.”

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Chloe told the driver of the black sedan that had been waiting for her at the airport. This trip was a commuter’s ultimate fantasy.

“Take your time,” he said, closing the car door he was holding for her.

Chloe jogged up the bluestone sidewalk and unlocked the front door of her small stucco-and-brick house. She loved the solid feel of the oak door. It spoke of security to her. Her grandmother got up early, so she didn’t hesitate to sing out, “Grandmillie, I’m home!”

Silence seemed to shudder through the house, making Chloe bolt for her grandmother’s downstairs bedroom. The door was open. Chloe sprinted through it to find the bed neatly made, with no sign that her grandmother had slept in it. She ran around to the other side of the bed, but Grandmillie wasn’t lying unconscious or disabled on the floor.

She heard the sound of water running and the bathroom door opening, and closed her eyes in a brief moment of relief. The steady rhythm of Grandmillie’s footsteps accompanied by the tap of her cane floated to her ears like the sweetest music.

“Grandmillie!” she said, walking into the hall and enveloping her grandmother in a hug.

“Good heavens, girl, you’ve only been gone for one night.” Grandmillie hugged Chloe back before extricating herself from the embrace.

“It was a long night,” Chloe said. Her grandmother was fully dressed, her hair neatly pinned into its usual French twist, her cane’s colors matching the royal blue and yellow of her blouse. That made everything right with Chloe’s world.

Grandmillie turned toward the kitchen. “You can tell me about it over some oatmeal and fruit.”

“Tempting, but I have to shower, change, and go back to work.” She didn’t mention that she’d be working in Trainor’s home. Although her grandmother mostly had moved with the times, on occasion she surprised Chloe with an old-fashioned reaction.

“I’ll have the oatmeal ready for when you’re done dressing.” Grandmillie was a strong believer in the importance of eating a healthy meal at the start of the day.

“Well, er, here’s the thing. There’s a car and a helicopter waiting for me.”

Grandmillie raised her eyebrows. “Did you say a helicopter?”

Chloe gave an embarrassed shrug, since she thought it was a ridiculous extravagance too. “My boss wants me back quickly.”

“He sent you here in a
helicopter
?”

“Actually, we landed at the Essex County Airport, and there was a car waiting for me.” Chloe was beginning to realize that Grandmillie wasn’t happy about something.

“Young lady, if your boss has you riding around in a helicopter, then he certainly could have provided a shower and a change of clothes. I know how those corporate offices are with their fancy gyms and locker rooms. You didn’t have to come all the way back to New Jersey just to freshen up.” Grandmillie put her hands on her hips, her cane jutting out at an angle that somehow indicated her annoyance. “You came back here to check on me.”

“That’s not true.” Chloe tried to deflect the lecture she knew was coming. “I wanted my own clothes after a night of sleeping on a cot in a strange place.”

“Remember our deal, Chloe? If my living here begins to interfere with your life in any way, I will sign myself into an assisted-living facility immediately.” Grandmillie gave her a stern look. “That persistent Dr. Cavill gave me his personal emergency cell phone number, and you made me swear to wear my medical alert necklace, which I am.” Grandmillie held up the stylish pendant that concealed the call button she could push in case she fell or had another problem that required assistance when Chloe wasn’t home. “I don’t appreciate being treated like an invalid, but I know your concern comes from the heart.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” Chloe said. “I don’t mean to worry, but after the insanity of last night, I needed to come home to you. I was feeling lost, and you’re my compass.”

“Nonsense,” Grandmillie said, but her expression softened. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

Chloe smiled. “That’s what I needed to hear. I felt like I fell down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. You wouldn’t believe my boss’s apartment, if you can call it that. It’s really a whole house inside a skyscraper, with a grand staircase and huge terraces and an incredible view of the river and New Jersey. He even has Jimmy Choo shoes for his guests to borrow.”

Grandmillie snorted as she took her hands off her hips. “Why you are so taken with those outlandishly high-heeled, outrageously expensive frou-frou designer shoes, I can’t figure out.”

“Maybe I have a Cinderella complex.” Chloe gave her grandmother another hug. “I’ve got to shower, but I’ll take you up on the oatmeal, after all. The helicopter can just wait a little longer.”

Nathan felt his mood lighten as Chloe Russell walked into his bedroom, looking both refreshed and businesslike in a slim charcoal skirt, a deep blue blouse, and black high-heeled pumps. He gave himself the pleasure of letting his gaze skim down her legs to her elegant ankles.

His doctor was less appreciative. “What the hell is she doing here?” Ben rapped out.

“Your manners are appalling, Ben,” Nathan said. “My apologies, Chloe. Ben thinks I should spend the day sleeping.”

“He’s a doctor,” she said with a tilt of a smile, “so he’s probably right. You were pretty sick yesterday.”

Irritation flared. “It was the flu. Nothing more serious than that.”

“People die of the flu, you stubborn ass,” Ben said.

Nathan caught the little choke of laughter the temp quickly stifled. He quelled a smile. “She finds you amusing, which is more than I do. I’m fine, so you can stop hovering and go treat someone who needs it. Before you go, get this damned tube out of my arm so I can get up.” He held out his tethered arm to his friend.

Ben’s eyebrows drew down in a scowl. “If your fever spikes again, you’re going to need the intravenous line.”

“Luis can put it back in,” Nathan said, glancing at the nurse who stood beside the monitors.

Chloe spoke up. “I promise to keep an eye on him. If he looks feverish, I’ll go on strike.” She gave Ben a smile that pissed Nathan off. He was her boss; she should be smiling at
him
.

Ben nodded to Luis, who removed the needle and tube so skillfully that Nathan barely felt it.

“Now I have work to do,” Nathan said, giving Ben a hard stare.

The doctor turned to Chloe. “If he gets out of bed other than to go to the bathroom, call me immediately. He won’t admit it, but he’s as weak as a kitten.” Ben’s eyes gleamed with wicked satisfaction at his description.

“Kittens have claws, Cavill,” Nathan said. “And I’m about to use mine.”

Ben laughed and picked up his bag. “Force fluids. Sleep when you get tired.” His expression sobered. “Take it easy, Nathan. You won’t do anyone any good if you suffer a relapse because you pushed yourself too hard and fast.”

That was the problem with Ben. He knew he could defuse Nathan’s anger with genuine concern.

“Chloe has guaranteed my good behavior,” Nathan said, enjoying the temp’s alert gaze as she watched the battle between Ben and him.

The doctor walked to the door. “A task I don’t envy her, you royal pain,” he said as he left.

Nathan surveyed Chloe. He felt at a disadvantage since he was lying in bed in a T-shirt and pajama pants while she looked crisp and professional. Maybe a little too professional, with her hair yanked back into some sort of bun. He preferred it loose and bed-mussed as it had been when she woke up that morning, but he supposed he couldn’t tell her that. “Let’s get started,” he said instead. “You can use the desk there.” He pointed to a small workstation Ed had set up beside the bed, which was equipped with a laptop, a printer, and other office supplies.

A look of relief crossed Chloe’s face as she walked to the desk and seated herself in the ergonomic chair, her back ramrod straight. Clearly, she felt more comfortable when the situation was all business. He could deal with that.

Chloe had worked in some sketchy offices in her career with start-ups, but sitting at a desk beside Nathan Trainor’s bed was the strangest working experience she’d ever had. Her boss was propped up on a bank of pillows arrayed against the huge wooden headboard inset with deep blue leather tooled in swirling geometric patterns. As spectacular as the bed was, the man in it was far more magnetic, even with dark circles under his gray eyes. His shoulders did an impressive job of covering a fair amount of the width of the bed, and his hair was just rumpled enough to look slept on. She found her gaze sliding along the curve of his biceps and forearm, down to where his hand lay on the fine cotton of the taupe-colored quilt. He had square palms and long fingers.

“Let’s start with my e-mails. Just read me the sender names and subject lines.”

His voice jerked her back into business mode, dispelling her unruly brain’s vivid image of his index finger tracing a line down her neck into the vee of her blouse. She stared at the computer screen a moment before she remembered how to open his e-mail program.

She began to reel off the list, starting with the oldest unread e-mails.

“Repeat that one,” he commanded, stopping her.

“Koenig, Andrew. Status of Prometheus.” She glanced over to see him frown at the windows across from him.

“Let’s hear what it says,” he said after a long moment.

She opened the e-mail and began to read. It was a combination of techspeak and code names for various parts of whatever Prometheus was. At the end of the memo, which was about ten paragraphs long, she had no more idea of what the project was than when she started reading. However, one thing she could pick up from the tone was that Prometheus was not going well.

She turned away from the computer screen to look at her boss. His head was tilted back on the pillow, and his eyes were closed.

“Are you all right?” she asked, starting to rise from the fancy chair.

His eyelids snapped open and she caught the blaze of anger in his eyes. “No, I’m not, but it has nothing to do with the flu.”

She sank back down, letting the chair cradle her weight. She could practically feel the frustration vibrating in him. He picked up one of his pillows and slammed it against the headboard as though to prop himself up more securely, but he didn’t fool her. He really wanted to hurl something across the room. After a few moments of scowling, he threw the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed so his back was to her.

“May I get you something, Mr. Trainor?” the nurse asked, coming to his feet.

“No!” Trainor barked before adding in a more civil tone, “Thank you.”

Chloe watched the muscles of Trainor’s back bunch and shift under the T-shirt as he shoved himself upright. The nurse subtly moved closer as the invalid swayed and grabbed for the headboard.

“Don’t hover,” Trainor snapped. “If I fall down, I won’t hold you responsible.”

“Yes, sir,” Luis said, but he didn’t back off.

Trainor steadied himself and let go of the headboard, padding across the expanse of thick blue carpet and polished wooden floor to the seating area by the windows. Chloe couldn’t tear her eyes away from his bare feet; they were long and narrow with high arches. It was strange to see the powerful and intimidating CEO without shoes—it made him seem like a regular human being.

He came to a stop at the windows, staring out for a moment before he sank into one of the low-armed chairs upholstered in a richly textured pale cream cut velvet.

Chloe heard Luis breathe out a sigh of relief.

As her boss sat silent and unmoving, she hesitated. The room was too big to hold an entire conversation across. “Do you want me to join you over there, Mr. Trainor?” she finally asked.

He ran his palms over his face before he said, “No. Much as it pains me to admit it, Ben is right.” He levered himself out of the chair and headed back toward the bed. Luis started toward him, but Trainor waved him away with an irritated gesture.

This time he came around to where Chloe sat and lowered himself onto the side of the bed. The ligaments in his neck stood out, and she realized how much willpower he’d exerted to get himself across the room without assistance. Trainor sat with his hands braced on his knees. “I would wish this flu only on my worst enemy.”

“Weak as a kitten?” Chloe said.

“Weaker,” Trainor said, lifting his legs onto the bed and resuming his previous position against the pile of pillows. “Even the desperate state of the Prometheus project can’t generate enough energy to keep me upright.”

“Why don’t I let you rest?” Chloe said, noting the way his body seemed to slump into the bed.

“I may not be able to walk, but I can think,” he snapped, turning his head to glare at her.

“Well, you might think about renaming the Prometheus project,” Chloe said, tired of his crankiness.

“Prometheus gave mankind the gift of fire, enabling all progress.” At least he sounded interested rather than grouchy.

“And ended up having his liver eaten by an eagle over and over again,” she pointed out.

“So you think we doomed the project by giving it the wrong name?”

She thought it was nice to see the strain around his mouth ease. “I’m just saying that it’s never good to tempt the gods.” After all, she brought the Russell jinx to her jobs, even though she couldn’t take the blame for the difficulties of the Prometheus project since it had been developed before she worked at Trainor Electronics. “What is the Prometheus project anyway?”

“It’s the next generation of battery, based on nanotechnology to make it incredibly small and light. It can power an electronic device for weeks instead of days.” His face lit up with the intensity of his enthusiasm. “It could bring power to remote villages that can only access the power grid sporadically. Long-distance travelers won’t have to search for plugs in airports. Military outposts can carry smaller, more portable generators.” The light in his eyes died. “Except it doesn’t work.”

“Yet,” Chloe said.

He looked at her. “Are you trying to give me a pep talk?”

She shrugged. “You told me yourself that you have the best R and D staff in the industry. They’ll figure it out.”

“You’re more optimistic than I am.”

“Maybe you should help them. After all, you invented the original battery.”

For a moment, he looked as though he was considering her suggestion. Then he waved a hand at the laptop on her desk and said in a voice heavy with weariness, “Then who would answer all those e-mails?”

Chloe decided not to point out that there was a long list of executive vice presidents in the company’s directory who could handle some of Trainor’s workload. His management style was his business. She turned back to the computer. “I’ll start reading again.”

The volume of e-mails he received was staggering. Many of them he told her to delete after she read them to him. Others he dictated short answers to. Every time she thought they’d reached the end, another batch would land in his in-box.

She skimmed down the new arrivals. “Well, here’s one that’s different. You’ve been invited to a wedding.”

He shoved himself higher on the pillows. “A wedding? Those invitations usually come in thick envelopes with overembellished calligraphy. Who the hell sends one by e-mail?”

Chloe was beginning to think she’d made a mistake in picking out that particular message. Even though it had come to Trainor’s business address, it looked to be from a family member. “Major General Joseph W. Trainor does.”

Trainor’s face turned to stone. For a long moment, there was dead silence. Then he said in a voice that sliced like a knife, “Hand me the laptop.”

Chloe nearly dropped the sleek, cutting-edge computer as she scooped it off the desk and shot out of her chair. She stumbled over one of the wheeled spokes supporting the chair and banged into the bed, jarring it and her boss. “Sorry,” she said, holding the laptop out.

Trainor took it without a word and swiped one long finger across the screen to open the e-mail. She stood by the bed, watching the play of emotions on his face. None of them indicated any joy about the upcoming nuptials.

“This is unexpected,” he finally said, slamming the laptop closed and tossing it halfway across the bed on the side opposite Chloe. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Were his feelings hurt because he hadn’t known a family member was getting married? Chloe shifted on her high heels as she tried to figure out what to say.

He dropped his hand. “No matter how old you get or how far away you go, your family can still get to you.”

“Because they sent an e-mail instead of a paper invitation?”

He rolled his head on the pillow so he was looking straight at her. “No, because my father is getting married.”

Chloe smoothed a wrinkle out of the comforter as she scrambled for a response. Although his father was obviously older, that shouldn’t make his remarriage upsetting. “It’s nice that he’s found someone he loves,” she finally managed.

“My father is sixty-one. He’s getting married because his forty-two-year-old girlfriend is pregnant. He sent me an e-mail because it’s a shotgun wedding, so there wasn’t time to mail invitations.”

That’s when Chloe knew the Russell jinx had hit Nathan Trainor too. Two disasters in one day could not be a coincidence. Of course, she hadn’t been aware that she could ruin people’s personal lives too.

She swallowed hard and blurted out the first thought that flitted through her mind. “So you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.”

A look of revulsion skittered across his face. “
Half
brother or sister,” he corrected her. “I won’t be changing its diapers or dandling it on my knee.”

“I’ve never been clear on what dandling meant anyway,” Chloe said, relieved he hadn’t exploded.

“I don’t intend to find out.” He retreated back into his unhappy thoughts, leaving Chloe to balance uneasily on her heels. She eyed the laptop he’d tossed to the other side of the bed. Should she risk attracting his attention by walking around to fetch it, or was it better to let him finish his cogitations?