“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.
CHAPTER 5
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 di
scovered 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.”
The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) Page 6
