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 execut
ive 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?
Luis caught her looking at it and reached out to pick it up before walking around the bed without a sound. She nodded her thanks as she took it from him and held it in front of her like a shield.
Trainor exhaled. “I’m going to sleep. Chloe, I’ll call Ed, and you can tell him what you’d like to do for the next two hours. He’ll arrange whatever you need.” He shifted his attention to Luis. “You can take my temperature and give me whatever medications Ben foisted on you. However, you will not tell him I couldn’t walk across the room or that I stopped working to sleep.” There was steel in his voice, and Luis instantly murmured agreement. Trainor looked back at Chloe and used the same tone. “You will not tell him either.”
“No, sir,” she said, feeling as though she should slam her heels together and salute. Evidently, the major general had taught his son something about command.
A crease appeared between his eyebrows as he considered something. “Chloe, you might as well stay in the guest room here tonight. That way we can make up for the time we’re losing now.”
Her burgeoning pleasure at the prospect of a two-hour break withered under a lava flow of exasperation. “I have obligations at home,” she said stiffly. For some reason she didn’t want to tell Trainor about Grandmillie. Maybe because she was having hot fantasies about him, and mentioning she lived with her grandmother would take that sexy edge away.
He looked genuinely surprised. “What kind of obligations? You’re not married.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’re not wearing a ring.”
He hadn’t looked at her left hand before he said it, and she felt a guilty twinge of delight that he’d noticed and drawn his conclusion before this moment. However, that didn’t mean she was going to desert Grandmillie for a second night. “I have other responsibilities.”
He sighed and said in a long-suffering tone, “You stayed here last night, so clearly those responsibilities can be taken care of by someone else.”
“In an emergency,” she said, remembering how worried she’d been. “Dr. Cavill felt my presence was necessary for your well-being, so I made an exception. However, you are clearly on the road to recovery, and dealing with your e-mails does not constitute an emergency.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” he said, sweeping his hand over the intercom control panel at his bedside before dropping his arm in a way that betrayed his exhaustion. “Ed will be here in a minute.”
“I’m not staying.” She started toward the door to waylay Ed in the hallway.
“You underestimate my powers of persuasion,” Trainor said.
Chloe closed the bedroom door behind her with a slight bang, just to show Trainor she wasn’t intimidated. Ed was coming toward her at a fast clip. “Is everything all right, Ms. Russell?” he asked. He spoke calmly, but she could see anxiety in the tight way he held his shoulders.
“It’s fine. Mr. Trainor just wants to give you all sorts of orders about what I’m supposed to do, but I wanted to mention a couple of things to you out of his hearing.”
The butler looked both relieved and guarded. He nodded for her to continue.
“He’s still very weak. He tried to walk across the room and nearly collapsed. Even he admitted that he wasn’t ready to get out of bed. And now he’s decided he needs to sleep for a couple of hours.” She paused. “I get the feeling he doesn’t nap often.”
Ed’s watchfulness ratcheted down a few notches. “That would be accurate.”
Chloe debated a moment but decided a butler was probably privy to his employer’s social calendar. “He received an e-mail wedding invitation too. His father’s getting married next weekend.”
She got a kick out of Ed’s expression of shock. He muttered something under his breath that she thought was a strong expletive. To her he said, “Thank you for letting me know about the invitation.”
Since it was apparent that Ed worried about his boss, Chloe added, “Mr. Trainor was a little perturbed by it.”
“It’s somewhat unexpected,” Ed said in an obvious understatement.
“I didn’t tell you any of this,” Chloe said, fixing him with what she hoped was both a commanding and a pleading look.
His control cracked as he gave her a near smile. “I understand. Would you mind waiting in the guest room while I speak with Mr. Trainor?”
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Chloe said. “I’ll be out on the terrace.”
She fe
lt the need for some fresh air after spending the morning cooped up with a sick man. She hoped her flu shot and her immune system were proof against all the germs floating around her boss. Sliding open the door, she stepped out onto the tile expanse and lifted her face to the Indian-summer sun. The warmth and light soaked into her skin like one of the luxurious creams in the guest bathroom. “Except this luxury is free,” she murmured.
After basking for a couple of minutes, she pulled her cell phone from her skirt pocket, dialing Judith’s direct number at Flexitemps. Her employer picked up and said, “Chloe, are you still working at Trainor’s apartment?”
Chloe had called Judith from the car in New Jersey to give her a brief explanation of the change in circumstances. “Yes, and I’m out of my depth here. I have two hours free. Can I come to your office?”
The sound of a mouse clicking came through the phone. “Okay, I’ve cleared my schedule for a half hour starting in twenty minutes. Is that enough time?”
Judith’s business was very successful, due mostly to her hands-on approach to customer service, so Chloe appreciated the significance of a cleared half hour. “I’ll make it work.”
Disconnecting, Chloe walked to the wall of the terrace and gazed at the Hudson River, the same view Trainor’s bedroom had. A sleek sailboat glided upriver, the white of its sails almost blinding in the brilliant autumn light.
“May I offer you lunch on the terrace? We won’t have many more days like this one.”
Chloe jumped and turned as Ed’s voice came from behind her. The butler stood a few feet away from her—his somber, tailored clothing looking out of place against the vivid fall flowers in the planters.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said. “Even this high up, the street noise can cover the sound of footsteps.”
“I was lost in my own world,” Chloe admitted. “Lunch out here would be amazing, but I need to go see my boss at Flexitemps. Could you call a car for me?”
“Mr. Trainor has put his car and driver at your disposal.”
Chloe nearly rolled her eyes. Trainor just had to keep his hands on the reins.
The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) Page 8
