“You are an idiot.”
The truth of that had smacked Nathan in the head a few hours earlier. “I hated having to snatch an hour here and there with her. I thought we could spend more time together if she worked in the same building.”
Gavin gave a long, low whistle. “You have swallowed the hook, line, and sinker, my friend.”
“She needed the job,” Nathan said. “She supports her grandmother, who’s having health issues.” He’d spoken with Ben earlier. His friend was nearly certain that Millie Russell’s problem was a simple and treatable heart arrhythmia. Relief had surged through Nathan at the news. He did have it bad.
“So you got on your white horse and rode to her rescue.”
“Trainor Electronics employs thousands of people. What difference does it make if HR offers a position to someone who has both the skills and the need for it?”
“The difference is you’re sleeping with this someone. People would have found out, and Chloe, if she has the integrity you claim she does, would have felt like crap.”
“Maybe Chloe was right.” Nathan stared at the outrageously expensive bottle of scotch. “Maybe I’ve become insulated from the real world.”
“The plot thickens.”
“Today she wouldn’t let me get a specialist for her grandmother, who fainted and fell. When I pushed, she told me she was ending the relationship because it was wrong for her to be involved with her boss.”
“She works for you?”
“No.” Nathan glared at Gavin. “I may be besotted, but I’m not brain-dead. She works about three levels below me in the organization chart, in an entirely different department.”
“Besotted. Nice word,” Gavin said. “Is that what you are?”
Nathan ignored him. He didn’t know the answer to that. “She told me our relationship wouldn’t have lasted anyway because it was too unequal.”
Gavin held his glass up to the light, tilting it this way and that. “She has a point.”
Nathan slammed his glass down on the table so hard some of the precious whiskey sloshed out. “I was a military brat. I grew up on bases in run-down housing with an alcoholic mother and a father who tried to force me into the Marines. All this”—he swept his hand around the opulent room—“doesn’t change who I am.”
“Sure, sure.” Gavin looked unconvinced.
“And then she threw the bet in my face.”
“You told her about the bet?”
“No, she heard us talking at the charity dinner, so thanks to you for adding to the problem.” Nathan glared at Gavin.
“She must have been flattered when you explained it to her.”
“I didn’t. I was too pissed off.”
“I can see you handled it well, so let’s cut to the chase.” Gavin leaned forward. “Do you love her?”
“No one can fall in love in two weeks.” But he wasn’t sure about that. Facing the prospect of life without Chloe made him feel bleak at best, despairing at worst. “I’m just pissed off.” He knew he was repeating himself.
“I’m the last person who should give advice to the lovelorn . . . or the pissed off,” Gavin said, “but I want you to think about this. If Chloe walked through that door right now and said she’d made a terrible mistake, how would you feel? You don’t have to tell me. Just think about it.”
Nathan turned his head toward the heavy mahogany door that led into the bar and imagined Chloe pushing it open and looking around the room until she spotted him. Her face would light up the way it did when she walked out of that accounting firm and saw him leaning against the Rolls. She would head toward him, swaying on those high heels she loved so much.
His heart squeezed hard in his chest, and he closed his eyes with a grimace.
“Yup, you’ve fallen hard,” Gavin said.
A blast of light jerked Nathan awake. He opened his eyes and slammed them shut again as the sunlight jabbed into his eyeballs like a set of possessed screwdrivers.
“You have a visitor.” Ed’s voice sent the same screwdrivers plunging into his eardrums.
“Isn’t it Sunday?”
“Yes.” Something clinked on the bedside table, and Nathan slitted an eye to see a steaming mug. His stomach heaved as the usually welcome aroma of coffee hit his nostrils.
“I don’t have visitors on Sundays.” He rolled away from Ed and the light until a stupidly hopeful thought whispered that it might be Chloe. He lifted his head enough to look over his shoulder and then laid it back down with a groan. “Who is it?” he managed to growl.
“You should find that out for yourself.”
The chipper little voice got louder. Nathan knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Is it Chloe?”
“No.” Ed’s tone was flat and disapproving. Nathan couldn’t tell if the disapproval was aimed at him or Chloe. Or both.
“Then tell whoever it is to go to hell.” The misery that Chloe’s name had temporarily banished flooded back through him.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, son, but I don’t have a lot of time.” This had to be a nightmare, because the new voice sounded like his father.
Nathan pushed himself up onto his elbow even though the shift in elevation tightened the vise currently clamped around his head. He squinted at the two shapes silhouetted against the windows, trying to distinguish faces. “Sir?”
One shape stepped forward. “I have to catch a flight out of JFK at fifteen hundred hours. Angel and I are headed for Vienna.”
It was his father. Long years of training made Nathan straighten and then wince at the new crash of pain. “Sir, if you’ll give me a minute,” he said. He wasn’t going to stagger around the room clutching his head in front of the general.
“I’ll wait in your study,” his father said. “Ed, this young man could use a batch of your patented hangover killer.”
Nathan searched for condemnation in the general’s voice but found none.
“I’ll get right on it, sir,” Ed said as he accompanied the general out of the room.
Nathan crawled out from under the covers and hoisted himself off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom to fill the sink with cold water and dunk his head in it. It didn’t stop the pain, but it cleared away some of the cobwebs.
He braced his arms on the counter and let water drip from his hair into the sink as memories of the day before came spinning back into his brain. Chloe looking scared but determined as she told him they’d have to break off their relationship. Chloe looking angry as she challenged him about the damned bet. Ed and Ben hammering at him in the Rolls about what he’d done to upset Chloe. Gavin telling him he had it bad and then ordering another bottle of scotch. Over it all a dark, colorless blanket of pain and loss.
He submerged his head in the sink again and held it under until he had to come up for air. Grabbing a towel, he headed for his dressing room. He dressed in gray slacks and a black tee, combed his damp hair into some order, and made his way down to the study, every step seeming to jar his teeth in his jaw.
He found his father standing in front of one of the bookcases, scanning the spines of the books. The general was wearing civilian clothes—a white polo shirt and crisply pressed khaki trousers, which made him seem unfamiliar. As Nathan crossed the room, the general turned. “I see you still have Jordan’s Campaigns of General Nathan Bedford Forrest.”
“You gave it to me,” Nathan said, holding out his hand to his father. “My apologies for my greeting. I wasn’t expecting company this morning.”
The general gripped his son’s hand, making Nathan feel as though the bones of his fingers were grinding together.
“I needed to return something to its rightful owner,” his father said. He went to the big desk and picked up the sword case, carrying it to where Nathan was holding himself upright by leaning on the back of a leather wing chair. His father held out the case with both hands.
“I told you to keep it,”
Nathan said. “I broke the family tradition.”
The general took a deep breath. “I know I made you feel that way, and it was wrong. You’ve brought honor and glory to the family name in a way that’s different from my way. But that doesn’t make it less than my way. In fact, you’ve already accomplished much more than I have in my lifetime.”
“That’s not true, sir.” Nathan’s clouded brain was having a hard time processing his father’s words.
“I don’t regret how I raised you, because it’s made you the man you are, and I’m damned proud of that,” the general continued. “I do regret the distance between us. I’d like to change it.” He offered the sword case again. “Even if you can’t see your way to closing that gap, I want you to have the family sword in your keeping.”
Nathan released the chair and took the sword case, holding it in both hands as the general had while he stared down at it. It felt like a ceremony of some sort, this passing of the sword. He lifted his gaze to his father’s, realizing suddenly that it was like looking at his own eyes in a mirror. “I’m honored, sir.”
The general gripped Nathan’s shoulder. “You’ve earned it, and that’s the greatest honor of all.”
Nathan took the case back to the desk and set it down as he focused on what his father had said about closing the distance between them. He turned back to the general. “Why now?”
“May I?” his father asked, pointing to one of the chairs.
Nathan nodded and took a seat opposite his father. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear this or not.
The general clasped his hands on his knees. “As much as I love Angel, I refused to marry her because of you.”
Nathan rocked back in the chair. “What did I have to do with you and Angel?”
His father looked up at him from under his eyebrows. “I was afraid it would cause a permanent rift between us, one that could never be repaired. I had always hoped . . .” He shook his head. “Then Angel told me she was pregnant. Once I got over the shock, I realized what a selfish fool I was. I proposed on the spot.”
The general clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times before he continued. “She turned me down flat. Said she wasn’t going to have a shotgun wedding with a reluctant groom. I had a hell of a time convincing her I wasn’t marrying her just because she was having our child.”
Nathan felt an unwilling spike of sympathy for his father.
“When she agreed to marry me, there was only one thing missing from my happiness.” The general stopped to clear his throat. “That was you, son. I realized I had to get over my infernal pride and make the first move. And the second one,” he said, nodding to the sword. “If I need to make a third, fourth, and fifth move, I will, because you deserve that from me.”
“Your first move was the wedding invitation.”
His father nodded.
“You make it sound like a game of chess. Or a Nathan Forrest campaign.” Nathan wasn’t sure he liked that.
The general sighed. “That’s just the way I know how to describe it. I’m a soldier, so I talk like one.” He skewered Nathan with his so-familiar eyes. “It doesn’t make me mean it less when I say I love you. I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for a second chance with you.”
Nathan thrust himself out of his chair, wincing as his head pounded. He stood on braced legs with his hands shoved in his pockets. This was territory he hadn’t expected to cross. He met his father’s gaze, trying to read what was behind it. He caught the movement of his father’s fists, clenching and unclenching again. The general’s posture was rigid in a way that went beyond his military training. He was waiting for Nathan to reject him, but he was prepared to accept that and try again and again.
Nathan thought of all the angry things he’d wanted to say to his father, all the accusations of making his childhood hell and every one of his achievements seem worthless. Even worse, blaming his father for driving his mother to suicide. He realized his father would sit there and let him spew ugliness at him, maybe even agree with what he said.
“I give you credit for courage, Dad,” Nathan said.
All the tension went out of his father. “Thank you,” he said with more gratitude that Nathan’s statement warranted.
“For saying you have courage? You’ve already proven that in combat.”
“For calling me Dad.”
Nathan hadn’t realized he’d said it. It must have been because he’d gotten lost in the past, so it had spilled out unconsciously.
His father stood and held out his hand. Nathan put his in it and they pulled each other in for a short, powerful embrace. He could feel his father’s strength the way he had as a child.
As they separated, his father said, “You’re a generous man, son. You could have dragged me over the coals about what I did to you and your mother.”
“I figure your pride was already taking a severe hit. I wasn’t going to pile on.”
“My pride?” His father made a sound of disgust. “Let me tell you something about that. You should take pride in your work and pride in keeping your barracks neat and pride in service to your country and your fellow man. But when it comes to people, pride is nothing but a high, wide wall you build between yourself and the ones you love.”
Nathan knew about that wall, because he had built one just as sturdy. It wouldn’t be easy to get around it to meet his father halfway.
The general cleared his throat. “Angel and I were hoping to stop back here on our return trip. Maybe we could have dinner with you, Ed, and Ben, and that nice young lady you brought to the wedding. Chloe, wasn’t it?”
An image of the dinner table with all those people sitting around it rose up in Nathan’s mind. It sparkled with laughter, warmth, and love because Chloe was part of it.
At that moment, Nathan understood three things. First, he wanted Chloe at that dinner more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Second, he had to tear down the wall he’d put up to protect his pride. Third, he was willing to make as many moves as it took to get her back.
“Dad, you’re a genius. It is possible to fall in love in two weeks.”
“You’re confused, son. You’re the brilliant one in this family.”
Nathan shook his head gingerly. “Right now, I’m less confused than I’ve ever been in my life.”
CHAPTER 30
Chloe wanted to put her head down on her new desk at Trainor Electronics and wail. Ever since Nathan had walked out of the hospital lounge, she’d been fighting her way through a storm of emotions that had left her both keyed up and wrung out.
Relief had come first when Ben had told her that Grandmillie’s heart issue was an arrhythmia that was easily treatable. After he’d given her the news, she’d collapsed into a chair in the hospital lounge and sobbed.
But once that worry was removed, guilt, loss, and pain had swept in to drop a weight on her chest that made it hard to draw in a full breath.
She’d flinched at Ben’s bafflement when she told him not to call the cardiac specialist he wanted to refer Grandmillie to. Ed had looked puzzled and then concerned when he returned with gourmet sandwiches and Nathan wasn’t there to share them. Grandmillie kept giving her searching looks as Chloe dealt with doctors, nurses, and various other personnel at the hospital. By Saturday evening, she’d fallen asleep in the lounge chair in Grandmillie’s room, awakening only when a nurse tucked a blanket around her.
On Sunday Grandmillie had been released from the hospital, so Chloe had busied herself with making her comfortable in her bedroom until her grandmother had commanded her to stop fussing. Then she’d pried the truth out of Chloe and stroked her hair while Chloe sobbed into the blankets on Grandmillie’s bed. The only thing she hadn’t shared with her grandmother was the mysterious bet.
“You fell in love with him, didn’t you, child?” Grandmillie had said gently.
Chloe had started to protest, to say she just felt guilty about hurting him, but her grandmother’s question forced her to ad
mit the truth. Her heart had paid no attention to the warnings she’d given herself about his money and his power and his genius. She’d found the man behind all those intimidating trappings, and she wanted to love him for the rest of her life.
Chloe slumped down in her chair as despair swamped her all over again. She couldn’t afford all this wallowing. She had to focus on work. Her new boss had e-mailed her a boatload of reports and memos to read so she’d be up to speed on the project she’d been assigned to. Opening the first file, she made herself concentrate. Her brain was clicking away, absorbing the ins and outs of the product’s development, until she reached the end of the report, where a series of people had made comments. There was Nathan’s name attached to an astute suggestion about renaming the product to avoid comparison with a competitor. The phrasing and tone were so distinctive that she could hear his voice saying the words. The same voice that had whispered hot, sexy suggestions in her ear as he moved inside her.
She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to wrench itself from her throat. She needed to get out of there to pull herself together. Grabbing her handbag, she headed for the ladies’ room in the hallway. As she passed the elevator, the doors slid open and Nathan stepped out the elevator, wearing one of his perfectly cut suits, his hair waving just down to the collar, his head turned as he spoke with the woman beside him.
Every molecule in Chloe’s body leaped with sheer happiness at the sight of him. Her heart hadn’t gotten the memo that she was no longer allowed to love Nathan. Then her brain sent a wave of misery rolling over her, nearly knocking her to her knees.
Chloe didn’t care what anyone thought. She stumbled to the bathroom, slamming open the door and dodging into the first open stall. Latching it closed, she leaned against the stainless-steel wall and let the tears flow silently down her cheeks.
She couldn’t do this. Seeing Nathan was like showing a starving woman a perfect chocolate éclair and then telling her she couldn’t touch it.
She scrabbled in her bag for her cell phone. Before she speed-dialed Judith’s number, she stuck her head out of the stall to make sure no one else was in the room.
The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) Page 32
