The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1)

by Nancy Herkness

  Trainor rolled over so that one of his arms flopped off the edge of the cushions, making his hand hit the carpeting. Chloe knelt and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to lift it back onto the couch. It was like touching the wax melting off a candle. She’d never known human skin could feel that hot. No wonder he wanted it to feel better.

  The nurse returned with the ice pack, and Chloe laid it against his neck as she had that first one. She was rewarded with a slight upward curve of her boss’s lips. He lay still, as though savoring the coolness against his neck. As she held the pack in position, she became aware of the fact that her hand was inside his open shirt, so her forearm grazed the burning skin of his chest whenever he inhaled, and his breath tickled her as he exhaled.

  Even worse, her kneeling position put her right at face level with the sick man. She could see the way the texture of his skin changed from his jaw where he shaved, to the smooth skin at his temple. She could trace the wave of his hair back over the curve of his ear. She could count the tiny lines radiating from the corner of his eye. It was like being in bed with him.

  She jerked back at the thought, letting the cold pack slip down onto his collarbone. He opened his eyes. Now she could see the striations of dark and light gray in his irises. He was frowning, and she guessed he was once again trying to remember who she was.

  She dropped her gaze to focus on resettling the ice pack when the doctor walked over to the couch. “All set,” he announced. Chloe started to stand up, but he gestured for her to stay. Then he picked up Trainor’s wrist to check his pulse, frowning at his wristwatch. He muttered something under his breath before he gently placed her boss’s hand back on the sofa.

  Much as she wanted to know how the sick man was doing, she didn’t dare presume to ask. She was just a temp, stepping in to help for a few minutes before she went back to canceling his appointments.

  But he looked so ill, she couldn’t help feeling a tug of anxiety. After all, he was only human, despite all his money and power. When he was sick, he felt the aches and pains as much as anyone else did. Without thinking, she reached up to stroke his hair away from his face in a gesture of comfort. Despite all these people milling around him, he seemed oddly alone.

  She wondered if Teresa would have taken care of him, had they not had a fight. As she tried to imagine the sophisticated brunette’s bedside manner, three men hauling a stretcher rattled through the doorway.

  There was a great flurry of activity, which ceased abruptly when Trainor opened his eyes and saw the stretcher. “No!” he said.

  “Nathan, your temperature is dangerously high,” Cavill said, leaning over the couch. For the first time, Chloe saw real concern on the doctor’s face. “You need to go to the hospital for tests.”

  “No!” her boss said again. “No hospital.”

  The doctor and Trainor locked eyes for a long moment. Cavill stood up. “All right, no hospital. But you’re going home in the ambulance because I’m not going to carry you to your car.”

  Trainor closed his eyes. “Can walk.”

  Cavill laughed. “Like hell you can.” He gestured the orderlies forward.

  Chloe extricated herself from the knot of people helping Trainor onto the stretcher. Her boss made an attempt to stand up on his own, but his knees gave way and the orderlies barely caught him before he hit the floor. “Big guy,” one of them noted as they wrestled him onto the wheeled bed.

  As they wheeled him toward the door, Chloe started to take her melting ice pack to the kitchen.

  “Chloe,” Trainor said. “Come with me. Feels better.”

  “What?” Chloe squawked. She looked at the doctor, who was following the gurney. “I’m not a nurse.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Cavill said. “I’ll be with him.” He frowned suddenly. “Have you had a flu shot?”

  “Yes.” Chloe always got the shot, because she didn’t want to endanger Grandmillie’s health by passing on germs. “What difference does that make?”

  “I don’t want to have to worry about you catching what Nathan has.”

  She shouldn’t have been so honest. “Am I even allowed to ride in the ambulance?” She was grasping at straws.

  The doctor shrugged. “It’s a private ambulance. You can do anything Nathan wants you to.”

  “Chloe.” Now Trainor sounded like a CEO as his voice crackled with command.

  “Humor him,” Cavill said.

  Chloe got a grip on the towel-wrapped pack and trailed after them, making a brief stop at her desk to grab her handbag from the drawer. As they passed Roberta, Chloe cast a pleading glance at the human resources director. Roberta misinterpreted it, saying, “I’ll get Priscilla to cancel the appointments.”

  Then she was closed into the executive elevator, whooshing down to the waiting ambulance.

  As the big vehicle lurched through the streets of New York, Chloe sat wedged in on one side of Trainor’s stretcher while Cavill sat on the other. Despite the jarring of potholes, her boss had fallen into a fitful sleep.

  She had discarded the melted ice pack and was sitting with her hands twisted together on her lap, staring out the back window and wondering where they were going.

  Her head jerked around as the doctor spoke. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before. Ben Cavill.” He held out his hand.

  “Chloe Russell,” she said, putting her hand in his. “I’m Mr. Trainor’s temporary assistant. Janice has the flu.”

  “Who doesn’t these days?” the doctor said. His grip was firm and dry, but his eyes were assessing. Chloe felt like a germ under a microscope. “How long have you been with him?”

  “I was assigned yesterday.” Since the doctor had started the conversation, she decided she could ask. “Is he going to be all right? He’s so hot.”

  The doctor’s lips twitched slightly, and Chloe noticed her unintentional double entendre. She flushed but decided to ignore it.

  “He’s so rarely ill that I don’t know if he’s prone to high fevers, but I suspect that it’s just his body’s normal reaction to the flu. Of course, I’ll keep a close eye on him to make sure it’s not pneumonia or something more sinister.”

  “Have you been his doctor long?” Chloe asked.

  “Since I graduated from medical school,” Cavill said. “We were friends as kids, so I keep a close eye on more than just his physical health.”

  It sounded as though he was trying to send her some kind of warning, but she couldn’t figure out why he would feel the need to. In fact, she felt better knowing Trainor had a friend watching over him during his illness. “He’s lucky to have you.”

  Cavill’s eyebrows rose and he looked taken aback. “I’m not sure he’d agree at the moment.”

  “Where are we going?” Chloe asked after a moment of silence.

  “To Nathan’s home on the West Side.” Cavill continued to watch her closely.

  To avoid his scrutiny, she looked down at the man on the stretcher. He still had that hectic flush in his cheeks but he had stopped tossing and turning as though every inch of his body hurt.

  The ambulance swerved over to the curb. The orderlies leaped out and swiftly unloaded the stretcher. Cavill helped her out of the back of the vehicle and started to lead the cavalcade toward the front door of a modern high-rise building sheathed in granite.

  “I’ll just catch a cab back to the office,” Chloe said. She was sure Trainor Electronics would foot the bill.

  “I’d rather you stayed,” Cavill said. “In his delirium, he seems to have fixated on you as a caretaker.”

  The doctor didn’t sound particularly happy about having her involved, but then Chloe wasn’t either. This was the strangest situation she’d ever found herself in.

  As she followed the stretcher out of the elevator doors on the level marked P-2, Chloe gawked at the huge bronze-and-crystal chandelier hanging at nearly eye level with the gallery they walked onto. A beautifully carved wooden balustrade curled around three sides of the space before it plu
nged downward along a grand staircase, leading to an exquisite marble mosaic floor below. Cavill walked briskly toward a wide hallway, carpeted with a gold-and-blue Oriental runner, and Chloe had to jog to catch up.

  The rich really were different.

  A woman dressed in a crisp nurse’s uniform came out of the door at the end of the hallway to meet them. “I’ve got the IV set up for hydration,” she said to the doctor.

  He nodded and directed the orderlies into the room before he turned to Chloe. “You can wait in that bedroom to the right. As soon as we’ve got him undressed and in bed, we’ll see if he still thinks you’ll make it better.” He gave her a tight smile before he disappeared through the big door.

  Chloe wandered into the bedroom the doctor had pointed out. It was decorated in a mix of modern and antique furniture that was surprisingly harmonious. “I guess he hired a really good decorator,” she muttered, trailing her finger over the smooth curves of a Chinese ceramic horse sculpture. The room had no personal touches, nothing that said someone lived in it, so she assumed it was a guest room. Sliding doors beckoned her past the seating area furnished with a deep yellow chaise longue that looked perfect for a long session with a good book.

  She tested the slider and found it unlocked. “Well, duh, no one’s going to climb up fifty floors,” she reminded herself. Stepping outside the door, she gaped. The terrace spread out in front of her and to her left and right. Full-size trees in enormous terra-cotta pots rustled in the considerable breeze, while everywhere she looked flower boxes glowed with brilliant fall blossoms. Lounge chairs sat on platforms, so their reclining occupants could watch the ships and barges pass by on the Hudson River or enjoy the autumn-burnished cliffs gracing the shore of New Jersey. There were tables to eat on, folded-up awnings and umbrellas to cast shade, and a couple of burbling fountains.

  All Chloe could do was stare. This demonstrated a wealth beyond anything she could wrap her mind around. Pulling the lapels of her jacket together to combat the brisk wind, she walked across the big square tiles to the railing, took a deep breath, and looked over. The cars and taxis seemed like toys as they zipped along the narrow street below. She straightened back up and fixed her gaze on a tugboat laboring up the Hudson River with its bow nudged against a barge three times its size. There were times when she felt like that tug, trying to keep herself and Grandmillie moving forward against the current that kept thrusting her back toward the churn of the ocean.

  “Ms. Russell!” Cavill sounded annoyed.

  She scurried back across the terrace, hoping he hadn’t been calling her for long. “I’m sorry. It’s such an amazing view,” she said.

  He didn’t bother to answer that. “Nathan wants you to read him a report,” he said.

  “A report?” This just got weirder.

  “Some marketing report he said you’d worked on.”

  “Oh, the one I edited. It’s on the computer at the office.”

  “You have a smartphone?” the doctor asked.

  Chloe pulled her Droid out of the handbag she’d been carrying around with her.

  “Get someone to e-mail it to you on that.” Cavill spun on his heel and went back into the guest room, clearly expecting her to follow him. “What temp agency do you work for?”

  “Flexitemps,” Chloe said, jogging after him. Why did he care about that?

  Cavill slowed as they approached the master bedroom. “His temperature has been coming down slowly, and he’s sliding in and out of consciousness,” he said in a low voice as he pushed the door open.

  Once again, Chloe caught the anxiety in his eyes and forgave the doctor for his abruptness with her.

  She stepped into the room and blinked. Across the room in front of her was a wall of glass, with a view similar to the one she’d been drinking in on the terrace. Cavill turned left, bringing her gaze around to the bed set against the wall facing the windows. She hoped there were some heavy-duty shades to block out all that light.

  She forgot all about views when she saw her boss lying in the huge bed wearing a dark-blue T-shirt. A sheet was pulled midway up his chest, and an IV was taped to one arm. His eyes were closed and looked as though they had sunk into his head. The unnatural flush still tinted his cheeks, and his hands twitched on top of the covers. The nurse, a stunningly beautiful blonde who looked to be about ten years older than Chloe, stood on the other side of the bed, checking a monitor.

  Cavill gestured the woman over to where they stood about ten feet from the bed. He spoke in a low voice. “Tricia Oliver, meet Chloe Russell.”

  The nurse shook her hand. “Mr. Trainor was asking for you just a moment ago.”

  The doctor’s lips thinned. He pointed to a spot by the windows. “You can call about the report from over there.”

  Chloe retreated from the grumpy doctor and retrieved the report. When she approached the doctor again, he gestured for her to sit in an armchair pulled up beside the bed. “Go ahead and read.”

  She enlarged the print on her phone and began. “ ‘Analysis of Marketing for Product Number Seven-Two-Two’ by Richard Sinclair.” She hadn’t changed the title, even though she’d longed to. She glanced over at Trainor. His eyes were closed and his hands lay still. That must be a good sign. She launched into the first paragraph, mentally editing it even more severely as her oral presentation highlighted additional problems in the sentence structure.

  She forgot about her audience and plunged into the second paragraph.

  A weak chuckle emanated from the bed. She stopped and looked up. Trainor’s eyes remained shut but a smile touched his lips. “Knew it.”

  “Knew what?” she asked.

  “You’re a ringer,” he said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sinclair has never written a sentence that good.”

  “You gave me permission to do some editing,” Chloe said, not sure if he was offended by her corrections.

  He turned his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, the striking combination of dark and light gray sending a shimmer of fascination through her. “Didn’t expect such a good job. You’ve been hiding your talents under a bushel basket.”

  “Thank you.” Gratification sent a billow of warmth through her. “Shall I go on?”

  “No,” he said, turning his head back again. “Wanted to confirm my suspicions. Who are you, Chloe Russell?”

  Chloe sent a questioning look toward the doctor. She didn’t know if she should keep talking or let Trainor sleep. Cavill nodded for her to continue.

  The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m just a temp,” she said. “But I’ve worked for several small companies, start-ups, so I’ve had to learn about every aspect of business. Even accounting, which is not my favorite.” She gave a comic grimace and then realized his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see it.

  “Nor mine,” he surprised her by saying.

  Cavill stepped forward. “Nathan, I have another house call to make, but I’ll check in on you in a few hours. Tricia will keep an eye on your temperature. And Chloe will keep you company.”

  Chloe almost exclaimed out loud. Sitting beside a sickbed was not part of her job description. The doctor looked amused. As he walked to the door, Chloe jumped out of her chair and followed him. “Dr. Cavill, I’m not a home health aide.”

  “Are you supposed to be working for Mr. Trainor today?” the doctor asked, stopping just outside the door.

  “As his executive assistant,” Chloe said. “In his office.”

  Cavill started down the hallway. “I’ll have Roberta explain your new assignment to your employer. I suspect she’ll be agreeable.” His tone had turned sardonic again. “I’ll see you later, Ms. Russell.”

  Chloe put her hands on her hips and glared at the doctor’s back. She had no idea what to do.

  CHAPTER 4

  When she walked back into the master bedroom, Trainor was twisting himself into the sheets again. “Talk to him,” the nurse said. “Your voice seem
s to help.”

  “Um, Mr. Trainor, it’s Chloe Russell. I’m here.” Chloe reached out to touch the back of his hand, hoping that would bring his attention to her. The heat from his skin practically singed her fingers. She jerked her hand away.

  “Shouldn’t have taken the bet,” Trainor mumbled, yanking at the bed linens. “Why the hell did Archer make it?”

  Casting around frantically for a way to distract him, Chloe noticed a paperback sitting on the bedside table, a spy thriller by Gavin Miller. “Why don’t I read to you?”

  He opened those incredible eyes again. This time they were clouded. “You’re the temp with the cool hands.”

  “Yes.” She grabbed the paperback and flipped it open to the bookmarked page. “Best faced Pasternak across the table in the interrogation room. Pasternak looked at his watch. ‘You’ve got two minutes to make up your mind.’ Best smiled. ‘I don’t need two minutes.’ Pasternak waited. Best kept smiling. Pasternak finally spoke. ‘Your smile irritates me. I’ll have Smeltin start with pulling out all your—’”

  An electronic alarm shrilled, making Chloe drop the book in a flutter of pages. The nurse muttered something under her breath as she checked one of the screens.

  “What’s going on?” Chloe asked as the alarm vibrated through her skull and her pulse raced with fear. She checked Trainor’s chest to make sure it was still rising and falling.

  “His temperature is spiking,” Tricia said, hitting a button that silenced the alarm. “We need to bring it down, stat.”

  “I can make ice packs. Do you know where the kitchen is?” Chloe rocketed out of her chair.

  “A lukewarm bath will work better.” Tricia pointed to a door across the room. “The bathroom’s there. Run the water at room temperature, and I’ll call for some help to move him.”

  Trainor was plucking at the hem of his T-shirt. “My clothes! On fire!”

  Tricia clasped Trainor’s wrists. “Mr. Trainor, remain calm. We’ll get your clothes off. You’ll be fine.”