The CEO Buys In
Page 46
Chloe clinked hers against it and drank without tasting the wine. She’d completely screwed up any prospect of staying at Trainor Electronics. Even if they offered her a position, how could she accept it now that she’d slept with the CEO?
“He has an excellent executive assistant. As soon as she recovers, I’ll be back on the reception desk.” Unless the receptionist had already recovered, in which case, Chloe would be at another company altogether. The thought dropped her into a trough of depression.
Until she remembered the wedding. Her spirits soared again. If nothing else, she’d have one more day with Nathan, even if they couldn’t do more than hold hands. Just feeling his long fingers wrapped around hers would be delicious. And she could brush her shoulder against his, and maybe their thighs would touch in the church pew. If the wedding was in a church. She frowned as she realized she knew very little about the upcoming event.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Grandmillie said. “I can see the gears turning behind those brown eyes of yours.”
Chloe tried to disarm her with a wry smile and a partial revelation. “It’s kind of weird, but Mr. Trainor hired me to go to a wedding with him next Saturday. It’s a family wedding, and he didn’t want to take a real date because tensions are running high.”
Grandmillie’s gaze felt like a laser on Chloe’s face. “A very sensible arrangement,” her grandmother finally said. “More people should do that.”
Chloe couldn’t believe she’d gotten off that easily. She let out her breath and stood up to clear the dishes. “You’re the best, Grandmillie.”
“Oh, I know that’s not the whole story, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Chloe fled to the kitchen.
Two hours later she was pulling her cotton nightgown over her head when the cell phone buzzed on her bedside table. The screen said “Private Caller” and she almost swiped it into the dismiss side when a hopeful little voice in the back of her mind said, Telemarketers don’t call late Friday night. Answer it.
“Chloe, it’s Nathan. I wanted to wish you sweet dreams.”
She hadn’t really believed he would call. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“That’s not my whole wish. I want you to have sweet dreams of me. Of us. Together.”
“Sweet would be the wrong adjective for those dreams.”
“What adjective would you use?” His voice had dropped half an octave.
She sat down on the side of the bed. “Steamy, hot.”
“Keep going.”
She swallowed hard. “Erotic.”
“Did you think erotic thoughts in the Rolls on the way home?”
“You wore me out, so I napped,” she lied.
His chuckle was smug. “I don’t believe you.”
“You really are a genius.”
She heard the intake of his breath. “Meet me tomorrow. Anytime, anywhere.”
Her plans to take Grandmillie shopping rose up in her mind. “I can’t. I—”
“—have responsibilities,” he finished for her. “My father will like you.”
He hung up before she could respond. Now she’d never be able to go to sleep.
Nathan was about to toss the phone onto the bed beside him when it rang. It was his doctor.
“Ben, I’m in bed, as ordered.”
“I’d better get there fast. You must be dying.” Ben’s voice turned serious. “Be honest, how do you feel? Any fever, aches, pain?”
“No flu symptoms. Just some fatigue. That’s the God’s honest truth.” Of course, the fatigue might be due to his high level of activity that afternoon. Nathan felt a stirring in his groin.
“Not surprising, given that your body tried to cook itself from the inside out. Can I persuade you to stay home for one more day?”
“No.”
Ben’s sigh was heavier than mere exasperation with his friend would warrant.
“Tough day at the clinic?” Nathan asked. Ben worked as a concierge doctor in order to fund the free clinic he ran in the Bronx.
“The administrator quit. Again.”
“I’ll get Roberta to find you a replacement.”
Ben gave a ghost of a laugh. “Thanks, but Roberta is too good at her job. The last two admins she found for the clinic were so skilled they got hired away for twice the salary.”
“So why did this one quit?”
“One of the patients became violent and scared the heck out of her. I can’t blame her.”
The administrators reminded Nathan of Chloe—not that she was ever entirely out of his thoughts. “Ben, why does Chloe Russell need to rush home every night?” And stay home all weekend. Without him.
“Ask her.”
“I did. All she would say is that she has responsibilities. Is it a mad husband in the attic?” A thought struck Nathan, sobering him. “Does she have a child?”
“All I will say is no and no. After that you’re on your own. If she doesn’t want you to know, it’s not my place to tell you.”
“Your conscience has always been a problem in our friendship.” Nathan considered a different approach. “I’ve become interested in Chloe as more than an employee.”
A long silence met Nathan’s announcement. “What happened to Teresa?”
“Our entire relationship was built on the lie that she didn’t know who I was when we met.”
“He has an excellent executive assistant. As soon as she recovers, I’ll be back on the reception desk.” Unless the receptionist had already recovered, in which case, Chloe would be at another company altogether. The thought dropped her into a trough of depression.
Until she remembered the wedding. Her spirits soared again. If nothing else, she’d have one more day with Nathan, even if they couldn’t do more than hold hands. Just feeling his long fingers wrapped around hers would be delicious. And she could brush her shoulder against his, and maybe their thighs would touch in the church pew. If the wedding was in a church. She frowned as she realized she knew very little about the upcoming event.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Grandmillie said. “I can see the gears turning behind those brown eyes of yours.”
Chloe tried to disarm her with a wry smile and a partial revelation. “It’s kind of weird, but Mr. Trainor hired me to go to a wedding with him next Saturday. It’s a family wedding, and he didn’t want to take a real date because tensions are running high.”
Grandmillie’s gaze felt like a laser on Chloe’s face. “A very sensible arrangement,” her grandmother finally said. “More people should do that.”
Chloe couldn’t believe she’d gotten off that easily. She let out her breath and stood up to clear the dishes. “You’re the best, Grandmillie.”
“Oh, I know that’s not the whole story, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Chloe fled to the kitchen.
Two hours later she was pulling her cotton nightgown over her head when the cell phone buzzed on her bedside table. The screen said “Private Caller” and she almost swiped it into the dismiss side when a hopeful little voice in the back of her mind said, Telemarketers don’t call late Friday night. Answer it.
“Chloe, it’s Nathan. I wanted to wish you sweet dreams.”
She hadn’t really believed he would call. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“That’s not my whole wish. I want you to have sweet dreams of me. Of us. Together.”
“Sweet would be the wrong adjective for those dreams.”
“What adjective would you use?” His voice had dropped half an octave.
She sat down on the side of the bed. “Steamy, hot.”
“Keep going.”
She swallowed hard. “Erotic.”
“Did you think erotic thoughts in the Rolls on the way home?”
“You wore me out, so I napped,” she lied.
His chuckle was smug. “I don’t believe you.”
“You really are a genius.”
She heard the intake of his breath. “Meet me tomorrow. Anytime, anywhere.”
Her plans to take Grandmillie shopping rose up in her mind. “I can’t. I—”
“—have responsibilities,” he finished for her. “My father will like you.”
He hung up before she could respond. Now she’d never be able to go to sleep.
Nathan was about to toss the phone onto the bed beside him when it rang. It was his doctor.
“Ben, I’m in bed, as ordered.”
“I’d better get there fast. You must be dying.” Ben’s voice turned serious. “Be honest, how do you feel? Any fever, aches, pain?”
“No flu symptoms. Just some fatigue. That’s the God’s honest truth.” Of course, the fatigue might be due to his high level of activity that afternoon. Nathan felt a stirring in his groin.
“Not surprising, given that your body tried to cook itself from the inside out. Can I persuade you to stay home for one more day?”
“No.”
Ben’s sigh was heavier than mere exasperation with his friend would warrant.
“Tough day at the clinic?” Nathan asked. Ben worked as a concierge doctor in order to fund the free clinic he ran in the Bronx.
“The administrator quit. Again.”
“I’ll get Roberta to find you a replacement.”
Ben gave a ghost of a laugh. “Thanks, but Roberta is too good at her job. The last two admins she found for the clinic were so skilled they got hired away for twice the salary.”
“So why did this one quit?”
“One of the patients became violent and scared the heck out of her. I can’t blame her.”
The administrators reminded Nathan of Chloe—not that she was ever entirely out of his thoughts. “Ben, why does Chloe Russell need to rush home every night?” And stay home all weekend. Without him.
“Ask her.”
“I did. All she would say is that she has responsibilities. Is it a mad husband in the attic?” A thought struck Nathan, sobering him. “Does she have a child?”
“All I will say is no and no. After that you’re on your own. If she doesn’t want you to know, it’s not my place to tell you.”
“Your conscience has always been a problem in our friendship.” Nathan considered a different approach. “I’ve become interested in Chloe as more than an employee.”
A long silence met Nathan’s announcement. “What happened to Teresa?”
“Our entire relationship was built on the lie that she didn’t know who I was when we met.”
