The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (11 page)

“I disagree,” he said as he lifted his free hand and traced down her cheek with the back of it. Brushing down along her neck, he splayed his fingers when he reached the hollow of her throat and slipped them just under the open collar of her blouse.

She reacted in places he hadn’t touched, with a yearning in her breasts, a liquid curl of warmth low in her belly. She made her decision, letting her eyes drift closed so she could concentrate on how it felt to have his hand against her skin.

The mattress dipped again and she could feel his breath stirring her hair. Then his lips were against her temple and on her eyebrow and teasing her earlobe. She let her head drop back on the pillow and nearly moaned as he took advantage and slid his mouth down to replace his hand at the base of her throat.

Now that she couldn’t see his face, she dared to open her eyes, threading her fingers into the thick waves of his hair—the strong, silky texture satisfying her pent-up curiosity about what it would be like to touch.

She felt heat and moistness as he flicked the tip of his tongue against her skin. The surprise and pleasure of it made her arch against the pillows. His hold on her hand tightened. He lifted his head, his gaze locked on her breasts. His free hand skimmed down along the upper curve of her breast, and he circled his thumb over her nipple where its peak was outlined by the thin silk of her blouse.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed as the friction sent flares of arousal through her. Now she wanted more than just a kiss.

He cupped her breast with his palm, and she pushed against him to increase the delicious pressure.

He made a strangled sound and dropped his hand, rolling away from her. “What the hell am I thinking?” he growled as he shoved himself to a sitting position on the opposite edge of the bed.

So he’d come to his senses and realized he was seducing his temporary employee. What else did she expect? She stiffened with humiliation and started to scramble off the bed. “It’s hard to remember that our relationship should be professional when we’re working in your bedroom.”

As she stood, he turned to her with a look of surprise, before a deep cynicism hardened his eyes. “Are you planning to cry sexual harassment? I suppose I deserve it,” he said.

“Wait, no. I thought you stopped because I’m just—”

“I stopped because I have the flu, and I don’t want to infect you,” he said, watching her.

“Oh, is that it?” Relief made her feel giddy. “Dr. Cavill knows I’ve had my flu shot. And I never get sick anyway.”

“I never get sick either, and look at me.” He swept his hand down his pajama-clad body.

She had wanted to do more than look at him, but his guilty conscience had saved her from that ultimate insanity. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset. “I think it’s time for me to go home,” she said.

He lay back against the pillows, although his gray gaze laid a trail of heat as it skimmed down her body. “I’m too sick to argue with you.” He narrowed his eyes as they returned to her face. “You’ll be here in the morning.”

It hit her that she would have to face him in the light of day, laptop at the ready, knowing how his lips had felt against her skin and how his hand had felt on her breast. And knowing he knew the same things.

“You’re not going to bail out on me, are you?” His voice held a rasp of challenge.

“We can discuss it tomorrow morning,” she said. If she found she couldn’t bring herself to come back into this room, she could call Judith for a replacement. That was the advantage of being a temp.

“You’ve got more backbone than that.”

She stared at him. Had he read her mind? “I’ll come back tomorrow on two conditions.”

“More conditions.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’d make a master negotiator. What are they?”

“We don’t talk about this, and we don’t do it again.”

He shook his head. “Those terms are not acceptable.”

“Neither one?” she asked, not sure what to do now.

He pretended to think for a moment. “In the spirit of compromise, I’ll agree to the first, but the second is nonnegotiable.”

She tried very hard to cling to some shred of professionalism, but excitement bubbled through her at the idea that he wanted to touch her again. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she would be back in the morning.

No other temp was going to set foot in Nathan Trainor’s bedroom.

After the door closed behind Chloe, Nathan threw off the covers and padded over to the door to his terrace. His knees felt like rubber, but he needed to get outdoors and let the wind and the noise clear the haze of arousal from his brain and body. It took more effort than he expected to shove the door open, even though it slid on a well-lubricated glide. The smooth terra-cotta tiles under his feet were still warm from the day’s sun, and he stood for a moment, enjoying the contrast of radiant heat and chilly air. The faint sounds of squealing brakes and taxi horns wafted up from the street far below while a breeze ruffled through his hair. He sucked in a breath of air that combined the pungent smells of the crowded concrete jungle with the brackish marine scent of the river.

His knees gave way and he grabbed for the back of a lounge chair, managing to haul himself onto its seat before he crumpled onto the hard floor.

“Damned germs,” he muttered.

And he’d nearly transferred them to Chloe in a moment of lustful madness.

He remembered the feel of her breast against his hand and the way she’d purred deep in her throat as his thumb circled her hard nipple. The one part of his body that seemed to be unaffected by the flu stirred. He huffed out an irritated laugh.

Better to think of something else. He settled against the chair’s cushions and stared across the river, wondering where in New Jersey Chloe lived.

That was better than remembering the feel of her pulse beating against his lips.

“Get a grip, Trainor,” he growled at himself.

Instead he’d wrestle with how this new development played into the wager with Gavin Miller and Luke Archer. Nathan frowned. If he was searching for true love, did that mean he wasn’t allowed to take an occasional detour? In fact, how was he supposed to know he’d met the right woman until he’d gotten to know her?

During his two admittedly unusual days with Chloe, he had come to respect her abilities, and he sure as hell wanted her in his bed, but could he fall in love with her?

He let his head tilt back so he could pick out the few stars not obliterated by the megawattage of the city lights.

That’s why Miller’s challenge was impossible. There was no such thing as love at first sight. Just because Chloe wasn’t the sort of woman he generally dated didn’t mean she was a candidate for true love.

“You’re being an arrogant asshole,” he muttered at the stars. “Chloe might have an opinion too.”

And he suspected Chloe’s opinion of him wasn’t very high. Just because she had responded to him physically didn’t mean she was looking for a lifetime commitment. Another problem with the wager. What if one of the three of them fell in love with a woman who didn’t love him back?

Clearly they’d all been too drunk to think through the implications of the bet they’d made. Nathan reached into the pocket of his pajama pants and pulled out his cell phone.

He needed to get hold of Miller and call the whole thing off.

“Are you serious, Trainor?” The amusement in Gavin Miller’s voice came through the phone line clearly. “You’re a billionaire and you think you can’t make a woman fall in love with you?”

“Your logic is flawed,” Nathan countered, crossing his ankles on the lounge chair. “If I use my money to make the woman fall in love with me, she’s the wrong woman.”

“The wager doesn’t mean you can’t use every weapon at your disposal to win your true love.” Gavin’s voice took on an edge when he said the last two words. “By the way, you work fast. I’m impressed.”

Nathan shifted in the chair. “It was a hypothetical question.”

“Sure it was. Who is she?”

“Look up
hypothetical
in your OED.” Nathan redirected the conversation. He was starting to feel the cold. “Is Archer still on board with this?”

“I haven’t been informed otherwise.”

“Has the writer’s block broken yet?”

“No.” All amusement was absent from Miller’s voice for that one word. “By the way, when you’re ready to go ring shopping, let me know. I’m a friend of the manager at Cartier.”

Nathan snorted and ended the call. He glanced up at the stars and had the whimsical thought that he could pluck one out of the sky to set in an engagement ring.

It seemed like an idea Chloe would appreciate.

Chloe walked into her boss’s bedroom to find Cavill and Trainor—who wore an unbelted navy bathrobe hanging open over his pajamas—facing each other with equally furious expressions.

“Am I contagious?” Trainor asked.

“Probably not.” Cavill sounded as though he could barely speak the words.

“One more day,” Trainor said. “Then I’m going back to the office.”

Chloe considered pointing out that the next day was Saturday but figured Trainor worked weekends too.

“Do you want to have a relapse and end up worse off than before?” Cavill asked. “You need at least two more days of bed rest.”

“Don’t push it, Ben.” Trainor spun on his bare heel to stalk away from his friend and doctor, which brought him face-to-face with Chloe. The anger still sparked in his eyes, but an odd mixture of surprise and gratification joined it. “You came back.”

Standing, he seemed larger and more intimidating than when she’d been close to him in his bed. A flush climbed her cheeks as she remembered just how close they’d been. “I made a commitment.” And it had taken all her grit and guts to honor it.

He cast a sharp glance at Cavill. “We’ll work in my office here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, responding to the air of command he exuded, even in his pajamas.

His eyebrows rose and a slight smile curled the corners of his mouth. He might be remembering last night too.

“Your father would be proud,” Cavill said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “
Ductos exemplo.
Lead by example.
Semper fi
.”

Trainor’s face went dark as he half turned to the doctor. “You’re lucky there’s a lady present, so I’m just going to tell you to piss off.”

Chloe decided it was time to break up the argument. “I’ll make sure he takes frequent breaks,” she said to the doctor.

“I was under the impression you reported to
me
,” Trainor said, his eyebrows slashing down.

“I want to keep you in good health so you can sign my paycheck,” Chloe said.

Cavill gave a little snort of laughter, and Trainor shook his head. The tension between the two men eased.

“If you collapse, find another doctor to call,” Cavill said. “I wash my hands of you.”

Despite his words, his tone was exasperated rather than angry, and Chloe let out a sigh of relief.

“I may find another doctor anyway,” Trainor said.

“Not when I know where all your skeletons are hidden, not to mention the broken bones in them.” The doctor’s face softened. “Take it slow, Nathan. You may be Tony Stark, but you’re not Iron Man.”

Chloe stifled a smile. “Too bad. I could see myself as Pepper Potts. She has great shoes.”

“She works for Tony, not Iron Man,” Trainor said. “So you can still play her role.” His voice took on a provocative edge, and Chloe remembered that eventually Pepper and Tony ended up in bed together. Of course, she’d been there, done that already.

“As long as I get my own bionic chest battery,” she said.

“That would be a shame,” Trainor murmured, his eyes dropping to her breasts. “But I could find a way to miniaturize it so it doesn’t ruin the symmetry.”

Heat burned in Chloe’s cheeks. Cavill came to her rescue, snapping his doctor’s bag shut. “Unless Chloe sends a distress signal, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Give me your promise you won’t leave for the office until I’ve seen you.” He locked eyes with his friend.

Trainor’s back went ramrod stiff, and for a moment she thought he would explode again. Instead he pulled the open edges of his robe together and tied the belt in a firm knot. “If you’re not here by seven, I’m leaving without the checkup,” he growled.

Cavill reached up to grip Trainor’s shoulder before he turned to Chloe. “Make sure he hydrates. And I don’t mean with scotch.”

“Got it,” she said.

The doctor nodded and left the room.

Trainor stood with his hands still at the belt of his bathrobe, his gaze growing more intimate and intense as it rested on her. “You’re a brave woman, Chloe Russell.”

“Not brave. Poor.”

Surprise joined the heat in his eyes. “How should I interpret that?”

“I need the paycheck. You’re paying me four times my usual hourly rate now. I’d be a fool to turn it down.” It was a perfect excuse, and only partially a lie. Chloe had spent the night drifting between waking and sleeping fantasies that involved Nathan Trainor and herself in various states of arousal and undress.

“Hazardous-duty pay.” He dropped his hands to his sides, and the fire in his eyes went out as though she’d thrown a bucket of water on it. Now he looked more like the invalid he was. The shadows under his eyes were lighter but noticeable, and his skin still appeared too tight around his jawline. “Time to get something useful accomplished. Wait here. I’m not working in my pajamas.”

Chloe was torn between relief and disappointment as Trainor walked across his bedroom to a panel in the wall that swung inward at his touch.

She took two steps forward to catch a glimpse of a walk-in closet the size of her living room, its walls hung with various articles of clothing positioned at precise intervals so that none touched another. The shelving was a different wood from the guest room’s but equally exotic in its grain. Trainor was untying his robe when he caught her eye. The wicked gleam came back into his gaze as he shrugged out of the navy silk. “Feel free to watch.”

Chloe stood her ground. “I just wanted to see what a CEO’s closet looks like.”

With a sudden movement, he crossed his arms and yanked his T-shirt up over his head. As he balled it up and tossed it out of her sight, she found her gaze riveted by the movement of muscles under taut skin. Her fingers twitched with the desire to trace the sculpted planes of his abdomen. It was a crime to conceal all that male beauty under a business suit.

He turned his head toward her, and she dragged her gaze up past the dusting of hair on his chest to meet his heavy-lidded eyes. He’d caught her looking at more than his closet. She brazened it out. “How do you have time to stay in such good shape?”

“I exercise at night.” His voice was deep and seductive. He moved his hands to the waistband of his pajama pants.

Chloe’s curiosity had its limits. She scurried backward far enough to have no possible view of the interior of Trainor’s closet. She thought she heard a satisfied chuckle, but it was so low it might have been her imagination.

Deciding to make it clear she wasn’t looking, she walked farther away to examine two paintings hanging on the same wall. Painted in bold colors and strokes, they looked as though they were of the same landscape but interpreted by different artists. Intrigued, she leaned in to read the signatures and gasped. One was signed “P Gauguin,” and the other signature read simply “Vincent.” She knew enough about art to recognize that meant Vincent van Gogh.

Having a Van Gogh was mind-boggling enough, but having a matching Gauguin must make the two paintings nearly priceless as a pair. She stared at the two masterpieces. If this was what Trainor kept in his bedroom, she needed to look more closely at the art in his living room.

“I bought those when I took Trainor Electronics public. They were my first significant purchases of art. I should donate them to a museum, but when I see them I remember ringing the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. Heady stuff for a computer nerd.”

Chloe jumped as Trainor’s voice came from directly beside her. The thick carpeting had muffled his footsteps. “It’s amazing to see them side by side,” she said.

She sneaked a glance sideways. He stood with his hands in the pockets of a pair of pressed khaki trousers, his eyes fixed on the artwork. His messy bedhead had been tamed into tidy waves that touched the collar of a blue-and-white-striped button-down shirt, open at the neck. Letting her gaze slide down to his feet, she felt a sense of loss at seeing them encased in shiny burgundy loafers. He was back in his version of a uniform.

“Like a high school essay,” he said. “Compare and contrast. Which one do you like better?”

“I don’t know enough about art to choose,” Chloe said, dragging her attention back to the paintings.

“What? No opinion from the strong-minded Ms. Russell?” There was a teasing note in his voice that made her insides go soft.

“Sometimes beauty should be appreciated, not judged,” Chloe said. “Besides, the two pictures belong together. Choose one and you lose all that extra resonance.”

He ran his index finger along the carved gilt frame of the Gauguin as his expression turned serious. “You make a good point. I’ll strongly suggest that whoever acquires them next hangs these together permanently.”

“And I guess they’ll listen to you.”

“Until I’m dead.”

“According to Dr. Cavill, that could be any day now.”

Trainor gave a little snort of disgust and turned away from the paintings. “Let’s prove him wrong.”

For a moment Chloe thought he was heading toward the bed, and her heart gave a leap of anxiety and excitement. However, his path took him to the door, and she realized that Trainor’s way of warding off death was not to make love but to work.

Nathan pressed his palm against a touch pad, and a section of the wood paneling slid aside. The lights glowed to life automatically, illuminating sleek desks and banks of cutting-edge computer equipment. At the same time, the window wall went from shaded to translucent, offering a view of Manhattan’s towers. This room was all his; he’d designed it and equipped it, mostly with electronics of his own personal design.

“Holy Batcave!” Chloe said as she stepped into the room and turned slowly.

“Two superheroes in one morning,” Nathan said. “I’m flattered.” But he enjoyed watching the mixture of wide-eyed admiration and cynical amusement in her expression. She’d looked at his favorite paintings the same way, although there had been some extra element then, a cautiousness. She didn’t trust him.

And with good reason. He’d brought her to his office via the internal elevator that served only the three floors of his home. Being in that enclosed space with her had tested every ounce of his self-control. The faint floral hint of what must be her shampoo entered his lungs with every breath he drew in. He could see the rise and fall of her breasts under the white blouse she wore. He imagined pushing her against the wall of the elevator, shoving her skirt up to her waist, and burying himself in her while she wrapped her legs around his hips—those spike heels digging into him as she moaned the way she had last night.

Instead he’d put his hand at the small of her back as the elevator doors opened, a gesture that could be attributed to courtesy rather than an overwhelming desire to touch her somewhere. Anywhere.

It was a mistake. The warmth and movement of her body went straight from his palm to his groin.

He scanned the room along with her until his gaze settled on the back of a leather armchair while he pictured bending her over it and sliding his hands up her thighs before he . . .

She walked away from him to touch a swivel-mounted computer screen, making it pivot diagonally. “That’s cool, but I don’t see what the purpose is.”

“There’s a built-in projector so you can display the screen image on a wall or a ceiling or any other flat surface.” He came up behind her and reached around to flick on the device, throwing the twirling screen-saver image onto a corner of the room. As she tilted her head to look at it, the angle of her body shifted so that her behind brushed against the front of his trousers. He barely swallowed a groan.

She sidestepped away from him, and he couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or to seize her wrist and spin her in hard against him.

When she turned to look at him, he caught it: a quickening of her breathing, a tension in her posture, an awareness in her expression. She claimed she had come back only for the paycheck, but she was not offended by his behavior last night, as he’d feared. She might be wary but she was not indifferent to him.

He contemplated ignoring the mountain of reports on his computer and trying to seduce Chloe instead. Overcoming the barriers she put up would be a pleasurable challenge.

And she was a temp, so there would be no long-term issues as far as the office went. Once Janice was back, Chloe could go on to her next assignment at a different company.

The prospect gave him less relief than he expected. Chloe’s smart observations and snarky asides made the work seem less dreary.

The word brought him up short. When had he begun to consider his job in that light? And how had Chloe become so important to his mood?

“I’ll assume the giant chair behind the giant desk with the giant screens is your workstation.” Her voice derailed the unsettling direction of his thoughts.

“Yes, I use the size of my computer screens to indicate the size of . . . other things,” he said, matching his tone to hers.

That forced a little choke of laughter from her, and he felt a sense of satisfaction out of proportion to her response. It struck him that he could combine the work and the seduction into one package. The idea gave him such a jolt of energy that he wondered that electricity didn’t shoot out from the tips of his fingers.