The Skipper & the Billionaire Playboy (8 page)

She must have fallen asleep, because frantic voices woke her. Nadia was immediately awake, fully alert, and realized she was lying on the blanket with her head on the ground.

She sat up, her gaze focusing unerringly on the four people on the other side of the large blanket. Caitlin, Kiersten, and Sawyer were gathered around Harold, who was pale and lying prone. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

Sawyer looked up, his face grim. “We thought he was napping, but when Mom went to wake him a couple of minutes ago, he wasn’t responding. Kiersten called nine-one-one, but we’re not sure what’s wrong.”

She licked her lips, stomach tight with dread. “Did you check his pulse?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” said Caitlin, sounding surprisingly calm. “Thready, but it’s there. Father is definitely breathing, but it’s difficult to say what the problem is. I didn’t realize he had any problems.” The other woman’s voice broke. “He had a stroke six years ago, but he recovered fairly well, aside from his left leg being too weak to do much walking.”

The paramedics arrived a few minutes later, and Caitlin’s calm façade crumbled as soon as they were there. Tears welled in her eyes, and Sawyer and Kiersten hugged her, tears visible on their own cheeks too. With the start, Nadia reached up to find moisture on her face, and a blink of her eyes released a few more tears. The older man had grown on her in the week they had been there, and Nadia realized she would hurt along with the rest of his family if he didn’t make it. In a way, it would be like losing her father all over again.

They followed the ambulance to the hospital, where the waiting began. Nadia had never spent much time in the hospital before, at least not that she remembered. Her mother had died at home with hospice care, and her father had been in robust health before his boat sank. She’d heard other people’s stories, of how the hours seemed to pass so slowly, filled with nothing but stilted conversation and stale vending machine coffee.

After two hours of sitting in the waiting room, her hand grasped tightly in Sawyer’s, she decided the stories were accurate. Except for the coffee. They actually had decent coffee, with it being San Francisco, but it was no compensation for having to sit and wait to find out if someone they loved would survive.

Finally, after what seemed like half the night, but was probably no more than two or three hours in total, a harried-looking young doctor came into the waiting area and called their names. They disengaged from the other groups of families waiting for news and followed the physician into a smaller private room with a couch and two chairs.

They sat down on the couch, and his mother and sister took the chairs on either side. The doctor sat behind his desk, looking at the computer screen for a moment before turning to them. “Mr. Wedgwood has suffered a stroke.”

Caitlin gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth, but apparently had no more tears left to shed. “Is he going to make it?” she asked in a shaky voice.

The doctor hesitated. “If he makes it through the night, his odds are much better. It was a massive bleed, but he stabilized. He’s still listed as critical for the moment, and he’ll be closely observed in the critical care unit. We’ll know more tomorrow, especially if he wakes up. There are further tests to schedule, and we’ll need to repeat the MRI and other lab work several times to determine the level of permanent damage, if any.”

“But if he gets through tonight, his chances are pretty good?” asked Caitlin. The hope in her eyes was heartbreaking.

Again, the frizzy-haired doctor hesitated before nodding. “More than likely, he’ll make it if he survives tonight. Considering his age, and his previous history of stroke, he’s doing better than we would expect. He seems to be a fighter, so let’s see if he can get through tonight.”

“He’s definitely a fighter,” said Kiersten with a strong note of affection. “Grandfather will make it, Mom. I just know he will.”

Nadia hoped Kiersten’s optimism was warranted, but she didn’t reply. Sawyer hadn’t spoken either, but he was holding on to her hand for dear life, as though she was the only thing anchoring him at the moment. She put her other arm around his back and hugged him, offering the only thing she could under the circumstances. She didn’t have a cure for Harold, but she could just be there for Sawyer and his family.

“May we see him?” asked Caitlin.

“Not tonight, Mrs. Wedgwood.”

“Sinclair,” corrected Caitlin, seemingly with an air of unconsciousness about doing so. “But we can in the morning?”

The doctor’s expression softens, and he nodded. “If Mr. Wedgwood makes it through the night, you can all see him in the morning bright and early.” He lifted a hand, as he added, “Please call first before you come in. I don’t want you to waste a trip if his status hasn’t changed. Of course, if he worsens, we’ll call you tonight.”

Caitlin frowned. “You expect me to just go home and wait? I need to be here.”

The doctor sighed, looking frazzled again. “It’s up to you if you want to sleep in the uncomfortable waiting room, ma’am, but there’s nothing you can do.”

She straightened her spine. “I can be available if he starts to pass away. Otherwise, we live more than an hour away. We’d never make it back before...”

Sawyer cleared his throat, speaking for the first time. “Mom, you can’t rest here, but none of us wants to be that far away. We’ll take a hotel room across the street.” Caitlin nodded, clearly finding the solution satisfactory. They left the private waiting area a moment later to venture across the street.

They all looked exhausted, and just emotionally worn out, so Nadia handled the check-in. She secured three rooms, not even considering not sharing with Sawyer. She suspected he needed physical comfort, and she could use a strong dose of it herself. That didn’t mean sex. She just wanted to hold him, and vice versa.

After acquiring key cards that she distributed, they went to their rooms, parting with a tired, “Good night.” It was strange how exhausted they all were, but she supposed it was more of an emotional than physical lethargy.

They hadn’t been particularly active for the afternoon, but the adrenaline rush of getting Harold to the hospital, followed by the crash of waiting, coupled with the lack of answers about his prognosis, had worn them all down. Even she was feeling it, and she wasn’t as close to Harold as the rest of them were.

It seemed to take the last bit of energy they possessed to undress to underwear and fall into the huge bed. Nadia reached for Sawyer, and his arms wrapped around her. She clung to him, and he held her just as tightly as they drifted off to sleep.

The phone in the hotel room rang around three a.m., and both Sawyer and Nadia were instantly alert. Trading a concerned glance, she held his hand as he reached for the phone. Sawyer hit the speaker button instead of lifting the handset, and Caitlin’s voice came through a second later. It was thick with tears, and she squeezed Sawyer’s hand again as she braced herself for bad news and to offer comfort.

“It’s about Father.”

“What’s going on? Do we need to get to the hospital?” Sawyer’s tone was filled with dread, and a slight sheen of sweat dotted his brow.

“Yes, but he isn’t worse.” The more she spoke, the more the hope bled through her voice. “He’s awake and demanding to see us. You know how he gets when he wants something.”

Nadia sagged with relief at the news Herald hadn’t passed away. She dared cling to a hint of hope as she and Sawyer prepared to leave the room. They joined Kiersten and Caitlin in the lobby a few minutes later and walked across the dark, quiet parking lot to the crosswalk. There were still a few cars on the road, but it was quiet for San Francisco.

Once in the hospital, the night nurse directed them to Harold’s room, and Nadia hung back when they reached the critical care unit. She wasn’t technically family, but Sawyer’s hand clung to hers. She hesitated, and he turned to look at her with a frown. “I’m not supposed to go in,” she whispered.

He made a scoffing sound. “I suspect my grandfather likes you more than he likes me, so come on.”

Allowing herself to be persuaded, since she wanted to join them anyway, she clung to his hand and walked in beside him.

For a man who’d had a serious stroke, verging on being in a coma state, and a serious brain bleed, Harold looked pretty good. He was pale and obviously weak, but he was awake and shooting daggers with his eyes at the nurse, who was trying to pry the remote from his hand. “I’m old enough to know if I want to watch television or stay up all night, nurse. Get the hell out of my room.”

“Father,” chastised Caitlin, looking slightly embarrassed, but mostly amused. She shot the nurse an apologetic look as the young woman sped out of the room, clearly relieved to be away from Harold. Apparently, he wasn’t the best patient.

He grumped for a few moments about the service at the hospital, complaining about how they had refused to contact Caitlin for the first hour or so. “I wore them down, don’t you just bet.” He seemed rather proud of himself, even though he clearly didn’t feel his best.

“Oh, Father, I was so worried about you.” Caitlin had rushed to his bed, taking the only chair as she sat down to grasp his hand in hers.

Nadia watched with a hint of amusement as Harold endured the fussing for a moment before finally pulling his hand from his daughter’s and waving it. “Okay, okay. I’m going to be all right, but the doctor—who I insisted on seeing as soon as I was awake, though they told me I couldn’t. Ha! Anyway, that young man, who seems to have recently graduated from high school rather than medical school, tells me I’ll be a guest here for a few days, and then I’ll have to go to a rehabilitation facility for a few weeks.”

“Nonsense,” said Kiersten. “You can convalesce as well at home as you can in one of those places.”

Harold nodded, looking satisfied. “Precisely what I said, my dear, and I won’t do anything less. I won’t be going to one of those places for old people.” It was clear, even in light of his recent stroke, that Harold didn’t consider himself an old person or in need of a rehabilitation home.

Abruptly, the older man’s eyes focused on Sawyer, and he wore a stern expression. “That doctor also told me I have to stop working. I’m fine with that.” He sounded relieved actually. “It means you need to step up and take over, Sawyer.”

Sawyer stiffened, his reluctance clear. “How long?”

Harold shook his head before wincing slightly. He must have still had a headache from the stroke. “That’s up to you. I’m done with the whole thing, my boy. You can sell it, run it, or donate it to charity. Whatever you do, it’s time you stepped up and made a decision. Took on some responsibility like an adult.”

Sawyer’s posture revealed annoyance and anger, but he didn’t retort. Either he was holding himself in check out of respect for Harold’s current physical condition, or perhaps he recognized the truth of the words. Either way, he nodded tightly. “I’ll see to it then.”

Harold’s sighed and relaxed against the pillow, which was only a few shades lighter than his skin at the moment. He was clearly exhausted, but trying to hide it. “That’s good to hear, Sawyer. I’m happy to return to retirement. I might take a cruise, or perhaps I’ll learn to paint. Maybe take up growing grapes and make wine…” He was still listing his plans as he drifted off to sleep in mid-word.

They stayed a few minutes longer to ensure he wouldn’t wake again before they tiptoed from the room. Outside, Caitlin sagged against Kiersten, looking frail and worn, but stronger than she had earlier. “He’s going to be all right, I believe.”

Kiersten nodded as she hugged her mother around the waist. “Of course he will. Grandfather is a tough old bird, and he’s not going to let this defeat him. Now that Sawyer is here to take over the company, he can focus on convalescing and enjoying his golden years.”

Sawyer still hadn’t spoken since the brief exchange with his grandfather, and Nadia took his hand in hers again, frowning slightly when he didn’t respond with more than a feeble squeeze before pulling away. He must be unhappy about the prospect of taking over for his grandfather. It would be an adjustment for him, to go from a carefree lifestyle to CEO of a company, even if he only held the position for a brief time.

“Does your grandfather have everything in place that allows you to step in for him, Sawyer? Isn’t there a Board of Directors or something you have to go through first?”

Sawyer shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll ask one of the attorneys tomorrow.” He glanced at the clock on the wall with a half-grimace. “Later today, I guess.”

It was only a little past four, but Nadia knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Apparently, the others felt the same way, and they drifted to the cafeteria by unspoken agreement. As she sat with them at the table, feeling included in the discussion and at home in the family circle, she was relieved for Harold, even as she worried for Sawyer. Responsibility wouldn’t kill him, but she knew he was unprepared. It was always more difficult to face a task you didn’t want to handle if you hadn’t prepared for it properly first.

Sawyer signed off on the latest expense report Paige placed before him. He gave it little more than a cursory read-through, deciding to trust her numbers. If they were wrong, he didn’t really care. He’d soon be shedding this albatross around his neck, and it would be someone else’s problem.

A small pang hit him at the thought of Sinclair Industries no longer being a family-held company, but the alternative was unthinkable. He couldn’t imagine giving up the life he had, the freedom to indulge his every whim and experience anything he chose, to chain himself to this desk for ten hours per day, sometimes even longer.

Where had such a life gotten his father? He’d wasted the best and brightest years of his life building the company, often away from his family, while planning all the things he would do when “someday” came. Instead, he had ended up dead at forty-two. Sawyer wasn’t going to be like that. He wasn’t going to waste his life in an office when each day was so precious. He intended to enjoy every day fully.

He’d certainly been enjoying every night with Nadia, he thought with a small grin. How he loved returning to her in the evenings, finding her smiling and waiting for him. He had half-expected her to politely suggest she move on, since he was going to be stuck there for a while longer. Instead, she had settled in, providing a supportive role to his mother and Harold, who had come home from the hospital three days ago. Nadia seemed to fit in with his family, perhaps far better than he ever had, and it was a relief.

It also scared the hell out of him. She fit easily into his life, making him think all sorts of thoughts that had never been appealing to him before. The past two days, his thoughts kept returning to that pink sapphire and diamond engagement ring he had bypassed earlier. The fact that he was even considering the idea of proposing made him jumpy and anxious. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to feel so much for someone.

It was inevitable Nadia would want things he couldn’t give her. Right now, she was focused on her dream of racing for the America’s Cup, but at some point, her thoughts would turn to more commonplace pursuits. If they got married, she would expect him to settle down in a steady life, probably stuck in this very office.

The thought that terrified him the most was she would eventually want children. That was not happening. Not ever. He was in no frame of mind to ever welcome having a child, and he couldn’t imagine marrying someone who wanted children when he didn’t. He would never force a woman to give up having children to be with him.

Of course, he didn’t know for certain if she wanted children. Nadia was unconventional in many ways, and perhaps he would luck out and discover she was as interested in remaining child-free as he was. Even if she was okay with that, there was still the future to consider. He couldn’t tie himself to her. It would be unthinkable to accept the life his father had once had, even for someone as wonderful as Nadia.

No, it was far better to push aside thoughts of settling down and getting serious. If that was the course he was going to pursue—and it was the most logical one—it was time to start signaling that to Nadia as well. He was a master at extricating himself from unwanted relationships, and though part of him longed to keep her, he knew it was the wrong choice for both of them. With that determination firmly in mind, he worked out a strategy as he slaved away in his father’s old office for the rest of the afternoon.