“I’ll send someone right up,” Priscilla said.
Chloe wasn’t sure if she should leave her boss alone, since he looked to be in danger of sliding right out of the chair. However, she decided the best thing she could do was try to bring down some of that temperature. She raced into the kitchen and improvised a couple of ice packs at high speed.
Jogging back to the desk, she held one pack against the side of his neck and put one on top of his head.
“Ahh,” he breathed out. “That feels good. You’re smart, little ringer.”
“I’m Chloe Russell, the temp,” she said, trying to pull him back to reality.
Priscilla raced in. “The nurse is on her way up, and they’ve called Mr. Trainor’s doctor. What’s wrong?”
“He’s burning up,” Chloe said. “I guess Janice’s flu germs got him.”
“He looks terrible,” Priscilla whispered. “Why didn’t he stay home?”
“I’m not sick,” Trainor mumbled. “I never get sick.”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Chloe said, shifting the ice pack to the other side of his neck. He nuzzled his cheek against it with another blissful sigh. “I’ll bet he’s a difficult patient.”
The nurse came flying through the door, followed by Roberta and two male executives. Chloe stepped back as Trainor’s staff took over.
The electronic thermometer beeped. “His temp is 104,” the nurse said, her voice sharp with worry. She looked at the executives. “I can’t handle this. He needs to go to the hospital immediately.”
“No,” Trainor said, struggling to pull himself upright. “I’m not sick.”
The nurse gave him a professional smile of disbelief. “Your doctor will be here shortly. He’ll make that decision.” She glanced at Chloe’s homemade ice packs. “We’ll keep those on him.”
“I can make some more packs,” Chloe volunteered. It figured that Trainor would have a doctor who showed up on demand at his office.
The nurse nodded and Chloe hurried off to the kitchen again. She was holding a pack against the pulse point on one of Trainor’s wrists when a lean young man with dark-red hair strode through the door.
“Dr. Cavill.” The nurse’s voice brimmed with relief. “His temp’s 104. He’s hyperthermic, but I didn’t want to give him anything until you arrived.”
“And I’ll bet he claims he’s not sick,” the doctor said.
Chloe could see the effort it took for Trainor to open his eyes. “Damn straight. Just hungover. No, that was yesterday. Maybe I am sick.”
“Well, that admission means he’s on death’s door,” the doctor said. Chloe watched for signs of concern, but Cavill kept a poker face. “You should have taken that flu shot I recommended. Now you’re suffering the consequences.”
Trainor turned away from the doctor, his gaze stopping on her face. For a moment he looked puzzled. Then his face cleared. “Chloe Russell, the temp.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Feels good,” he repeated and drifted away again.
The doctor looked around the little group circling the big office chair. “Does anyone know how long he’s been feverish?”
“I found him like this when I came in to work at 7:50,” Chloe said.
“When did you start the ice packs?” Cavill looked at the nurse as he asked.
She nodded to Chloe. “She already had two on him when I arrived.”
“Quick thinking,” the doctor said. He lifted his bag and set it on the desk. “If you’ll give me some privacy, I’ll examine the patient.”
Chloe set the cold pack on the desk and followed the group out of the office, closing the door behind her. Priscilla returned to her post in the reception area, but Roberta and the two men hovered by the door. Chloe sat down and checked her boss’s calendar, finding virtually wall-to-wall meetings. She looked up at Roberta. “Should I cancel the rest of Mr. Trainor’s schedule for today?”
Roberta turned to the shorter man, the same one whose office Trainor had been in. “Phil, could you take a look at Mr. Trainor’s calendar and see if anything’s critical?”
Phil came around the desk to lean over Chloe’s shoulder. “Poor bastard, he really doesn’t do anything except attend meetings,” he muttered after a few seconds, his voice holding a trace of a foreign accent. “You can cancel everything but the three o’clock. I’ll take care of that one. If anyone has any questions, refer them to me. I’m Phil Riviere. Executive vice president.” He held out his hand to Chloe with a smile that must have charmed a thousand women.
Chloe shook his hand and nodded. “Cancel by e-mail or phone?” she asked, not knowing what the protocol would be at this level.
Phil considered the calendar. “E-mail is fine. If you draft it, I’ll approve it.”
Chloe nodded and began to type. She’d come up with a satisfactory paragraph when the door opened and Cavill came out.