She gave him a pleased smile even though it was barely a compliment. What would she do if he called her beautiful? She was, in many subtle ways. There was that sway in her walk. Her hair, when it was down, was glossy and thick. She had large, expressive brown eyes and a kissable mouth. He pulled himself up on that thought. “Let’s talk about your schedule for the rest of the day,” he said.
That wiped the smile off her lips. “I’m not staying overnight,” she said, her spine stiffening. “Take your pills.”
He liked it when she forgot to be deferential. As they’d worked together, he’d noticed she made her own suggestions more and more often. In his germ-fogged state, he appreciated the assistance. He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of water. “I’ll quadruple your pay for the entire time you’re here.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again, clearly torn. It was an absurdly generous offer, and he was suddenly curious about what would make her even consider turning it down. “What are these obligations at home that require your attention?”
She looked confused for a moment before a frown snapped her brows together. “They’re private.”
“I’m just wondering what I can do to ease your worry,” he said.
“You’re wondering what additional bribe you can offer to get me to stay,” she said, planting her hands on her hips.
Which made the fabric of her blouse pull taut over the curves of her breasts. He added those to the list of her attractions.
“Bribe is such an unpleasant word,” he said. “I want to turn this into a situation where everyone wins.”
“I’ll stay late, but I need to go home tonight.” She gave him a level look. “You don’t have to send the helicopter. Oskar can drive me.”
So she wasn’t going to tell him what drew her home so strongly. He had a feeling Ben knew; he’d find out from the doctor. He nodded. “That works.”
It didn’t, though. He wanted her here, in case . . . what? He shook off the irrational urgency of his need to have Chloe nearby. It must be a weird symptom of the flu that his hallucinating brain had somehow become imprinted on the temp.
“I’m going to let you rest for a while,” Chloe said, moving back to the computer and putting it into sleep mode.
The need surged. “Stay,” he said before he could stop himself. “Talk to me.”
Chloe sat down hard on the desk chair and racked her brain. What the heck was she supposed to discuss with the CEO of Trainor Electronics? She cast a quick glance at him. He looked so ill and drawn. She fought back a nearly overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth a curl of his tousled hair off his forehead. The paperback on his bedside table caught her eye. “Why don’t I read your book to you?” she suggested.
“I’d rather you told me what books you like to read,” he said, turning his bleary gaze on her.
She remembered he was reading a thriller. “I liked The Bourne Identity.”
“Movie or book?”
“Both. I think the movie did a good job of capturing the essence of the book.” This wasn’t going well. He wanted her to talk, and instead they were playing twenty questions. “Why don’t I tell you about some of my experiences as a temp?”
He shifted so that his head was supported by the pillows. “I’m all ears.”
She always told Grandmillie about the funny or mind-bogglingly stupid things that happened at her temporary jobs, so she had a collection of stories. Of course, she changed the names to protect the innocent, the crooked, and the downright stupid. After about three of them, Trainor’s eyes closed. She stopped talking and stood up to leave the room so he could sleep.
The murmur of his voice stopped her. “Why did he invite me?”
“Excuse me?” she said.
He lifted his head, looking surprised. “Did I say that out loud?”
“You said something out loud.”
He made a gesture of frustration as he stared out the windows. “I haven’t seen my father in two years. I’ve spoken to him maybe half a dozen times in that period. Why would he decide I should be at his shotgun wedding?”
Did he really want her to answer that? She waited.
Trainor turned to her. “Why?”
So it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “You’re family,” she said. “Blood is thicker than water.” She winced at how trite that sounded.
“You can do better than that.”
“Okay, fine.” Chloe flopped into the desk chair again. She was getting tired of its upright ergonomics and looked longingly at the comfortable armchairs in the seating area. Unfortunately, they were too big to drag over to the bed. “Family is one of the constants in anyone’s life. You always have to deal with them, even if it’s to decide you don’t want to deal with them.”
“Now you’re interesting me,” Trainor said.