“Flexitemps,” Chloe said, jogging after him. Why did he care about that?

Cavill slowed as they approached the master bedroom. “His temperature has been coming down slowly, and he’s sliding in and out of consciousness,” he said in a low voice as he pushed the door open.

Once again, Chloe caught the anxiety in his eyes and forgave the doctor for his abruptness with her.

She stepped into the room and blinked. Across the room in front of her was a wall of glass, with a view similar to the one she’d been drinking in on the terrace. Cavill turned left, bringing her gaze around to the bed set against the wall facing the windows. She hoped there were some heavy-duty shades to block out all that light.

She forgot all about views when she saw her boss lying in the huge bed wearing a dark-blue T-shirt. A sheet was pulled midway up his chest, and an IV was taped to one arm. His eyes were closed and looked as though they had sunk into his head. The unnatural flush still tinted his cheeks, and his hands twitched on top of the covers. The nurse, a stunningly beautiful blonde who looked to be about ten years older than Chloe, stood on the other side of the bed, checking a monitor.

Cavill gestured the woman over to where they stood about ten feet from the bed. He spoke in a low voice. “Tricia Oliver, meet Chloe Russell.”

The nurse shook her hand. “Mr. Trainor was asking for you just a moment ago.”

The doctor’s lips thinned. He pointed to a spot by the windows. “You can call about the report from over there.”

Chloe retreated from the grumpy doctor and retrieved the report. When she approached the doctor again, he gestured for her to sit in an armchair pulled up beside the bed. “Go ahead and read.”

She enlarged the print on her phone and began. “ ‘Analysis of Marketing for Product Number Seven-Two-Two’ by Richard Sinclair.” She hadn’t changed the title, even though she’d longed to. She glanced over at Trainor. His eyes were closed and his hands lay still. That must be a good sign. She launched into the first paragraph, mentally editing it even more severely as her oral presentation highlighted additional problems in the sentence structure.

She forgot about her audience and plunged into the second paragraph.

A weak chuckle emanated from the bed. She stopped and looked up. Trainor’s eyes remained shut but a smile touched his lips. “Knew it.”

“Knew what?” she asked.

“You’re a ringer,” he said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sinclair has never written a sentence that good.”

“You gave me permission to do some editing,” Chloe said, not sure if he was offended by her corrections.

He turned his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, the striking combination of dark and light gray sending a shimmer of fascination through her. “Didn’t expect such a good job. You’ve been hiding your talents under a bushel basket.”

“Thank you.” Gratification sent a billow of warmth through her. “Shall I go on?”

“No,” he said, turning his head back again. “Wanted to confirm my suspicions. Who are you, Chloe Russell?”

Chloe sent a questioning look toward the doctor. She didn’t know if she should keep talking or let Trainor sleep. Cavill nodded for her to continue.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m just a temp,” she said. “But I’ve worked for several small companies, start-ups, so I’ve had to learn about every aspect of business. Even accounting, which is not my favorite.” She gave a comic grimace and then realized his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see it.

“Nor mine,” he surprised her by saying.

Cavill stepped forward. “Nathan, I have another house call to make, but I’ll check in on you in a few hours. Tricia will keep an eye on your temperature. And Chloe will keep you company.”

Chloe almost exclaimed out loud. Sitting beside a sickbed was not part of her job description. The doctor looked amused. As he walked to the door, Chloe jumped out of her chair and followed him. “Dr. Cavill, I’m not a home health aide.”

“Are you supposed to be working for Mr. Trainor today?” the doctor asked, stopping just outside the door.

“As his executive assistant,” Chloe said. “In his office.”

Cavill started down the hallway. “I’ll have Roberta explain your new assignment to your employer. I suspect she’ll be agreeable.” His tone had turned sardonic again. “I’ll see you later, Ms. Russell.”

Chloe put her hands on her hips and glared at the doctor’s back. She had no idea what to do.

CHAPTER 4

When she walked back into the master bedroom, Trainor was twisting himself into the sheets again. “Talk to him,” the nurse said. “Your voice seems to help.”

“Um, Mr. Trainor, it’s Chloe Russell. I’m here.” Chloe reached out to touch the back of his hand, hoping that would bring his attention to her. The heat from his skin practically singed her fingers. She jerked her hand away.

“Shouldn’t have taken the bet,” Trainor mumbled, yanking at the bed linens. “Why the hell did Archer make it?”

Casting around frantically for a way to distract him, Chloe noticed a paperback sitting on the bedside table, a spy thriller by Gavin Miller. “Why don’t I read to you?”

He opened those incredible eyes again. This time they were clouded. “You’re the temp with the cool hands.”