A look of relief crossed Chloe’s face as she walked to the desk and seated herself in the ergonomic chair, her back ramrod straight. Clearly, she felt more comfortable when the situation was all business. He could deal with that.

Chloe had worked in some sketchy offices in her career with start-ups, but sitting at a desk beside Nathan Trainor’s bed was the strangest working experience she’d ever had. Her boss was propped up on a bank of pillows arrayed against the huge wooden headboard inset with deep blue leather tooled in swirling geometric patterns. As spectacular as the bed was, the man in it was far more magnetic, even with dark circles under his gray eyes. His shoulders did an impressive job of covering a fair amount of the width of the bed, and his hair was just rumpled enough to look slept on. She found her gaze sliding along the curve of his biceps and forearm, down to where his hand lay on the fine cotton of the taupe-colored quilt. He had square palms and long fingers.

“Let’s start with my e-mails. Just read me the sender names and subject lines.”

His voice jerked her back into business mode, dispelling her unruly brain’s vivid image of his index finger tracing a line down her neck into the vee of her blouse. She stared at the computer screen a moment before she remembered how to open his e-mail program.

She began to reel off the list, starting with the oldest unread e-mails.

“Repeat that one,” he commanded, stopping her.

“Koenig, Andrew. Status of Prometheus.” She glanced over to see him frown at the windows across from him.

“Let’s hear what it says,” he said after a long moment.

She opened the e-mail and began to read. It was a combination of techspeak and code names for various parts of whatever Prometheus was. At the end of the memo, which was about ten paragraphs long, she had no more idea of what the project was than when she started reading. However, one thing she could pick up from the tone was that Prometheus was not going well.

She turned away from the computer screen to look at her boss. His head was tilted back on the pillow, and his eyes were closed.

“Are you all right?” she asked, starting to rise from the fancy chair.

His eyelids snapped open and she caught the blaze of anger in his eyes. “No, I’m not, but it has nothing to do with the flu.”

She sank back down, letting the chair cradle her weight. She could practically feel the frustration vibrating in him. He picked up one of his pillows and slammed it against the headboard as though to prop himself up more securely, but he didn’t fool her. He really wanted to hurl something across the room. After a few moments of scowling, he threw the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed so his back was to her.

“May I get you something, Mr. Trainor?” the nurse asked, coming to his feet.

“No!” Trainor barked before adding in a more civil tone, “Thank you.”

Chloe watched the muscles of Trainor’s back bunch and shift under the T-shirt as he shoved himself upright. The nurse subtly moved closer as the invalid swayed and grabbed for the headboard.

“Don’t hover,” Trainor snapped. “If I fall down, I won’t hold you responsible.”

“Yes, sir,” Luis said, but he didn’t back off.

Trainor steadied himself and let go of the headboard, padding across the expanse of thick blue carpet and polished wooden floor to the seating area by the windows. Chloe couldn’t tear her eyes away from his bare feet; they were long and narrow with high arches. It was strange to see the powerful and intimidating CEO without shoes—it made him seem like a regular human being.

He came to a stop at the windows, staring out for a moment before he sank into one of the low-armed chairs upholstered in a richly textured pale cream cut velvet.

Chloe heard Luis breathe out a sigh of relief.

As her boss sat silent and unmoving, she hesitated. The room was too big to hold an entire conversation across. “Do you want me to join you over there, Mr. Trainor?” she finally asked.

He ran his palms over his face before he said, “No. Much as it pains me to admit it, Ben is right.” He levered himself out of the chair and headed back toward the bed. Luis started toward him, but Trainor waved him away with an irritated gesture.

This time he came around to where Chloe sat and lowered himself onto the side of the bed. The ligaments in his neck stood out, and she realized how much willpower he’d exerted to get himself across the room without assistance. Trainor sat with his hands braced on his knees. “I would wish this flu only on my worst enemy.”

“Weak as a kitten?” Chloe said.

“Weaker,” Trainor said, lifting his legs onto the bed and resuming his previous position against the pile of pillows. “Even the desperate state of the Prometheus project can’t generate enough energy to keep me upright.”

“Why don’t I let you rest?” Chloe said, noting the way his body seemed to slump into the bed.

“I may not be able to walk, but I can think,” he snapped, turning his head to glare at her.

“Well, you might think about renaming the Prometheus project,” Chloe said, tired of his crankiness.

“Prometheus gave mankind the gift of fire, enabling all progress.” At least he sounded interested rather than grouchy.

“And ended up having his liver eaten by an eagle over and over again,” she pointed out.

“So you think we doomed the project by giving it the wrong name?”

She thought it was nice to see the strain around his mouth ease. “I’m just saying that it’s never good to tempt the gods.” After all, she brought the Russell jinx to her jobs, even though she couldn’t take the blame for the difficulties of the Prometheus project since it had been developed before she worked at Trainor Electronics. “What is the Prometheus project anyway?”