The CEO Gets Her Man

by Anne Ashby

  “A word please,” he said as she made to sashay past him. He led her to a quiet corner away from the sight of the few guests in the dining room.

  If Jase hadn’t been so annoyed he might have almost applauded her straight back and the arrogant way her chin jutted out as she halted in front of him—almost.

  “While I expect you to be pleasant to our guests at all times, you are not paid to chat, Debbie,” he snapped. “In future please confine yourself to the duties you’ve been assigned.”

  Her narrowing lips seemed somewhat familiar as she glared, without any sign of deference to his position. “Do not think just because Linda Rivers vouched for you...You are here to tend table. I didn’t see you tending Mrs. Laurie’s table, instead you were chatting. George will see to Mrs. Laurie’s needs in future. Do you understand?”

  The dark eyes flashing like sparks from a disturbed fire added further credence to his certainty of her former social position. His hands fisted. She’d never done menial work, never acquiesced to the dictates of an employer. He was as sure of that as he was of the sun rising tomorrow. What the hell was George thinking of?

  More to the point, what was she doing here? How long would she stay before deciding the job would wreak havoc on her manicure?

  And why? Had she fallen on hard times? Like so many others during this economic downturn had her wealth deserted her? Jase felt his mouth tighten. Even if her bank balance had taken a beating, her haughty demeanour remained intact. She was dying to answer him back, dying to put him in his place. Part of him wanted her to try.

  Her mouth opened. Sensing her inner struggle he waited, anticipation rising. A twinge of disappointment surfaced, as with a noticeable chomp on her bottom lip she gave her head a stilted nod and without a word of apology, stalked away.

  ****

  “Make up your mind, Mother,” Debra sank onto one of the armchairs in her mother’s opulent room and eased tight shoes from her swollen feet. “You wanted me to be a waitress.” She gingerly raised her feet onto the pouffe, glaring at her unrepentant parent. “I’m a waitress. If you wanted me to be available to drop everything and run to your side every time you crook your little finger...”

  Rubbing her oversized toes didn’t ease the ache. In fact they hurt more now than when she’d had her shoes on. “I can’t be seen wandering around the hotel, let alone on the superior floor. You’re going to have to contact me through Linda or George. I’ve already been warned by management to stay away from you.” Karin’s delighted chuckle didn’t ease her annoyance. “Apparently you’re a VIP and only George can serve you.”

  “I wondered what Jase McEwan would do when he saw us talking.” Karin leaned forward. “What did he say to you? Did he chew you out?”

  “Really, Mother,” Debra managed to scoff despite the fact facing Jase McEwan had been almost invigorating. He was very different than she’d imagined. Very different from the rugby player she’d fantasised about when she’d been young and silly. “No man will ever ‘chew me out,’ as you so indelicately put it. He might think he can try, but...”

  Debra left the words hanging. Nothing would make her share what amounted, in her eyes, to humiliation with her mother.

  She’d wanted to put him in his place, tear a strip off him. Instead, because of the restraints her mother had forced upon her, he’d managed to do the tearing. Her lips tightened. Debra didn’t like that. Didn’t like it one little bit. And the man who thought he’d bettered her? He would soon find out just how wrong he was.

  Memory of her silly schoolgirl crush hadn’t helped. Despite herself, there had been a moment when George had introduced them, when Jase had taken her hand in his...Debra dismissed the realisation he’d been even more compelling in real life, refusing to acknowledge the thrilling tingle that had swept through her.

  “As far as I can make out, everyone likes Jase.” Karin reported. “He has an excellent rapport with the staff. We need to dig deeper—”

  Thank God her mother’s chatter had allowed her time to refocus. “I’ve only been here a day, Mother. For heaven’s sake, give me a chance. My money’s still on Jase McEwan. He’s not exactly—”

  “I tested him out this morning.”

  Debra groaned, wishing her mother would go on a cruise or something—preferably in the Northern Hemisphere, Alaska maybe.

  “I told him I wanted a car and driver. I virtually demanded he provide me with one of the staff and a resort vehicle.” With raised eyebrows she waited for Debra’s response. When nothing was said, she elaborated. “He refused me.” Karin gave a delighted smile. “Very nicely, too, even though I let him know how annoyed I was.”

  “So what?”

  “If he was milking the system, or doing something underhand, wouldn’t he want to keep me happy?”

  “Maybe he wants to annoy you enough to get rid of you,” Debra parried back.

  Karin ignored that with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I haven’t seen anything of Madeline Murphy today. Perhaps it’s her day off. Although shouldn’t the general manager work Monday to Friday?”

  “I don’t know, Mother.” Or care. Her body sunk further into the softness of the armchair. She was used to working long hours, but the five-thirty start this morning after an unsatisfactory sleep on a narrow, far-from-comfortable bed had tested her to the limit.

  Circling the feet that had gamely supported her without complaint until the last couple of hours Debra gave in to the cloudiness descending over her. Her last thought was the horrifying realisation her aching feet had to do it all again tomorrow.

  ****

  Disorientated when she awoke, it took Debra a moment to recall this was her mother’s suite. Vague, frustrating dreams had plagued her sleep, but screwing up her eyes now, she could recall nothing of them, except an uneasy feeling she couldn’t analyse.

  With an irritated breath she scrambled from under a blanket Karin must have thrown over her and darted around the bed until she could see the clock. Yikes!

  Stumbling over her shoes in the darkness she muttered under her breath. Why hadn’t her mother woken her? Although Debra acknowledged she must have tried. How else had she ended up on the second bed?

  But Karin hadn’t considered Debra’s need to be in the dining room by five-thirty. Grabbing her shoes she high-tailed out the door, perversely hoping its click would awaken her mother.

  Now, could she sneak into the staff quarters without anyone seeing her? She’d have to bathe and change quicker than she’d ever managed before. Oh damn! She continued muttering as she tore along the hallway, one hand clutching her shoes while the other finger combed tugs from her flying hair.

  Continually jabbing at the lift button probably wouldn’t make it come any faster, but she tried anyway. Every second counted. About to dive for the stairs instead, the ding of the lift stayed her movement. Bouncing from foot to foot while the doors inched open, Debra burst through the widening gap and punched the down button.

  Thank goodness no-one was around. She should be able to keep out of sight of the reception staff if she stuck close to the wall and nipped around the corner. Then a dash across the dark car park to the staff quarters and she’d be safe.

  Slinking out of the lift she did exactly that. Hugging the wall she backed cautiously around the corner, pausing when she neared the staff doorway to take a relieved breath. Grinning at her achievement of exiting the VIP suites without being seen she spun around to leap for the door—and ploughed into a dark blue brick-like wall.

  The “wall” barely budged despite the whack exploding every last ounce of breath from her. Warmth tingled the hand inadvertently slipped beneath the blue telling her this was no ordinary brick wall. Her fingers registered a steady thump-thump-thump.

  With a winded ache of rising panic imprisoned somewhere deep in her chest her eyes crept upward...past the crisp white shirt with its perfectly Windsor-knotted blue tie...past a thick brown column of skin...past the closely shaven square chin and slightly crooked
nose. She absently wondered if that nose was a result of a rugby injury, some permanent physical reminder of his playing days.

  Her mind flew back but so many years had passed since she’d even thought about the hunky All Black she couldn’t remember whether his photos showed that bump on his nose or not. She trembled as she found herself where she’d once dreamed of being—in his arms.

  By the time her gaze arrived at his eyes Debra felt the heat imprinting on her arms where his hands gripped her, holding her.

  Not even the thinnest sheet of sandpaper could have slipped between their bodies. Debra felt his minty breath against her face, smelt his subtle cologne. As time ceased to matter she stared into his dark eyes while her fingers unconsciously caressed his chest.

  With blinding suddenness his expression changed. Censure replaced his initial shocked bafflement. Yanking her hand from under his jacket Debra jerked her arms from his grip and stepped back.

  She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin. “Excuse me,” she nodded coolly, daring him to say anything. Having to pick up her shoes from near his feet destroyed her attempt to depart with any sense of decorum.

  She sensed his laser eyes tracking her exit. They burnt into her back as efficiently as a chef heating the sugar on a crème brûlée.

  To hell with it, she reasoned as she leaned against a pillar and slipped her shoes on. Let him think what he liked.

  Speeding across the car park she wriggled her fingers, embarrassingly aware of how they’d skimmed across his chest—feeling his hardness, his strength, his heat.

  Her face burned with the memory.

  ****

  Jase stayed glued to the spot, his heart pounding. Watching the figure until she disappeared into the darkness, he still didn’t shift. There was something extraordinary about their new waitress. Something beyond how very attractive she was.

  Unexpectedly he was filled with an exhilarating thrill of anticipation. He licked dry lips. She’d stirred emotions he hadn’t experienced for a long time and made his breath stick in his throat.

  But he’d better get a grip on himself. Fraternisation between staff and management could only go so far. The thoughts racing around inside his head while he’d held her went far beyond the acceptable.

  Forget how sexy she looked all ruffled and messy from sleep. Forget how her skirt had inched up her legs as she’d bent to slip on her shoes. Definitely forget how he’d imagined her fingers against his bare skin as they’d crept across his chest.

  Talking to Hemi could wait. Turning on his heel, Jase stalked into the darkened silence of the administration area. The blazing light of his office blinded him as he opened his door. He blinked several times against its ferocity as he flung himself down on a sofa in the corner. He had too much on his plate right now to allow himself to be sidetracked by the possibility of an unwise liaison with the new waitress.

  Instead of letting his mind—and his body—play silly tricks on him, he should be considering why an off-duty waitress was in the hotel in the early hours of the morning. Why she was so obviously still in the uniform she’d worn yesterday, where she had spent the night, and—equally important—with whom. He fidgeted with the leather binding of the sofa.

  His psyche rebelled against her being a good-time girl, but he’d encountered so many during his playing days he knew they came in every shape and form. What other explanation could there be? She’d only been here for one day, hardly long enough to make any lasting impressions on anyone—except maybe him.

  ****

  Toward the end of her shift last night George had tentatively suggested Debra report to him after today’s breakfast. With her normal excess of self-assurance, she strode toward his office, her head high.

  With her hand already moving the door handle, she stopped and tightened her lips. She’d almost continued straight on into her boss’s office—in clear view. A glance over her shoulder showed other staff members were indeed watching the new waitress. They’d have noticed her audacity. Damn, I need to be careful.

  With a deep breath she tapped lightly on the door and forced herself to wait for his invitation to enter.

  “Good morning, Miss Laurie.” George leapt to his feet and rushed around his desk as she cruised into his office. She sat in the chair he indicated, making herself comfortable and crossing her legs while he continued to hover over her.

  Debra smiled at his obvious edginess. The smile wasn’t to put him at ease, but because she was calmed by his nervousness. Nervous tension was what she expected from those she worked with, not the unsettling friendliness she was being subjected to here.

  “I think our situation calls for a little less formality, don’t you?” Any loss of self-assurance her bungled breakfast service had eroded returned at his apparent subservience as he scurried back behind his desk, nodding his head. “My name is Debra.” Recalling the arrogant modifying of her name by Jase last night, she glared across and added. “Debra, not Debbie, never Debbie. Understand?”

  Her lips twitched at his bobbing head. “I’m not sure why you felt we needed to talk this morning, George.” Glad to be off her already-tired feet, Debra blew the bangs out of her eyes. “The staff seemed a little surprised.”

  George became fascinated with something on his desk. He picked up a pen and fidgeted with it. Flicking the nib in and out, he refused to make eye contact. He cleared his throat repeatedly, before finally finding his voice. “How do you feel your shift progressed this morning?”

  Although confident of her answer, and certain she hadn’t made too many mistakes in the short couple of hours she’d been working, Debra paused.

  George’s raised eyebrows forced her to revisit her shift. The chefs’ bells had dinged annoyingly often, and she recalled muffled laughter coming from the kitchen each time she rushed to answer them. On reflection, she recalled more than once when other wait staff had stepped up to cover her ineptness.

  “If you’re determined to carry on with this undercover idea and pretend to be a waitress, Miss Laurie, ahh, Debra,”—George got to his feet—“then you must at least try to act like one.” Indignant steel shot through Debra’s back and her eyes narrowed as her subordinate paced around his small office. “To date...” he stopped in front of her, eyeballed her, and after a deep breath allowed words to rush from his mouth. “Nothing you have done even remotely suggests you know anything about this profession.”

  Cold anger stirred inside her, building to a crescendo in the silence filling the room. Her anger was not directed at George. He was making the best of the situation her mother had forced upon him. Debra’s fists clenched the chair arms.

  Damn Karin. “I told her this would never work.” Her words escaped through grinding teeth. George had just confirmed it. Further dark responses to her mother’s crazy idea begin to manifest inside her head as she accepted the truth. She could no more carry out the duties of a waitress than fly to the moon.

  Embarrassment replaced anger and burned her face, burned her whole body. How dare her mother force her into such an unpalatable position?

  It was mortifying to have a subordinate inform her how useless she was at a task she’d undertaken to perform. A basic, unskilled task any idiot could do with their eyes closed. And yet she’d sucked at it—sucked so much that those in the kitchen and dining room, who weren’t covering for her ham-fistedness, were laughing.

  She swallowed, hoping to purge the sour taste filling her mouth. Burning with resentment and humiliation, patting her hands against her cheeks did nothing to reduce the heat of that humiliation.

  Helplessness surged through Debra. Deflated by the truth of George’s comment she could see no way out of her predicament. Not when her mother was being so dogmatic about having her solve Riversleigh’s problems. “Damn Karin,” she muttered. “I told her this was a stupid idea.”

  “It’s far from stupid,” George contradicted, leaning against his desk. He wheeled the pen around in his fingers, keeping his eyes on the movement. �
��But for this endeavour to succeed you’re going to need some help.”

  Without effort Debra’s body went ramrod stiff.

  “Waiting isn’t easy,” George said.

  Debra managed to stop her eyes from rolling. Yes, I’ve discovered that. A few hours exposure had opened her eyes quite dramatically. She’d never take a waitress for granted again.

  “It takes training and a lot of practise to perfect the necessary skills to become a successful waitress,” George continued. “We don’t have time for practise but we could give you some practical tips and—”

  “So I could at least appear to know what I’m doing?” Sarcasm dripped off the words.

  Whether he was unaware of her mockery, or merely thought it prudent to ignore, George nodded, silently waiting for some response.

  Debra tapped fingers against her lips. “It’s no use me even being here if people suspect,” Debra mused aloud. “I need to fit in, become one of the staff. Otherwise no-one—”

  “Exactly,” George agreed.

  “But this ridiculous set-up must be very short term. I have more important things on my plate than running around acting on my mother’s whim. I’ve told her, one week.”

  She glared at George. “If I haven’t uncovered anything in one week to explain this place’s lack of profit, well...” She left the threat hanging. George’s expression suggested he was well aware of what her next action would be if the week’s undercover work exposed nothing of benefit.

  “I’d like your permission to bring someone else into the picture—one of my staff. She could take you under her wing, so to speak, give you some practical training and work as cover for you—”

  “When I stuff up?”

  Had her expression lightened, she wondered, for George had become more forthright. Or had her unveiled threat about the hotel given him some added backbone?

  “Exactly.” His wary smile suggested he wasn’t quite as sure of her reactions but was willing to take a risk anyway. “But I can’t see how we could do this unless Meg is aware of who you are and why you are here.”