The CEO Gets Her Man

by Anne Ashby

  George’s files were sitting on the corner of his desk when he returned. Debra drummed her fingers on the desk top, her mind buzzing. A quick call to her PA had confirmed conflicting entries. George’s version of expenditures from the kitchen was vastly different from the records presented to Head Office.

  She spun around as soon as he entered. “Can you get me the accounts from other departments?” Before he could answer she quickly added, “Discreetly. Very discreetly.”

  “Ahh—”

  “Housekeeping, reception, maintenance. I’ve already glanced through your bar records.” She made no excuse for searching his filing cabinet. After all, this was her business—a business being fleeced.

  “I doubt I could sneak them out during office hours. But I should be able to get them later on tonight. Is that soon enough?”

  Debra nodded. “As soon as you get them, I’ll go through them and you can put them straight back. I don’t need long, not now I know what I’m looking for.”

  A sparkle appeared in George’s eyes. “I’ve covered for you, told everyone you’ve picked up a tummy bug.”

  Debra grimaced. She’d forgotten the job she was pretending to carry out at Riversleigh. She swallowed, not choosing to be someone who skived off and forced others to take up the slack. Thank goodness George was on the ball.

  For a day or two more she needed to be everyone’s best friend. She needed them to be open and unreserved with what they talked about with and in front of her. She needed to be one of them. Until she was ready to pounce—and then their opinion of her would no longer matter.

  A knot twisted inside her stomach as she remembered the afternoon and the other girls’ friendship and humour, openly extended to include her. But she forced away any doubts as to her actions. She was here to determine the viability of the hotel, not to make friends. She must keep her mind on track.

  “I need some close up and personal time with the boss,” she mused out loud. “Any ideas?”

  “How close up are we talking about?” George’s grim smile echoed her own.

  She was rostered to wait tables tonight. “Oh, not too close. I was thinking I could serve her dinner or something?”

  “After I’ve dismissed you from the shift for being unwell?” George’s eyebrows rose. “How about you take coffee to her office in the morning? Her PA makes her a latte around nine. I’ll sidetrack Claire and ask you to take it instead.”

  Debra agreed, “What a good idea.” Adrenaline began flowing faster than water over Niagara. How would her initial meeting with Madeline Murphy go? The possibilities hyped her anticipation.

  ****

  Next morning Debra stayed close by until George had engaged the general manager’s PA in what looked like a spirited conversation. Jase McEwan joining them did nothing to lower the noise from the furore.

  “Debra,” George called across the dining room. “Take this tray up to Ms. Murphy please.”

  Noting the sudden frown on Jase’s face, Debra couldn’t help but sashay across to join them.

  “Perhaps one of the other girls, George—”

  George ignored whatever Jase had intended to say, picking up and handing the tray to Debra. “Third floor, right at the end of the hallway.” With a discreet wink George turned his back and continued arguing with the PA about her part in the disaster the previous day.

  Frustrated annoyance gleaming from Jason McEwan’s eyes drew a smile from Debra as she left the dining room. The smile whipped away when her shortened breathing registered. The acceleration of my heart beat has nothing to do with Jase, she argued. I’m stimulated by the chance to meet Madeline Murphy.

  About to head toward the administration area at the back of the ground floor—all their hotels were of similar design—Debra stopped. George had indicated the general manager was on the third level.

  As the lift doors encased her inside their steel box, she forced her breathing back to an acceptable level. Concentrating her thoughts on George she drove the other man from her mind. Thank heavens for such a consummate people person to deal with while I’m playing Mother’s silly game.

  She grimaced. Her mother’s silly game was turning out to be something much more complicated than she could have imagined. Much more disconcerting than she’d expected.

  Following George’s directions to the far end of level three’s hallway Debra’s lips tightened. The elaborate sign on the door indicated the manager’s sanctum instead of what should have been one of their high tariff suites.

  Only subtle changes had been made to the outer office. The elegance of the suite’s sitting room remained. Adding a small desk and filing cabinet barely turned it into an office at all.

  Disbelief at the apparent audacity of this woman set more warning bells clanging inside Debra’s head. What else had she taken upon herself to do without the authority of Head Office?

  Deep breaths disguised Debra’s gathering ire. She must not jump the gun. But her mouth twisted. This was yet another arrow for her quiver. Her knock on the inner door drew a barked invitation to enter followed by a snapped, “Who are you?”

  “I’m Debra, a new waitress, Ms. Murphy.” Employing a nervous stammer she continued. “Your P-PA was b-busy with Mr. McEwan, so Mr. Rivers asked me to fetch your coffee.”

  Debra was astonished as she approached the decorative mahogany desk. Overwhelming opulence filled this work space. This was nothing like her own office, nor like any office she’d ever entered. This one was fit for the Queen herself to work in.

  Instead of the normal hotel prints, oil paintings adorned the walls. One term of art appreciation at school didn’t provide Debra with any ability to distinguish their quality, but she surmised they might be valuable. Had her company purchased them?

  A plush leather couch and accompanying armchairs sat to the side of what she guessed was an antique desk. Fresh flowers sat in two vases on side tables, out of season fresh flowers. Elegance flaunted itself everywhere.

  Moving to the side of the desk Debra made sure the dishes rattled as she placed the tray down. In her peripheral vision a frown of annoyance marred a once very attractive face.

  Just as she lifted the coffee from the tray a knock sounded and Jase strode into the room. While Debra had fully intended making a hash of delivering the coffee, Jase’s unexpected arrival distracted her and the spill occurred more abruptly than she expected, splashing the woman’s desktop.

  The manager’s explosion from her chair jostled Debra into stumbling back against one of the side tables, upsetting the vase, and tipping water and gorgeous orchids all over the floor.

  “You stupid little bitch, look what you’ve done!” Venom like she’d never seen before blazed across at Debra. The pain from her banged elbow danced up and down her arm, only allowing half her mind to focus on the woman screaming obscenities.

  Jase rushed forward and touched Debra’s arm, the one she’d been rubbing. “Are you okay? Have you hurt yourself?”

  Debra found her gaze locking onto his face. His concern was evident as he ignored the mess around them—and the noise.

  “Forget about that stupid little idiot,” shrieked Madeline Murphy. “Look at my desk, look at my floor, look at what she’s done.”

  “For God’s sake, Madeline. It’s only water and some flowers…” Jase bent down, righted the vase, stuffed the flowers into it, and thumped it back onto the table. His angry glare would have quelled most people, although it bounced right off the crazed woman.

  Jase’s hand was firm on Debra’s arm as he escorted her away through the PA’s office.

  “I’m s-so sorry.” The tremble in her voice wasn’t manufactured any more. Rage churned inside her and made her voice wobble, but she struggled to keep the anger hidden from Jase. Let him think I’m frightened or concerned about my livelihood. “I did s-spill the coffee, and t-tip over those f-flowers. I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

  With tightening lips she acknowledged her own reputation as an employer could use s
ome softening but...such an unprovoked attack on an employee! She shook her head.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” His lips were almost white. “I’m just glad I followed you.”

  “So am I.” Her fervent response drew a gentle pat on her shoulder.

  “Don’t be concerned about your job…” Jase’s face was tight with anger. “There will be no adverse consequences toward you, take my word.” He stalked toward the outer door, his hold on her arm forcing her to follow.

  “The tray-the dishes...”

  “You’re not going back in there. Wait right here.”

  Debra shuffled across the thick carpet just far enough so she could lean over and peek into the office. The woman’s ranting—she could think of no other way to describe the tirade—accelerated and increased in volume but no sound left Jase’s mouth. He disappeared from sight and then returned to toss white towels onto the desk.

  Ignoring his boss he gathered up the dishes and within seconds marched out. His sharp nod sent Debra scurrying in front of him, out of harm’s way.

  Her lips tightened. Her heart raced as she summoned the lift, telling herself it wasn’t Jase’s presence causing her body’s unusual responses. She was playing a role, a subservient role—letting him feel protective and superior.

  The lift’s arrival halted more crazy thoughts from penetrating her head. Remembering the role she was supposed to be playing she made to take the tray.

  He shook his head. “Your arm-”

  Debra flexed the limb, feeling no evidence of the earlier sharp pain. “I guess I caught my funny bone on that vase. My arm’s fine now.” She flexed it some more just to show him, but he showed no intention of transferring the tray.

  As the lift stopped, Debra took half a step forward. The doors remained closed. She tapped the “open door” button.

  Nothing happened.

  After glancing over her shoulder at her companion she pressed the button again—and again.

  The doors remained firmly closed.

  A nervous quiver started in her hands and quickly spread. Her body trembled. Her stomach dropped as sharply as a fun park’s Tower of Terror.

  The revving of her heart coincided with the shocked little breaths she managed to suck in through her teeth.

  They were locked in.

  Entombed.

  Chapter Five

  “Don’t worry,” Jase bolstered. He set the tray down on the floor and reached for the phone. “It’s probably nothing.”

  Debra gulped, her mouth becoming drier than dust as Jase talked into the handset. His reassuring smile as he replaced the phone allowed her to release the jittery breath she hadn’t been aware of holding.

  “Apparently this has happened before,” Jase soothed. “Maintenance has come up with a novel way of getting the doors open—something to do with a very strong butcher’s knife.” Jase’s smile disappeared and he mumbled something under his breath.

  Debra didn’t catch the words but suspected they’d soon be repeated to the responsible, but innocent maintenance staff members. The faulty lift had been reported, and according to the records she’d checked last night, a huge invoice had been processed to pay an Invercargill company to fix the problem—purportedly.

  Moments later metal screeching against metal far worse than the sound of fingernails on a blackboard sent shivers up and down her spine. Again and again the sound shuddered through her but the doors remained in place.

  Faintly they heard a man’s guttural cursing.

  “I guess they’re going to have to get a technician from town.” Jase’s voice might be calm but Debra detected his annoyance. “I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

  “No, of course not.” Debra’s haughty reply contradicted her tinder-dry mouth and a heartbeat revved up a notch. She glanced around the steel cage. Admittedly she’d never been in a situation where she’d been tested, but she couldn’t imagine herself being claustrophobic. She didn’t allow personal weakness.

  “We may as well make ourselves comfortable.” Jase shoved the tray into one corner and settled himself down on the floor, his back propped up against one wall while his feet almost touched the opposite side. “At least we don’t have to worry about the lift crashing hundreds of feet to the ground,” he joked.

  Debra found little reassurance in the fact they were already at ground level. They were still entombed. Her heart hiked up another beat. Following his lead she slid down the wall until her bottom touched the floor.

  When his gaze flicked to the expanse of leg showing, her lips tightened and she yanked the black skirt as far over her knees as the material would allow. Her glare bounced past him to focus on the control panel above his head, willing it to miraculously open the doors.

  As long minutes passed the echoing silence added to her uneasiness. How could he be so calm? Sweat tickled her shoulder blades. Her hands had taken on a life of their own so she shoved them under her thighs to keep them still.

  Jase appeared annoyed by the inconvenience but unconcerned. If Jase isn’t worried, then I shouldn’t be either. Her brain told her body this but her body refused to listen. The quaking in her hands threatened to take over her whole body. The lift was so small—less than a woman’s arm span.

  The analytical part of Debra knew the area couldn’t be getting any smaller, but the walls seemed closer. How can Jase stay so calm? His head rested back against the wall, his eyes shut, so she turned to study him.

  Despite the end of his rugby playing days, he still appeared in good shape. Her gaze travelled up and down his reposed body. And up and down again. Very good shape.

  She allowed her gaze to linger on his very attractive face, acknowledging the bump on his nose, the small scar under one eye, his square chin. Each feature accentuated his masculinity.

  She closed her own eyes but nausea crept closer. She had to keep thinking about something else, not being locked in this box. I’m trying, I’m trying, she screamed inside. Then concentrate on Jase came a swift response. She refocused on the man opposite. Her stomach’s urge to move was less urgent.

  Debra’s look slipped. The darkness of his jacket emphasised the breadth of his shoulders. Crisp white linen stretched tight across his chest. The loosened tie and open button at his neck exposed a peek of extra skin. She’d regained control of the churning in her stomach but her heart rate accelerated.

  Short, sharp pants drew oxygen to her lungs as her gaze dropped. She ordered her eyes closed but they kept popping open again to feast on his physique. A trembling hand rose to her lips. What’s the matter with me?

  She’d seen him bare-legged before, sprinting around a rugby paddock more times than she could name. But of course, that had been on television. This was different. If she leaned forward just a little, she could reach out and touch him. Touch his thick thighs, run her hand up until...

  Jumping to her feet she spun around, desperately searching for an escape before her wayward thoughts crucified her. “How long are we going to be stuck in here?” Thank goodness her voice sounded strong. Didn’t it?

  Jase’s head rolled against the wall and he looked up through narrowed eyes. “It’ll take a technician at least thirty minutes to get here, assuming there is one immediately available.” He shrugged. “Then, who knows how long it might take to actually get the damned doors open. Relax. We’re not going anywhere in a hurry.”

  How could he suggest such a thing? Debra almost yelled back. She couldn’t relax. They were stuck. Nerves were already hiked up to fever pitch. Had she been alone, or with anyone else in the world she might have been coping better—but to be locked in here with her fantasy hero? She bit her lip so hard blood fouled her mouth.

  A moan almost escaped but she managed to quell its sound. She stood huddled in the corner, unidentifiable waves of emotion engulfing her. Her arms crept around herself to ward off whatever threat might materialise. This whole situation was just another example of how cruel life is if your name is Debra Laurie.

  Vibr
ation at her hip initially failed to register her phone was ringing. Scrambling to dig it out of her pocket she yelled a greeting.

  “What’s wrong?” her twin brother demanded.

  Debra ignored Jase’s scrutiny of her state-of-the-art mobile. It was not the type of phone most minimum-wage-earning waitresses would own. Instead she clutched Paul’s voice to her ear like a drowning man might clutch a lifeline.

  Talking to her brother would distract her; make her forget her sick stomach. Make her forget the other silly thoughts circling inside her head.

  “Oh Paul. Thank God. I’m stuck in a lift. The doors won’t open.” The connection between the twins had most likely alerted Paul and instigated his call. He wouldn’t have needed the wobble in her voice to guess her fragile state of mind.

  Debra almost smiled as her alpha-male brother immediately took control, demanding details, starting with her whereabouts.

  “I’m at Riversleigh.”

  “Riversleigh? What the hell are you doing at Riversleigh?”

  Debra turned her head and pressed the phone against her ear, hoping Paul’s astonished yelp hadn’t carried to Jase.

  “Never mind. This has to be one of mother’s schemes, right?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “So what’s happening? Are they working on the lift? How soon do they anticipate getting you out?”

  “Probably a couple of hours.”

  “What’s wrong, Deb? You can handle a couple of hours, can’t you? Sit down and relax. Use the time to plan our strategy for the merger with Collins, Inc.”

  Her internment momentarily forgotten, Debra’s voice rose to an excited squeak. “You got it?” Paul’s trip to Singapore had been successful.

  “Nailed it. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I knew you could do it.”

  Paul laughed. “Yeah, we’re all feeling pretty happy right now. The team did really well. But Deb, I’ve only got about another five minutes before I have to turn my phone off. They’ve already called my flight twice, but something made me ring. I’ll talk as long as I can so you’ll have less time alone.”