The CEO Gets Her Man (15 page)

With a firm hold on her legs he gave a gentle tug.

“Ouch, what are you doing?” squawked an indignant voice.

He gritted his teeth, searching to see what trapped her. “Getting you free before you flip out.”

“I’m not going to flip out, for goodness sake.”

“You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you?” he snapped.

He wished he could see her face. Her butt gave a little squirm which did nothing to calm him. Then he heard a choking sound.

“Are you all right?” he rubbed his hands up and down her legs to reassure her. “We’ll get you out soon.”

Her voice had changed, losing its commanding quality. “I’m fine. Forget about me. Help this guy.”

“The others are helping him. But—”

“I can see daylight so I’m fine. I’m not going to flip out on you, I promise.”

Her legs wriggled and as much as he wanted to touch her, reassure her of his presence, it seemed that wasn’t what she wanted.

Helplessness washed over Jase. He looked around the site, at the walking wounded huddled on the grass verge, sore and shaken, sipping on hot thermos tea the farmer’s wife had arrived with. The injured woman was in the care of her hovering daughter. His gaze flicked over the car causing this mess and the dead man inside. He clenched his fist and swore—and swore again.

Chapter Eight

Debra hung upside-down in the smashed mini-bus. It felt like forever, but in reality the firemen had her extracted before even an hour had passed.

Jase had been so attentive she feared it must be obvious to him now she was not claustrophobic. Telling herself she was relieved to discover this, too, meant she then had to analyse her strange behaviour inside the lift.

Tipped upside down, weird sensations and thoughts had flooded into her mind, obviously caused by the excessive blood also flooding her head.

She was sure any attraction she felt toward Jase McEwan was a throwback from when she’d been a silly teenager. The racing of her pulse when he clutched her in his arms the second she’d been released was a response to the enormity of what they’d experienced here on the roadside. It was not a response to his nearness, or his bare chest under her face.

She forced such wayward thoughts aside. Today she had Jase’s character to concentrate on, not frivolous flights of fancy about his body.

“I’ve advised our guests of our delay and suggested a slight change of plan.” They were finally on their way, having given all the assistance they could to the emergency services and police.

Jase rubbed the creases on his forehead. “We’ll join them for dinner tonight and travel down tomorrow. It will mean I only have one day to impress them with the facilities at Riversleigh but...”

With interest Debra chalked up his use of the singular pronoun. So he wasn’t expecting Madeline to share in any promotion of the resort.

Then the breath sucked out of Debra as she grasped the implication of his words. Spending the night in Queenstown? With Jase? Impossible. “I’m not prepared to spend a night away.”

“Of course not, but the situation has changed, don’t you agree?”

A question she wasn’t expected to answer, it seemed, as he continued without missing a beat. “We both need new clothes before anyone sees us.”

Debra fervently agreed. Jase looked way too sexy with his suit jacket thrown over a bare chest. She’d kept her gaze focused everywhere but his chest since they’d got back into the van. That had taken more effort than she expected.

Afraid her cheek might show some sign of its rest against his heart, she lifted her hand, but dropped it before contact.
Stop being so silly, it’s continuing warmth is just my imagination. Being that close to Jase has had absolutely no effect on me.

“I’ll replace your suit.”

Debra swung her head and gaped for a moment, her jumble of irrational thoughts denying her comprehension. At his nod she glanced down at the state of her own clothing. Or to be precise, her cousin’s clothing. She shuddered. The lower arms of her jacket and shirt were thick with blood. More red splashes were deposited across her front. Her stomach lurched. Stripping off the offending garments wasn’t an option.

A hand grasped hers. “Because of you, that blood belongs to a warm, breathing human being, not a corpse.” The St. John ambulance officers had suggested Debra’s actions probably saved the driver’s life. “We’ll get you cleaned up and into some new clothes as soon as we hit town.”

Jase seemed intent on keeping her hand in his again. Even her little wriggle didn’t dislodge his hold. It was dangerous, but why not? Why not just leave her hand resting in his? It felt so right and made her arm tingle all the way up to her shoulder.

With a conscious effort she forced her fingers to lie passive instead of curling around his and tightening the hold like they wanted to. Common sense told her his action this time had been a friendly, supportive gesture, not anything else. Certainly not a burning desire to touch her.

Just because her heart rate had trebled in the last few seconds didn’t mean Jase was similarly affected. If she made a scene of dragging herself away, he might guess how disturbed she was by his closeness.

Directing Chris to stop at a mall on the outskirts of Queenstown, Jase disappeared only to return with a bulging shopping bag.

As the vehicle edged back into the traffic, Debra caught a sudden closed expression on Jase’s face. She followed his gaze to where an impromptu rugby game was being played.

“You miss it, don’t you?”

His face hardened as he turned his back on the view outside. He showed no inclination to answer her.

“Rugby? You miss playing rugby, don’t you?”

Apparently not a subject he wanted to discuss, but she continued anyway. “You were so lucky.”

“Lucky?” The word exploding from his lips contained his frustration and anger.

“Yes, lucky.” Debra continued despite his narrowed, cold glare. “You got paid for playing a game, doing something you loved for ten or twelve years.”

His grimace didn’t stop her either. “How old were you when you got hurt? Thirty-four? Thirty-five?” She tucked some of her escaped hair behind her ear. “You couldn’t have played much longer, not and been on top of your game. Another season maybe? Then the selectors would have dropped you anyway. You’d have been too old, or you’d have slowed down.”

She smiled, hoping he could recognise sympathy was mixed in with her certainty. “I reckon going out injured was better than being dropped.”

“I wouldn’t have been dropped.”

She allowed her eyebrows to rise. “Maybe not that year, but what about the following?” She named Jase’s twenty-year-old understudy who’d filled his boots brilliantly.

She shrugged again. “If I were you I’d remember all the years you had, not whine about—”

“I don’t whine,” Jase snapped, his fists clenching white on his thighs. “I never whined.”

“I’ll bet you never.” Debra’s soft words contrasted starkly with his anger. “Maybe you should have. It might have got all the disappointment and anger out of your system.”

She risked putting a hand on his fist. “Hell, Jase, I’ve only just met you and I can sense all that resentment locked up inside you. Let it go and get on with the rest of your life.”

She tightened her grip. “You’re an intelligent man. Rugby can’t be a life-long career. So you started your next career a year or two earlier than you’d planned. So what?”

When the silence continued Debra risked making one last statement. “You were very lucky, Jase. Think about all the guys working their hearts out to wear that black jersey and never even getting to try one on. You wore one for twelve years. Twelve years, Jase. That’s almost one-third of your lifetime. One-third of your life you had a job thousands of others only dream about. And you loved every minute. In my mind that’s real lucky.”

Silence filled the van. Jase was probably fighting her words, disbelieving them, discrediting them. Doubtless he was right. What did she know about such passion?

“Are you lucky in your job?”

Caught up in her own audacity Debra nodded. “I love my job. It’s challenging and stimulating and always excit...” She clamped her mouth shut and spun her head away.

She swallowed as Jase’s gaze bored into the back of her head. Her effort to ease his obvious pain had let her mouth run away with her.

Debra flinched as fingers caressed her neck. “One day you’re going to tell me all about that.”

She inched her gaze around to look. It wasn’t suspicion or alarm in his expression, but more like substantiation. She dipped her chin. He hadn’t been taken in by her waitressing ability.

“One day soon, Debbie.” The words were a subtle warning.

Biting the inside of her lip, she nodded. In twenty-four hours he’d know everything. And so would she.

****

A concerned porter dashed forward as Jase and Debra exited the van in front of the hotel. Reassured that their bloodied clothing didn’t signify personal injuries he ushered them inside with a relieved smile.

Debra caught sight of their reflection in the sparkling glass doors and acknowledged how gruesome they must appear to those staff and patrons throwing concerned and horrified glances in their direction. But Jase’s panache saved them from real embarrassment as they booked into the five-star hotel looking like characters from a horror movie. As if this was a normal occurrence, he provided the required information with extreme dignity, Debra decided.

The receptionist, after initially querying their need for medical treatment, hastily booked them in—probably to ensure they didn’t dribble blood anywhere—although her eyes frequently did collide with Jase’s chest. Debra’s head jerked up and she sent the younger woman a supercilious glare.

Stark realisation dawned on Debra. Jase was used to females’ adoring looks, and probably much more than just looks. He appeared completely unaware of the attention. A blinding flash of jealousy streaked through her, cramping her stomach muscles tighter than a guitar string.

To cover her trembling ire she clutched the edge of the reception desk and continued to glare at the hapless receptionist.

“The rest of today is all yours, Chris.” Jase handed their driver a hotel key card and a wad of cash. “Have the van ready at eight in the morning.”

A grin split the young man’s face. “No worries, boss.” He left them and headed off for a feed.

“Come on.” A hand slipped around Debra’s elbow and she was escorted to the lift. Neither spoke in the lift or as they walked along the hallway. A delicious tingle quivered up and down Debra’s spine, while her head demanded she do something drastic to put him in his place if he’d been audacious enough to book just one room.

It wasn’t disappointment she felt when he paused. “This is your room.” He opened a door and ushered her in, moving to draw back the net curtains so the beauty of Lake Wakatipu lay before them.

Only just remembering her role, Debra hoped her glance around showed awe. “I don’t need a flash room like this. I could stay—”

“Don’t be silly, of course you’re staying here.” He fished into the bag he carried and drew out a bright pink garment. Debra’s eyes widened at his reddening cheeks. “We’re going shopping once we’ve cleaned up, but you needed something to wear.” Discomfort deepened the ruddy hue on his face.

Debra wanted to laugh. Self-confident, self-assured Jason McEwan was embarrassed. “I guessed your size, figuring a tracksuit would be okay even if it isn’t quite the right fit.”

Her amusement must have been twinkling in her eyes. He cleared his throat and dropping his gaze, slipped past her to pause at the open door. “I’m in the next room. I’ll knock in half an hour. Is that long enough?”

“That’s ample time,” The door swung shut even as Debra assured him.

The track suit wasn’t something she’d have bought, not in shocking pink anyway. But even if the fit wasn’t perfect, it would do until she could purchase something else.

Her bloody outer clothes got jammed into the small rubbish bin as the shower warmed up. Unravelling her hair from its plait, Debra cringed at the blobs of blood adorning it as well. Thank God the man was not in a critical condition. Splattered with a dead man’s blood would have been too creepy.

Under the pounding water Debra thrust aside the horrendous visions of the accident and forced herself to relax. Shampooing her hair for a third time she checked what she could see of the ends and hoped she’d wiped out all trace of blood.

Still she stood under the water’s warmth, her mind darting about in confusion. She mustn’t let Jase get any closer. His physical impact distracted her from what she needed to do. Turning off the shower she grabbed a towel.

She would not let this man infiltrate her psyche and distract her from a necessary course of action. She just needed to stay strong and not allow silly emotions to cloud the scene.

Water still dripped off her as she stomped into the bedroom. Glaring at the package lying on the bed she got the prompt she needed. The tracksuit had a designer label. He hadn’t bought cheap.

Her lips tightened. Whose money was he spending? He could have got something for a quarter of the price and it would have been adequate. Had this—she flicked the tracksuit out of its plastic wrapping with a disdainful glower—been paid for with his corporate credit card? Their hotel rooms definitely had. She’d recognised the card he handed over.