The CEO Gets Her Man (9 page)

“And collates all the figures for the weekly report,” Debra mused, her brain belting along at the speed of a bullet train.

“Thank you, George. Go and do whatever,” she dismissed him, not even considering she was in his office, or that she should be waiting tables in the dining room. “I want to check a few things. Come back in an hour and I’ll have something for you to do.”

Thirty minutes was more than enough time for Debra to accept their chef was indeed doing a sterling job maintaining the kitchen with an already very tight budget. His skills lay far beyond meal preparation and presentation. He was a genius at adaptation.

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 some 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.