Pride kept her back taut, her shoulders straight, her hands freakishly clawed and resting on her thighs while inside she squirmed with the unfamiliar fear of insecurity.
Amongst her uncertainty, somehow the gap between her and Jase had vanished. Blood propelled through her veins, increasing the rhythmic thump-thump in her ears. They were sitting much closer together although Debra hadn’t been aware of either of them moving.
As Jase’s voice faded she found her eyes locked with his. Her mouth dried. He was close enough for her to see the faint growth of his beard. Her hand rose...
“What are you doing here, Debbie?” his whispered words stayed her hand before she made a complete fool of herself. “We both know you don’t belong in that dining room.”
“I told you, I wanted to spend some time in Southland,” she answered in a suffocating murmur.
She swallowed as his hand cupped her cheek. “You’re built for designer clothes and to be surrounded by beautiful things. Not our staff quarters.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes I can,” he murmured, his hand now caressing her face. When the tips of his fingers lingered over her mouth, her lips parted, unconsciously inviting.
A lurch of excitement travelled through her, a new and different sensation now toured her stomach. She wanted him to kiss her.
So caught up with her emotions she forgot what she was hiding from him. She forgot he could be embezzling money from her company. She forgot everything but his compelling magnetism drawing her ever closer.
It was the tip of his tongue that first touched her lips, tracing their outline with such tantalising tenderness she almost cried out. She was shocked at her eager response. It was her fingers urging him closer, sealing their lips with fiery passion.
The whirling dervishes left her stomach and headed south. She squirmed at the heightening awareness between her legs. Jase’s heart thumped beneath the hand clutching his shirt. He gathered her closer, until they were almost stretched out across the floor. His lips left hers to sear down the side of her neck. She shivered.
Tweaking aside her uniform’s collar he scalded her shoulder with his touch. Something inside her cracked as she held him tight. Unexpected hunger filled her, a yearning she had feared to dream of. Desire spun out of control as his assault turned back to her lips. She was on the side of a vortex, the growing demands of her body forcing her toward a door through which she couldn’t see.
A clattering thump returned them to reality.
Motionless except for their heavy breathing, within seconds a mortified Debra, with face burning shoved against the chest she’d just been caressing. She scrambled to her feet, straightening her clothes, unable to look at him.
Activity outside the lift suggested the technician had arrived. There was knocking, tools whirring, men talking. No one must think...no one must guess what had almost happened.
About to bury her face in her hands, Debra refused to give in to such weakness. Instead she squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin. As long as she didn’t look at him perhaps she could get through these next moments.
Jase seemed in no hurry to rise. “Debra? We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” she snapped, keeping her eyes forward. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Oh yes, there is.” He rose slowly. In her peripheral vision Debra saw him adjusting his trousers and the blush fading from her face returned tenfold, invading her whole body. “But you’re right. Now is not the time.”
Jase leant over and touching her chin forced her to look at him. “We’ll be out of here soon and everyone will be concerned.” Their gaze locked together. Something flashed between them—some powerful force neither seemed able, nor willing, to withstand. Debra forgot to breathe. Her tongue dampened her parched lips.
Slumberous eyes followed the movement. “We will be talking, Debra. You can bet your life on that.” The expression on Jase’s face turned his threat into a delicious promise.
A couple of enormous thumps and a hideous cacophonous grinding from outside destroyed the moment. Reality hit Debra like a swinging four-by-four post.
There couldn’t be anything between them. Once she’d ferreted out what was going on in this hotel she’d be off home to Wellington. Jason McEwen wouldn’t sanction her pretence, nor her suspicions of his involvement.
Their confined space accentuated the volume of the noise and Debra covered her ears. It also gave her an excuse not to look at her companion. She feared what she might read in his expression. Familiarity? Intimacy? Desire? She couldn’t handle any of those.
Or was she afraid because she knew any of those might soon be replaced by his looking at her with disdain?
****
As the lift doors were being manhandled open, Jase touched Debra on the shoulder. He grimaced as she jerked away from the contact. While Jase wanted to pursue what they’d started, and fully intended to do so, he again acknowledged that now was not the time.
His personal life would have to wait until he cleared up the resort’s mess. “I’ll tell George not to expect you in the dining room tonight, Debbie. You’ve had enough excitement for one day. Take the night off.”
He forestalled her attempt to retrieve the dishes from the lift floor and waved her away. She was only a couple of steps across the foyer when she began digging at her pocket.
His stomach muscles tightened at her rapt expression as she answered. Whoever Paul was, he commanded a huge emotional attachment. Huge enough to calm her when he suspected her reaction to their confinement was claustrophobic.
Would he be able to come between her and Paul? His lips formed in a cynical little smile. She hadn’t been thinking about some other guy a few moments ago. She’d been his.
Whoever Debra really was he intended to find out. She intrigued him.
With a flex of his tired shoulders he turned to his maintenance staff and demanded an explanation why the lift hadn’t been serviced at the first sign of trouble. Hearing his boss had instructed them to nurse it along instead of calling in a technician infuriated him. If guests had been stuck there for those couple of hours...
Head Office had cut their operating budget to almost nothing, but they couldn’t expect staff to endanger the wellbeing of their clients, could they?
Jase’s regard for the company he worked for had plummeted since James Laurie’s death. His children seemed more intent on making quick money than building and maintaining a respectable reputation.
With fists clenched he stormed toward his office. He’d be damned if he’d have anything to do with withholding necessary maintenance. If Madeline Murphy wasn’t willing to fight for a more realistic operating budget, he might just have to put his job on the line and approach Head Office over her head.
Chapter Six
Jase’s head flew up as the door burst open. The dark-haired beauty occupying his thoughts disappeared.
Only one person ever waltzed into his office as if she owned the place. As general manager, he supposed she almost did. His fists whitened around the arms of his chair. Struggling to keep his mouth shut and his scathing opinion to himself, he stared at the once-beautiful woman who now made his life a living hell.
Madeline Murphy was a bitch of the first degree. She had evidently used her looks to climb the corporate ladder as she had little nous about people or running a business. But now, despite the secret but noticeable recent facelift, those looks were deserting her.
It was obvious she had barely enough management skill to run a car wash. Jase clenched his teeth. Inside her beat the heart of a predator. She was ambitious and hard as nails. He had no doubt her ambitions included one day taking over the whole company, chewing up and spitting out anyone who might try to stand in her way.
Ten years ago the way she leaned over his desk might have seemed sexy, but at her age such behaviour was nauseating. She was almost as old as his mother. Only by stiffening his body did he manage not to shiver.
Before he could report the lift incident and demand an extension of the maintenance budget, his boss spoke.
“I’ve just had a call from Head Office. They’ve summoned all the general managers. Apparently those Laurie twins have acknowledged they need some expert help running the company.”
Jase almost choked.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be away, at least a week, I expect.” She rested her bottom on his desk, swinging her leg so her skirt rode halfway up her thigh. Seeing the movement in his peripheral vision Jase kept his narrowed gaze glued to her face. “Try to keep everything running smoothly, Jase. There’s a good boy.”
He jerked his head away from the fingers approaching his face. Her slimy little smile helped Jase realise his tolerance had reached its limit. “I do expect you to have that impudent cook under control before I come back. Give him his notice if he isn’t willing to work my way.”
Having no apparent effect on Jase her provocative stance was abandoned. She stood up and wriggled her fingers as she waltzed toward the door. “If you have any trouble with him just call me. I’m sure we can work something out. Just call, Jase. Anytime. Day or night.”
Thank God she and her sick smile disappeared out the door before he could react. Jumping to his feet Jase slammed open a window and sucked deep breaths into his lungs. Moments passed before he purged the overpowering odour of her perfume.
He should have quit the job months ago when she’d started coming on to him. Arrogant sod that he was he’d thought he could handle her, but she was too Machiavellian.
This altercation with Philippe was another of her subtle threats to undermine his resistance. He didn’t care what she might try against him, but her methods were sly, always attacking others. Always letting him know the result was in his hands. He could change things. He could protect the staff.
And he had. He had managed to keep one step ahead of her for months. This was now making her meaner than a cat with its tail in a rattrap.
Philippe was a sought-after professional, not some young trainee. He had international experience as a chef and deserved the respect his position demanded. If Madeline was determined to make him a pawn, there was little Jase could do. Wangling Philippe a job as assistant grounds keeper on the golf course—like the porter Madeline had fired—wasn’t an option this time.
Jase flung himself back into his chair, his momentum almost tipping both the seat and himself onto the floor. If only people weren’t depending on him he could just pack up and leave. But where would that leave his workmates, his family, and the children?
****
“Quit the bloody job if it’s getting to you so much,” Maata McEwan snapped over her shoulder as she drained a huge pot of vegetables. “Lord knows we can give you enough to do around here to stop you from getting bored.”
Jase fiddled with the cutlery box lying on the bench before scooping it up and absently moving around the elongated table laying down the required settings.
“You’ll give yourself an ulcer, Jase.” His sister-in-law frowned and wiggled her index finger. “Or something much worse, if you don’t watch out.”
Jase sent her a crooked smile. “Like Madeline Murphy in my bed, you mean?”
Maata exaggerated a shiver. “A fate worse than death, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Jase thumped the empty box back onto the bench, wincing at the echo bouncing back off the walls. “She’s away for a week. I’ve got that long to sort this out.” His fists clenched. “She’s gone too far this time, threatening to fire Philippe.” He shook his head. “She’s crazy. The hotel is collapsing around us and—”
“Stop being such a bloke and call your head office. You never know. They might ditch her and promote you to manager.”
Jase glared a response that was met with a shrug and an I-give-up-on-you shake of her head. He slumped onto a barstool, raking his hands through his hair.
His family didn’t understand his reluctance to report the problems facing the hotel. It wasn’t just a matter of snitching on someone, which just wasn’t him, but his lack of faith in the recent instructions from Head Office consolidated his hesitation. He had to find some other way.
“What’s she done now?” Jase’s father, Barry, asked as he and Jase’s older brother joined them. The three men automatically each picked up a steaming pot and began dishing food onto the plates lining the bench.
Jase grimaced. How come everyone could read him so easily? He dipped his head and concentrated on placing a piece of pumpkin on each plate.
“Threatened to sack the head chef.” Maata provided the answer just before clanging what substituted for a dinner bell.
Perfect timing. Jase breathed easier.
Pounding feet and squabbling children’s voices destroyed his need to continue this conversation. The door burst open and the crescendo increased. Children of every shape and size pushed and shoved at each other before they managed to settle themselves at the table.
His own problems were sidelined. Watching this mixed array of humanity join hands and thank the Lord for another day, for each other, and for their food, the magnitude of Jase’s problems shrunk.
The foster children living with Tim and Maata had faced real problems in their lives—parental death, physical and sexual abuse, neglect, abandonment. Jase felt humbled every time he looked at them.
Helping with finance from afar had been easy, but returning home had broadened his comfort zone. He’d envied the ease and certainty of his parents and brother as they established the home and knew he must help. He needed a job in the immediate area to provide what little moral support he could.