The CEO Gets Her Man by Anne Ashby Page B

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.
    Vibration 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.