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
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
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