The CEO Gets Her Man

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Authors: Anne Ashby
Tags: Contemporary
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leapt off the bed when her door burst open after a very perfunctory knock.
    “Come on.” Meg was dressed in jeans and a denim jacket, their tightness showing her body thin almost to the point of anorexia. “We’re going to Cathy’s for the afternoon.”
    She opened the tiny wardrobe, yanked a jacket from a hanger and threw it across at Debra. “Hurry up. They’re waiting for us.”
    Still reeling at the audacity of the woman, Debra made no move to comply.
    “Do you want them to leave without us?”
    “Who? What?” Debra shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    Meg took an exaggerated breath and planted hands on her hips. “Watch my lips,” she instructed. “We—you and I—are getting out of here for a couple of hours. Cathy and some of the others are waiting for us in a car so we don’t have to walk in the rain.” She grasped Debra’s arm and tugged her toward the door. “You won’t need that.” She plucked the phone from Debra’s fingers and threw it onto the bed.
    Not given any chance to protest, Debra was soon squashed into a car of unidentifiable make and model with half a dozen other staff members. Her search for a seatbelt drew hoots from the others.
    “We’re only going a few hundred metres,” one girl informed her.
    “Anyway, there’s only four belts, so unless you want to try and fit one around all three of us...” said the girl who’d followed them and jumped in onto Debra’s lap.
    Debra held herself inflexible amongst the giggling passengers as the car bunny-hopped along.
    “Why don’t you learn to drive, Cathy?” someone yelled as the car stalled in the middle of the road.
    “I can drive,” came a muffled reply. “It’s Toby’s car. I’m just not used to driving a manual.”
    Raucous laughter drowned out any further comment.
    Apprehension clawed at Debra, forcing moisture from every pore of her body. Breaths came in little pants as she repositioned herself but with Meg squashed against her side and an unknown girl, much bigger than herself, sitting on her lap, Debra was confined.
    Fears of kidnapping sent an unpalatable lump high in her throat and set her pulse galloping, but common sense reasserted itself. This invasion into her personal space had no ominous overtones. In fact the noise and giggling inside the car was almost contagious—almost.
    Soon they were piling out of the car and scurrying through the rain into a modest wooden home.
    “Time you learnt how to relax,” Meg whispered in her ear as she shoved Debra into a chair and perched on its armrest. In a louder voice she continued, “Cathy’s mum works at the museum twice a week. She doesn’t mind us using their house as somewhere we can relax and let our hair down a bit. It’s good to get away from the resort sometimes.”
    She leaned closer, dropping her voice. “Relax and you might even enjoy yourself. A novel experience, so to speak.” A wink may have lightened her implied criticism, but Debra still froze at her effrontery.
    Perhaps realising she had encroached beyond the acceptable, Meg sprang up and headed to what Debra assumed was the kitchen. At least her taking note of all the yelled responses to the call for refreshments suggested she was about to provide snacks.
    Awkward and uncomfortable, Debra squirmed as she looked around the cluttered room. Not only crowded with her companions but with a mismatched selection of dated furniture, this lounge was unlike any Debra had ever seen. The floral carpet, threadbare in places, looked as old as the house itself.
    Her face burned as Debra blocked her arrogant thoughts. Transferring her gaze, the polished woodwork, the spotless Manchester, the gleaming windows all impacted. This home might be older, but a very house-proud woman had filled it with cosiness Debra had initially missed.
    Every available surface was jammed with framed photographs. An image of Debra’s stark apartment sprang into her mind. She frowned. There was a photo

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