While the Fire Rages (16 page)

Except for his eyes, Brett didn’t move. For several seconds he didn’t even breathe. Starting with Jo’s now-sodden, tangled hair, his glinting gray gaze inched the length of her body to the tips of her water-wrinkled toes. When his eyes slowly returned to hers, he stared into their depths as if he were trying to search out the deepest secrets of her soul. The intensity of his gaze stopped the breath in Jo’s throat and liquefied all the strength in her body.

“Damn! You are beautiful!” Brett’s hushed, reverent tone drained all defiance, all resistance from her. “Your hair is beautiful.” Slowly, holding the towel aloft, he moved to her. “Your skin is beautiful.” Flipping the huge terry sheet behind her, he wrapped her in its voluminous folds. “Your eyes are beautiful.” Sliding his arms around her, he drew her to him. “And your mouth.” His arms tightened to crush her to him. His voice lowered to a murmured groan. “God, your mouth!”

The mouth that Brett groaned over trembled in reaction to a sudden, searing need racing wildly through Jo’s body. She was afraid, afraid of her own ineptitude, her own inadequacy, but she was also powerless against the force that urged her to arch her neck and raise her lips to him in silent offering. Brett pounced on her offering with the vengeance of an angry deity. With a guttural growl her lips were taken inside his mouth to be devoured, nibbled on, and then gently laved by his searching tongue.

Giving in completely to the rioting sensations storming her body, Jo worked her arms free of the confining towel and coiled them around his neck, driving her fingers into the silken strands of his hair. The heat rising inside her found a measure of release as she obeyed his silent command to part her lips, wider and yet wider. All rational thought suspended, Jo’s mouth consumed while being consumed. When Brett’s stiffened tongue pierced into the moist warmth, Jo drew a moan from him by curling her own tongue around his. This time Brett placed no restraint upon his hands. His impatient mutter filled her mouth, and then the towel was torn from her body and tossed aside.

His hands moving restlessly over her back, Brett slid his lips from hers. Biting little kisses sensitized her skin from the corner of her mouth to the delicately curved edge of her ear. With a maddeningly slow, erotic rhythm the tip of his tongue dipped in and out of her ear. When his evocative play forced a groan from Jo’s dry throat, Brett’s hands moved down to cup her rounded bottom to pull her up and into the burgeoning hardness of his body.

“Will you part your thighs for me as quickly as you parted your lips, water baby?” he coaxed softly into her ear. Lost to everything but the need to have him fill every particle of her being, Jo complied to his coaxing with a whimper of surrender. The whimper turned to a gasp as Brett thrust his body against hers. Even fully clothed, Brett’s arousal imprinted itself on her forcefully. Releasing his grasp on her, he brought his hands up to cradle her face. His eyes glinting like new steel in bright sunlight, he stared down at her.

“I must have you,” he said clearly, fiercely. “Against all reason ... and my better judgment, I will have you. In all probability we will both regret it afterward but, while the fire rages, I will feed my appetite for you on it,”

A cold finger of unease poked warningly through the fog of passion clouding Jo’s mind. There was something wrong here, something in the harsh tone of Brett’s voice, and the rigid set of his features, something that looked frighteningly like disgust, both for her and himself. Not understanding this new element of fear he’d injected into their intimacy, Jo attempted a protest.

“Brett, no ...”

“No?” he snarled, obviously misinterpreting her protest as a refusal. Grasping her by the shoulders, Brett spun her around, roughly pulling her back to his chest, imprisoning her easily by clamping his hands over her breasts. “Look at yourself,” he ordered tersely. In a room of mirrors, there was no possible way to avoid looking at herself. Jo recognized the incongruity of the picture reflected back at her, she stark naked, Brett fully clothed. But that incongruity was not the point Brett was trying to make, as he very quickly proved.

“How dare you tell me no?” he demanded. “Just look at yourself. Your lips are wet and parted in anticipation, your eyes are dark with desire, and your entire body is quivering with sexual hunger.” Watching her examine herself, Brett spread his fingers with cool deliberation. Immediately her hardened nipples thrust through the opening. Moving his hands slowly, he stroked the tips of Jo’s breasts with his index fingers. When Jo could not deny the aching moan that whispered through her lips, Brett lowered his head to place his lips to her ear. “Now tell me no.” As if to reinforce his point, he rotated his hips enticingly against her derriere. “If you still dare.”

Jo’s rational thinking process dissolved as Brett continued to stroke and manipulate her tingling nipples. Following the dictates of a passion flaring out of control, she arched her spine to press her aching breasts into his hands and twisted her head around, seeking his mouth with her avid lips. Grunting in satisfaction, Brett released his hold on her breasts to sweep her up into his arms. His mouth clinging to hers, he carried her into the bedroom. As he came to a stop beside her bed, Brett lifted his head and  froze when his glance brushed the night table. Cursing softly, vehemently, he set her reluctantly on her feet.  Thoroughly confused, Jo stared at him in disbelief.

“Brett, what...”

“Gertrude will be here in approximately fifteen minutes,” he cut her off harshly, still staring at the table and the small alarm on it.

“Gertrude?”Jo repeated blankly, then, because she only knew one Gertrude: “Gertrude Jorgeson? Wolf’s housekeeper?”

“Yes.
Wolf’s
housekeeper.”

The sudden, inexplicable anger in his tone and stiffened body as he turned away from her created an empty, bereft feeling inside Jo. What had she done to anger him? Surely her response had been evidence enough of how badly she wanted him? Fighting a creeping sense of failure, Jo bit down hard on her lower lip as she watched him stride to the double dresser against one wall, pull open a drawer, then, without bothering about being selective, plunge a hand in. Grasping the first garment he touched, Brett withdrew it and flung it at her with a tersely snapped “Cover yourself.”

Jo could not have been more shocked had Brett slapped her, hard, across the face. Blinking furiously against the sudden sting of tears, she pulled the filmy mid-thigh-length nightie over her head. By the time she’d tugged the short gown into place, Jo’s hurt had given way to anger.

“What is Gertrude Jorgeson coming here for?” The cold, grating sound of her voice surprised Jo, and spun Brett around to face her.

“She’s going to look after you for a few days.” Brett’s voice was as cold and grating as hers had been. What, Jo cried inside, had happened to all the passion of moments ago?

“I don’t need anyone to look after me!” she exclaimed hotly. “I’m perfectly all right.”

Cool eyes swept her from head to toe. “You are
not
all right. People who are all right do not faint. Nor do they fall to the floor the way you did a little while ago.” Now Brett’s eyes hardened in determination. “You will not return to the office until Monday.”

“But this is only Tuesday, Brett!”

“Not before Monday,” he repeated firmly. “And that is a direct order.”

“But—”

“I said that’s an order,” he roared. “Now, get into that damn bed and stay there. Gertrude will be here shortly.” Shooting his wrist from his cuff, he glanced at his watch. “It’s just as well I remembered Gertrude’s imminent arrival before undressing,” he drawled—insultingly, Jo thought. “It’s almost noon and I have an appointment at one.” Shrugging his shoulders as if their abortive love-making was of little importance, Brett turned and walked from the room.

Still standing beside the bed, her eyes wide from the impact of his parting observation, Jo crossed her arms around her middle and hugged herself tightly in an effort to contain the sharp pain clawing at her insides.

Chapter 7

Monday morning Brett sat in his office, his gaze riveted to the digital clock on his desk. When the numbers read nine oh five, he thought,
I’ll give it five more minutes then I’ll call and order her to come to me.
The small rectangle that contained the digits blurred as the phrase “come to me” echoed in his mind. Brett had not seen Jo since he’d walked out of her bedroom the previous Tuesday noontime. Now what he wanted, what he really wanted more than anything else in the world was for Jo to come to him without the order to do so ever being issued. Brett knew, deep down in his bones, that what he wanted and what he’d get were two entirely different things. After the way he’d left her, he knew there was no way Jo would come anywhere near him without being summarily ordered.

Slicing a glance at the clock, Brett reached for his telephone. This morning Jo did not answer as usual.

“Yes?” Her voice came crisply to him over the wire.

“You have to be told?” Brett drawled slowly.

“You want me in your office?”

In my office. In my apartment. In my bed. Anywhere and everywhere,
Brett tormented himself with the tantalizing thought an instant before replying to her leading question.

“If you can find the time.”

“Now?”

“If you will.” Brett sighed loudly, exaggeratedly, before he gently replaced the receiver.

The moment Jo walked into his office Brett felt the presence of the invisible wall she’d erected between them. The presence was as cold and forbidding as her expression. If he was any judge of women, and Brett had cultivated a discernment since Sondra, he was in for a very chilly period. His nerves tightening with tension, Brett waved her to a chair while wondering what in hell he’d say to her. Perhaps, he mused, clearing the air would melt the ice.

“Jo, about last week ...”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” she interrupted sharply. “Do you have work for me to do?”

“We’re going to talk about it whether you want to or—”

“No!” Jumping out of the chair, she stood trembling and poised for flight. “If you have nothing for me to do—”

“SIT DOWN!” Brett barked the command. “I’ll tell you when you may leave this office.”

Her eyes shooting sparks at him, her delicate nostrils flaring with rebellious agitation, Jo defied his authority. “You can’t make me ...”

“Who the hell’s going to stop me?” Partly amused, partly angry, Brett flung the question at her arrogantly. Jo did the one and only thing that could stop him cold. Calmly lifting the telephone receiver, she stared at him coolly as she punched the button for his secretary.

“Mrs. Jenkins, get me Wolf Renninger in Florida, please,” she instructed the woman quietly.

“Damn you, Jo! Hang up that phone.” Brett was so furious he had to push the order through his gritted teeth. You should have known better, you fool, he lashed himself scathingly. You really should have known better. Why did you assume, even for one wild moment, that she’d let you order her around? She’s got the ear of the big prowler, his ear and every other vital part of him. You, big mouth, are only his baby brother! Berating himself, Brett watched as she spoke into the receiver.

“Cancel that Florida call Mrs. Jenkins. We’ve resolved the problem.” Cradling the receiver gently, Jo looked at him impassively. “We have resolved the problem, haven’t we?”

Leaning back in his chair, Brett studied her through narrowed lids. ‘You really would have called him, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jo replied simply. “I really would have called him.”

“Because I raised my voice to you, you’d have taken the risk of disturbing him,” Brett persisted coldly. “Regardless of his condition, or what a whining call from you might do to him, you would have called him?”

Even though Jo’s features tightened, she answered coldly, “That’s right, I would have.” She paused to draw a deep breath then coldly reinforced her position. “Let’s have one thing clear here and now,
Mr.
Renninger. I am your
brother’s
assistant, not yours. At least, fortunately, not on a permanent basis. I am not a lackey. I am not a go-for. I am not the resident whipping boy. And I will not be spoken to like any of the above. If you are in a foul mood, find someone else to snap at.” A derisive smile curled her lips. “You can always call Richard Colby,” she suggested sweetly. “And chew him out.” Her smile hardened.

Taut with anger, Brett curled his fingers around the chair arms to keep himself from springing from the seat and sprinting around the desk to her. He wanted to shake the living hell out of her. But, more than anything else, he wanted to kiss her insolent mouth. You are in big trouble, boy, Brett advised himself, running a calculating glance over her. This one’s got you tied in knots that would make a sailor blanch.

“Sit down, please,” he said in a carefully controlled monotone.

“Why?”Jo didn’t move.

Somehow Brett contained the curse that danced on the tip of his tongue. Forcing himself to relax, he sat up straight and folded his hands on his desk. “This is a business office, and ...”

“Oh! You noticed, finally,” Jo taunted coolly.

Of course, one could always unfold one’s hands. Brett didn’t. Instead, he drew a deep, cautioning breath. “You’re right,” he admitted, swallowing the taste of gall. “I stepped out of line ...” He paused, then added firmly, “Here.” He paused again, but her only reaction was a tightening of her lips. “It won’t happen again.” Once more he paused briefly. “Here.”

“Why do I feel less than reassured?”Jo murmured tersely.

Brett could feel his facial muscles tightening with the insult. “I said I’ll keep all our discussions on an impersonal basis here in the office. If I give you my word on it, will you sit down?”

Jo stared directly into Brett’s eyes for several seconds before, warily eyeing him, slowly, stiffly she sank to the very edge of the chair. Brett knew the elation he felt at her compliance was out of proportion to the situation, yet he savored the acknowledgment of her acceptance of his word. Staring into the hazel depths of her eyes, he nodded his head slightly. “Thank you.” His husky tone caused a ripple in her mask of withdrawal, and that sent his elation up a notch. Lord, he mused, visually crawling into a hazel ensnarement. With very little effort, this gal could slip a ring through my nose and keep me grinning throughout the entire process! Time to pull your head together, Renninger, before you find yourself down for the count. Think of something, anything, but get your concentration back on the business of buildings.