While the Fire Rages (17 page)

“The Vermont project is underway.” The suddenness of his stark statement shattered the tension Brett could feel sneaking along his nerve ends. It shattered a great deal of Jo’s assumed composure as well. Two hazel traps blinked in momentary confusion, releasing their captive. “It would have been less awkward for me up there if you had seen fit to inform me of Wolf’s decision to contract Sean Delheny for the job.”

“But I didn’t know he had!”Jo protested. “How many times do we have to go over this argument?” she added impatiently. “Brett, I will tell you once more that I had thought Wolf had scrapped the whole idea.”

“Well, at least I’m Brett again.” Brett was barely aware of murmuring the thought aloud. Jo hastened to assure him the status quo could revert at an instant’s notice.

“For as long as you behave by maintaining a professional attitude.”

The “behave” got to him. “I’m not a little boy, Jo,” he purred with deliberate silkiness. “Be very careful of how you speak to me. You cannot remain in the building forever.” He smiled gently, very gently. “Are you receiving my message?”

The expression that flashed across Jo’s face activated a curl of excitement in Brett’s lower region. She had obviously received his message loud and clear, and, although she now had her expression in rigid control, for a fleeting instant he had read blatant eagerness on her face. Oh, yes, my sweet, the time for ASA draws closer and closer for both of us, he promised silently.

“Brett, I did not know about Wolf contracting Sean Delheny.”Jo’s quiet but forceful disclaimer snapped the erotic thread Brett was weaving. Consigning his designing plans for their future of sensuality to the edge of his mind, he brought his concentration back to the cold world of business.

“Okay, but I felt like a fool. First of all, I didn’t even know Casey was a woman! Then I find out Sean had his nose out of joint because he hadn’t been included in our first meeting.” Brett shook his head in memory. “As I said, I felt pretty foolish when Casey introduced me to Sean.”

“I’m sorry. I could have saved you that embarrassment. I just never thought to tell you the architect was a woman. Of course, I knew that Casey and Sean were married, and that Sean was a building contractor, but...” She let her voice trail off as she shrugged lightly.

Brett’s shrug reflected hers. “It’s over and done with. Sean is now officially under contract. I suggested a few minor changes in design, which Casey is working on now, but, for all intents and purposes, the project is underway. Before I left Vermont I tossed the ball into your court. I instructed both the Delhenys to send their reports to you.” Pushing his chair back abruptly, he stood up and strolled to the wide window behind his desk to stare up at the overcast sky. When Jo didn’t respond for several seconds, Brett turned back to her. “Can you handle it?”

“Yes.”

A tiny smile quirked the corners of Brett’s lips as he silently applauded the simplicity of her affirmation. In effect, what Jo was telling him with her quiet assertion was “I’m good at my job, and I know it.” In that respect Brett could empathize with her; he felt exactly the same way about himself. Brett went momentarily still with the realization of sharing yet another character trait with Jo. In his mind, he slowly ticked off the things they had in common. They were both good at their chosen work and knew it. They both had a somewhat offbeat sense of humor. They both enjoyed good food, especially of the breakfast variety. During the hours Brett had spent in Jo’s apartment while she’d been sleeping, he had made a tour of the rooms. On completion of his inspection he’d decided her taste was excellent—very likely because it reflected his own. And, last but definitely not least, they shared a mutual physical hunger. The parallels were enlightening ... and a little scary. Brett was positive he did not want to feel this affinity with
any
woman, let alone another man’s woman!

“You don’t believe me?”Jo’s strained tone fragmented Brett’s conjecturing.

“What?” Brett shook his head to clear his mind. “Oh, yes, of course I believe you. I... ah ... was thinking of something else.” Something I wish I’d never considered, he added mutely. “Understand, if there are any snags or major problems, we’ll work them out together but, well, I’d like the freedom to get on with an idea of my own.”

Jo’s immediate interest was evidenced by her alert expression and the eagerness of her blurted, “What idea?”

“I’m considering a complex, a very large complex, in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania.” His gaze steady on her taut form, Brett waited to see if she’d react at all. He didn’t have long to wait. Jo was still for a moment, then, an appreciative smile baring her white teeth, she nodded her head once.

“Can you get the property?” She shot the question at him hopefully.

There’s a realtor negotiating the deal now, but I want to be there,” He lifted his shoulders. ‘The man is completely qualified yet”—he smiled deprecatingly—”I want to be there.”

“Of course you do.”Jo’s return smile said tomes more than her simple words.

A gentle quiet settled between them. An understanding quiet Brett had never before experienced with a woman. It was good. They both felt it and reacted to it. Neither one of them moved, nor did they break that fragile quiet with speech. But they spoke to each other with mirroring smiles and glances that touched and locked. Jo, a wondering look widening her eyes, finally snapped the both of them back to the here and now.

“When are you leaving?”

There was an odd, almost frightened edge to her carefully controlled voice that Brett was in complete communion with. He felt it himself, the accord, or
simpatico,
or whatever it was that shimmered between them—it kind of frightened him too. He also was careful of betraying no nuances in his tone.

“I can clear my desk by Wednesday,” Brett said hopefully.

“Then go,” she chided softly. “I’ll mind the store.”

Brett grinned, unknowingly revealing his relief at her willingness to assume command in his absence. When he’d gone to Vermont three weeks previously he’d had everything under control. Now things were beginning to hum a bit—the way things usually did when the youngest of the Renningers got into gear—and it was a definite relief to know he had a second in command in New York who was the equal to Richard Colby in Atlanta. Still grinning, he walked back to his desk. Propping a hip on the edge of the cluttered surface, Brett picked up a thick manila envelope and handed it to Jo.

“The Vermont project thus far. Skim over it. If you have any questions, jot them down. We’ll confer tomorrow afternoon.” Brett arched a pale eyebrow at her. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

Again that simple matter-of-factness. Damned if she isn’t something else, Brett mused, watching her rise and move to the door. As Jo reached for the knob, another consideration struck him.

“By the way—” He halted her action. “I’ve fully briefed Marsha on the project. As the New England manager, she will be at your disposal.”

Five minutes later, Brett still stared at the door Jo had closed so very carefully behind her. What the hell had happened to all that understanding that had been flowing back and forth between them? Suddenly Jo had turned into the queen of ice! Surely it could not have been because he’d suggested she utilize the talents of another employee? But then, what the hell had chased all the warmth from her eyes and voice? All he’d done was mention the New England area manager and Jo had turned on the frost. Women! Shaking his head, Brett circled his desk and sat down.

As arranged, Brett met with Jo on Tuesday afternoon. The minute she entered his office Brett sighed with the realization that she had apparently applied her makeup with Jack Frost’s paintbrush; he was still getting the ice treatment. Their meeting was terse, brief, and to the point. She claimed to have no questions whatever. Brett took her word for it. The minute she left his office, Brett called Marsha front and center.

“Has Jo been in touch with you about the Vermont deal?” Brett shot the question at Marsha before she’d even seated herself.

“No.” Marsha made no attempt to conceal her surprise, or her curiosity.

“Why?”

“No special reason,” Brett hedged. “I was merely wondering.”

“She’s the one, isn’t she?” Marsha murmured sympathetically.

“What one?” Brett’s tone leveled a definite warning.

“Oh, Brett.” Marsha chose to ignore the danger. “You know ‘what one.’ The one whose memory kept you from performing at”—she paused at the sudden stiffness about him, but went on fearlessly—”full capacity, shall we say?”

Brett’s reaction was immediate and startling. “Damn it, Marsha!” he snarled, jumping to his feet to stalk to the window, then back again. “Do I taunt you by reminding you of your failure that night?”

“I’m not taunting you, Brett”

“Then what the hell—”

“Brett,” she cut in gently. “You’re laying a smoke screen, and you know it. Jo is the one, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” he grated harshly. “Christ! Am I that transparent?”

“Of course not,” Marsha smiled. “And you know it But I was with you when you came back last week, remember. I could actually feel the tension between the two of you. And I saw your face when it became obvious that she was ill. Poor Brett, you’ve got it pretty bad, haven’t you?”

“Sometimes bad.” Brett smiled whimsically. “And sometimes good. But at all times frustrating.”

“As to that, I have a million questions.” She held up her hand at the frown that drew his brows together. “None of which I’d dare ask. But isn’t there any way you can resolve the situation?”

“Marsha, I fully intend to resolve the situation,” Brett assured her softly. “In my own time, and in my own way.”

‘There are times”—Marsha grinned—”my dear Brett, when you actually give me the shivers.”

“Oh, sure,” Brett said dismissively. Moving restlessly, he strolled to the window. “By the way, are you all settled in?” he asked idly.

“To what? The job or the apartment?”

“Both,” he grinned. “But primarily the job.”

“Fairly well.” She grinned back.”Why do I have this sensation you have a particular reason for asking?”

“Maybe because I have a particular reason for asking,” he retorted dryly. “I’m going to hit the road again on Wednesday,” he explained seriously. “I was wondering if you had any questions before I leave.”

“Where are you off to this time?” Not for a minute did Marsha think the query impertinent, which said much for the closeness that had developed between them in the brief time they’d known each other.

“The Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania. I’m considering a condo complex there,” Brett explained sketchily.

“For the skiers?”

Brett smiled. Marsha was sharp, but she was not quite as sharp as Jo. Jo had immediately picked up on his motivation. Oddly, knowing Jo was half a step ahead of most pleased him immensely.

“Partly.” He nodded. “But I suspect that, before too long, that area will be booming the way the Jersey coast is now.”

“A hotel casino?” Marsha’s eyes widened.  “But there are casinos already in the area.”

“I know.” Brett shrugged. “But I’m not thinking about a hotel-casino.  I’m considering condos, for both skiers and the whales.”

“Whales…in the mountains?” she blinked.

He smiled at her blank look.  “Whales are high rollers, big time gamblers who are loaded, who just might want a place of their own to stay instead of a hotel room.  What the hell,” he grinned. “Columbus took a chance.”

“And he’s dead,” Marsha drawled, straight-faced.

“Yes, well, nobody gets out of this life alive,” Brett out-drawled her. “Well, do you have any questions?”

“None that I can think of offhand,” she assured him.

“In that case, I have an assignment for you.” Choosing his words carefully, Brett continued, “While I’m away I’d like you to use your connection with Casey Delheny to keep abreast of what’s going on up there.” Restless again, he measured the carpet in strides. “Jo has been put in complete charge but—”

“You don’t trust her?” Marsha asked softly.

“I trust her implicitly!” His tone suddenly harsh, Brett stopped pacing to glare at her.
“But,
should she require assistance, I want you armed with the necessary data.”

“Oh, boy,” Marsha breathed softly. “You do have it bad.” Before he could bite her head off, which he appeared ready to do, she asked, just as softly, “Are we friends, Brett?”

‘‘You know we are,” Brett snapped. “But that does not give you the right to—”

“Brett.” Marsha silenced him with a wave of her hand. “Let me give you a bit of”—she shook her head at his scowling look—”not advice, but information. You know, the grapevine in this building is very alive and very active. I’ve picked up a few interesting bits and pieces since I’ve been here.”

Positive she was going to say Wolf’s name, and equally positive he did not want to hear it, Brett tried to shut her up. “I’m not interested in company gossip, Marsha.”

‘Then you should be,” Marsha insisted, determined to have her say. “I’m told she’s frigid.”

“What!” With the memory of Jo’s eager mouth, the way she melted against him, and her eyes, smokey with desire, teasing his mind, Brett was hard put not to laugh.

“Or afraid of men, or something. At any rate, she appears to have little or nothing to do with them. And they have tried, boy, have they tried! Apparently every eligible, and not so eligible, man in this building has approached her at one time or another. The rebuff is made gently, and very politely, but it is definitely a rebuff.” Marsha shrugged. “I just thought you should know.”

“And now I do,” Brett replied roughly. “And now the subject is closed.” No sane person argued when Brett used that roughly threatening tone of voice. Marsha knew better than to set a precedent.

* * * *

Brett was away from the office for ten days. Ten days during which he was very busy, and strangely lonely, and tormented by thoughts of Jo. Only once did he give thought to his last conversation with Marsha, and then only fleetingly. Incredible as it seemed, apparently no one at the office had an inkling of the affair between Wolf and his assistant. That fact confirmed Brett’s opinion of the two of them: Wolf and Jo were intelligent individuals.