While the Fire Rages

by Joan Hohl

  “What was Casey’s problem?” Brett tossed the question at Jo as he strolled to his desk.

  “Nothing really earth shattering, and nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Every one of Brett’s senses screamed an alert. There was something wrong here, something in Jo’s tone. Eyelids narrowing, Brett studied her more closely, his sharpened glance probing past the glow imbued by being out of doors. Her eyes were opaque, refusing an observer access to her thoughts. Her features were carefully controlled, devoid of expression. Her attitude was of polite, cool detachment. All the questions he’d planned to ask her about Vermont fled before the confusion that fogged Brett’s mind.

  Before he’d left New York for Atlanta they had been on friendly, almost warm terms. Now Jo looked at him as if he were a stranger, and a not too appealing one at that. What could have possibly happened to change her? Brett wondered. And in such a short amount of time?

  “Are you ... all right?” Brett inquired gently, carefully feeling his way.

  “Actually, no.” Jo’s lips tightened.

  Brett’s chest tightened too. “Is it something to do with that trouble in Vermont?” Even as Brett asked the question Jo was shaking her head in the negative. “What then?” he demanded, if softly.

  Jo drew a deep breath, which nearly drew a groan past his compressed lips; Jo did fill a sweater to advantage.

  “I’m not feeling right.” She hesitated then rushed on, too quickly. “I don’t feel exactly ill, but I don’t feel exactly well either. I’m ... I’m tired all the time. Perhaps it’s a holdover from the virus I contracted a few weeks ago.”

  Garbage. Brett knew Jo was lying, he knew it... yet, why? “Have you consulted a doctor about your symptoms?” Brett knew the answer to that too. He was right.

  “No.” Not a muscle in her face moved, only her lips. “I think all I need is some rest.” Now she hesitated again, as if girding herself for battle. “I’ve used up all my vacation but, with your permission”—she grimaced, as if the last word was distasteful to her—”I’d like to take a leave of absence the last two weeks of this month.”

  “Jo—” Brett began, only to be cut off at once.

  “That’s not all.”

  “Go on. What else do you want?” Brett muttered.

  “Permission to stay at the motel in Ocean City.” Jo stared at him coolly.

  “You want to go to the beach in December!” Brett exclaimed in an amazed shout.

  “I want to rest!” Jo shouted back, revealing tension for the first time since entering his office. “It will be quiet there. And I love the sea. May I stay in one of the rooms there?” she insisted, her tone again without inflection.

  “Aren’t you going home for Christmas?”

  “No!” The denial shot out of her.

  Brett now had part of the answer, but only part of it. He was sure something had happened while she’d been home at Thanksgiving, and apparently that something had been unpleasant Brett was equally sure that was not the complete answer. Her attitude toward him had changed drastically, so it was also something to do with him that had caused this cold front she was presenting. But what had he done? Brett raked his mind and came up blank. If she’d only talk to him, or scream at him ... but, from her attitude, it was obvious she was not going to budge from behind her icy mask. Damn it, he raged inwardly, what can I do but let her have what she wants? Nothing.

  “If you’re going to stay there the entire two weeks, one room won’t do,” he said flatly. “You’ll get cabin fever before the first week is out. Stay in the apartment.”

  “But...”

  “Don’t argue!” Brett was skating very close to the edge of his patience, and it showed. Jo subsided at once. “I’ll call Wolf’s housekeeper, Mrs. Jorgeson, and ask her to have the utilities turned on and to clean the place for you.” Standing abruptly, he slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew a gold keyring. After working two of the keys off the ring, he leaned across the desk and handed them to her. I’ll also let security know you’re coming.” A sardonic smile twitched at his lips. “I don’t think you’d enjoy spending Christmas in the slammer for breaking and entering.”

  Jo’s expression didn’t change, in as much as she still showed no expression at all. “Thank you.” Her voice had a cool, withdrawn quality that sent a shiver through Brett

  Brett mentally gnawed at the problem of Jo’s attitude long after she’d left his office. In fact, he was still racking his brain for an answer after her leave of absence had officially begun. He saw little of her during the two-week interval, and what he did see of her alarmed him. She was pale, she looked liked she was not getting enough sleep, and she was much too subdued. The Jo Lawrence he had come to love had been anything but subdued.

  As Christmas grew nearer, and the office employees grew merrier, Brett’s worry and frustration jelled into determination. Four days before Christmas he reached the end of his patience. Whether Jo liked it or not, she was going to get company. Damn it! He owned the place, didn’t he?

  Late that afternoon Brett signed the release for the employees’ Christmas bonuses, locked his desk, and pushed his chair back. As he was shrugging into his coat the phone rang. Snatching up the receiver impatiently, Brett growled, “Ms. Jenkins, I told you I was leaving. I’m taking no calls.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Renninger, but I was sure you’d want to speak to this party.”

  Brett immediately thought of Jo. “Who is it?”

  “The boss.”

  Brett smiled at her dry tone. Hell, he didn’t know she was capable of dry humor! “You’re right, Ms. Jenkins. I’ll take the call.” The moment Brett heard the switch click in, he drawled with his usual insolence, “Yes, sir?”

  “I should have beaten you as a child,” his mother said decisively, then added maternally, “You are coming to the farm for Christmas, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Brett assured her. “I should get there late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve.”

  “Good, we’ll see you then,” Violet said briskly. “By the way, if Jo Lawrence has no other plans, bring her with you,” she tacked on as an afterthought.

  Brett mulled over his mother’s invitation all the way to Ocean City. Even though she had expressed a desire to meet Jo, it seemed odd to Brett that his mother had chosen this particular time to do it. Christmas was always a family time at the Renninger manse, wherever that happened to be when the holiday rolled around. There was, of course, one unavoidable consideration, and that was that Wolf had made a special request of Violet to include Jo. Merely speculating on that possibility torched a blaze of anger inside Brett.

  By the time he drove onto the motel parking lot, Brett had mulled himself into a fury. Deep inside his conscience, Brett knew he had no right to demand anything from Jo. At the same time, consciously Brett knew he was about to demand everything from her.

  The small car, parked near the entrance doors, looked slightly forlorn on the large lot. As he pulled the Porsche up beside it, the term run-about slithered into Brett’s mind. Had Wolf signed his name to a check for the toy? Brett tormented himself with the query as he strode to the wide glass doors. After making sure the doors were securely locked again behind him, Brett took the stairs two at a time, then loped along the hallway to the apartment. Key at the ready, he hesitated a moment, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  Jo was standing with her back to the oversized window, having obviously spun around at the sound of his entrance. She did not look frightened, or even surprised. In fact, Brett had the strange sensation that she’d been expecting him. His anger changing to an even more basic emotion, Brett stood still for a moment, eating her with his eyes. Even though it was still early evening, Jo was dressed for bed in a lilac-and-orchid striped silk robe over a paler orchid nightgown. Her face was free of makeup and her hair was slightly mussed. Brett decided to muss it even more.

  Without as much as a word, watching her eyes, Brett walked to her, shedding his leathe
r jacket and dropping it to the floor as he went. With cool deliberation he walked right into her, a primitive thrill leaping in his loins at the shock of their colliding bodies. Then the aching emptiness of his arms was filled with the softness of her and his restlessly moving hands delighted in the silk material covering her back. Still staring into her eyes, Brett read surrender in the soft hazel depths.

  The clean scent of her filling his senses, the feel of her soft breasts crushed to his chest, and his own now-raging desire snapped the thread of communication between Brett and his conscience. Damn Wolf! Damn the whole damned world! He must have this woman.

  Giving Jo time to protest, or turn her head aside if she wanted to, Brett lowered his head slowly. The fact that Jo did neither, but parted her lips instead, set Brett’s heart racing. Gently, gently, he cautioned himself as he touched his lips to hers. But then, at Jo’s instant response, all thoughts of caution dissolved in the blood that went rushing through his veins. Suddenly filled with the need to conquer, Brett pressed his mouth against hers, unmindful of the low growl that swelled his vocal chords. Jo reacted by clasping his head to pull him deeper into her mouth.

  Sliding his hands down her back, Brett grasped her rounded bottom and lifted her up to meet the urgent thrust of his body. At the same time he inserted his tongue into the sweet moistness of her mouth. Jo rewarded Brett’s efforts with a low groan. Sweeping her into his arms, Brett strode to the bedroom, his lips locked on hers. Coming to a stop beside the bed, he allowed himself the pleasure of sliding her body down his as he settled her on her feet.

  Every one of Brett’s senses urged him to rip the robe and nightgown from Jo’s body then tear his own clothes off. Clamping hard on his back teeth, Brett brought every ounce of control he possessed into play. He had waited too long for her to rush the moment. No, there’d be no ripping or tearing here. No hurried, frantic coupling. Brett fully intended to enjoy every minute of the love play. He fully intended Jo to enjoy it as well.

  Slowly, tenderly, Brett removed the robe and nightgown, then stepped back to feast his eyes on her. Beautiful, God, she’s beautiful, he thought, inching his gaze over Jo’s nakedness. Her breasts were not large, but firm and high. Her waist curved in neatly before flaring out again to rounded hips. Her legs were long, shapely as a dancer’s, tapering to slim ankles and feet. And her thighs! Brett’s gaze lingered on Jo’s smooth thighs a moment before slowly rising to meet her eyes.

  “Brett...” It was the first word spoken, and her only word. The plea drew his eyes to her face.

  “It will be good, Jo. I promise,” Brett said in a hoarse voice he hardly recognized as his own. “Do you believe me?”

  Jo swallowed then wet her lips, making Brett long for the feel of her pink tongue in his mouth. “I—I want to believe you, but you don’t understand....”

  “I don’t need to understand,” Brett cut her off urgently, positive she was going to attempt to tell him about Wolf. “It will begood. I swear to you.”

  Tugging the comforter free, Brett tossed it to the bottom of the bed, then, lifting Jo again, he laid her in the middle of the mattress. Straightening, Brett swiftly shed his clothes, his gaze locked on hers. When, finally, he stood before her as God had made him, he searched her face for signs of approval—or disapproval. Brett was not unaware of his attractiveness to women. Many of the women he’d dated, and slept with, had been articulate in their praise of his masculine good looks. Now, stripped of all the expensive trappings, Brett trembled as he watched Jo’s eyes examine him. His trembling increased with excitement when he saw her eyes widen on sight of his arousal. Brett’s excitement building, he watched her gaze shy away from, then return to his manhood before climbing up his body to his face.

  “I—I’m not sure I can ...”

  That’s as far as Jo got before, sliding on to the bed beside her, Brett closed her mouth with his own. Yet Jo’s attempt at protest had shaken him. The prospect of rejection goading him, Brett set out to seduce her.

  His lips teased hers. His teeth nibbled on the tender flesh inside. His tongue made gentle forays into the recess of her mouth then thrust deeply over and over until she moaned and clung to him, silently begging for more. At the tiny sound Brett deserted Jo’s lips to plant stinging kisses down her neck to the hollow at the base of her throat. The flutter of Jo’s pulse against the tip of Brett’s tongue set fire to his blood. Enjoying the sensation of liquid flames racing through his body, Brett ventured farther south. His lips adored the satiny smoothness of her breasts, his tongue worshiped the hardening nipples. Driven now by a passion running rampant, Brett closed his lips over one rigid nipple and drew gently, shivering with the resultant tightening in his loins.

  His hands stroking Jo’s softness, learning all the places that caused a movement or murmur of response from her, Brett imprinted his lips onto the skin of her body. His own ardor rising, he dipped his tongue into her navel then slid his moistened tongue the length of her abdomen and around the perimeter of her dark triangle. Loving his work, Brett tongue-kissed Jo’s legs to her insteps, then backtracked up the inside of her thigh. When his lips reached their desired destination, Jo stiffened.

  “Brett, no! I...”

  It was too late. Determined not to be denied, Brett tasted the honied sweetness of her. His hands clasped to her hips, he kissed and caressed her silky warmth. Jo remained stiff for a moment. A smile touched Brett’s lips as he felt her begin to move slowly, then with increasing frenzy, her breath rasping through her moaning throat.

  “Brett, Brett, please ... oh, please ...”

  In all of his fantasies about Jo, never had he hoped to hear her plead for him to love her. Sliding his body up between her thighs, Brett placed his lips lightly to hers.

  “Did I promise you it would be good?” he whispered into her mouth.

  “Yes!” she gasped, sending a shudder through his body.

  “And have I pleased you so far?” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip.

  “Yes,” she moaned, sending a shaft of near pain into the lower part of his body.

  “Shall I continue?” he teased, sliding his tongue along her teeth.

  “Oh, yes,” she sobbed, sending his control into retreat.

  Brett talked to himself to keep from rushing and ruining it all: Take your time. There’s no hurry now. You’ve waited and waited what seems like forever for this. Wrest every ounce of sweetness from it.

  All the while he was advising himself, Brett was moving over Jo. Gently he settled himself between her enticingly soft thighs, pausing a moment to stroke her heated core with one hand while caressing a breast with the other. The movement of Jo’s hips encouraged entrance and, sliding his hands beneath her, Brett lifted her to meet him. Then, slowly, savoring every incremental movement, Brett penetrated into the satiny sheath that felt like it was fashioned for him alone. Deep within her warmth, Brett felt himself savoring every sensation as he and Jo moved in slow rhythm as one.

  The slow savoring could not last. For the first time in his adult life Brett’s control shattered completely. Never had he experienced the fullness of the love act—a joining of mind and soul as well as flesh—and only now with this most magnificent of women. Increasing the tempo, Brett moved faster, and still faster, thrusting his body against and into hers, thrilling to the feel of her legs embracing him tightly, exulting to the strength with which she thrust her body against his.

  Brett’s body was bathed in sweat and his hands felt the slippery wetness of Jo’s, and still he prolonged the final moment, waiting for her. When that moment happened for her, he stilled, holding her close, absorbing the shudders into his own body. When her shock waves had subsided, Brett began moving again, stroking deeper, and yet deeper, desperate to possess, equally desperate to be possessed. The explosion came within seconds of her own, and now Jo clutched him to her to cushion the reverberations.

  When total sanity returned, Brett carefully moved from Jo’s body to the bed. Without a word he drew her int
o his arms, close to his side. Then, his lips at her forehead, he murmured, “Thank you, water baby. Now, go to sleep.”

  Long after Jo’s even breathing indicated to Brett that she was sleeping deeply, he lay awake, holding her soft body tightly to his own. Staring into the darkness, Brett attempted to sort out the tangle of conflicting emotions vying for supremacy in his mind. First and foremost was the indisputable fact that what he’d just been through had been the most shattering sexual experience he’d ever had. Even thinking it seemed strange, yet Jo had somehow enveloped him totally, not merely physically but spiritually as well! Stranger still was the stark realization that, not only did he not mind the ... ensnarement, for want of a better word ... he was actually rejoicing in it. He loved it! Hell, now, to himself, holding Jo close in a pitch-dark room, Brett felt free to revel in the truth that he loved her!

  Pushing all other considerations aside, Brett whispered the words aloud.

  “I love you, JoAnne Lawrence, completely, unconditionally, and, very likely, forever.”

  The vow at last spoken, even to one who could not hear, Brett sighed contentedly and went to sleep.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  The sound of the wind, moaning like a soul in torment, woke Jo. Lying still, she listened to the shiver-inducing noise as gusts beat against the wide bedroom window in ineffectual fury. It was no longer dark beyond the pane, yet still not fully light, the time of morning when the lowest temperature reading is usually registered. In her mind, Jo pictured the ocean and breakers whipped to white-capped frenzy by the gale. All that potentially destructive elemental force, she mused sleepily. So very near.

  A smile of contentment curved her kiss-swollen lips. She was warm and safe. The warmth came, Jo acknowledged, not so much from the covers tucked around her shoulders but from the heat radiating from the body beside hers. The feeling of safety came not from being inside a roof and four walls but from being enclosed within two strong, masculine arms. Dismissing the weather as not worth consideration, Jo snuggled closer to Brett’s body, luxuriating in the delicious sensation of his nakedness against her own.