While the Fire Rages

by Joan Hohl

  Annoyed by Brett’s too-quiet tone, Jo answered sharply, “Yes, if you don’t mind?”

  “If I had minded,” Brett bit back, “I wouldn’t have asked in the first place.” Ignoring the tiny gasp that burst through Elania’s suddenly tight lips, Brett ushered Jo up the stairs.

  On her first visit to the house, Jo had been delighted with the bedroom Elania had escorted her to. Now she followed Brett as he swung in the opposite direction at the top of the wide staircase. Apparently, Jo mused, this side of the house contained the family bedrooms. A twinge of pain twisted in her chest as she wondered how much longer she’d be a member of the Renninger family.

  The room Jo trailed Brett into was large and square and definitely masculine in decor. Jo loved it immediately. The absence of unnecessary clutter appealed to the Spartan in Jo. Standing just inside the door, Jo inventoried the rich dark-brown carpet and matching drapes, and the stark white of unadorned walls. An overstuffed, comfortable-looking chair in copper silk shantung gave the room focus and color. Jo did not have to be told that Brett had selected the decor himself. In some strange way the room was Brett.

  “I love it.” Jo might as well have said “I love you.”

  Brett’s face relaxed at her stamp of approval. “Somehow I knew you would.” He stared at her intently for a second before indicating a door on the wall to her right with a wave of his hand. “The bathroom. You don’t need to fuss, it’s only family.” A smile flickered over Brett’s tautly drawn lips. “You always look perfect anyway.”

  Jo stared at him, unable to move for an instant. Would she ever get past the point of melting inside at the slightest suggestion of a smile from this man? It’s not fair, Jo protested silently. It’s simply not...

  “If you don’t move,” Brett’s sensuously warm voice drew her out of her thoughts, “I might be tempted to demonstrate the resiliency of the mattress on my bed.” His lips curved invitingly. “Are you as hungry as I am?”

  Incredibly Jo was suddenly starving, in exactly the manner Brett’s slumberous eyes told her he was! How was it possible? Had they not skipped breakfast in favor of…Jo shivered in memory of the feast she and Brett had indulged in that morning. Fleetingly, Jo concluded that if they could remain in bed forever, they would have no marital problems. She wanted him, again, very badly, but, there was more to a marriage than that. There had to be. “Brett, I…” Jo’s breath caught in her throat as he took a step toward her. ‘They are all down there,” she finished lamely.

  “And we are all up here.” Brett took another slow step. “All two of us.” His smile promised everything. The perfect number for a luncheon party.” One more step, and Jo felt like she was coming apart at the seams.

  “But we haven’t even seen Wolf yet!” Jo grabbed at the excuse in desperation. What if Elania had mentioned their arrival? What would they all think? The change in Brett was as confusing as it was sudden. His body stiffening with tension, Brett pivoted away from her.

  “Yes, of course, Wolf.” His back to her, Brett stood as still as if carved from rock, his voice as hard. “Will you go do whatever you have to do, so we can get out of this room?”

  Jo wanted to scream. Jo wanted to throw things. She walked into the bathroom. How did one keep up with a man whose moods changed with mercurial swiftness? Jo stared at the pitifully wan face reflected in the mirror above the marbleized sink. With the eyes of a critic, she examined the makeup she’d applied so carefully that morning. Her pale cheeks were in need of a touch of the blusher brush. Her disordered hair needed taming. Jo pictured the needed articles inside the flight bag Brett had placed on the long double dresser as he’d entered the room. She could either go and get the bag, or ask Brett to hand it in to her. Jo’s eyes avoided her face. Lifting her hands, she smoothed the mass of dark hair. She would not ask him for anything and, when she did walk out of the room, she would be ready to go downstairs. Brett was in a strange mood. He had been moody for weeks. The smell of showdown was in the air around them. Jo knew the slightest incident could trigger it. Raising her long lashes, Jo read the plea in her own dull hazel eyes; not now, not today, hold on to him as long as you can.

  Jo’s smoothing hands drifted down over the white linen suit jacket she wore over a crisp lilac shirt, then down over hips covered in a pencil-slim skirt that partnered the jacket.

  Jo’s hands stilled at Brett’s impatient call. Dismissing the sad-eyed woman in the mirror, Jo opened the door and walked out of the room, her spine straight, her shoulders back, her head high, and her expectations gone. The sight of Brett had the usual, melting effect on Jo’s senses. In chinos and a charcoal gray turtleneck, Brett didn’t project quite the forbidding appearance as when he was decked out in battle array of conservative business armor.

  They descended the romantic staircase in an unromantic silence. As they neared the dining room the muted sound of genial conversation filtered through the closed double doors. Drawing a deep breath, Jo forced a smile to her stiff lips, prepared to follow Brett’s lead in whatever image he created concerning their marriage.

  Determined to play out the role of the happy bridegroom if it killed him, Brett pasted a parody of a smile on his face. His facial muscles ached in protest of the switch from down to up. Over the last weeks those muscles had grown used to the down position. As Brett followed Jo into the dining room, the ache was relieved by the scene that met his eyes. Brett frowned. Where were Eric and his family, and Di and her brood? The question spun out of his mind at the sound of his brother’s voice.

  Wolf’s liquid-silver eyes swept Jo’s willowy body. “What a delightful treat for dessert!”

  Everyone laughed. Everyone but Brett. Cursing silently, Brett ordered a faint smile to his lips. Every muscle in his body tightened. He hated it, yet there it was. Brett knew without doubt that should Wolf presume to lay one hand on Jo, he would find himself on the floor, on his back, and hurting like hell. Without conscious command his fingers curled into his palms, readying for action that didn’t come.

  “Wolf! Will you never learn to behave?” Violet chastised, bestowing a welcoming smile on Jo. “Come sit by me, JoAnne. It’s long past time you were welcomed into the family.” She shot an arched look at Brett.

  “It’s been a busy winter, Mother.” Brett offered the lame excuse for not bringing Jo to visit sooner. He then strode to where Wolf had risen in place at the end of the table. “You’re looking good, big brother.” The truth of his compliment brought an equal mixture of joy and pain to Brett. He had prayed for Wolf’s recovery, while at the same time dreading it. Brett knew Wolf’s return to vigor might well mean his own loss. The emotions in conflict inside him were tearing him apart.

  Wolf’s silver eyes darkened with concern. “I’m sorry I can’t say the same about you. You look very tired, Brett.” Wolf’s glance sliced to Jo. “Are there problems?”

  “No! I...”

  “No more than usual,” Brett cut across Jo’s too-hurried denial. “I’ll be glad to get back to running one region.” Terminating the subject, Brett turned to kiss Micki’s cheek in greeting. Frowning he directed his gaze back to his mother. “Eric and Di not here yet?”

  “No. And they won’t be coming.” Violet waited till Brett seated himself opposite Jo before explaining. “Dirk is covered with chicken pox.” She smiled in sympathy for Di’s youngest child. “And, as Doris has been having mild cramps for several days, her doctor has forbidden her to travel.”

  “But it’s not Doris’s time yet. Is it?” Brett truthfully couldn’t remember: he had had other, more important things on his mind since Christmas.

  “Close enough,” Violet drawled. “We might have another new member in the family by Easter.”

  His mother’s comment elicited speculation from the others at the table about whether the new arrival would be a boy or a girl. Brett, making a show of eating the salmon Elania set before him, let the conversation swirl around him as he studied his wife’s animated face. A new baby. His baby. From Brett o
ut of Jo. Now, at this moment, Brett knew he wanted a child. Jo’s child. Brett was painfully aware of the fact that he would probably never see such a child.

  “Brett!”

  The exasperation that tinged his mother’s tone was a clear indication that it was not the first time she’d said his name. Shifting his gaze to Violet’s face, Brett smiled ruefully. “Yes, Mother?”

  “Are you feeling all right?” Violet’s exasperation was overshadowed by concern. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  “I’m fine,” Brett assured her quietly. “I was just wondering if the family conclave has been postponed ... due to chicken pox and confinement.”

  “Not at all.” Very mother-like, Violet searched Brett’s face for telltale signs of illness.

  “Brett’s a big boy now, Mother. I’m sure he knows how to take care of himself,” Wolf inserted dryly. “Even if handling both Atlanta and New York are too much for him.”

  Brett chose to ignore Wolf’s taunt, which caused his mother’s frown to darken. “How do you propose to have a family conclave with only half the family here?” In an effort to ease his mother’s worry, Brett arched one pale brow exaggeratedly. Before his eyes, mother changed into Madam President.

  “Have you ever heard of teleconferencing?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brett caught the gleam of the appreciative grin that revealed Jo’s even white teeth. Damn, she is beautiful! Dragging his concentration back to his mother, Brett nodded, ‘Yes, sir.” His own grin wouldn’t be denied when Brett heard Micki’s soft laughter whisper down the length of the long, highly glossed table.

  “That’s more like it.” Violet’s expression of concern faded at Brett’s apparent return to more normal behavior. “I’ve slated the conference for three o’clock. That will give you and JoAnne a chance to change clothes, or whatever.”

  Brett’s inclination was to opt for the whatever but, for the moment, he focused his attention on getting through lunch without making a complete ass of himself. He’d already aroused his mother’s concern and Wolf’s taunting speculation. The last thing he needed was to create a scene at the lunch table. Elania would never forgive him!

  Fortunately, Wolf chose to be briefed over the dessert, and the remainder of the meal was consumed along with dry business details. By the time Brett and Jo went back upstairs to his bedroom less than forty-five minutes were left till conclave time.

  Their cases were placed neatly side by side on the storage chest that ran the width of the bed at its base. Maintaining the cool silence that had enveloped them since leaving the dining room, Jo set to work immediately unpacking her case. Watching her from behind half-closed eyes Brett knew revealed both longing and desire, Brett sprawled in the padded chair with deceptive laziness, as Jo moved gracefully back and forth between suitcase and closet.

  When her case was empty Jo closed the lid and snapped the locks. Would she unpack his case? She would. Brett felt a thrill shiver through his body at the sight of Jo’s slim hands on his clothes.

  Brett sighed silently. You are positively besotted! When you can be turned on by observing a woman handling your faded Levis you have gone beyond the pale.

  “Brett?” Jo’s near whisper revealed the fact that she thought he was sleeping.

  “Hmmm?” Brett raised his lids slightly, just enough to show her he was awake.

  “Am I expected to attend this family conference?” Jo asked hesitantly.

  “Are you a member of the family?” Brett laid the drawl on with a spade.

  Jo responded indirectly. “I ... I’m going to have a quick shower. I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Take your time.” Brett’s smile mocked her. “We won’t have to punch a time clock as we enter the boss’s study.” His smile disappeared as, with a toss of her head that betrayed her impatience with him, Jo strode into the bathroom.

  Biting back a rather pungent, self-descriptive epithet, Brett jerked to his feet, crossing to the double dresser in four long strides to retrieve the shaving kit Jo had placed there. Tugging the zipper midway around the case, Brett inserted his fingers and withdrew a small velvet box. Flipping the lid, Brett stared down at the flawless, pear-shaped, three-carat diamond beautifully displayed in a delicate, intricately fashioned setting. The lid closed with a tiny snap.

  Sliding the top dresser drawer open, Brett dropped the box onto the neat pile of underwear inside, slamming the drawer closed forcefully. Brett knew now that Jo could not be bought, either physically or emotionally. He had known it for some time. If Jo had been with Wolf, it had not been for the apartment, or the small car that was seldom moved out of the apartment parking area, or to advance herself in the company. If she had been with Wolf, it was because she had wanted to be with him.

  Brett’s body became absolutely still, while his mind pounced alertly on his last thought. Because she wanted to be with Wolf. Raising his head slowly, Brett stared into the wide, gray eyes reflected in the oversized mirror on the wall above the dresser. Because she wanted to be with Wolf!

  She’s with me now!

  The gray eyes staring back at Brett suddenly glittered silver with hope. Could that mean ... does Jo want to be with me? But Wolf’s well now. A little thin, a little gaunt, but well! A shudder tore through Brett’s slender frame.

  I have got to get her away from here!

  There were twelve minutes left to go before the appointed hour of three when Jo rushed out of the bathroom. Clamping down on the urge to grab hold of her and run, Brett strode into the bathroom to replace her under a cold shower. When Brett walked back into the bedroom Jo was gone, as were the minutes till the hour of three. Pulling open the top dresser drawer, Brett smiled at the small velvet box before removing a pair of boxers. Stepping into faded Levis, Brett imagined he could feel the warmth of Jo’s recent touch, smell her scent on the soft denim. A pale-blue cotton shirt, a double stamp into supple leather ankle boots, and Brett went striding out of the room, eight minutes late and primed to fight.

  Four pairs of eyes swiveled to observe Brett’s entrance into the study. Sweeping a look over Brett that told him she was now “boss” not “Mother,” Violet said crisply to Eric, who was on the computer screen, “And now your brother has condescended to join us.” Brett met her drilling stare with calm detachment.

  “Congratulations, Brett.” Eric smiled. “You picked a winner this time.”

  Brett’s eyes easily broke the hold of his mother’s to stalk those of the “winner.” “Thanks, Eric.” Pride swelled inside Brett as Jo stared back at him serenely. It was as if she was saying, there’s not a Renninger alive who can make me lose my composure. She is magnificent. The observation hardened Brett’s determination to keep her. Refusing to release his visual hold on her, Brett added, “And how is your winner?”

  “Doing fine,” Eric assured. “You may be an uncle again before the night is out.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing talking to us?” Brett startled everyone, including himself, with his sudden harshness. “You should be with Doris, Eric.” Brett felt the edge, of patience, of reason, of… whatever, looming closer. If he didn’t do something soon to resolve this mess he’d created, Brett decided, he’d fall headfirst over that precarious edge.

  A stunned silence held sway for an instant. Di’s soft voice broke it. “Brett’s right, you know. Eric should be with Doris, and I should be with Dirk. Mother, can we wind this meeting up fairly quickly?” Before Violet could respond, Di added, “Brett, Jo, I hope you’ll be very happy. I’m holding my gift to you until you have a permanent address.”

  At that point Jo stole the initiative from Brett. Maintaining his oddly intense stare, and wondering what the devil was going on in his head, Jo infused warmth into her voice. “Thank you, Di. And you too, Eric. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a boy.”

  Eric’s laughter was cut short by Violet’s brisk voice. “Of course, Brett and Di are both right. We can have an in-depth meeting when everyone is well again. But there
is one consideration I’d like you all to think about. Eric and I have discussed this and we are in complete accord. It’s time for the company to expand again. I want to open another region—the northwest region, from Colorado west, including Oregon and Washington.” She glanced at Brett. “I had considered giving Richard Colby the mid-Atlantic region and, as he was a bachelor, asking Brett to take over the new region.” A soft smile curved her lips as she shifted her gaze to Jo. “But as Brett is now married...”

  “We’ll take it.”

  Jo blinked, for a second stunned by Brett’s hard, decisive tone. Then swift anger rushed through her. How dare he presume to make decisions for her? Not that she would object to going to the Northwest or, for that matter, hell, as long as she was with him, but she would appreciate being consulted first! Breathing deeply, Jo managed to keep her tone neutral.

  “Brett, I think we should discuss this in private.”Jo’s tone was belied by the flash of amber in her hazel eyes. “I don’t know if I...”

  Brett’s eyes glinted a warning for her to be silent; his tone was thick with ice. “Mother, we will take it.”

  “Brett!”

  A chorus of voices, in varying degrees of shock, cried his name. Jo’s was not one of them. Without even being aware of having moved, Jo was on her feet, her body shaking with humiliation and fury. Wolf was on his feet also, a protective alertness in his stance.

  “Brett.” The big prowler’s voice commanded attention. “What in hell do you think you’re doing? Apologize to Jo at once.”

  “Mind your own god-damned business, Wolf.” Taut with anger, Brett ignored the collective gasp his snarling voice elicited. “Jo is my wife. I don’t need you, or anyone else, to instruct me on how to handle her.”

  Jo heard without hearing. Her eyes stinging with tears of shame, and hurt, and a jumbled mess of other emotions, she stared at the beauty of Brett’s chiseled face until it blurred, then she ran, blocking out the angry voices that bounced off the paneled walls of Violet’s study.