by Joan Hohl
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.
“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.”
