by Joan Hohl
“Why are you staring at me like that?” The wariness was back in Jo’s expression and her voice cracked with uncertainty.
“I’m thinking about having you for breakfast,” Brett answered softly, his elation soaring again as her wariness and uncertainty were washed away by a look of surprised delight.
“I think you’d probably work a lot better on bacon and eggs,” Jo replied, straight-faced.
This time Brett made no effort to contain his laughter. “I’d say you are probably right,” he agreed, grinning. “Even though it won’t be near as much fun.” Brett held his breath. Was the tension gone for good? Was the easiness between them back to stay?
“Perhaps not,” Jo murmured. Then, to Brett’s delight, she fluttered her long lashes at him coyly. “You could always plan on having me for dessert. Anticipation sharpens the appetite, you know.”
Brett took another step toward her. “If my appetite gets any sharper,” he growled, “I’ll slash myself on it and bleed to death.” Brett had no qualms whatever about admitting to Jo how very much he desired her. Hadn’t he admitted as much silently, with his body, throughout the long night?
Sheer enjoyment of her tempered Brett’s arousal. Laughing softly, he strode to the bed. Bending to her, he brushed her mouth with his lips, afraid to allow himself a deeper taste of her. He had to get to work!
Brett spun away from the bed to stride across the room. Scooping his jacket off the chair he’d tossed it onto the night before, he slanted a devilish glance at Jo.
“Move it, water baby,” he ordered gently. “I want to see you in my office at nine thirty.” Still grinning, he sauntered out of the bedroom.
That evening, as promised, Brett transferred his clothing and few personal belongings to Jo’s place, ignoring the taunting thought that he was moving out of Wolf’s apartment into Wolf’s apartment. As he stowed his shaving gear onto the medicine cabinet shelf Jo had cleared for him, Brett decided to contact a real estate agent about finding another place for them.
Surprisingly, they made the adjustment of living together very quickly and, within two weeks Brett wondered how he’d ever thought he was content living alone. They learned and accepted each other’s faults—in Jo’s case, her habit of kicking her shoes off the moment she entered the apartment and forgetting to pick them up again; Brett did it for her. In Brett’s case, his failure to snap the cap on the toothpaste tube; Jo did that for him. They worked together well. They played together joyously. They laughed together often.
Near the end of January Brett asked Jo if she’d like to go skiing. Jo’s response was less than enthusiastic.
“I don’t know how to ski, Brett. And, to be honest, I’m not all that eager to learn how.”
“You could give it a try, honey,” Brett coaxed, itching to get on the slopes again. “If you don’t like it, you could always relax by the fire with a hot toddy while I attempt to break a leg.”
Jo hesitated but Brett gave her such a woebegone expression she laughingly relented and agreed to go with him, exactly as he’d hoped she would.
Terrific!” Brett exclaimed as eagerly as a kid might have. Jumping out of his chair, he walked restlessly around the living room, unaware of the gentle smile curving Jo’s lips as she watched him. “Let’s see now.” He began making plans aloud. “Accommodations are no problem. I’ve retained the room at that motel up in Vermont for office space in case I needed it.” Brett was equally unaware of the slight tightening of Jo’s lips. “I have that meeting in Atlanta next week.” Jo had absolutely refused to go to Atlanta with him. Brett was still not completely reconciled to her stand on Atlanta but, with this new victory, he decided to stop badgering her about it. “Suppose we say the week after next?” One brow lifted quizzically, he swung to face her. “Okay?”
“You love skiing that much?” Jo laughed.
“Yes,” Brett answered simply. “And I haven’t stepped into boots once this winter.”
This time Brett was fully aware of Jo’s gentle smile. “Okay,” she agreed softly. ‘The week after next.”
Brett thanked Jo, twice, after they’d turned out the light in the bedroom that night.
Atlanta was a drag for Brett, even though the meeting he’d set up with a local realtor proved satisfying to both of them. Brett missed Jo as much as he would have the loss of his right arm. His impatience to get all existing details cleared up did not go unnoticed by Richard Colby.
“Is she beautiful?” Richard asked out of the blue while they were discussing swamp drainage, of all things, the day before Brett’s departure.
“Very,” Brett responded immediately. Then, his tone dangerous, Brett retorted, “Why?”
“No reason.” Richard, unperturbed by Brett’s tone, smiled easily. “It’s obvious you can’t wait to get back to her. Why wait till tomorrow? We can clean this drainage thing up by dinnertime. I can handle all the nitpicking details myself. There’s no reason you could not fly back to New York tonight.” His smile broadened. “Unless, that is, you’re enthralled with my company.”
Brett’s smile was as broad as Richard’s. “Thanks, buddy. Remind me to give you a raise.”
“Why do you think I made the suggestion?” Richard drawled dryly.
It was late by the time Brett let himself into the dark, silent apartment. Moving cautiously but unerringly, he made his way through the living room to the bedroom. Inside the bedroom he placed his case carefully out of the way, standing still to allow his eyes to adjust to the unrelenting darkness. When he had his bearings, Brett walked softly to the side of the room’s one large window to tug gently on the cord that worked the draperies. The heavy, lined drapes slid silently apart giving access to a pale shaft of moonlight. A low moaning sound froze Brett in his tracks as he turned from the window. Every sense alerted, he focused his gaze on the moonlight-washed figure lying on the bed.
Jo moaned again and, frowning with concern, Brett crossed to the bed in three long strides. The sight that met his eyes stole Brett’s breath.
Jo was lying on her back in the center of the bed, her arms flung wide, her fingers grasping at the sheet, nails scratching the smooth surface. Her naked body was only partially covered, and even as Brett stared her legs thrashed about, dislodging the comforter completely. Gazing transfixed at her white skin gleaming in the moonlight, Brett felt a kick of desire in his loins. A sighing sound drew his eyes to her face. Her head moved restlessly as another sigh whispered through her slightly parted lips.
She’s dreaming, Brett concluded in bemusement. Watching her legs, Brett’s heartbeat accelerated. She’s dreaming she’s making love! Brett closed his eyes as another low moan sent a shiver of excitement careening through his body. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Brett opened his eyes, then, fastening his gaze on her writhing body, he began to undress. When the last piece of his constricting clothing had been discarded, Brett stepped up to the bed. Sliding onto the cool sheet beside Jo, he ran one palm lightly from her ankle to her hip. Immediately Jo’s leg moved to press against his hand and a low groan of need murmured from deep in her throat. Brett was sliding his hand over her rib cage when a chilling thought stopped him cold.
Who is she dreaming she’s making love with?
Watching her, wanting to know, not wanting to know, Brett closed his mind to the visage and name of one man. She’s mine, he raged silently. Awake or asleep, Jo is mine! Blocking out the idea that what he was doing could very well be wrong, Brett deliberately took possession of her silky-skinned breast.
“Brett.”
Not even a whisper, hardly more than a sigh, yet his name swelled to a joyous crescendo in Brett’s mind. Jo was dreaming he wasmaking love to her! Unhesitatingly, Brett carefully slid his body between her soft thighs, determined to make her dream a reality. Covering her gently, yet not joining their bodies, Brett touched Jo’s parted lips with his own. Before entering her, Brett wanted her fully conscious of who was doing what to whom. The touch of his lips and hands feather light, B
rett adored her body.
“Brett?” Jo’s voice was fuzzy. She was not yet fully awake.
“Yes, love?” Brett murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth.
“Oh, Brett. Is it really you?” Jo was coming out of sleep, but falling into passion. Her hands forsaking the sheet, she grasped Brett instead.
“Yes, love,” Brett assured softly. “It’s really me.” He gave her the feel of his tongue along her bottom lip for proof.
“I missed you so.” Jo’s arms tightened; her thighs relaxed. “Don’t make me wait. Please.” She arched her body to his with the plea and sighed when Brett granted it
Moving slowly at first, savoring the velvety softness of her, Brett twined his fingers in Jo’s hair and kissed her tenderly on her cheeks, her eyes, her chin. When his lips brushed hers she groaned.
“Kiss me. Love me. Oh, Brett, I need you.” The moan deepened into a sob. “I need you.” That’s when the brainstorm hit him. Teasing her with his body’s slow strokes, Brett brushed Jo’s quivering lips again.
“Marry me, Jo.” Brett’s voice was low but firm with conviction.
“What?” Jo’s heavy lashes fluttered, slowly lifted. She stared at him with passion-clouded eyes. “What did you say?”
“Marry me.” Brett increased his stroke, restraining a smile at the immediate response she made with her body.
“But...”
“We’re good together, love,” He brushed her lips harder. “You know we’re good together. Not just like this.” Brett thrust against her then slowed again. “We’re good together in everything.”
“Brett, we can’t!” Jo’s breathing was shallow now and getting more shallow with each passing instant. “We don’t…”
Brett closed her mouth with his own, certain he didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. He let his tongue match the motion of his body. When Jo was clinging to him, whimpering in need, Brett denied her his mouth.
“Will you marry me, Jo?” Brett stopped moving entirely.
Jo seemed unable to open her eyes. “Brett… please,” she wailed.
“Will you marry me, Jo?” Brett kissed her very hard, and very fast.
“Yes.”
The whisper trembled through Jo’s lips. Relief trembled through Brett’s body. Strength, power, followed on the heels of relief and, positive he could fly at that moment if he so wished, Brett gave in to the fire raging in his body.
Sated physically, satisfied emotionally, content in his mind, Brett lay cradling Jo’s relaxed body close to his own. “Are you asleep?” Moving his head slowly, he brushed a few damp tendrils away from her temple with his lips.
“Yes.”Jo’s warm breath feathered the skin on his chest.
Lifting one hand to her chin, Brett turned her face up to his. “You won’t back out. Will you, Jo?” he asked quietly, staring directly into her love-softened eyes.
“No, Brett, I won’t back out.”
Brett fought the urge to close his eyes in relief. Although he wasn’t overjoyed at the underlying note of calm acceptance in Jo’s tone, he consoled himself with the realization that her tone had also contained firm conviction. For now, Brett decided he could live with the knowledge that Jo would not attempt to repudiate her agreement to legalize their union on the grounds of duress. They could make it work, he would make it work, Brett vowed. He had to because he really had no other choice; Brett knew he could not let Jo go now. Brett also knew that he belonged to Jo every bit as much as he felt she belonged to him. It was somewhat scary but, Brett shrugged mentally, there it was. Bending to her, he kissed her with soft tenderness.
“We can be married in Vermont next week.” The suggestion made, Brett held his breath, waiting for her reaction. He didn’t have to hold his breath long.
Jo’s eyes, suddenly clear, alert, widened in shock. “Next week?” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Vermont? Brett, I can’t be ready to get married in less than a week!”
Positive he detected a note of panic creeping into her tone, Brett tightened his grasp on Jo’s chin. “You can be ready.” To punctuate his assertion he kissed her deeply. “You will be ready.” His mouth crushed hers again. “We will be married”—another brief kiss—”next week ... in Vermont. I’m sure Casey and Sean will be delighted to stand witness.” Brett’s punishing kisses were beginning to backlash. Feeling his body harden with renewed passion, Brett conveyed his need to Jo with his mouth, and his tongue, and his groaning words.
“Say yes again, Jo, please.”
“To which question?” Jo gasped as he trailed his fingers from her chin to her breast. “The one you’re asking with your words? Or the one you’re asking with your body?”
Laughing softly, Brett sucked gently on her lower lip. “Say yes to both.”
“Yes to both,” Jo parroted at once, qualifying, “On one condition.”
As by now the fire racing through Brett had consumed his brain, he would have consented to almost anything. “Name it,” he murmured into her mouth.
“This time”—Jo hesitated, then rushed on—”I want to make love to you.”
This was a condition? Laughter shook Brett’s body. Flinging his arms wide, Brett threw himself back away from her to lay stretched out on the bed. ‘Take me,” he cried, grinning wickedly. “I’m yours.”
Brett was to remember his words several times over the days that followed. And, every time he did, he felt again the thrill he’d experienced in being taken by Jo. When that exceptional woman decided she was going to make love to a man, she put her heart and soul into the effort. Days later Brett’s body still tingled from the effective way she’d tormented him with her soft, caressing hands and her sweet, hungry mouth. Marriage to Jo, Brett decided, still lost in bemusement, should prove to be one interesting experiment.
Surprisingly, as the days until their departure for Vermont shortened, Brett found himself growing more and more nervous. Why the tension? Why the jumpiness? Why the crawly sensation in his stomach? Brett quizzed himself repeatedly. It was not as if he were being coerced into matrimony. Quite the contrary. If a charge of coercion were to be leveled, he’d be the guilty party. Strange, he thought, he had no recollection of any nervousness at all before he and Sondra were married. Brett’s thinking process danced around the edges of the answer to his uptight feeling right up till he and Jo arrived in Vermont
As Brett had predicted, Casey and Sean were both delighted and flattered to be asked to witness the nuptials.
Casey, bubbling over with the news that she was pregnant, threw herself into the wedding spirit and, by the time the legalities were taken care of, had made all the arrangements for the ceremony.
Brett and Jo were married in a picturesque New England church on a Thursday morning in early February. Immediately following the brief service, Casey and Sean whisked them off to an equally picturesque but decidedly elegant restaurant for a champagne wedding breakfast that lasted through four bottles of the expensive wine and most of the afternoon. From the restaurant, the Delhenys poured Brett and Jo into a cab with the advice to do everything they might do.
“Which should take you until sometime tomorrow afternoon,” Casey confided laughingly.
It was then that Brett, not drunk by a long shot, but feeling little pain, faced the reason for his nervousness during the previous week. In a word, Brett identified his malady. That word was fear. The cause and symptoms had vanished when Jo signed her name to the marriage certificate.
The first thing Brett did after he’d locked the motel room door was kiss his new bride, satisfyingly and thoroughly. The second thing he did was pick up the telephone receiver and dial his mother’s private office number in Florida. When his mother answered in her endearingly brisk tone, Brett, wasting no time on formalities, went directly to the reason for his call.
“Jo and I were married this morning, Mother.” Not being able to resist, Brett added insolently, “We’ll accept a large check for a wedding present.” From behind him, Brett
heard Jo’s shocked gasp and grinned. His grin widened at his mother’s retort.
“You’ll accept what I choose to give you, smart ass.” There was a telling pause before Violet said solemnly, “Congratulations, Brett. JoAnne is a lovely young woman.”
Violet’s tone changed to reveal confusion and a tinge of hurt feelings. “But why didn’t you let us know? You could have been married at the farm.”
“I’ve done that. Remember?” Brett’s grin was gone, replaced by a grimace. Brett had coolly and deliberately chosen not to inform his family about his plans simply because he knew his mother would suggest the farm as a perfect site for the wedding. Brett’s reason for not wanting to be married at the farm had absolutely nothing to do with memories of Sondra and everything to do with Wolf being in residence there. At his mother’s sharply indrawn breath and murmured “Oh, Brett, how foolish of me. I’m sorry,” Brett made an effort to soften his rough tone. “It’s all right, sir, forget it. Besides, I wanted to go skiing on my honeymoon.”
Following his mother’s request, Brett handed the phone to Jo, standing by patiently while she responded to her new mother-in-law’s well wishes. When the connection to Florida had been broken, Brett again handed the receiver to Jo.
“Your turn to face the firing squad,” he teased. “But make it quick, love, your bridegroom is getting itchy.”
Wondering at the odd expression on Jo’s face, Brett studied her as she placed the call. There was something wrong with Jo’s family situation, Brett knew; something that had hurt her. And, although Brett knew Jo had informed her parents that she was getting married, it was obvious she was not happy about making this call. Brett listened intently to Jo’s short, terse conversation, anger stirring when she winced at something that was said to her. The moment she’d replaced the receiver, Brett enfolded Jo in his arms.
“It’s all right, water baby,” Brett soothed as she began to weep. “Don’t cry, love.”
“You don’t understand,” Jo sniffed, burrowing into his chest. “Talking to my mother always makes me cry. You see, my mother and father hate each other. And it’s so sad ... They’re both so very unhappy.”
