While the Fire Rages

by Joan Hohl

  What had come over him? What had she done to turn Brett into a snarling dictator? Did he hate her so very much? The questions hammered in Jo’s mind as she ran along the hall, through the spotless kitchen, and out the back door. Where could she go? Jo’s tear-filled eyes swept the wide expanse of bricked courtyard behind the house, passing then slicing back to the two vehicles parked there. A jeep and a pickup truck, keys in the ignitions of each. If she could get to the airfield, or an airport...

  No!

  The protest was a rebellions scream inside Jo’s mind. No, damn it! She would not run again! In effect, she had run from a bad situation—not of her making—when she’d left home at nineteen. If only in her mind, she had run from the pain and humiliation inflicted upon her by Gary. And, at least figuratively, she’d been running from a showdown with Brett since the first day she met him. How long could the mind employ evasive tactics? How many avenues of escape could her consciousness scurry along in avoidance of the truth? Besides, Jo had the uncomfortable feeling that if she ran now Brett would not follow her, and that would prove her mother’s theory about love, and the relationships therein correct. Sniffing, Jo shook her head in silent denial.

  Ignoring the vehicles and the tears trickling down her face, Jo slid her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans and began pacing off the distance between the kitchen door and the four-car garage set to the right and rear of the house.

  What the devil had come over Brett? Again. Jo came to an abrupt halt midway between house and garage, the single word repeating in her mind. Again? Yes, again. Even though there had been constraint between them since the night he’d returned from the Poconos, Brett had unfailingly treated her with polite consideration. What had caused his sudden harsh thoughtlessness? Jo raked her mind, examining every minute since their arrival at the house. A recent scene flashed into her memory, and, frowning, Jo relived it slowly.

  “Are you as hungry as I am?”

  The echo of Brett’s sensuously warm voice tantalized her memory; he had certainly not been cold before lunch! But wait! Jo’s frown deepened. Brett had turned cold before they’d gone down to join the family. What had she said to him? Something about the family waiting? No. That hadn’t chilled his ardor. What then? Jo kicked at a tiny pebble in frustration; damn it, what else had she said? Memory clicked.

  “But we haven’t even seen Wolf yet!”

  Wolf.

  Wolf?

  Jo went absolutely statue still. Brett had grown frigid at the mention of his brother’s name ... and not for the first time! It was almost as if Brett was jealous of Wolf, as if he believed ... Oh my God! Could Brett really believe that she ... and Wolf? Remembered images flashed through Jo’s mind again, not entire scenes, but small, isolated fragments, beginning with Brett refusing to let her see Wolf after the accident.

  Brett, warning her not to call Wolf while he was in Vermont. Brett, oddly backing down the time in his office when she’d lifted the phone to call Wolf. Brett, telling her they’d probably both regret it but he had to have her. Brett, suddenly coldly remote when they’d come to the farm at Christmas time. Brett, withdrawing from her on learning about a preexisting prescription for birth control pills. Brett, mentioning her previous affair in that odd, intensely accusatory manner.

  Could it be ... could it possibly be…Jo spun around at the sound of the kitchen door closing, breath catching in her throat at the sight of Brett’s face. His expression austere with grim determination, Brett walked to her with slow, measured strides. In the seconds required for him to reach her, Jo tried, and failed, to suppress the wild hope rioting through her. As he drew close, Brett’s eyelids narrowed over eyes gleaming silvery with intent, increasing her hope tenfold. Could it be that the fire raging inside Brett was caused by love for her? Was Brett jealous over her? All this time? All this long wasted time?

  Brett had reached the very edge; it was either fish or cut bait, and he sure as hell was not about to cut bait at this stage of the game! Stalking his wife, Brett conceded that he might have gone about it with more tact, but, tactless or not, Jo was going with him to Colorado! And, after the way his family had ganged up on him when Jo had run from his mother’s study, Brett was perfectly primed for an argument.

  She is mine, and I will not give her up.

  The avowal revolved in his mind as Brett studied Jo’s face through the slits of lids narrowed against the glare of late-afternoon sunlight. The evidence of tears on her cheeks gave him momentary pause. Brett felt a twist of pain in his chest. Damn fool! You’ve hurt her again! I’ll make it up to her, he soothed his stinging conscience, but I cannot give her up!

  Two steps from her, Brett hesitated; he could not talk, or argue, with Jo in the courtyard, not with his mother, Wolf, Micki, and Elania for an audience! One step from her Brett reached out, grasped her wrist firmly with his hand, and pivoting, strode back to the house, a gasping Jo stumbling behind him.

  “Brett!” Jo gave an ineffectual tug of her arm. “Have you gone mad?”

  “Be quiet.” Brett snapped the order without turning his head. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk when we’re alone in our room.”

  When he got to the kitchen door, Brett thrust it open and strode through, tugging firmly on a now angrily sputtering Jo to keep her following him.

  His gait unchecked, Brett loped along the hall. He had made it to the bottom of the stairs when the door to his mother’s study was flung open and Wolf, Violet and Micki at his heels, rushed into the hallway, only to come to a dead stop at the sight of Brett literally dragging Jo through the house.

  “For Christ’s sake, Brett!” Wolf’s voice held a note of sheer disbelief. “What in hell are you doing? Let her go!” Snaking out a long arm, Wolf caught Jo’s other, flailing wrist.

  At the command “let her go” all the accumulated months of frustration exploded inside Brett’s mind. When Wolf put his hand on Jo, anger exploded out through Brett’s mouth.

  “Don’t touch her!”

  For long seconds shocked silence smothered response, then bedlam took over as everyone protested at once.

  Even Elania, coming from the living room to investigate the cause of all the noise, added her two cent’s worth of condemnation. Brett’s voice, coldly, frighteningly savage, cut through the babble.

  “I want silence.” Brett knew his objective was achieved through shock; he knew it and used it. His eyes dropped to rest deliberately on Wolf’s fingers, curled around Jo’s wrist. When he lifted his gaze, Brett’s eyes had the look of opaque ice. “I told you not to touch her.”

  For whatever reason—curiosity, surprise, whatever— Wolf’s hold on Jo’s wrist relaxed, then fell away.

  “Don’t ever touch her again.” Once again Brett spoke through an outburst of protest. “If you will all excuse us?” Tugging gently on Jo’s arm, he started up the stairs. “Jo and I would like to have an argument in private.”

  Trailing Brett’s anger-tightened body up the stairs and into their room, Jo felt excitement stir, then radiate through her system. Incredible, unbelievable as it seemed, Brett was jealous of Wolf. Why he was jealous of Wolf was the question Jo hoped soon to have the answer to. All these months! Why hadn’t Brett simply asked her?

  Hearing the door snap shut behind her, Jo spun to face her husband, trepidation closing her throat at the glittering glance he raked over her. Barely breathing, Jo watched his eyes until a flicker of movement caught her attention, drawing her gaze to his hands. The purposeful work of Brett’s fingers as they unbuttoned his shirt opened Jo’s throat enough to allow the passage of a startled squeak.

  “What are you doing?”

  His expression mocking her for asking the obvious, Brett yanked the shirt free of the jeans waistband and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His fingers found employment at his belt buckle as he began walking to her. Eyeing him warily, Jo edged toward the bathroom door.

  “All right!” Jo felt rather proud of the steadiness of her tone; inside she was a jumbl
ed bundle of excitement-tied nerve ends. “I know what you’re doing. I thought we were going to talk.”

  His mocking smile deepening, Brett sauntered past her to drop onto the edge of the chair. “I’ve changed my mind.” His eyes laughed at her evasive edging toward the bathroom. Lifting one leg, he tugged at his boot; it landed on the floor with a soft thud. As he pulled at the other boot, Brett motioned at the bed with a brief nod of his head. “I’ve decided to give you a demonstration of the resiliency of the mattress after all.”

  “Brett...”

  “You must admit,” he went on, ignoring her attempt at protest, “the bed is the one place we communicate beautifully.” The second boot plopped to the floor. “You had better get busy,” he chided softly to the background sound of the descending zipper. “I’m way ahead of you.”

  Way ahead of you. Way ahead of you! A light clicked on in Jo’s mind. Good grief! Had she left her reasoning power behind in the yard? Watching Brett’s slim, muscularly corded length emerge from the jeans, Jo’s adrenaline kicked all her senses into overtime. Brett may have been referring to her fully clothed state, but Jo interpreted his words in a different light. His cool detachment was nothing more than a façade! Introduce her to the bed’s resiliency indeed! Brett was hell-bent on making a statement of ownership! He was not only jealous, he was running scared! Clamping her teeth together to contain a whoop of joy created by the wave of relief washing through her, Jo tore uncaringly at the buttons on her pure silk shirt. A raging fire? Jo’s shirt landed unaimed on top of his. She’d show him an inferno!

  Watching the play of emotions across her face, Brett knew the moment Jo reached a decision. When she began tearing at her clothes his already aroused manhood took on the quality of pure, painful iron. As her silky loveliness was exposed to his hungry stare an earlier thought reasserted itself. She’s with me now!

  “Jo.”

  Brett wanted to say much more, so very much more, yet the only sound he could force through his constricted throat was the anguished whisper of her name. Consuming desire combined with a desperate need to claim erased all other consideration.

  They both moved at the same instant.

  There was no time for teasing kisses. There was no time for stroking caresses. There was no time for tiny erotic nuances. Mouths locked together in all-consuming need, they dropped to the bed, Brett thrusting into her on contact, Jo welcoming his invasion with a cry of exquisite pleasure. Never had their lovemaking been quite so fierce, or quite so savage, or quite so shatteringly satisfying.

  The words that should have been said months before were purged from Brett’s throat at the moment his life force erupted from his quivering body.

  “I love you, Jo. Oh, God, how I love you!”

  Sweet, sweet release. Release of tension. Release of fear. And, finally, unashamedly, release of long-pent-up tears ... both hers and his.

  A tender smile softening his chiseled lips, Brett lowered his head to dry the salty moisture on her cheeks with his mouth. “You haven’t said the words.” Raising his head again, he gazed compellingly into her eyes. “Say it, Jo. Please. I need to hear it.”

  “I love you.”

  Jo felt the tremor that ripped through Brett’s body in her palms still gripping his hips, in her body still pressed to his, and in her soul, now, at last, at one with his. Though complete, Jo was not so lost in euphoria she missed the significance of Brett’s declaration without question. The significance thrilled her. Brett still labored under the illusion of a previous affair between her and his brother. What, Jo wondered mistily, had it cost Brett to make that declaration? Very likely a lot more than she’d ever know.

  “You’ll go to Colorado with me?” The uncertainty underlying Brett’s tone drew Jo from speculation.

  “I’d go to the moon with you.” Jo’s firm response brought a teasing gleam to his eyes.

  “We’ve just been there.”

  Floating in contentment richer than whipped cream, Jo sighed as, levering his body a few inches from hers, Brett caressed her skin with his right hand. Long fingers drew a gasp of pleasure when they outlined the contour of one breast, the murmured confession that followed drew a gasp of dismay.

  “I’d hate to have to admit the times I tormented myself with the thought of Wolf’s hand stroking you like this.”

  “Brett—”Jo choked on the protest.

  “Or,” Brett continued raspily, “his mouth drinking from yours.”

  “Brett... please, listen.”

  “Or,” Brett went on, unable to stop, “his body resting in the cradle of your thighs.”

  “Brett, stop this!” Releasing her hold on his hips, Jo brought her hands up to grasp his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. ‘There has never been anything personal between us. Never. Ever. Wolf has been my employer and my friend, nothing more.” Jo sighed. “You should know better than I how very much Wolf adores Micki. I can’t imagine where you ever got the idea that Wolf and I...”

  Oh, God! Levering himself out of and off her completely, Brett lay beside Jo on his back, staring at the stark white ceiling. To believe the worst all these months, to live with the agony, day in, day out, only to find ...

  “He owns the apartment you live in.” Started now, Brett had to have it all out.

  “He does not own it!” Jo corrected, her tone revealing a hint of anger. “Wolf is holding the mortgage on it. Without his help I never could have managed it.”

  Brett turned his head to find Jo’s eyes glaring at him. She was telling the truth and he knew it. Still he kept on, needing to hear it all. “He has a key to the place.”

  “Yes,” Jo admitted readily on a sigh of exasperation. “He has a key. I gave it to him, but not, I assure you, for any unsavory purpose.” Jo smiled wryly. “I have a bad habit, you see. I lock myself out on occasion.”

  Brett smiled then laughed aloud as he gathered her close to his side. “Oh, hell, honey. I feel like such a jerk!”

  “You should.” Jo wasn’t about to let him off the hook easily, not after the trauma of the last months. “Not for having the doubt in the first place, but for not asking me straight out if your suspicions were correct.”

  “Forgive me?” Brett hid his seriousness behind a grin. He’d take the rap, for there was no way he’d bring Micki’s name into the discussion.

  “Yes, of course.”Jo snuggled closer to his warmth, shaking her head in wonder at her own obtuseness. “And here all the time I believed you were resenting Gary,” she admitted in a murmur that turned to a yelp as Brett sat bolt upright.

  “Who in the hell is Gary? And why in the hell didn’t I know about him before now?” Brett asked angrily.

  “Brett, you had to have realized there was someone before you,” Jo said carefully.

  “Yeah, sure, but I thought it was—”

  “And now you know it wasn’t,” Jo interrupted gently. “Gary was the first, the only one before you.” Praying that he wouldn’t spoil what they had just found together, Jo explained her one disastrous affair in minute detail.

  His expression contemplative, Brett stared down at Jo for long seconds when her recital was finished. He didn’t like the idea of Gary Devlin, and not only for the hell he’d put Jo through. “Were you in love with him?” The question was a mild form of self-torture. Contrarily, he wanted her to say yes and no at the same time. Yes, because he couldn’t abide the idea that Jo would live with a man she didn’t love. And no, because he hated the mere thought that she’d loved a man before him. It was irrational. Brett knew it was irrational. Hadn’t he thought himself in love with Sondra?

  “I thought I was,” Jo finally replied, unknowingly voicing Brett’s last consideration. “Of course I know now that I was merely infatuated with him. But it’s too late to change things now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Bending to her, Brett brushed his lips over hers. “And it no longer matters.” Surprisingly, it didn’t, Brett realized in relief. Hell! Screw Devlin! “I don’t mind not bei
ng first.” His movement swift, Brett nipped gently at her lower lip. “As long as you make damned sure I’m the last.”

  “And what about you?” Jo arched a forbidding brow at him. “No more Marshas?”

  “Jo, I told you ...”

  “What you told me, exactly, was ‘Not for lack of trying on my part.’“ Jo repeated his exact words, “I would like an explanation of that remark.” The demand made, Jo held her breath. She knew she really had no right to an answer, but then, neither had he, and she’d been honest with him. Deep down, where she lived, Jo knew she was testing not only his love for her but his trust in her as well. When Brett smiled her personal world settled into place.

  “The explanation is simple.” Brett’s hesitation was hardly noticeable. Damn it, man, he scorned himself, she trusted you, now it’s your turn. “I meant exactly what I said. We were alone in Marsha’s apartment in Vermont. We were undressed. We were in bed together.” Brett paused as Jo’s eyelids closed to conceal her pain. “Look at me, love.” When her lashes lifted he stared into her eyes. “I was thinking about you, and I couldn’t make it. Do you understand what I’m saying? I could not make it with another woman. I wanted you.”

  Jo blinked against a fresh swell of hot moisture and trembled with a fresh surge of hot response. Lord! Jo felt sure that if Brett touched her now he’d burn his hands! Lifting her hands, she grasped him around the waist to guide his body onto hers. “And now that you have me,” she whispered, “what are you going to do with me?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Brett answered solemnly, his eyes betraying his growing heat.

  “And?”Jo prompted, moving against him sensuously to speed up his thinking process.

  “I’ve decided to keep you.” In retaliation, Brett angled his hips into hers, smiling at her gasp of pleasure. “And let the fire rage forever.”

  For Vivian Stephens,

  who started it all for me,