Firestorm by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

Brett.”
    â€œI’m afraid I have to, chère .”
    â€œIt’s the crack of dawn.”
    He laughed, stepping into his trousers. “Not quite.”When he sat on the bed to pull on his gleaming black boots, she pressed her soft, lush breasts against his back.
    â€œStay,” she whispered. “I dismissed all the servants. No one will know.”
    â€œYou live too dangerously,” he said, momentarily sated and no longer sexually excited by her. “As much as I dislike your husband, I have no desire to be caught cuckolding the poor man.”
    â€œOh, bah! Steve is too old! What am I supposed to do?” She pouted prettily, perfectly.
    Brett grinned. “You have a hand—use it.”
    She gasped, shocked.
    Brett laughed and slipped on his shirt. She had let him know last night that she was no stranger to such tactics.
    â€œWhen will I see you again?”
    â€œIn a couple of days,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure he was really interested. Yes, she had been good, but Audrey was better—less demanding, more giving. Besides, there were all kinds of classy whores in San Francisco, and Brett had never been one to stay long with the same woman. Even Audrey had been his mistress for only a few months.
    Brett left shortly after, feeling invigorated despite the lack of sleep. It was early, not even seven o’clock, so he had time for his habitual gallop before going home and changing for the day.
    He thought about Susie and her child with satisfaction. Judge Steiner had granted the divorce, and as Brett had guessed, Bill Hawkins had been more than happy to exchange his wife for a few hundred dollars. Yesterday Susie had sworn her eternal gratitude to Brett…and now she was happily back at work.
    Brett galloped King along the beach and through the surf. The salt air felt good, fresh and clean against his face. He had gotten a loan from Paul’s bank yesterday, money he would put up for his share in expanding theshipping line. Paul had approved the loan instantly, saying, “I like your style, Brett.” Paul was the only one who knew how overextended he was, but Brett had always been a gambler.
    It was a clear, crisp spring day. Squinting ahead, he realized a rider was approaching at a canter. He admired the big black stallion, then with a start realized the rider was Storm. Storm—alone. Instantly he was worried. Their gazes met, and he saw that she had recognized him, too.
    â€œWhat happened?” he shouted, whirling his stallion around and cutting her off. Both horses pranced restlessly in place.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhere in hell’s your escort?” he heard himself demand with sudden anger.
    Her chin jutted up. “I came alone.”
    He couldn’t believe it. “Alone?”
    â€œExcuse me,” she flared, her eyes sparking, and urged her stallion past him.
    He quickly maneuvered his own mount to cut her off again, reaching for her reins. She gasped and deftly sidestepped away. “How dare you!”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you?” he shouted. “Foolish child! There’s all kind of riffraff running around! Are you an idiot?”
    Storm was incensed, as much by his manner as his words. Child? And who was he to tell her what to do? “Let me by!”
    He was having trouble comprehending the scenario. She was breathtaking and might as well have been naked, sitting astride that huge, mean stallion, clad in skintight buckskins. Her face was flushed from exertion, and wisps of golden hair blew around her face. “Certainly,” he finally said, backing up his gray.
    She moved determinedly past, then gasped when he turned to ride alongside her. “What are you doing?”
    â€œEscorting you,” he said, regaining some control. “I know Paul didn’t approve your riding alone.”
    â€œI don’t want your escort or your company,” she flashed. “I can take