While the Fire Rages by Joan Hohl Read Free Book Online Page A

body!
    Like or dislike, the cold fact was that he desired her with an intensity the like of which he’d never experienced before, and he’d known some raging passions.
    I probably should simply fire her and have done with it.
    The tip of Brett’s tongue slid along the edge of his bottom teeth, and his unseeing eyes stared at the sun-sparkled Atlantic whitecaps.
    If not firing then, at the very least, making her life pure misery was in order.
    Damn!
    Moving restlessly, Brett shoved his itching hands deep into the pockets in his pants, a wry, self-derisive smite curving his lips. He knew the itch in his palms was not caused by the need to inflict violence; the itch came from the need to caress her soft, pale skin.
    God, he wanted her, wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman.
    This is sick!
    Brett’s shoulders moved, as if trying to dislodge an unwelcome rider on his back. His purpose had been so clearcut at the beginning. What the hell had happened to confuse the issue? Not to mention him?
    Even though it had been ridiculously easy to reassure his sister-in-law concerning his brother’s fidelity, Brett’s own newly aroused suspicions were not mollified.
    In relating to his sister-in-law Jo’s reasons for being in Boston on the day of Wolf’s accident, Brett had injected a business like briskness into his tone. Couched in that manner, Jo’s explanation sounded plausible. Micki had, gratefully, swallowed it whole. But, then, Micki had not been there to witness the face of fear Jo had worn regarding the accident. Nor had Micki been in the New York office several days later to see, firsthand, Jo’s face whiten on hearing the full extent of Wolf s injuries.
    Brett had been there. He had kept a sharp eye out for her slightest reaction to his news, only to find a sharp eye had not been necessary; Jo’s dismay had been obvious.
    Now, three weeks later, Brett realized it had been at the moment she’d displayed the most pain that he’d decided Micki’s fears were based on fact and Jo was, indeed, Wolf’s mistress.
    Again Brett’s tongue snaked across his teeth. It was also at that exact moment, he finally acknowledged, that he’d felt the first lick of physical desire for her.
    That moment had occurred after his detailed account of Wolf’s injuries. Jo had gone deathly pale, then had nearly fallen into the chair by Wolf’s desk, hand groping at the chair arm for support. It was when she’d lowered her lashes in pain that he’d allowed his gaze to leave her face to roam freely over her slender body. It was then he’d suffered the first stirring of need for her.
    The question of whether he wanted Jo because she was, or had been, Wolf’s reared its nasty little head. Instantly, Brett assured himself that their past relationship had nothing to do with his present yearnings. Hard on the heels of that self-assurance came the fervent hope that he was not lying to himself.
    Brett was well aware of the depth of feeling he held for his older brother. He had idolized Wolf for as long as he could remember, had always tried to emulate him. But to carry his hero worship to the point of wanting to possess Wolf’s mistress was not only ludicrous, it was downright unhealthy.
    The fact remained that Jo had belonged to Wolf; in his own mind Brett was now certain of that. He had uncovered just too damned many incriminating signs during the previous three weeks for their liaison to be strictly business. One of those signs now lay snugly in a long envelope inside his breast pocket, crackling faintly every time he moved. Brett had even had the fanciful idea that the blasted envelope was laughing at him every time it crackled.
    You are sick!
    The self-admonition was silently issued in an attempt to quell the strong urge gripping him to turn and feast his eyes on Jo’s tall, delicately formed body.
    Feast his eyes, hell! He wanted, longed, ached to feast his mouth, tongue, hands, and body on top of hers.
    Again his tongue flicked