he’d ever given her. That color is great on you. You should wear it more often.”
Then he was gone and Jo stood staring at the door he’d closed so very gently. Pulling herself together, if loosely, Jo backed up until the back of her thighs bumped her desk. Sinking onto the solid wood support, she released a long, heartfelt sigh. Well, if nothing else, one question had been erased from her mind; Gary had repeatedly accused her of being unable to physically respond to a male advance. Moments ago she had responded with every quivering particle of her being. Unashamedly she admitted to herself that, had Brett asked it of her, she’d have sunk to the floor for him without hesitation. In amazement, Jo realized that for the first time in her life she wanted, really wanted to experience a man’s physical lovemaking. A tiny, sad smile feathered her lips fleetingly. How grand! Here she was, at age twenty-eight, prepared to offer everything of herself for the first time in her life and the donee of her largess flaunts his iron control in her face.
The thought was chilling, but had to be examined. Brett’s involvement in their mouth embrace had been as total as her own, Jo was as sure of that as she was of leaves falling in autumn. But he had not touched her, had not taken advantage of the opportunity to assuage the hunger he’d revealed through his kiss. Why hadn’t he? The answer was obvious, at least to Jo. She had spent most of the last three weeks with him. She had seen the expression of disdain and often contempt on his face when in her company; Brett hadn’t made the slightest attempt to hide his feelings. For reasons known only to himself, Brett simply did not like her. So then, did a man ... a man like Brett Renninger ... make a lover of a woman he could not like personally? Jo asked herself. Not very likely, she concluded unhappily. And where does that leave me? She wondered. Absolutely nowhere.
But he does think I’m beautiful! Grasping at the thought for all she was worth, Jo glanced down at the dress she’d hastily chosen that morning. She had not known until she’d walked out of her apartment that the garment had been the perfect choice for a crisp fall day. The wool-blend material was in a vibrant russet that rivaled nature’s brilliant autumnal display. The dress was cut in simple, classic lines that did full justice to Jo’s slim yet curvaceous figure. Jo’s lips twitched wryly as she remembered the enormous price that had been discreetly printed on the little dress’s tiny price tag. At the time of purchase Jo had gasped at the cost. Now she was glad she had given in to temptation and whipped out her credit card before she’d had time to change her mind!
The buzzer on the intercom on Jo’s desk peeled the information that her secretary, Reni, was back from lunch and back to work. And, apparently, Jo decided as the number-one button on her phone began to blink, so am I.
Leaning to the end of her desk, Jo lifted the receiver and asked with a briskness she was light-years away from feeling, “Yes, Reni?”
“Mr. Renninger’s on line one, Jo,” Reni reported calmly.
For one second Jo was certain she could not manage a normal tone. Fourteen questions jumbled together into a solid mass in her head. One stood out in glaring clarity: Is he going to ask me to go with him?
“Yes, Mr. Renninger?” How in sweet heaven had she contrived that coolly professional note?
“Ms. Lawrence, I hope you can help me. I need some information and Brett’s secretary tells me he’s out of the office.”
Eric Renninger! Why hadn’t Reni told her the caller was Eric Renninger? Closing her eyes against a sudden, ridiculous sting, Jo drew in a deep breath before answering softly, “Yes, your brother left less than an hour ago, Mr. Renninger. I’ll be happy to help you, if I can. Exactly what do you need?”
While she was being her most businesslike self, a vision rose to play havoc with Jo’s concentration.
Then he was gone and Jo stood staring at the door he’d closed so very gently. Pulling herself together, if loosely, Jo backed up until the back of her thighs bumped her desk. Sinking onto the solid wood support, she released a long, heartfelt sigh. Well, if nothing else, one question had been erased from her mind; Gary had repeatedly accused her of being unable to physically respond to a male advance. Moments ago she had responded with every quivering particle of her being. Unashamedly she admitted to herself that, had Brett asked it of her, she’d have sunk to the floor for him without hesitation. In amazement, Jo realized that for the first time in her life she wanted, really wanted to experience a man’s physical lovemaking. A tiny, sad smile feathered her lips fleetingly. How grand! Here she was, at age twenty-eight, prepared to offer everything of herself for the first time in her life and the donee of her largess flaunts his iron control in her face.
The thought was chilling, but had to be examined. Brett’s involvement in their mouth embrace had been as total as her own, Jo was as sure of that as she was of leaves falling in autumn. But he had not touched her, had not taken advantage of the opportunity to assuage the hunger he’d revealed through his kiss. Why hadn’t he? The answer was obvious, at least to Jo. She had spent most of the last three weeks with him. She had seen the expression of disdain and often contempt on his face when in her company; Brett hadn’t made the slightest attempt to hide his feelings. For reasons known only to himself, Brett simply did not like her. So then, did a man ... a man like Brett Renninger ... make a lover of a woman he could not like personally? Jo asked herself. Not very likely, she concluded unhappily. And where does that leave me? She wondered. Absolutely nowhere.
But he does think I’m beautiful! Grasping at the thought for all she was worth, Jo glanced down at the dress she’d hastily chosen that morning. She had not known until she’d walked out of her apartment that the garment had been the perfect choice for a crisp fall day. The wool-blend material was in a vibrant russet that rivaled nature’s brilliant autumnal display. The dress was cut in simple, classic lines that did full justice to Jo’s slim yet curvaceous figure. Jo’s lips twitched wryly as she remembered the enormous price that had been discreetly printed on the little dress’s tiny price tag. At the time of purchase Jo had gasped at the cost. Now she was glad she had given in to temptation and whipped out her credit card before she’d had time to change her mind!
The buzzer on the intercom on Jo’s desk peeled the information that her secretary, Reni, was back from lunch and back to work. And, apparently, Jo decided as the number-one button on her phone began to blink, so am I.
Leaning to the end of her desk, Jo lifted the receiver and asked with a briskness she was light-years away from feeling, “Yes, Reni?”
“Mr. Renninger’s on line one, Jo,” Reni reported calmly.
For one second Jo was certain she could not manage a normal tone. Fourteen questions jumbled together into a solid mass in her head. One stood out in glaring clarity: Is he going to ask me to go with him?
“Yes, Mr. Renninger?” How in sweet heaven had she contrived that coolly professional note?
“Ms. Lawrence, I hope you can help me. I need some information and Brett’s secretary tells me he’s out of the office.”
Eric Renninger! Why hadn’t Reni told her the caller was Eric Renninger? Closing her eyes against a sudden, ridiculous sting, Jo drew in a deep breath before answering softly, “Yes, your brother left less than an hour ago, Mr. Renninger. I’ll be happy to help you, if I can. Exactly what do you need?”
While she was being her most businesslike self, a vision rose to play havoc with Jo’s concentration.
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