The vision had slate-gray contemptuous eyes, a harshly unyielding countenance, and a mouth designed to make thinking women weep.
Her eyes foraging over the desk in an effort to escape the taunting image, Jo’s glance settled on the cream-colored folder. Perhaps he hadn’t found it all that easy to control himself. The austere Brett Renninger had forgotten what he’d originally come into her office for!
----
Chapter 5
Purring like a sleek, well-fed cat, the Porsche hugged the highway that unwound like a ribbon into the magnificent mountains of New England. Though now past the peak of brilliance, the world-famous foliage blazed in the waning afternoon sunlight, a spectacular free show for anyone with the eyes to see. Brett’s awareness of fall’s breathtaking display of colors was at a shallow surface level. His glance noted the panorama his mind didn’t register the glory of it at all. The tiny, picturesque villages tucked into the folds of Vermont’s sun-kissed mountains went virtually unnoticed by gray eyes bleak with introspection. Grappling with his own conflicting emotions, he was immune to summer’s fiery exit.
Why, Brett berated himself scathingly, in the name of peace of body if not mind, why didn’t you take her right there in her office? She was willing. Hell, she was more than willing, she was eager! And you were damned near incinerated! The memory of the blast furnace created by the simple method of placing his lips to Jo’s ignited a fresh burst of fire inside Brett’s already overheated body. Lord! How many females had he kissed since he’d discovered how exciting the fusing of two mouths could be… somewhere around his fifteenth birthday? A lot more then he cared to remember. Yet never before had he experienced the instantaneous, electrified arousal Jo’s sweet lips had sent crashing through him. Even now, hours later, every living cell in his body cried more, more, more.
You are very definitely losing your grip, buddy!
Slicing a glance to the rearview mirror, Brett grimaced at the unnaturally pale visage momentarily reflected in the small rectangular of silvered glass. Without even trying, you win the “big stupe” award! There’s a blotch on your psychological makeup. Only a true glutton for punishment would go panting after the wrong type of woman twice!
Yet, against all the rationale he could muster, Brett wanted to possess Jo Lawrence with an intensity that shook his so recently well-ordered existence. The emotional hold she was beginning to have on him had been the very element that had induced his exertion on his control. The knowledge of how perilously close he’d come to losing restraint still had his hands trembling as they gripped the steering wheel. With sardonic humor directed at himself, Brett relived his hasty departure from Jo’s office.
His arms aching with the need to hold her against his hardened body, his body screaming with the need to invade hers, Brett had literally run after he’d closed the office door between them. Never before in his life had he been so sorely tempted to throw all caution, propriety, and plain common sense to the wind! The battle that had raged inside his most sexual of organs, the one he formally called his rational mind, had been of mammoth proportions. The fact that reason had won imbued an intellectual satisfaction that in no way appeased the physical hunger. Against all the arguments he could manufacture, he wanted her, all of her, last night, this afternoon, tonight, and, the most sobering, frightening thought of all, for every one of the forever days and nights to come.
Brett’s fingers worked spasmodically on the wheel.
Frowning at his reflexive response to the mere thought of touching Jo, he advised himself to stop the lustful window wishing and concentrate on the job of work that was growing closer with each passing mile. He had things to do, and people to see, and he needed a clear mind and steady hand to accomplish the task
Her eyes foraging over the desk in an effort to escape the taunting image, Jo’s glance settled on the cream-colored folder. Perhaps he hadn’t found it all that easy to control himself. The austere Brett Renninger had forgotten what he’d originally come into her office for!
----
Chapter 5
Purring like a sleek, well-fed cat, the Porsche hugged the highway that unwound like a ribbon into the magnificent mountains of New England. Though now past the peak of brilliance, the world-famous foliage blazed in the waning afternoon sunlight, a spectacular free show for anyone with the eyes to see. Brett’s awareness of fall’s breathtaking display of colors was at a shallow surface level. His glance noted the panorama his mind didn’t register the glory of it at all. The tiny, picturesque villages tucked into the folds of Vermont’s sun-kissed mountains went virtually unnoticed by gray eyes bleak with introspection. Grappling with his own conflicting emotions, he was immune to summer’s fiery exit.
Why, Brett berated himself scathingly, in the name of peace of body if not mind, why didn’t you take her right there in her office? She was willing. Hell, she was more than willing, she was eager! And you were damned near incinerated! The memory of the blast furnace created by the simple method of placing his lips to Jo’s ignited a fresh burst of fire inside Brett’s already overheated body. Lord! How many females had he kissed since he’d discovered how exciting the fusing of two mouths could be… somewhere around his fifteenth birthday? A lot more then he cared to remember. Yet never before had he experienced the instantaneous, electrified arousal Jo’s sweet lips had sent crashing through him. Even now, hours later, every living cell in his body cried more, more, more.
You are very definitely losing your grip, buddy!
Slicing a glance to the rearview mirror, Brett grimaced at the unnaturally pale visage momentarily reflected in the small rectangular of silvered glass. Without even trying, you win the “big stupe” award! There’s a blotch on your psychological makeup. Only a true glutton for punishment would go panting after the wrong type of woman twice!
Yet, against all the rationale he could muster, Brett wanted to possess Jo Lawrence with an intensity that shook his so recently well-ordered existence. The emotional hold she was beginning to have on him had been the very element that had induced his exertion on his control. The knowledge of how perilously close he’d come to losing restraint still had his hands trembling as they gripped the steering wheel. With sardonic humor directed at himself, Brett relived his hasty departure from Jo’s office.
His arms aching with the need to hold her against his hardened body, his body screaming with the need to invade hers, Brett had literally run after he’d closed the office door between them. Never before in his life had he been so sorely tempted to throw all caution, propriety, and plain common sense to the wind! The battle that had raged inside his most sexual of organs, the one he formally called his rational mind, had been of mammoth proportions. The fact that reason had won imbued an intellectual satisfaction that in no way appeased the physical hunger. Against all the arguments he could manufacture, he wanted her, all of her, last night, this afternoon, tonight, and, the most sobering, frightening thought of all, for every one of the forever days and nights to come.
Brett’s fingers worked spasmodically on the wheel.
Frowning at his reflexive response to the mere thought of touching Jo, he advised himself to stop the lustful window wishing and concentrate on the job of work that was growing closer with each passing mile. He had things to do, and people to see, and he needed a clear mind and steady hand to accomplish the task
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