While the Fire Rages Read Online Free PDF Page A

Renninger brothers bore very little resemblance, physically or in personality.
    Actually, he’d been in her office a very short time, during which he’d fired questions at her in a taut, angry tone that she’d later attributed to anxiety over Wolf’s accident.
    Somewhat proud of herself for the appearance of composure she’d maintained, she had answered his questions clearly and concisely. It was when it became obvious that he was about to make an abrupt departure that Jo, voicing a query of her own, received the impression of his dislike of her. Confused, wondering why he should dislike her when he didn’t even know her, she had nevertheless repeated her question when he hesitated over answering.
    “How is Wolf doing?”
    “He is still on the critical list,” he’d finally, begrudgingly answered, confusing her all the more by his apparent unwillingness to discuss his brother’s condition. “I’m leaving now to fly back to Boston,” he’d gone on coldly, long fingers curling around the doorknob, giving the impression he couldn’t get out fast enough. “If there are any questions”—he’d paused, tone hardening—”pertaining to business, call the hotel and leave a message. I’ll get back to you.”
    Stunned by both his tone and his attitude, frowning in perplexity, Jo had mutely watched as he opened the door then closed it again before turning to pin her with an icy, narrow-eyed stare.
    “By the way,” he’d almost purred, “I’ve tapped Bob Harley for the executive slot opening soon.” The silky satisfaction in his voice went through her like the sound of a nail being scraped the length of a blackboard. “Sorry about that.”
    With a twist of his lips that was more a sneer than a smile, he strode from her office, leaving her staring after him in total bewilderment.
    Four days later he was back.
    Those four days had been rather trying for Jo—what with holding down the fort, so to speak, and worrying about Wolf, she’d been getting a teensy bit short-tempered.
    In truth, Jo almost adored Wolfgang Renninger. In her admittedly prejudiced opinion he was kind, considerate, oftimes droll, and a dynamic businessman. Her liking for him had been spontaneous, her respect endless. Strangely, she had never felt even the mildest tug of physical attraction toward him. Wolf was employer, friend, and, during a few weak moments Jo had experienced, confidant.
    Brett was a whole new ball game.
    Added to the business responsibilities she’d shouldered, she’d be damned if she’d call and leave messages for him —and her concern for Wolf, Jo had further strained her nerves by repeatedly reviewing that scene in the office.
    Why had Brett been so very tense, so very hostile?
    Why had he seemed so smugly satisfied about informing her of Bob Harley’s promotion? In Jo’s opinion Bob was the logical choice for the job!
    Why did he dislike her?
    It was the last of the constantly revolving trio of questions that bothered her most of all, simply because, she assured herself, she had done nothing to warrant his disdain.
    She had had no prior warning of his imminent return. Arriving at the office before her assistant that Tuesday morning, she had no sooner pulled her chair to her desk when the phone rang. Her response had been as it always was.
    “Jo Lawrence.”
    “I want to see you, now, in Wolf’s ... my ... office.”
    That was it. No time wasted on mundane pleasantries such as good morning, merely, in effect, get in here.
    Staring at the receiver in her hand, Jo had rationalized the sudden burst of adrenaline rushing through her as her body gearing for a verbal confrontation, not in expectancy of the sight of him.
    HA!
    With all her assumed coolness intact, she had walked briskly into Wolf’s ... Brett’s ... office, taken one look at him, and, metaphorically at least, begun melting.
    It simply was not fair for one man to look that damn good! The image this man projected did not sneak up on one; to the