While the Fire Rages Read Online Free PDF Page B

Brett drew it to the large pine desk, then, settling back comfortably, he arched one pale, aristocratic brow at her.
    “Any more questions?”
    Jo ground her teeth at his patronizing tone, cautioning herself against incurring his wrath before their interview was over. She truly did not care to leave his office the victim of his displeasure. The very idea of the scene injected steel into her backbone—very cool steel that manifested itself in her voice.
    “Yes. Several.”
    Undaunted by a slight tightening at the edges of his lips, Jo led off with query one.
    “Does the prognosis call for complete recovery?”
    “At this point, yes.”
    “How long will he be confined to the hospital?”
    “The word this morning was at least three, possibly four, weeks.”
    Four weeks! Jo swallowed her dismay at the thought of having to work side by side with this man for the better part of a month.
    “May I see him?” She was further dismayed by the pleading note threading her voice.
    “No.”
    Jo’s eyes widened at his icily emphatic denial. What possible reason could he have for refusing her visitation rights to her boss? Or did he believe himself above the need for reasons? Her loss of control was evidenced by the angry outcry.
    “But why?”
    “The idea, Ms. Lawrence, is recuperation. You represent something altogether different.”
    Anger drowned in a flood of confusion. Had Brett really sneered that last assertion? Could he consider her role of assistant so unimportant as to be sneered at? Jo figuratively shook the consideration away. She knew he employed several assistants himself; he could not help but be aware of the responsibilities entailed. But then, damn it, why had he sneered at her?
    Jetting her mind free of the quagmire of her own thoughts, Jo faced him boldly.
    “You will be ... filling in ... for him the entire three or four weeks?”
    “In every way required.”
    For some unfathomable reason, Jo was grateful for the ignorance she felt at not understanding the cause of his sardonic tone and matching smile. Thankfully, she was given no time to ponder either.
    “Actually, I will very probably be in residence in this office a great deal longer than three or four weeks.”
    “But you just said—”
    “I said, “Brett interrupted smoothly, “Wolf will be hospitalized for that length of time. Plans have already been made for him to complete his recuperation at our mother’s horse farm in Florida.”
    Jo opened her mouth to ask the obvious. Brett anticipated her.
    “Anywhere from four to six months.”
    Uh-huh. You bet. Why not?
    Rapid fire, the seemingly unrelated terms sprang pell-mell into Jo’s thoroughly rattled brain. I am not really hearing what I think I’m hearing, she assured herself a trifle wildly. He did not actually raise the possibility of six months—did he? I’ll kill myself!
    Had she been, at that moment, presented with a mirror, Jo would have been shocked. Inside, she felt somewhat like a quivering mass of mush. Outwardly she appeared unruffled and unaffected by the news she’d received.
    Transmitting an order to her hands to release their death grip on the innocent chair arms, she laced her tension-numbed fingers together demurely in her lap. Between evenly spaced breaths, she managed to calmly ask the question whose answer would see her retained or deposed.
    “You will be bringing Richard Colby to New York?”
    Over the previous three years, Jo had heard much, all of it good, of Richard Colby, redoubtable right arm to the head of the mid-Atlantic Coast region. Her assumption that Brett would want his right arm with him now was natural, if unsettling.
    “Not likely.” Brett’s disclaimer startled Jo; had she really detected a hint of amusement in his tone? His dry smile answered her silent question. “Richard hates New York.” Brett’s voice was every bit as dry as his smile and held a very deliberate drawl. “He hates the pace. He hates the weather. And, more than the