The Elliotts:
Mixing Business
With Pleasure

BILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSITION

LEANNE BANKS

TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS

BRENDA JACKSON

CAUSE FOR SCANDAL

ANNA DEPALO

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Intense sexual chemistry was making all their plans go astray … in the most delicious ways!

The Elliotts: Mixing Business With Pleasure

Three intense and satisfying romances from

three beloved Mills & Boon authors!

BILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSITION

About the Author

LEANNE BANKS, a USA TODAY bestselling author of romance and 2002 winner of the prestigious Booksellers’ Best Award, lives in her native Virginia with her husband, son and daughter. Recognised for both her sensual and humorous writing with two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times BOOKclub, Leanne likes creating a story with a few grins, a generous kick of sensuality and characters that hang around after the book is finished. Leanne believes romance readers are the best readers in the world because they understand that love is the greatest miracle of all. Contact Leanne online at leannebbb@aol.com or write to her at PO Box 1442, Midlothian, VA 23113, USA. An SAE (with return postage) for a reply would be greatly appreciated.

One

“I have an announcement to make,” Patrick Elliott said to the roomful of Elliotts, interrupting the roar of conversation among the nearly fifteen present for the New Year’s Eve celebration. Patrick had stipulated that only family members and spouses attend the gathering.

The announcement must be big news, Gannon Elliott thought as he stood next to his brother Liam. Curious, Gannon studied his grandfather as he held court across the den of the family home in the Hamptons. The Christmas decorations would come down tomorrow, but tonight the lights on the trees twinkled in three of the rooms on this level of the nearly eight-thousand-foot turn-of-the-century home. The house his grandmother had lovingly furnished had provided a haven for the Elliotts through the births and, tragically, through the deaths of children and through the ever-increasing power and wealth of Patrick Elliott and his heirs.

Gannon’s Irish-immigrant grandfather might be seventy-seven, but he was still sharp as a razor. He made dominating the magazine-publishing world look like a piece of cake, with magazines that covered everything from serious news to celebrity watching, showbiz and fashion.

“But it’s not midnight,” cracked Bridget, Gannon’s younger sister, in response to their grandfather. “You have the night off, Grandfather. Did you forget it’s New Year’s Eve?”

Patrick’s eyes sparkled as he wagged his finger at her. “How could I forget with you here to remind me?”

Grinning, Bridget dipped her head and lifted her glass in response. Gannon shook his head and took a swallow of whiskey. His brash sister always seemed to be stirring the pot when it came to their grandfather.

Pausing for a moment, Patrick glanced at Maeve, his petite wife of more than fifty years. Patrick might be the workaholic lion who had built a publishing empire, but Maeve was the one woman who could soothe the savage beast.

The love and commitment emanating from both their gazes never failed to humble Gannon, arousing a gnawing sensation in his stomach, a vague dissatisfaction that he refused to explore. He mentally slammed the door on the feeling and watched his grandmother Maeve, love shining in her eyes as she nodded at his grandfather.

Patrick looked back at the family assembled by his invitation. “I’ve decided to retire.”

Gannon nearly dropped his glass of whiskey. He’d figured the old man was so wedded to his conglomerate that he would spend his last moments on earth making another deal. Murmurs and whispers skittered through the room like mice.

“Holy—”

“Oh my God.”

“Do you think he’s sick?”

Patrick shook his head and lifted his hand in a quieting motion. “I’m not sick. It’s just time. I have to choose a successor, and because all of you have performed so well with the various magazines, the choice is difficult. I’ve decided the only fair way to choose is to give each of you an opportunity to prove yourself.”

“What on earth is he doing now?” Bridget whispered.

“Do you know anything about this?” Gannon asked his brother Liam, who worked for the conglomerate rather than one of the individual magazines. Everyone knew Liam was the closest of any grandchild to Patrick.

Liam shook his head, looking just as stunned as everyone else in the room. “Not a clue.”

Like the rest of the family, Gannon knew that the four top magazines were headed by Patrick’s sons and daughter. Gannon’s own father, Michael, was editor in chief of Pulse magazine, a publication known for cutting-edge serious news.

“I will choose from the editors in chief of our most successful magazines. Whichever magazine makes the largest profit proportionally will see its editor in chief take over the reins of Elliott Publication Holdings.”

Complete silence followed. A bomb wouldn’t have been more effective.

Three seconds passed, and Gannon saw shock cross the faces of his uncles and cousins. He looked across the room at his father, who looked as if he’d been hit on the head with a two-by-four.

Bridget gave a sound of disgust. “This is insane. How can it work? Do you realize that since I work for Charisma I’ll be working against my own father?”

Liam shrugged. “Is that any worse than pitting brother against brother, brother against sister?”

“Shane against Finola?” Bridget added in disbelief about their aunt and uncle. “They’re twins, for Pete’s sake. Someone has to talk to Grandfather and make him see reason.”

Finola stepped next to Bridget and shook her head at her father. “He won’t be changing his mind. He’s got that ‘till hell freezes over’ expression on his face. I’ve seen it before,” she said with a trace of bitterness.

“It’s not fair,” Bridget said.

Finola had a faraway look in her eyes. “He has his own definition of fairness,” she said softly, then seemed to shake out of her split-second reverie. She smiled at Bridget. “I’m glad I have you on my team.”

Gannon had never been one to shirk a tough fight and he wouldn’t shrink from this one either. “May the best Elliott win,” he said to Finola, although he knew the stakes were damn high. “Talk to you later,” he said to Bridget, Liam and Finola, then moved toward his father immediately confident that he would do anything to help his father make their magazine, Pulse, the top dog at EPH.

He was an Elliott, born and bred to compete, excel and win. Every Elliott in the room had been raised with the same genes and high expectations. It was in their blood to fight and win. Shrewd as always, his grandfather had known that fact when he’d issued the challenge, Gannon thought. Regardless of who won—and Gannon was damn determined to make sure his father was the winner—Patrick had just assured a banner year of earnings for each magazine and Elliott Publication Holdings.

His uncle Daniel stopped him on the way to his father. “You look like a man with a mission.”

“I think we all are,” Gannon said wryly and squeezed his uncle’s shoulder. “The least he could have done was pass out a year’s supply of antacid with this kind of news.”

Daniel chuckled and shook his head. “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” Gannon said and walked the few feet to where his father and mother stood.

Twirling his glass of brandy, his father met Gannon’s gaze. “I should have known this earthquake was coming.”

“Who could have predicted this?” his mother, the most easygoing person he knew, asked. She met Gannon’s gaze and smiled. “I see you’ve already recovered and are ready for the game.”

“It’s in my genes,” Gannon said with a nod to his father.

“You have some ideas already?” his father asked, clearly pleased.

“Sure do.” Gannon knew the first person he wanted on the Pulse team: Erika Layven, the woman he broke up with over a year ago.

Erika Layven reviewed the layout for the April issue of HomeStyle magazine with a critical eye as she took another sip of instant hot chocolate with marshmallows. Wiggling her sock-clad feet beneath her desk, she studied the spring-flower theme of multicolored roses, sprigs of lavender and cheery pansies. A huge contrast from the gray, bitter-cold January late afternoon she glimpsed outside her fifteenth-story window in Manhattan.

The weather made her feel cold and old. The recent report from her doctor hadn’t helped much either. Add to that the New Year’s Eve party she’d attended with a forgettable man and the more forgettable kiss at midnight and she could feel downright morose.

If not for the pansies, she told herself and straightened in her chair. She had a bunch of reasons to feel good. As managing editor of Elliott Publication Holdings’ new magazine HomeStyle, she had the opportunity to help create a vision and make it come true. She had power. She had influence. She had a dream job. If she felt herself missing the rush she’d felt when she’d worked for Pulse, she pushed it aside. This was better, she told herself. In this world, she ruled.

A knock sounded at her door and she glanced at the frog clock on her desk. It was after five-thirty on Thursday night. Most employees had left for happy hour.

“Yes?” she called.

“It’s Gannon,” he said, then unnecessarily added, “Gannon Elliott.”

Erika’s stomach jumped into her throat and she took a full moment to catch her breath. What did he want? Pushing her curly hair from her face, she pulled together her composure. “Come in,” she said in as cool a voice as she could manage.

The door opened and Gannon—six-foot-two, black hair, green eyes and killer body—filled the doorway, filled the room. She steeled herself against him and strictly instructed her hormones to behave, her palms to stop sweating and her heart to stop racing.

Idly wishing she’d kept on her boots so she could meet him almost eye to eye, she stood in her sock feet behind her desk. “Gannon, what a surprise. What brings you here?”

“Hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Your choice, she thought but took a different tack. “I’ve been very busy with HomeStyle.”

“So I hear. You’re doing a fabulous job.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to fight a sliver of gratification. Gannon was tough. He’d never been given to flattery. “It looks like Pulse is full of excitement as always.”

He nodded. “What did you think of the series we ran on fighting Internet viruses?”

“Excellent,” she said. “I loved the day spent with an Internet security soldier. Fascinating.” She paused a half beat. “I would have added a fraction more human interest.”

His mouth lifted in a half grin. “That’s one of the things I always admired about you. You see the good in an article but are always looking for a way to make it better.”

“Thank you again,” she said, feeling curious. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

He glanced at her bookcase and tilted his head sideways to read a few titles. “How much do you like it here?”

Confused by his attitude, she studied him carefully as he lifted her frog clock from her desk. He wasn’t acting normal. Although she wasn’t sure what normal was for Gannon. Their relationship had clouded her instincts where he was concerned.

“What’s not to like? I get to help rule,” she said and smiled.

He glanced up and met her gaze and she felt a mini kaboom go off inside her. He chuckled. “That’s one way of looking at it.” He returned her frog clock to her desk and reached for her mug, lifting it to just below his nose. He smiled. “Hot chocolate with marshmallows. You must not want to stay up tonight.”

Erika’s stomach twisted and she felt her sense of humor wane. Gannon possessed all kinds of insider information on her because they’d been lovers. A fact she had tried hard to forget during the past year. “A good night’s sleep keeps me sharp.”

He nodded and paused thoughtfully. “Do you miss Pulse at all?”

The blunt question surprised her. “Of course I do,” she said. “The fast pace, always being on the cutting edge. There was an adrenaline rush every day.”

“And you don’t get that here,” he concluded.

“HomeStyle provides a different kind of satisfaction.”

“What if you were given the opportunity to come back to Pulse with a promotion and salary increase over last time?” he asked.

Erika was taken off guard again. The prospect of being inside the best newsmagazine in the world provided a potent lure. There was nothing laid-back about Pulse. Working for that magazine had demanded the best of her mental and creative energy. It had forced her to grow. She’d been surrounded by brilliant, ambitious people.

And she’d gotten involved with a man who had ruined her for other relationships.

She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked outside the window as she tried to form a response. “It’s tempting,” she admitted.

“I want you back on the Pulse team,” Gannon said.

“Tell me what it would take for you to make the move and I’ll make it happen.”

Erika gaped at him in shock. When the faintest gossip had surfaced about her relationship with Gannon, he’d stopped everything between them cold and had begun to treat her as if she were just another team member. His behavior had knocked her sideways enough that she’d known she couldn’t work with him anymore. The position at HomeStyle had offered a haven from him, and she was slowly getting over him.

“I need to think about this,” she finally managed.

He blinked in surprise and she felt a sliver of satisfaction. Gannon was accustomed to hearing yes, not maybe. She saw his jaw clench and felt another dart of surprise. What was going on here?

“That’s fair enough. I’ll drop by to talk with you tomorrow after work.”

“Sorry. Can’t do,” Erika said. “I have an appointment out of the office at four-thirty. I’m not coming back in.”

He gave a slow nod, as if she were trying his patience. “Okay, are you working this weekend?”

“From home.” She glanced at her calendar. “Tuesday would be best.”

“Monday, after work,” he said in a brusque voice that had frightened the life out of more than one intern.

The tone unsettled her enough not to push further. “Monday after work,” she confirmed.

“Good. See you then,” he said, holding her gaze for a couple of seconds too long. A couple of seconds that sucked the oxygen from her lungs before he turned around and left her office.

Erika immediately sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. “Damn him,” she whispered. He still knocked her sideways. She scowled. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all.

But part of her response was understandable, she told herself. Preparation was key with Gannon. She absolutely couldn’t fly by the seat of her pants with that man.

Erika rubbed her knees and paused for a breath after ten games of one-on-one. She’d had her lunch handed to her during the last six games. Looking at the fourteen-year-old responsible for pounding the living daylights out of her via a basketball, Erika shook her head. “You could show a little pity for the elderly.”

Tia Rogers, the pretty but lanky girl with chocolate-brown eyes who Erika was mentoring, shrugged as she walked to the side of the basketball court Erika had reserved for their use. Since she’d been promoted, she got dibs on the EPH gym.

“You ain’t old. You just sit on your butt too much in that fancy high-rise office.”

“Aren’t old,” Erika automatically corrected, though at the moment thirty-two seemed over the hill. “Getting paid to sit on your butt isn’t all that bad. And I don’t just sit on my butt,” Erika said. “By the way, how’s algebra?”

Tia made a face. “I don’t like it.”

“What’d you get on your last test?”

“B minus,” Tia said.

“It’s going up. That’s the right direction.” Erika patted the girl on the shoulder and scooped up both their coats from the bleachers. A group of men immediately took their place on the basketball court. Erika led the way to the elevator. Tia was quiet on the ride down.

“I need an A,” Tia finally said in a glum voice. “I need all As if I’m going to get a scholarship to college.”

“You’ll get a scholarship,” Erika said, waving at the security guard before the two of them stepped out into the cold night.

Tia swore and spit as she stepped outside. “How do you know?”

Erika swallowed a wince. She was supposed to inspire Tia and help polish her mentee’s rough edges. Tia, who lived with her aunt because her mother was in prison for repeated drug violations, had been chosen for the mentor program because she worked on the school newspaper. “Ditch the spitting and swearing.”

“Everyone else swears and spits,” Tia said in a challenging voice.

“Everyone else isn’t you. You’re different. You have talent, brains, common sense and, most importantly, you have drive.”

Tia met her gaze with wide brown eyes filled with hope but tempered with skepticism. It was Erika’s job to help give the hope and drive she glimpsed in the young teen a bigger edge in the battle.

“Is that what got you your fancy job in the office you showed me a couple weeks ago? I hear you always need a connection.”

Erika exhaled and her breath created a visible vapor trail. “I’m working for a company where most of the executives are related and I’m not part of the family.”

Tia smiled. “So you’ve had to kick some butt, too.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” she said as an image of Gannon’s backside slithered across Erika’s brain. She’d had a tough time totally banishing him from her mind since his surprise visit yesterday. She still didn’t know what she was going to do about Pulse. She lifted her hand to hail a taxi.

“My aunt keeps asking me why you don’t have no man.”

“Why I don’t have a man,” Erika corrected.

“S’what I said,” Tia said and climbed into the taxi that stopped by the curb.

Erika climbed in beside her and gave the taxi Tia’s address. “I don’t have a man because—” She broke off. Why didn’t she have a man? Because Gannon had ruined her for other men. “Because I fell for someone and he dumped me.”

“Wow,” Tia said. “Why’d he do that? You’re pretty for an older lady. You got it going on.”

Erika groaned at the reference to age. “Thanks, I think. Why’d he dump me? I guess he didn’t think I was the right woman for him.”

Tia swore again. “You should teach him a lesson. Go get you another man. A better man.”

“Yeah,” Erika said, thinking she’d been trying to do that for a year now.

An hour later Erika walked into the Park Slope brownstone she owned and immediately stepped out of her shoes and into her bunny slippers. She looked down at the pink furry footwear and smiled. They always made her smile.

Making a mental promise to wash the clothes in her gym bag, she left the bag in the hallway and headed for the kitchen as she glanced through her mail. Bills, bills … She paused at the postcard that featured a Caribbean cruise and felt a longing for hot weather, sunshine, an icy margarita and the sound of steel-drum music.

Sighing, she dismissed the mini fantasy and used her remote to turn on the sound of Alicia Keys while she poured herself a glass of red wine. She picked up her phone and listened to her messages.

The first was from one of her best friends, inviting her to visit a trendy new bar. The second was her mother checking on her. Erika bit her lip in response to that. Her mother had called her at a weak moment and Erika had told her too much about the results of her doctor’s visit. The third message was from Doug. Doug the dud, she added. A nice enough guy. He was just so boring.

The call-waiting beeped as she listened to his message and she automatically picked up. “Hello?”

“Erika, I wondered when I would hear your live voice again. How are you, sweetheart?”

Her mother. Erika winced. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been very busy at work and I took on a mentoring project with an inner-city teenager. How are you? How’s bridge?”

“Your father and I came in second last night. We host tomorrow night. What is this about mentoring an inner-city teenager? Darling, you don’t really think that will take the place of having your own child, do you?”

Erika’s chest twisted. “No, but it’s a good use of my energy right now.”

“Honey, if you would just make a little effort and be more open-minded, I know you could find a man in no time. Then you could have both the husband and the baby you want.”

Erika squeezed her forehead. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mom. I’ll go out with two men next week if you stop asking me about this for the next week.”

“I’m just thinking of your well-being. You’ve always wanted children.”

“I know.”

“You just kept putting it off,” her mother added.

“Mom,” she said, and Erika couldn’t keep the warning note from seeping into her voice.

Her mother sighed. “Okay. Two dates, two men next week. I’ll say a prayer and make a wish on a star.”

Erika felt her heart soften. Her mother did love her. She just felt the need to interfere sometimes. “I love you. Have fun tomorrow night.”

Clicking off the phone, she set it down and smiled, picturing her parents and the house in Indiana she’d left behind when she moved to attend college in the East.

The town of her childhood had often felt sleepy to her, the pace hadn’t been fast enough. She’d wanted more excitement, more action, more challenge.

She remembered the smell of the cholesterol-laden, but delicious home-cooked meals that had greeted her every time she returned home, and the scent of chocolate chip cookies every time she left again.

She remembered making crafts with her mother on rainy days and the countless times her mother had sat with Erika while she’d done her homework. Her father had taught her to play basketball and encouraged her to relish her height instead of being afraid of it.

She’d always known she had the best parents in the world. She’d also always known that she would need to leave in order to really fly.

And she’d certainly learned to fly. At least professionally. In the back of her mind, she’d had a mental plan. Graduate from college, get on a career track that would take her to the top and along the way she would squeeze in finding a husband and having a baby.

Before she’d even graduated from college, Erika had wanted a child, but she’d told herself not to get caught in the trap of getting married and having a baby before establishing her career. It was all about discipline, she’d said, but many times she felt a strong longing on rainy days to make crafts with a child of her own, to nurture and love a human being and experience the wonder of helping a little someone become the very best person they could be.

Her work was exciting and rewarding, but part of her remained untouched. Part of her longed for something that work couldn’t fulfill.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and pulled a sheet of paper from the wooden file she kept for mail. She glanced at the medical report again and sighed. Endometriosis. That was why she’d had such terrible cramps. That was why her fertility was headed into the toilet. That was why she would consider having a baby without a husband.

Two

At precisely five thirty-one in the afternoon, Erika heard a knock at her office door. Her stomach dipped, but she ignored the sensation. Today she hadn’t kicked off her shoes below her desk. Nope, today she wore high-heel boots that brashly flaunted her five-foot-nine-inch height and a black suit with a crisp white blouse. Today she was prepared.

She strode to her door and opened it, spotting Gannon lifting his hand for another knock. He was still too damn tall. She would need stilts to meet him eye to eye. Dressed in a black wool suit with a faint blue stripe, he would leave quivering females in his wake wherever he went—the elevator, his office, the street. Erika imagined women all over the office melting into the carpet.

His green gaze flicked over her, then he looked into her eyes for an assessing second. When he’d taken the time, he’d always been able to read her. Better not to let him see too much, she thought.

“Come in,” she said and returned to stand behind her desk. She liked having a large wooden object between her and Gannon. At that moment she wished her desk was a little bigger, perhaps boat-sized. “How are you?”

“Fine, and you?” he asked, moving the folder he held into his other hand.

“Good, thank you.” Pleasantries over. “I’ve thought about your offer. I loved working at Pulse. It was the most challenging and creative job I’ve ever had. I loved the fast pace. I loved working with such sharp minds.” She paused and took a quick breath and reminded herself she was doing this for her sanity. “But I’m very happy and productive where I am right now. I have an excellent rapport with everyone who works for me. It’s a warm atmosphere and it works for me.”

He remained silent.

Poo. He was going to force her to say the words. She would have much preferred doing this via e-mail or fax. “So thank you very much for your wonderful offer. While I’m tempted, I’m going to decline.”

He looked at her for a long moment and gave a slow nod. He moved closer to the desk and picked up her half-full mug. “The job you have at HomeStyle is like hot chocolate with marshmallows. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. A few challenges every now and then. You have to choose whether to feature needlepoint or knitting, find new crafts for Valentine’s Day, a decor for spring.”

Erika felt defensive. “You’re right. Making marsh-mallow bunnies isn’t going to rock the world. It’s just going to make it a little nicer, a little more comforting.”

“As I said, this job is hot chocolate. The problem, Erika, is you had the best whiskey in the world at Pulse. You know what it’s like to come to work knowing you’ll get an adrenaline rush. That the story you tell and the way you tell it could rock the world. Underneath the hot chocolate with marshmallows and bunny slippers is a world-rocker. You can fight it all you want, but you and I both know it’s in you.”

The challenge in his eyes made something inside her sizzle and pop. She hated that he knew her so well. She hated that he’d known her so well and left her so completely, but she wouldn’t tell him that was the reason she wouldn’t return to Pulse.

“I want you to reconsider,” he said.

She swallowed a groan. She’d really had to pump herself up for this. “I’ve given your offer a lot of consideration. You have my answer.”

His lips turned up slightly in a grin she’d seen before. A grin that signaled Gannon was in for a battle, determined to win. A grin that scared the life out of her. “Your answer isn’t acceptable to me. I want you to reconsider. My father does, too.”

Oh great, she thought wryly. Two Elliotts teaming up against her. “I’m very happy here.”

“We’ll make sure you’re happy at Pulse.” He laid the folder he’d held during their discussion on the desk and flipped it open. “How would you like to do this story?”

Erika saw photos of babies and her heart stopped.

She bent down to look at the copy. “Making the Perfect Baby: The New World of Genetic Manipulation,” she read and looked at him.

He smiled. “I knew that would get your attention. You always loved the combination of science and human interest. Cover story with your name on the front. That’s the kind of story that could win awards. Rock the world.”

Gazing at the photos of the beautiful sweet faces of the babies, she swallowed over the lump in her throat. Did he know how much she wanted a baby? How could he know? They’d never discussed it.

She took a shallow breath and forced herself to smile. “Very tempting, but I’ve given you my answer.”

He paused just a second, as if she’d surprised him. “Okay. You don’t mind looking over the story and giving me your thoughts, do you? Think about it and I’ll drop by on Wednesday.”

The trendy new cocktail bar, the Randy Martini, was packed with twenty- and thirty-something Manhattanites testing the wild, extensive menu of over a hundred martinis. It took two and a half martinis for Erika’s best friends, Jessica and Paula, to get Erika to confess what had her so distracted. “I want to have a baby and my gynecologist told me I need to do it soon or maybe not at all.”

“That stinks,” Jessica said and patted Erika’s hand.

“Maybe you could get a dog or a cat,” Paula suggested.

Erika shook her head. “I want a baby, not a canine or feline.”

Paula lifted her own martini in salute. “You might change your mind when the kid hits puberty or when you start shelling out the green for college.”

Erika shook her head again. “Even though I’ve been career-oriented, I always knew I wanted to have a child.”

“You could wait until you find Mr. Right and try adopting, although I hear that can take forever,” Jessica said. “Any Mr. Rights on the horizon?”

An image of Gannon slipped into her mind. She immediately stamped it out. “No.”

Jessica made a face. “I guess you could go the insemination route.”

Paula looked horrified. “Get pregnant without being able to blame it on a man for the rest of your life?”

“It could be fun,” Jessica said.

“For whom?” Paula asked. “Erika grows to the size of a beached whale, then gives birth to something that looks like a screaming pink alien.”

“You have no maternal instincts,” Jessica said. “It could be fun for you and me. We could throw her a shower and go to those labor classes with her. We could even go in the delivery room with her.”

“Speak for yourself,” Paula said.

“And we could be aunties,” Jessica said with a smile. “I’m liking this idea. I’ll even go with you to a sperm clinic, Erika.”

“I hadn’t considered anonymous insemination,” Erika said. “I have this fear that they would give me the wrong vial and I’d end up with a crazy man’s sperm.”

“They probably toss the crazy sperm,” Jessica said.

“But how do you know what you’re getting?” Erika mused.

“You don’t,” Paula said. “Unless you do a genetic study or at least get a look at all the guy’s siblings and parents … and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents.”

Erika thought of the Elliotts. Now that was an awesome gene pool. “It would be great if I could choose.”

“Yeah,” Jessica said as she sipped her drink. “We could start with that blond guy by the bar with the buff bod.”

“And what if he’s dumb as a bag of hair?” Paula asked.

“We can put intelligence on the list, but that guy looks good enough that he could make millions by being a model and then retire in leisure.”

“What list?” Erika asked, feeling a little blurry from the alcohol.

“We’re making a list of sperm-donor requirements. Play along,” Jessica said firmly. She pulled a pen from her purse and shook the dampness out of a cocktail napkin. “We’re doing this for the sake of your future child.”

“I would want intelligence,” Erika said, allowing herself to be drawn into the ridiculous discussion. “Good looks aren’t enough.”

“I agree,” Paula said. “And no terrible diseases or addictions.”

“Excellent points,” Erika said.

“You’ve already got the height factor covered,” Jessica said.

“No shrimps,” Paula interjected. “He doesn’t need to be the height of a pro basketball player, but definitely over six feet, right?”

“Right,” Erika agreed. “And a sense of humor. Is that genetic?”

“Lack of it can be,” Paula said and waved for the waiter. “Three death-by-chocolate martinis.”

“Chocolate?” Erika echoed. “I’m on my third.”

“No meal is complete without chocolate,” Paula said.

“I didn’t think martinis constituted a meal,” Erika said.

“Sure they do,” she said, pointing to her glass. “Celery’s a vegetable, isn’t it? Cream cheese inside the olive counts as protein, and appletini provides the fruit.”

“Back to the list,” Jessica prompted. “Do you have a strong preference for hair or eye color?”

“No back hair,” Paula said.

“I’ll second that,” Erika said, amazed at how much this ridiculous conversation was reducing her stress level. “I prefer dark hair.”

“Eye color?”

“Green, if possible.” Why not go for the whole shebang, she thought.

“Okay,” Jessica said and nodded at the waiter as he delivered their chocolate martinis. “We have our assignment now. Each of us is to keep our eyes open for a father for Erika’s baby. A tall, intelligent man with dark hair and green eyes. Healthy, no addictions. He must have a sense of humor.”

“And what are we supposed to do once we find this specimen?” Paula asked.

“That’s easy,” Jessica said with a scoff. “Ask him to donate some sperm to Erika.”

Erika choked on her sip of chocolate martini. “He’ll think you’re crazy.”

Jessica shook her head. “That’s why he needs a sense of humor.”

The following morning Erika awakened late, feeling as if a truck had run over her. Thank goodness she didn’t have any appointments this morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hangover. Oh, wait, yes she could. It was last year when Gannon had broken up with her. The bad thing about having a mad, passionate affair with her boss was that she hadn’t been able to tell a soul, not even Paula or Jessica.

Keeping the secret had intensified everything about her relationship with Gannon. The highs, the lows, the ending. She kept telling herself that if she’d been able to talk with her friends about him, he wouldn’t have affected her so much. Unfortunately part of her remained unconvinced.

Her phone rang, the sound of it reverberating painfully in her brain. She snatched it from the cradle. “Hello.”

“Erika, this is Cammie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured her. “Since I didn’t have any appointments scheduled this morning, I decided to come in a little later.”

“That’s fine,” Cammie said. “Except Gannon Elliott has called twice asking for you.”

Darn. “Just tell him I’ll get back to him this afternoon.”

“I think he wanted you to sit in on a luncheon meeting.”

“For what?” Erika asked, immediately feeling suspicious.

“He didn’t tell me.”

Erika sighed. “I’ll call him in a few minutes.” Frowning, she turned on her coffeemaker while she jumped in the shower. Skipping the blow-dry, she smoothed on some hair-wax stuff her stylist had given her and pulled her hair into a low ponytail. She applied some makeup, pulled on a don’t-mess-with-me black trouser suit and a pair of boots, grabbed her coffee and coat and walked out her door, glowering as she hailed a cab.

As she scooted into the taxi, she called his office number by rote. One more thing to irritate her. She needed to forget him. “Erika Layven, returning Gannon Elliott’s call,” she said to his assistant.

“I’ll put you right through.”

“Hello, Erika. I wondered where you were,” Gannon said in a deep voice that slid through her like warm whiskey.

“I understand you wanted me to attend a luncheon appointment. My afternoon is crammed. What did you have in mind?”

“We’re having a luncheon meeting at Pulse. The subject for the article I gave you is on the agenda. Love to have you there. I think your input would be invaluable.”

Erika thought again of the article outline he’d left for her. The subject fascinated her. She’d peeked at it at least a half dozen times after he’d left her office. Temptation slid through her like an evil serpent. “I don’t know. Like I said, I’m very busy this afternoon.”

“You could scoot out after the discussion about the article,” he suggested.

He made it too easy. “Okay. As long as you understand that I’m staying at HomeStyle.”

“Great. I’ll see you at noon,” he told her.

Erika walked into the Pulse meeting room a few minutes early. Furnished with a large wooden table set with seven lunch boxes from a local deli-bakery, the room emitted a let’s-get-busy feeling.

“Very nice choice, Lena,” Erika said to Gannon’s assistant.

Lena, a young married woman who was the mother of twins, beamed. “When Gannon told me you were coming, I made sure there was decent food. Inside the box there’s a chicken-salad sandwich, spicy vegetable soup, a fruit cup and a slice of lemon pound cake.”

“You’re a woman after my own heart. Wouldn’t you rather work for me?” Erika joked. “I’m so much easier to please than he is. And I don’t bark.”

“Who says I bark?” Gannon asked from behind Erika.

She cringed at being caught talking about him at the same time she felt a shot of adrenaline at the sound of his voice. His voice had always affected her that way, sent her heart and hormones off to the races. She definitely needed to rein in her response to him. “Coffee, please,” she mouthed to Lena, then turned to face Gannon. “Good morning. Your assistant has arranged a lovely spread for the meeting.”

His killer Irish eyes were a bit too sharp for her taste this morning. And why did she always forget how broad his shoulders were?

He glanced at the table, then returned his gaze to Erika. “Yes, she has. She resisted fast food when I told her you were coming.”

“Bless you, Lena,” Erika said and accepted the piping-hot coffee Gannon’s assistant offered her.

“You weren’t trying to steal her away from me, were you?”

“Just making her aware of her options,” Erika said with a smile.

“Who says I bark?”

“Everyone,” she said without batting an eye.

He glanced at her coffee. “Black?”

She nodded and took a sip.

“Hmm. Black coffee … coming in late this morning … Did you have a late night last night?”

“Nope.” That was true. She’d come home early and fallen into bed as a result of one too many martinis.

“Out with the deadly duo?” he quizzed, speaking of Jessica and Paula.

She’d revealed far too much of her personal life to him during their affair and she didn’t like his reminders. “As a matter of fact, yes. How’s your family?” she asked, turning the personal questions on him.

He paused and shook his head. “Same as ever.”

“That’s about as vague as you can get,” she said, studying him.

He leaned closer to her, making her heart jump. “You’ll learn more if you rejoin the Pulse team,” he told her in a low voice as four more people entered the room.

Michael Elliott, editor in chief of Pulse and Gannon’s father, entered the room and extended his hand to Erika. “Good to have you back. We’ve missed you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Elliott,” she said as she shook his hand.

“Erika, glad you’re back,” Jim Hensley, chief copy editor, said as he entered with the rest of the department heads.

“Great to see you,” Barb said.

Howard gave her a thumbs-up.

The greetings felt good. A couple of minutes passed while Lena provided everyone with coffee and a bottle of water.

Michael called the meeting to order. “Let’s get to business. Gannon, you go first.”

“I’d like to start with the baby story since Erika tells me she’ll need to cut out early. Erika, what are your thoughts?”

“I suggest incorporating several points of view. A scientist, a couple who have chosen their baby’s sex, outlining the procedures and costs involved, and a couple who considered choosing their baby’s sex but changed their minds. It would be interesting to learn which sex is chosen most frequently. And at-home techniques that do or don’t work.”

“I like it all,” Michael Elliott said. “And you’re the one to do it.”

Erika blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Since you’re moving back to Pulse,” Gannon’s father said, “you should take the lead on this. It’s going to be a major story with possibilities for awards. You’re perfect for it.”

Erika tossed a questioning glare at Gannon.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” he said. “We have a contact for the scientist, but knowing you, you have your own. You always found the most amazing contacts and got the best quotes.”

“Hey,” Barb said, “if you keep talking about Erika like she walks on water, you’re going to make the rest of us feel like hacks.”

“She does walk on water, doesn’t she?” Howard said, wearing a deadpan expression.

Erika glanced at Gannon and felt a sliver of suspicion. This meeting was way more warm and fuzzy than the meetings she remembered from a year ago, and while Michael Elliott gave the occasional pat on the back, he’d never been one for effusive praise.

If Gannon had pulled his father and three of Pulse’s top power brokers in on seducing her back to the team, something had to be up. Something she hadn’t been told. Something big.

“You guys are too good to me.” She glanced at her watch. “Time for me to go back to HomeStyle land. It was great seeing all of you.”

Gannon stood. “I need a quick word with Erika. How about if everyone starts on lunch?”

“No problem,” his father said. “Don’t take too long.”

Lena handed Erika’s lunch box to her. “Don’t forget your lunch.”

Erika couldn’t prevent a smile. “Spoken like a true mom. Thanks.” She walked out the door, feeling Gannon directly behind her.

He pulled the door closed and she rounded on him. “There seems to be some confusion.”

“What confusion?” he asked, his face revealing nothing.

“Your father, along with other staff members, appears to have the false impression that I’m rejoining Pulse.”

“Admit it, Erika. You can’t resist the baby story. You want to be back on Pulse so bad you can taste it.”

“The baby story interests me, but it’s not enough to bring me back to Pulse.”

“Then what is?” he asked, surprising her again with his wide-open offer. “We need you on the team more than ever. Name your price.”

Three

Gannon allowed Erika thirty hours to think about what he could do to bring her back to Pulse. The negotiation process was turning out to be tougher than he’d planned. In the past, although he’d appreciated Erika’s originality and adventurous attitude on the professional end, he’d always thought of her as cooperative.

Even at the end of their affair, she hadn’t fought him when he’d abruptly broken off with her. He still felt a twinge about it. He’d always been scrupulous in avoiding office affairs. Lord knew his grandfather frowned on anything that bore even a hint of scandal. Gannon knew the reason he’d risen to his present position so quickly was because he’d embraced the Elliott family work ethic by skipping vacation for two years and because he’d built a reputation of integrity.

Erika had been his one slip. Her combination of natural beauty and willingness to take chances and succeed had caught his attention. He’d never met a woman he could talk with more easily. At the same time, he knew about the kick of fire beneath her black suits and businesslike attitude. He’d seen her naked, felt her body against his, felt himself sink inside her, into an oblivion of pleasure.

He felt himself harden at the memory and swore under his breath. He adjusted his tie and opened his office door to find his father on the other side.

His father looked at him quizzically. “Bad time? You headed somewhere?”

“Just wrapping up a little negotiation. What do you need?”

His father gave a short laugh. “Funny. You looked like you were gearing up for battle.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Gannon said and shook off a ripple of discomfort.

“I’m knocking off early to take your mother to dinner.”

Gannon did a quick mental calculation. “Let’s see, it’s not your anniversary, her birthday or your birthday. What’s the occasion?”

His father frowned at him. “No need for a special occasion,” he said but pointed to the slight bulge at his middle. “She’s trying to get me to cut out some of my takeout.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Having a wife wouldn’t be a bad idea for you either.”

Gannon shook his head. “I’m married to my job. I’m married to winning the competition so you’ll be the new CEO of EPH.”

His father smiled and squeezed Gannon’s shoulder.

“You’re a formidable opponent, Gannon. I’m glad you’re on my team.”

Even though Gannon was thirty-three years old, he still appreciated a pat on the back from his father. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Okay. Don’t stay too late or your mother will fuss at me.”

“Enjoy your meal and give Mom a hug from me,” Gannon said and headed toward the elevators. “Good night.” He stepped inside and punched the button for Erika’s floor. Seconds later the doors whooshed open and he walked to her office.

Her assistant had already left, so he knocked lightly on her door.

“Come in,” she called.

Gannon stepped inside her office and watched her hold up one finger as she talked on the phone. He nodded and pulled the door shut behind him. He approved of the comfortable but businesslike room. Erika’s touches of individuality made it interesting without being fussy.

Down deep Gannon felt the drag of fascination with her. She was perfectly groomed, with curves in all the right places. Unashamed of her height, she wore heels without batting an eye. She rarely attempted to tame her riot of long brown curls. Her hair suggested a wild streak, one which he’d experienced intimately.

She hung up the phone and met his gaze. “Sorry. That was the nervous producer of a new decorator makeover show we’re featuring.”

“You reassured him,” Gannon said.

She nodded and lifted her wrist to look pointedly at her watch. “He should be good for fourteen hours. Have a seat.”

Good sign, he thought. At least she was willing to talk this time. Unbuttoning his jacket, he pulled the chair closer to her desk and sat down. “What do you want?”

She met his gaze for a long, level moment that ricocheted through his system. “First, what is behind your determination to get me back at Pulse? I’ve been at HomeStyle for a year. You didn’t make a peep when I left. Why the big rush now?”

“Circumstances have changed. I can tell you why, but I’ll need you to keep it confidential,” he said.

“Of course,” she said.

He knew firsthand that Erika could keep a secret. She’d been as discreet as he had been when they’d been involved. “My grandfather has decided to step down and he has chosen an odd way of determining his successor. The four top magazines of EPH will compete against each other during the next year. The editor in chief of the magazine with the highest increase in sales proportionally will become the new CEO of EPH.”

Erika stared at him speechless for a long moment. “Wow,” she finally managed and nodded. “So you, of course, are determined to see your father be CEO.”

“That’s why I’m willing to give you a raise, a promotion and whatever else I’m capable of giving to get you on our team.”

She gave a half smile and glanced away. “In that case, this is what I want,” she said and opened the folder to the photos for the baby article he’d shared with her days ago.

She wanted the article? This was too easy, he thought with a surge of victory. He leaned back in his seat and waved his hand toward the folder. “We have a deal. The article’s all yours.”

“I’m not talking about just the article, Gannon. Yes, I want the article. I also want a baby.”

Gannon stared at her in confusion. He shook his head. “I couldn’t have heard you correctly. You said you wanted a baby?”

“You heard me. I want a baby.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Erika stood. “You have excellent genes. I want them for my child.”

The woman had gone insane. Totally, he thought. He shook his head and opened his mouth to tell her she was crazy, but she raised her hand to stop him.

“Just listen. It really won’t be that difficult for you. We can sign an agreement. I won’t expect financial or any other kind of support. All I want is your sperm. We don’t even have to go to bed. You can donate it at a laboratory. I’ll even buy the girlie magazine. All I want is your sperm,” she repeated.

He gaped at her for a moment of intense silence, then stood. “You’ve lost your mind. Why do you want me? Why don’t you find some other guy? Get married?” he asked, although the prospect of Erika getting married didn’t sit well.

“I told you. You’re tall, intelligent, no diseases. Great genes. If I’m going to have a baby, I need to get pregnant soon.”

“Why? Plenty of women wait until late in their thirties to get pregnant.”

“I can’t,” she said, and he saw the edge of desperation in her eyes. “My doctor told me I have a condition that affects my fertility and the longer I wait to conceive, the less likely I’ll be able to. I’ve always wanted a child, so I need to do this now.”

The strain in her voice made his gut knot. “What about adoption?” he asked.

“I looked into it. It’s expensive and takes forever.”

Of all the requests he’d expected when he walked into Erika’s office, this one didn’t even come close. He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t see how—” He broke off when he saw the combination of stubborn determination and desperation on her face. “I’m going to have to think about this.”

She nodded. “I understand. Let me know when you decide.”

“Would you consider working part-time for Pulse while I decide about—” he cleared his throat “—donating my sperm?”

She looked at him for three seconds. “No.”

“But I can guarantee an increase in your salary, a promotion over your last tenure with the magazine, increased visibility. How can you turn that down?”

“I want a baby. You won’t have to do that much to help me. Your donation is a deal breaker. And I want a contract.”

Gannon swallowed an oath. What had happened to sweet Erika during the last year? She’d grown a spine of steel. Lord help him. “I’ll get back to you,” he said shortly and turned toward the door.

“Thanks, and good night to you, too,” she murmured from behind him.

He strode to the elevator, mentally swearing every other step of the way. He punched the elevator button and shook his head. How in hell could he make this kind of deal? He could see the discussion he would hold with his attorney now. If he found out, his grandfather would have a cow.

Gannon had been told by both his father and grandfather that he needed to set an example of unimpeachable discretion and integrity. How could he possibly explain this to his family, let alone the rest of the world? He walked out of the elevator and headed for his office, giving a distracted nod in response to a copy editor’s greeting.

Entering his office, he closed the door behind him and loosened his tie as he walked to the window. Staring down at the city lights, he rested his hands on his hips, his mind sorting through a dozen possibilities.

Just because Erika had made a bizarre request didn’t mean he didn’t still want her on the Pulse team. There had to be a way around this.

Seemed like old times, Erika thought as she walked into the quiet cocktail bar miles from the office. She and Gannon had met in countless bars just like this one during their affair. Far from the office, quiet, not trendy. Something inside her twisted at the memory, but she ignored it. She hoped this place made good martinis.

Glancing around, she caught sight of Gannon standing as he waved her toward his booth. She walked toward him feeling a slight jump in her stomach at the sight of him. It was a sin the way the man looked just as good at the end of the day as he did at the beginning. His clean-shaven jaw and the scent of cologne had made her dizzy in morning meetings. She’d found his five-o’clock shadow ruggedly sexy during the evenings they’d worked late. After the first time he’d left her breasts red from the friction of his jaw against her skin, he’d made a point to shave. She remembered how having his passion directed solely at her had made her giddy.

She told herself not to feel that way.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, motioning her to the other side of the booth. Ever the gentleman, he took his seat after she did. “How was the traffic?”

“Busy as always. I’m glad I caught my cab before it started to sprinkle.”

“I have a hired car tonight. I can give you a ride home if you like.”

“I may take you up on that.”

“Would you like dinner?” he asked, giving her a menu.

“Maybe an appetizer and a drink,” she replied, eyeing the shrimp.

“Appletini still your favorite?” he asked with a grin that was a little too sexy and knowing for her comfort.

She shook her head. “Peach with champagne on top.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A change?”

“I’ve found I like a little fizz,” she said.

The waiter approached the table and Gannon gave her order, then his own. “Whiskey,” he said. “And buffalo wings. Hot,” he added.

“Hope you’ve got your antacid handy,” she said, unable to prevent a grin. “I hear that as people age their stomachs become more sensitive.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Are you suggesting that I’m getting old?”

She shrugged. “None of us is getting younger,” she said and switched the subject. “So tell me why you wanted to meet with me.”

“I’ve thought about your requests and I think we can work something out. It may require some modification,” he said.

“Such as?” she prompted, her heart picking up. She couldn’t believe Gannon would agree to her demand.

After he’d left her office the other day, she’d wondered if she’d been half-crazy to make such a request. But one thing she’d learned was that if a girl didn’t ask, a girl wouldn’t get.

“Within two weeks I can get a contract from our legal department with the terms of your employment, including your position and the increase in your salary.”

“And an office with a window and a door that can be closed,” she added.

He gave her a half smile. “My, my, you’ve gotten much more demanding during the last year.”

“It’s been a learning year,” she told him. A year of learning, hurting and getting over him. She was still working on that last part.

“Good for you.” He paused while the waiter served the drinks, then he took a long draw from his whiskey.

Erika took a tiny sip from her martini and told herself there was no reason for her to feel nervous. None at all. She had a perfectly wonderful position and she would be perfectly fine to stay where she was at HomeStyle. Pulse would be more hectic, more exciting and, with Gannon always around, much more distracting and disturbing.

“Regarding the other matter,” he said vaguely in a low voice.

“The donation of your sperm,” she clarified.

He took another drink of whiskey. “Yes. I’ll have to do that through my personal attorney. My grandfather would implode if he saw anything like this on a company contract.”

So Gannon was actually considering her request. She couldn’t believe it.

“This would require secrecy. Not discretion. Complete secrecy. I’m sure my attorney can do it, but it won’t be done overnight because he’s out of the country.”

“When is he due to return?” she asked with healthy skepticism.

“Two weeks. He’s on a Mediterranean cruise celebrating a second honeymoon.”

She took a breath. “So how would we work this? I would start at Pulse after he returns?”

Gannon shook his head. “No. I told you Pulse is under the gun. I want you to start immediately.”

She laughed. “I don’t see how. HomeStyle will need some sort of transition.”

“I’ve already suggested that Donna Timoni could take your place. You can start work at Pulse by the beginning of next week.”

Erika blinked at him. Although she agreed that Donna Timoni would be her ideal successor, she wasn’t ready to hand over the reins this second. “This is fast.”

“Have you forgotten?” he asked with more than a hint of daring in his green eyes. “At Pulse the only speeds are fast, faster and fastest.”

She nodded, remembering the magazine’s mantra. “We don’t leave them laughing. We leave them in the dust.” She paused and took a sip of her martini. “What about the contracts?”

“Like I said, I can have the company contract for you within a week or two. The personal contract will take a little longer.”

“Okay. There’s only one other part to this agreement. I can go back anytime.”

“It’s a deal,” he said and met her gaze. “You won’t want to go back, Erika. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit you’ve missed Pulse.”

His instincts about her had always gotten under her skin. No man had known her better. No man had been more intuitive about her. In bed or out. She swallowed a sigh. Just because she was getting his sperm didn’t mean she was getting his heart or his mind. Or even his body, if he made his deposit at a lab.

Working with him every day would probably drive her mad. She would use all that excess energy to keep looking for the man who could top Gannon Elliott.

The appetizers arrived and they naturally changed the topic of conversation. While she shared her shrimp with Gannon, she asked about his grandmother, Maeve Elliott.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the story of how your grandfather and grandmother got together,” she said.

He offered her a buffalo wing and she shook her head. “The seamstress and the tycoon who stole her away from Ireland.”

“How has she put up with your grandfather all these years?”

“He adores her,” Gannon said. “And she’s a saint. You can’t help but love her. She makes up for all the affection Grandfather has such a tough time giving.”

“She’s the one member of your family I always wanted to meet,” Erika said, then quickly realized she should have kept that confession to herself. “It would have been a great feature for HomeStyle. Tea with Maeve Elliott.”

“Not a bad idea for Pulse for a personality-slash-human interest story.”

“You’re a total thief,” she accused.

“Put your loyalties in the right place, Erika. You’re on my team now.”

His possessive tone sent a shiver of pleasure through her. She remembered when he had made her feel as if she were the most important woman in the world. He tried again, unsuccessfully, to tempt her to eat a buffalo wing and asked about her best girlfriends. He knew about them, but they didn’t know about him.

They finished the appetizers and another drink, and Erika glanced at her watch. “Oh my goodness. It’s ten o’clock.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Nah. Your watch must be wrong.”

“Check yours,” she said. “Where did the time go?”

He looked at his watch and swore, then met her gaze and held it for a long moment. “We never had any trouble filling the moments.”

Her stomach tightened at his reference to their past relationship. She shook her head. “No. We didn’t.”

His gaze held hers for another moment before he looked away and sighed. It was probably her imagination, but she would have sworn there was just a little longing in that sigh.

“You want a ride?” he asked.

“That would be nice.”

After calling for the car, he paid the check and ushered her outside. “There it is,” he said, pointing to a black Town Car. “I’ll get it,” he said to the driver as the man stepped out of the car. He held the door open and Erika slid across the leather bench seat. Gannon followed, closing the door behind him.

“Still in Park Slope?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, immediately aware of his closeness. She smelled a hint of aftershave mixed with whiskey and the combined scents of Italian leather and fine wool. As he gave her Brooklyn address to the driver, she glanced down at his long legs. She knew he’d played soccer in college, but she’d always wanted to play one-on-one with him. She knew he was a ferocious competitor no matter the game.

He touched her shoulder and she looked at him. “Yes?”

“I said you should buckle up,” he told her, reaching over her shoulder to pull the strap across her. “Didn’t you hear me?”

She smiled. “That second martini must have hit me.”

The car swerved, throwing Erika against Gannon’s chest. His arms closed around her.

The driver slammed on his brakes and swore. “Sorry, folks,” he said.

Her face inches from Gannon’s, Erika stared into his green eyes, holding her breath. She felt his gaze move to her lips, burning her with the imprint from his eyes.

“Once for old time’s sake?” he asked in a low voice, sliding his hand behind her neck. “We need to get this out of our systems, don’t we?”

She could have pulled away. He would have allowed her to refuse.

But she didn’t.

Four

Erika held her breath. Her heart seemed to pause, too, as if she’d been waiting for this, for him, for such a long time. Microseconds lasted forever.

Finally his lips touched hers. He increased the pressure and she sighed. He rubbed his mouth sensually over hers and she allowed herself the guilty pleasure of sinking into him. He slid his tongue past her lips and she tasted the cool peppermint candy the waiter had left with the bill.

As he massaged the back of her neck, she leaned into him, wanting more. The sensitive tips of her breasts grazed his hard chest and she swallowed a moan. She hadn’t known her body had responded to his so quickly. She was so wrapped up in how he felt that she forgot how he affected her.

He lowered one of his hands to the side of her breast, and her heart stuttered. She wanted him to caress and squeeze her. She wanted his bare hand on her bare breast. An intimate image seared her mind of the two of them, tangled together as close as a man and woman could get.

Gannon deepened the kiss and Erika felt her mind turn like a kaleidoscope. With each turn she grew more dizzy.

The sound of a cough penetrated the roar of arousal in her ears. The cough sounded again. Gannon reluctantly pulled away, his eyes dark, mirroring the same passion that kicked through Erika.

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Elliott,” the driver said. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but we’ve been parked for three minutes now and that policeman across the street keeps pointing at his watch.”

Arousal and embarrassment warred for domination inside her. Erika licked her lips, tasting Gannon all over again. Swallowing a groan, she glanced away and covered her eyes to compose herself. She could just guess how worked up she looked. She probably looked as if she would have been willing for Gannon to take her in the backseat, heedless of the driver’s presence or the anal policeman across the street.

She adjusted her hair and pulled her coat around her more securely. “Well, thank you for the ride. It was fun catching up over cocktails. I guess I’ll be seeing you in the office.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said.

“Not necessary,” she said, needing to get away from him so her brain cells would begin working properly. “I don’t want you to get a ticket.”

“Carl, go ahead and drive around the block once. I’ll be here when you get back,” Gannon said and helped her out of the car.

He escorted her to the door, and when they stopped, Erika was reluctant to look at him. She didn’t want him to see what she knew was written on her face. “Thanks ag—”

She broke off when she felt his fingers on her chin, lifting it so she would meet his gaze.

“I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you,” he whispered.

“Well, that’s one of us,” she said, thinking she’d realized how much she’d missed him every waking minute since they’d broken up.

“I really shouldn’t kiss you,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“We’re both going to have to keep our relationship professional. We can’t let what happened last year happen again,” he told her.

“I agree,” she said firmly. “So stop looking at me like you want to make love to me against that door.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and leaned against her, nudging her against the building. “As long as you stop looking at me like you want me to take you against that door.”

“No problem for me,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her ears.

“Or me.” Immediately he made liars of both of them when he took her mouth again and gave her a kiss that screamed sex.

Four days later Erika sipped another cup of coffee halfway through another fourteen-hour day as she joined the Pulse staff meeting.

Michael Elliott sat at the head of the table with Gannon to his right and Teagan, also known as Tag, Michael’s youngest son, to his left. Erika gave a quick nod to Gannon but purposely didn’t meet his eyes.

After going at it with him in front of her Brooklyn brownstone, she’d decided she needed a strategy if she was going to work for Pulse. Number one on the list was to avoid Gannon. Number two was the two-foot rule. Always keep two feet between herself and Gannon.

In this instance, number two was easy to keep because she chose to sit on the opposite side of the room.

“Hi, Erika. Good to see you,” Michael said.

“Thank you, Mr. Elliott. Good to see you, too,” she said.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be dividing your time between Pulse and HomeStyle?” he asked, ever the hard-edged businessman. “We’d like all your attention here.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Elliott, and trust me, I’ll be happy when I can stop bouncing back and forth between the fifteenth and twentieth floors.”

Teagan smiled in sympathy. “Feel like a yo-yo?”

“A little, but that will change soon enough.”

“When?” Gannon asked.

Erika tensed. She didn’t like being put on the spot. Plus Gannon had made it clear that she would be working for his father, not him. Barely glancing at Gannon, she looked at Michael. “I hope to wrap up most of my pressing business with HomeStyle within two weeks.”

“Good,” Michael said, then his lips twitched with humor. “We’re just greedy for the edge you’re going to give us.”

Erika smiled. “You flatter me. Thank you.”

“Not really,” Teagan said. “If you’ve got a magic wand in your purse, we’ll take that, too.”

“We won’t need magic,” Gannon said.

“As if you wouldn’t use it if you had it,” Tag retorted. “Everyone knows us Elliotts are a bloodthirsty, competitive lot. You think Liam has forgotten when Bryan broke Liam’s arm during a touch football game at the Tides?”

Erika knew that Liam was Tag and Gannon’s other brother and that Bryan was one of their many cousins.

“It was an accident,” Michael said.

A knock sounded at the door and Michael frowned in displeasure. “Who is it?” he barked.

The door cracked open and Bridget, Michael’s daughter, stepped just inside the room. “Sheesh, what a face,” Bridget said to her father. “You’d think I interrupted a discussion on the fate of the country.” She gave a quick glance around the room and her gaze paused on Erika. Realization crossed Bridget’s face. “Oh, not the fate of the country,” she corrected. “The fate of EPH. How sneaky that you pulled in Erika Layven. We were looking at her for Charisma. Finola will be disappointed. I hope they promised you the moon, Erika, because you’re worth it.”

Erika couldn’t help smiling at Bridget’s smart humor. Finola was Michael’s sister and she was editor in chief of Charisma. Finola also employed Bridget as her photo editor. It must cause Michael endless heartburn knowing his own daughter was working against him. “Close,” Erika said, referring to the moon. “Please tell Finola thanks for thinking of me.”

Gannon cleared his throat. “Dear sister, what are you doing here?”

Bridget batted her eyes. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“Bridget,” her father said, clearly ready for the nonsense to end.

“I just wanted to tell you personally that I can’t come to dinner tonight. Please tell Mom I’m sorry. Finola wants me to stay late.”

Michael nodded. “Your mother will be disappointed,” he said.

“I know.” She threw him a kiss. “I’ll make it up to both of you.” She threw a saucy smile at the group. “Good luck.”

Michael cracked a smile, pride beaming through his usual hard-nosed attitude. Bridget closed the door behind her and Michael cleared his throat. “Okay, back to work.”

An hour later the meeting ended and Erika headed for the elevator. Just as she hit the button for the fifteenth floor, Gannon appeared and slid inside. “You want to go up to the executive dining hall so we can talk about your story more? I had an idea—”

Erika shook her head. “I can’t afford the time right now. I need to look over photos from a shoot of comfortable European homes.” She sighed. “That’s the closest I’ll get to Europe for a while.”

“Maybe you can dream up a feature set in Europe,” Gannon said.

“No time,” Erika said again and shrugged. “It’s just cabin fever. I get it every January. The cold temperatures, the gray sky, always having to be inside.” She smiled. “I get anxious for recess.”

The elevator doors whooshed open and Gannon followed her to her office. Erika felt a sliver of irritation. He was distracting and she had no time for distractions at the moment. She stepped behind her desk. “I wish I could talk with you right now, but I really can’t.”

“Okay. You want to meet for a drink after—”

“No,” she said and added, “thank you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Is this about what happened the other night?”

“You mean the foreplay on my front doorstep?” she asked, her edginess growing. “You and I have an agreement about your contribution to my little personal project, but we can’t let that interfere with our jobs.”

“No chance,” he said in a chilly voice.

Easy for him, she thought and bit back a scowl. “I do better with boundaries. Since your father is my superior, it shouldn’t be difficult for you and me to limit our interaction.”

“That’s gonna be tough,” he said skeptically. “We’re on the same team, and the atmosphere at Pulse is intense.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s always e-mail.”

Gannon laughed. “Erika, a big part of the reason I insisted that you join Pulse was because of the dynamic you bring to every discussion even if it’s not your assigned area. I’m counting on you for that.” He stepped closer to her desk and Erika felt her heart rate speed up. “Yes, there’s chemistry between us. But it’s nothing you and I can’t handle.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. He made it sound so easy, but for Erika it was the hardest thing in the world not to turn into some sappy puddle of willing woman whenever he looked at her. “Fine,” she said. “Limit your time alone with me and always keep two feet away and I think we’ll be fine.”

“Two feet?” he echoed, staring at her in surprise.

“Minimum,” she said crisply. “I’m glad you find it easy to keep business and emotion—or in this case perhaps I should say hormones—separate. But unlike you, I’m mere mortal, carbon-based, and boundaries help me immensely.”

“And what about when the time comes for me to make my contribution to your little personal project?”

“I thought we agreed you would do that in a lab.”

“If you don’t change your mind,” he said, his mouth stretching upward in a sexual grin that unfairly threatened her knees. And her spine.

“That’s pretty arrogant,” she told him.

“We’ll see. Since you’re busy now, I’ll stop by tomorrow night,” he said and strolled out of the room.

Erika bared her teeth and gave a low growl. The man was so aggravating. What made it worse was that he was right. She hated that. He tempted her, always had. She wished she possessed the magic antidote for his effect on her.

The following day she dropped Gannon a quick e-mail telling him she couldn’t meet him due to a mentor meeting, which was the truth. Tia had asked to rearrange their meeting because of a conflicting basketball game.

Erika arranged for a taxi to pick Tia up and met her for a quick bite to eat. Afterward she brought Tia upstairs to the nearly deserted office to show her some of the inner workings of HomeStyle magazine.

“It’s cool and pretty, but it’s kinda boring. I’d rather write an article about something more important than arranging flowers,” Tia said.

Erika secretly agreed, but she knew she needed to provide perspective. “Yes, but I’ve gained new skills by taking this job. I’ve been one of the top people, so I’ve learned to make decisions quickly when necessary. It’s also given me a better appreciation of how our surroundings or environment can affect our attitudes and emotions.”

“Like a cold, rainy day makes you want to skip school,” Tia said, skimming her hand over Erika’s desk and smiling at the frog clock.

“Not you, of course,” Erika said. “You’ve got the idea. Another example is how a drab room can make you feel tired.”

Tia nodded. “My math room needs to be painted. It’s dirty beige. I want to go to sleep every time I go to that class.”

“Nothing to do with the subject,” Erika teased.

Tia shook her head. “No, I’m serious. It’s peeling and blah. Everybody skips classes in that room more than any other,” she said.

“Then maybe HomeStyle could sponsor a classroom makeover,” Gannon said from the open doorway. “I couldn’t help overhearing you.”

Tia looked Gannon over from head to toe, then glanced at Erika with raised eyebrows. “Who’s he?”

“Tia Rogers, this is Mr. Gannon Elliott, executive editor of Pulse magazine,” Erika said. “Mr. Elliott, Tia is teaching me how to be a mentor.”

“She’s doing pretty good for a new chick,” Tia said, accepting Gannon’s outstretched hand. “I thought the head dude for EPH was some old guy. You ain’t that old.”

Erika chuckled. “Patrick Elliott is the CEO of Elliott Publication Holdings. Patrick is Gannon’s grandfather.”

“Oh,” Tia said. “Not to upset Miss Layven, but Pulse is way better than HomeStyle.”

Gannon smiled. “Thank you. I’m partial to it. And Miss Layven will be moving permanently to the Pulse team as soon as we can arrange it.”

Tia gaped at Erika. “That is just so cool.”

“If you want to get a makeover for your math classroom, better start asking now,” Gannon said.

Erika looked at him. “You’re serious.”

“Sure. Decorating, human interest and community service. I may even lift a brush in contribution.”

Erika did a double take. “I didn’t know you could paint.”

He tossed her a dark look. “It’s not that difficult.”

“But do you have actual personal experience?” she asked in disbelief. After all, Gannon was a billionaire. Why would he need to paint?

Gannon nodded. “Yes. Teagan, Liam, Cullen and I painted the boathouse one weekend when we were teenagers. My grandfather thought it would build character.”

“Did it?” Erika couldn’t resist asking.

“It increased my desire to make good grades so I wouldn’t have to paint for a living,” he said.

A new story about Gannon’s past. Delighted, Erika smiled, feeling as if she’d been given jewelry.

“Grades again,” Tia said. “You sound like Miss Layven.”

“Good to know we agree on a couple of things,” he muttered. “How long are you two planning to be here?”

“We’re actually leaving,” Erika said. “Hot chocolate, then I’ll put Tia in a cab. School night.”

Tia wrinkled her nose.

“Mind if I join you?” Gannon asked. “I can offer the use of my car.”

“Cool,” Tia said. “Is it a limo?”

Gannon’s lips twitched in humor. “Sorry, just a chauffeured Town Car.”

“That’s okay,” Tia said. “It might look too pimpin’ if we showed up in a limo in my neighborhood.”

“You really don’t need to do this,” Erika said, thinking about the return ride in his hired car, alone with him. How was she going to stick to her two-foot rule in the backseat of his car?

“No problem. We can discuss the classroom makeover and then you and I can talk some Pulse possibilities on the return drive.”

Erika grudgingly had to admit that Gannon was on his best behavior with Tia. He answered her questions, gently teased her and encouraged her about her studies. He picked up the tab for the hot chocolate and during the drive to Tia’s apartment he asked her how she would like to see the room decorated.

“It needs to be a bright color so we’ll stay awake,” Tia said. “Yellow …”

“Research indicates that babies cry more in rooms painted yellow and people tend to become more emotional,” Erika said.

Gannon threw her a questioning glance. “How do you know that about babies?”

Erika shrugged. “Just one of those things I picked up through HomeStyle. Red is a stimulating color, but some studies indicate an association with aggression.”

Tia rolled her eyes. “We don’t need no more aggression. There’s fights every day.”

“Any more aggression,” Erika automatically corrected. “And there are fights every day.”

“That’s what I said,” Tia said.

Gannon made an amused choking sound.

“Don’t say no right away. But I’d like you to consider pink,” Erika said.

“Pink?” Gannon echoed in a combination of disbelief and distaste.

“Put your macho attitude aside for a moment if you can,” Erika said.

Tia shook her head. “I can’t do pink. The guys would never stop making fun of me. And they would be impossible in the classroom.”

“Studies indicate that students perform better in a classroom painted pink. Not only do they perform better but they’re happier.”

Silence followed.

Gannon gave Erika a considering glance and rubbed his finger over his mouth. Erika told herself to look away from his mouth. Away.

He looked at Tia. “I think you should do some research on how color affects mood and write a very short article. With Miss Layven’s approval, Home-Style can print your short article within the classroom redo feature. You choose the redo, within reason, based on your research and you get a writing credit.”

Tia dropped her jaw. “Me? Write an article for HomeStyle? Have my name in the magazine? I can’t wait to tell my friends.”

Erika couldn’t help smiling at Tia’s excitement.

“Omigod,” Tia said. “I mean, it would be much more sweet to be in Pulse or Snap or Charisma,” she said, listing EPH’s most successful magazines. “But this is cool, too.” She shook her head in disbelief. “My name in a national magazine.”

“You’ll need to do your research,” Erika said.

“I will,” Tia agreed.

“And Miss Layven will edit your article. You need to be prepared for rewrites,” Gannon said.

“That’s okay. I can do that,” she said, nodding as the car pulled in front of her apartment building. She looked from Gannon to Erika, then back at Gannon. She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Thank you so much, Mr. Elliott! I won’t disappoint you.”

She turned to Erika and threw her arms around her. “Miss Layven, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Surprised at Tia’s emotional display, Erika hesitated a half second before she returned the teen’s embrace. Her heart twisted with an odd emotion. “I know you’re going to do an awesome job, Tia.”

“Yes, I will,” Tia said and pulled back, pointing her index finger at Erika. “You can count on me.”

Gannon opened the car door and slid out so Tia could climb out of the car. “Bye!” she said and darted for the front door of the apartment.

Erika and Gannon waited until she was safely inside, then Gannon got back into the car and gave Erika’s address to the driver.

Her emotions swinging in several different directions at once, Erika didn’t say anything for a long moment. A big part of her wished Gannon hadn’t been so charming, so generous tonight. It would have been easier for her to not like him. His suggestion to allow Tia to write an article, however, felt like an arrow to her Achilles’ heel. In an effort to keep from throwing herself at him, she put her purse on the bench seat between them. She needed a barrier. A steel wall would be best.

She swallowed over a knot of emotion in her throat. “That was brilliant and generous. Thank you. For Tia. For me. For HomeStyle …”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now you owe me.”

Five

You owe me.

Erika’s heart stuttered and she felt her mouth go bone-dry. “Uh, owe you?”

“Yep,” he said with a sexy grin playing around the edges of his mouth. “Payback’s hell. I want you to play volleyball on Saturday afternoon.”

The lascivious thought racing through Erika’s mind came to a dead stop. “Volleyball? Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “I know you have athletic ability and you’re tall. The family holds a friendly little game where employees from the magazines play each other. We need another woman on the Pulse team. We’re only allowed one nonfamily stand-in and I have a hard time finding a female with the right height.”

Erika didn’t know whether to be amused, insulted or peeved. “Is this why you took Tia and me for hot chocolate and promised her that story? That was pretty low.”

“Two minutes ago it was brilliant and generous.”

“That was before I found out you wanted payment.”

“It’s not that bad a payment. Think about it. What’s the worst that can happen? You sit on a bench for the afternoon.”

“Why would I be sitting on a bench?”

“Well, you’d be an alternate, of course,” he said.

“Excuse me? I played volleyball in college.”

“That’s why I chose you.”

“To sit on the bench?”

“The guys get a little bloodthirsty,” he explained. “It’s all in fun, but I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

She shook her head. “So I’m supposed to be the token nonplaying female? If the rest of the female members of your family knew this, they would fry you,” Erika said. “Can you imagine what Finola and Bridget would say?”

“Bridget’s on Finola’s team, so I can’t ask her. It puts me in a bad spot. Besides it’s Snap against Pulse this time.” He sighed. “Do you remember Athena Wain-right?”

Erika vaguely remembered the extremely tall, middle-aged copy editor for Pulse. “Yes, why?”

“She moved to Idaho. I need a backup player and I’m surrounded by pygmies.”

She studied him, seeing the exasperation mar his handsome face. “I don’t remember your being this competitive with your family.”

His green gaze turned dark with an edge of sensuality. “When you and I were involved, I didn’t want to waste time talking about volleyball games with my family.”

Erika felt a quick rush of heat and resisted the urge to lower her window for a cold breeze. “One condition,” she told him.

“What is it?”

“You let me play during the first fifteen minutes. If I don’t pass muster, then you can put me on the bench.”

He paused, then nodded. “Deal,” he said.

“Any news on your attorney’s return from his honeymoon?”

“Still out of town,” he said. “I’ll let you know when he gets back.” The driver pulled in front of Erika’s brownstone. “Let me walk you to your door.”

“Absolutely not,” she said, grabbing her purse and unlocking her door.

“You don’t trust me?” he asked.

Erika didn’t answer because the truth was she didn’t know who she mistrusted more in a situation that put her in close quarters with Gannon—him or herself.

Gannon put Erika in for all three games. His uncle Daniel and cousin Cullen were clearly out for blood.

Erika spiked the ball just over the net, squeezing out another point for Pulse.

Gannon’s brother Tag caught his breath. “Good thing you got Erika. It looks like Daniel and Cullen brought in a relative of the Jolly Green Giant,” he said of Margo, the six-foot-four-inch woman playing on the opposite team. “What did they say her position at Snap is?”

“Temp,” Gannon retorted, wiping the perspiration from his face. “If she worked there over a week, I’d be surprised.”

“I repeat—good thing you got Erika since Charlie hurt his ankle.”

“Yes, it is. My serve,” he said, catching the ball as Cullen tossed it to him. The only downside of having Erika on his team was that his gaze and attention frequently dropped to the movement of her tight rear end. It had been tough to keep his eye on the ball when she offered such a tempting view. He knew what she looked like naked. What she felt like. The knowledge brought out primal instincts that didn’t have anything to do with volleyball.

Cullen shook the edge of his T-shirt against his chest. “Seems to me Erika isn’t officially working for Pulse yet, Gannon. I could have sworn I saw her headed for the fifteenth floor instead of the twentieth floor.”

“You’re just scared,” Gannon said, tossing the ball above his head and hitting it hard and fast over the net.

His uncle Daniel smacked it back, directly in Erika’s direction. Another woman would have ducked, but not Erika. She hit the ball with her head. Tag rushed forward and sent it across the net.

Cullen spiked the return, but Erika set it up again, this time with her fists. Gannon spiked it just inside the boundary.

Daniel groaned, then chuckled. “Gannon, you act like we’re competing for the position of CEO.”

“We’re not?” Gannon said to his uncle and sent another hard serve over the net. Five minutes later Erika won the last point.

“All right!” Tag gave Gannon a high five and turned to Erika. “You saved our butts.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” she said with a breathless smile. “But you’re welcome. I’m glad I played one-on-one last week with the teenager I’ve been mentoring or I might have faded after the second game.”

“Not you,” Gannon said, lifting his hand to hers for a high five, then closing his hand around hers for just a moment. Erika’s cheeks were pink and her face glowed from exertion. Her curly hair strained to be loosened from the elastic band that kept it from her face. The way she looked now reminded him of how she’d looked when he’d taken her to bed that first time. “How do you manage to look good even when you’re sweaty?” he asked in a low voice.

The color of her cheeks deepened and she pulled her hand from his. “Nice try, but you owe me now,” she told him quietly.

Gannon wondered what she meant and made a mental note to ask her later.

“Gotta run,” Margo said. “Sorry about the loss, Mr. Elliott,” she said to Daniel.

“Not your fault. I hate to admit it, but I think they wanted it more. Thanks for coming. Hey, Erika,” Daniel called. “I’m sure we could find a place for a woman with your talents at Snap.”

Gannon felt a quick kick of irritation. “Butt out,” he said, stepping in front of Erika.

“Whoa,” Cullen returned with a wide grin. “Territorial? You think she can get your father into the CEO office?”

“Who’s eating Pulse’s dust right now?” Gannon asked, playfully egging on his cousin.

“This was volleyball, wasn’t it?” Erika asked. “You are family, aren’t you?”

“Yes to both,” Daniel said. “But we like to win.”

“At everything,” Gannon added, extending his hand as his uncle ducked under the net.

“The important battles won’t be finished until next year,” Daniel reminded him.

“Eleven months and two and a half weeks,” he corrected. “But who’s counting?”

Daniel and Cullen chuckled. “Can’t join you for a beer,” Cullen said. “I have plans.”

“Me, too,” Tag said.

“That gives me an excuse to hit the hot tub and pretend my knees aren’t killing me,” Daniel said. “See you later. Nice meeting you, Erika.”

Gannon grabbed a towel from the sidelines and scrubbed his face. “How about a shower and I take you to dinner as a thank-you for your participation?”

“Is that your way of saying I saved your butt?” Erika asked, resting her hands on her hips.

Gannon shook his head and snapped the towel at her, intentionally missing. “Never. But I’ll still take you to dinner.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, then sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

A ripple of surprise slid through him. “Why?”

She shrugged. “History repeating itself and all that,” she said.

“I wasn’t asking you to go to bed. Besides, you want to have my baby—”

She lifted her hand. “Wait a minute. I want to have my baby. I just want your genes.”

His ego took a hit, but he recovered. “If you want my genes, then you must like something about me.”

She sighed. “Unfortunately,” she muttered and turned away. “I need to go.”

He grabbed her arm. “Wait. You said I owed you.”

“Right. One more reason you need to give me your genes. I’ll see you Monday.”

Watching her walk away, he felt the drag of irritation and something else in his gut. He frowned when he figured out the feeling. He still wanted Erika in his bed. She would be disgusted to know that she brought out in him the sexual urge to conquer and occupy.

She tempted the hell out of him, but he needed to keep a lid on his impulses. Since he hadn’t been in day-to-day contact with her, he’d thought the chemistry between them had waned, but being around her reminded him of how hot it had been between them. Being around her left him with a nagging feeling of sexual deprivation.

He swore under his breath. Erika made a good point about history repeating itself. His grandfather had hammered it into his head that he needed to set an example for his generation of Elliotts. It wasn’t as if he was a randy eighteen-year-old. He’d been able to shelve his attraction for Erika before. No reason he shouldn’t be able to do it again. He just needed to dive into work as he always did.

Erika accepted a last-minute dinner invitation from Jessica and Paula. The three women met at a seafood restaurant. Paula mentioned Erika’s position at EPH and the host seated them immediately and their cocktails were served in record time.

“That was low,” Erika said, taking a sip of her martini and promising to limit herself to one tonight. “He probably thinks this will earn him a review in one of our magazines.”

“You never know. You may mention this place to the right person and ta-da,” Paula said, glancing at the menu. “Saturday night and none of us has a date. How sad is that?”

“Speak for yourself,” Jessica said. “My boyfriend is working.”

“Ah, the foot doctor,” Paula said. “How is our boy Bill?”

Jessica smiled. “Podiatrist. Wonderful. But more importantly, I have a prospective sperm donor for Erika.”

Erika choked. “You what?”

“I found a TDH who’s smart and has a sense of humor,” she said in a singsong voice.

Paula smiled at Jessica’s code word for a man who was tall, dark and handsome. “You can tell us all about him after we order,” she said as the waiter approached. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too. I think I burned a thousand calories playing volleyball today.” Erika wondered if she should tell her friends she might have found her own tall, dark and handsome candidate.

Paula made a face. “Sounds sweaty. Why?”

“It was a company thing. Sort of,” Erika said, thinking that turning down Gannon’s invitation to dinner had been tougher than she’d liked. She’d put herself in an odd situation by asking the most attractive man in the world to donate sperm for her child yet swearing off sex or emotional involvement with him. “Sometimes I wish I were more like a man,” she muttered.

“What?” Jessica asked.

“Nothing. I’ll take the shrimp special,” Erika said to the waiter and closed the menu. The other women placed their orders.

Jessica turned to Erika. “You wish you were more like a man?”

“Just able to detach myself emotionally,” Erika explained.

“Like me,” Paula said.

“Exactly.” Erika smiled.

“Well, you may not need to detach yourself with the guy I’ve found for you. He’s tall, dark, handsome, smart and he’s got a sense of humor.”

“How did you find him?”

“He’s a friend of Bill’s,” Jessica said. “So we can double after you get to know him.”

“Another foot doctor?” Paula said. “Bet he’s got a fetish.”

“That’s not nice,” Jessica said. “Bill doesn’t have a foot fetish.” She turned back to Erika. “This guy, Gerald, is very good-looking, and I’ve already told him about you.”

Erika felt a shot of alarm. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“That you’re gorgeous and smart and he should call you.”

“You gave him my number? Did you tell him I want his sperm?”

“No, because I think you could want Ger more than his sperm.”

Erika’s first inclination was to politely decline. This would just complicate her plans with Gannon. He was going to father her child. He’d agreed. They just needed to get the contract signed.

She thought about how much he still affected her and took another sip of her martini. Her problem was that she still let Gannon overwhelm her. What if another man had the potential to make her forget him? Or at least help her get over him? What if Jessica’s TDH could do the job? She shouldn’t turn down the possibility without checking him out.

“Hey, if all else fails,” Paula said, “you might get a decent pedicure out of the guy.”

Erika skipped lunch and moved into her new Pulse office on Monday afternoon. She struggled with mixed feelings about leaving the HomeStyle offices, where comfort and cozy were key.

Pulse was more of a man’s world, so if she took the books she’d read on climbing the corporate ladder seriously, she would need to hide her jar of M&M’s in her desk drawer along with her hot chocolate mix with mini marshmallows.

She refused, however, to give up her frog clock or her small Tiffany lamp. She deliberately left her lamp turned on while she left to meet one of the couples she was interviewing for her baby article.

By the time she returned to the office, she was starving, but she wanted to type notes from the interview. Submerged in work, she had to force herself to answer the knock at her door.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called. It didn’t matter who it was. She needed to get down these last thoughts.

“Free gourmet food,” Gannon called through the door.

Her stomach growled loudly. “Give me two minutes,” she said and hurriedly typed some key words and phrases to help jog her memory when she returned to writing the article. She could keep the two-foot rule and eat at the same time. Besides her plans for later in the evening should help keep her from giving in to temptation.

She glanced at her clock, surprised at the time. Seven o’clock. She pulled on her boots and stood, stretching.

“Two minutes are up,” Gannon said, opening the door and catching her midstretch. He carried two large boxes and a small box. His dark hair was slightly mussed, his tie discarded and the top of his shirt unbuttoned, giving her a glimpse of his muscular chest. His shirtsleeves were unfastened and pushed up his forearms. She didn’t know which was more tempting, the man or the food. “Looks like you and I are the only ones left in the office.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “What do you have and how did you get it?”

“The food editor received these this afternoon. She told me she’s on Atkins and asked me to give them to someone else. It’s packed in dry ice and perishable, so we either eat it or toss it.”

“I hope it’s already cooked,” she said.

“I think it’s a lot of fresh fruit,” he said, opening one of the large cartons. “Help yourself.”

“Nice of you to share. I didn’t get to eat.” She pulled out several containers. “Raw oysters, avocados, chocolate-covered bananas,” she said, reading the labels. “What is this?” she asked, pulling out a split of champagne and two glasses.

“Aphrodisiac foods.”

Erika pulled her hand away from the box as if it had burned her. She looked at Gannon suspiciously. “Why did the food editor give this to you?” And why was he sharing it with her?

“The food editor is Geraldine Kanode. She’s sixty-three and was embarrassed as hell but didn’t want to throw it away.” His lips twitched. “She also said she didn’t want to take this stuff home and give her husband any ideas. I can toss it …” He waved the container of chocolate-covered bananas.

Erika’s stomach growled again. Hunger won over suspicion. “No, no, no. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” She motioned him over to her desk. “What are you still doing here?”

“An editor’s work is never done,” he said. “You know that.”

She nodded and smiled, happy to put the desk between her and Gannon. “Can’t disagree. I’m not big on raw oysters. They’re all yours.”

“Working on my sperm count?” He shot her a half grin that made her heart clench.

“That wasn’t my first thought, but it’s not a bad idea, is it?” She pulled out two plastic spoons and some napkins.

Gannon pulled a leather chair closer to her desk and sat down. “Avocado with basil vinaigrette?” he said, offering the small tub to her.

“Sounds good,” she said and took a bite of one of the halves. “Delicious. I wonder what this has to do with aphro—”

“Symbolizes the male testicles,” he said and ate an oyster.

Erika swallowed a second bite along with a wave of self-consciousness. “Never thought of that,” she said and looked at the avocado. She finished her half and shrugged. “Who would have known?”

“Champagne?” he asked, opening the split of bubbly. At her nod he poured the liquid into each glass and read the attached note. “Says we’re supposed to drop a vanilla bean in here.”

“Why?”

“Something about a Mexican fertility goddess,” he said and took a swallow. “Not bad, but it can’t compete with Irish whiskey.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She inhaled the aroma of the vanilla and took a sip of the champagne. “Delicious. What’s in the little box marked perishable?”

Gannon opened it and looked inside. “Fresh fig.”

“Fresh?” Fresh figs were rare.

“Yep, and it’s mine,” he said, picking up the fruit and gently prying it open. “You know how a fig relates to the theme, don’t you?” he asked, nibbling at the pink inner flesh of the fruit.

Feeling a rush of heat, she cleared her throat. Watching him savor the swollen, ripe layers, she couldn’t help but visualize … “I can imagine.”

“A fig resembles the female—”

“I see,” she interrupted before he could finish.

“Genitals,” he said and licked his lips.

The expression in his eyes was frankly sexual, making her burn from the inside out. She felt her blood rush to tender places and pool. Her nipples felt achy against her bra. She fought the urge to wiggle in her chair. Why was he taunting her? What was he trying to prove?

She should stop this right now and tell him to take his sex food away. The lure of one food was too great. The fruit of revenge. “I’ll take a chocolate-covered banana.”

“Phallic symbol,” he said, and she felt his gaze linger on her as she took a large, indelicate bite.

“Very good chocolate and the banana is just right. Not too mushy,” she said and took another bite. Encouraged by the expression of fascination in his green gaze, she drew her tongue along the length of the chocolate-covered banana.

Gannon’s swift intake of breath was music to her ears. Closing her eyes, she took the banana in her mouth. “Mmm. This chocolate is delicious.” She opened her eyes. “Wanna bite?”

He audibly swallowed and looked into the box. “I think I’ll take the berries,” he said. “Strawberry and raspberry.” He met her gaze. “Nipple fruit.” He lifted a raspberry to his lips and sucked it into his mouth.

A searing memory of his mouth tugging at her nipples while he pumped inside her burned through her mind, stealing her breath. She felt the restlessness between her legs grow. She bit her lip, thinking she was out of her league with Gannon. She always had been.

She needed to back down from the game of sexual chicken. After one more bite, she thought and took the last bite of chocolate-covered banana. She licked her finger and caught him watching her again.

A tempting shot of triumph sizzled through her. At least he was as turned on as she was. He held up two sticks of licorice.

She blinked in surprise. “Licorice. I always thought of it as a kid food,” she said and took a bite.

“Chinese use the licorice root for medicine,” he said, glancing at the label. “It’s supposed to cause love and lust. Especially effective for women.”

The bite stuck in her throat. Gannon didn’t need all these foods. He was a powerful stimulant all by himself. She swallowed hard and smiled despite the arousal that raged through her like a hungry beast. “Well, I’ll have to see if it works.” She pointed at her watch. “I’m meeting a TDH for drinks in a half hour.”

He frowned. “TDH?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, grabbing her coat and standing. She tossed the remains of their aphrodisiac feast into the box. “TDH is code for tall, dark and handsome.”

He stood, staring at her. “You’re meeting a man for drinks?”

She nodded. “I am.”

His frown deepened. “I thought you wanted me to—” he narrowed his eyes “—give you my sperm.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop looking for Mr. Right. Thanks again for the snack,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Six

Gannon looked over Erika’s employment contract and glanced at his watch. After five. She would still be in her office. Deciding to deliver the agreement himself, he walked to her office and gave the door a quick rap before entering.

She glanced up from her desk, and he immediately felt a kick in his gut just from meeting her gaze. Closing the door behind him, he strolled toward her and gently tossed the contract onto her desk. “I told you we would have a quick turnaround on this.”

She picked up the agreement and scanned it, then met his gaze again. “That was fast.”

“We can discuss any questions you have about it over dinner,” he said.

Her gaze fell away. “Oh, I think I’ll look at it first and just ask my questions tomorrow. In the office.”

“Afraid to have dinner with me?” he asked. Something about her made him want to get under her skin, make her react to him.

She looked up at him again. “Not afraid. I just want to be careful.”

“If you’re concerned about gossip, we can—”

She lifted her hand. “We did a lot of hiding last time around.”

His chest squeezed at the sliver of hurt that came and went in her eyes. “Our feelings for each other were private. I was determined to keep it that way.” He remembered feeling protective almost to the point of selfishness about his time with Erika.

“That didn’t quite work out, though, did it,” she said more than asked with a wry smile.

“Neither of us was ready for a commitment,” he said.

“And that’s no different now.”

He couldn’t disagree. With the competition for the head of EPH at stake, Gannon would be more focused on work than ever. “But you can’t deny the chemistry between us.”

“Can’t deny it exists,” she said. “But I learned an important lesson last time. Just because a man’s hormones are involved doesn’t mean his heart is involved.”

“Ouch. You make me sound—” He paused. “Callous.”

“No. You’re just very practical. Even about your affairs.”

“Being practical and up front protects things in the end. If I hadn’t been honest with you from the beginning, you wouldn’t have wanted to speak to me, let alone come back to Pulse.”

“I’m not sure your theory is dead-on, particularly about women. But I adopted your practical approach about coming back to Pulse. I give you something you want in exchange for getting something I want.”

His sperm. Gannon was starting to feel like a prize bull. He knew this wasn’t the right time to start trying to persuade her that using his sperm for her baby was an insane idea. He’d given the idea repeated consideration, but he knew what he had to do—stall the sperm contract until Erika came to her senses.

None of this had comforted him last night after he’d done his best to arouse her only to hear she was meeting another man. “How was your TDH last night?”

She appeared to pull a deliberately neutral expression over her face. “He was nice. Very nice.”

“Did the aphrodisiacs work?”

“That’s not really any of your business,” she said.

“It can be. I don’t like lighting the fire of a woman to keep another man warm.”

She stared at him in silence, then laughed aloud. “That’s one of the most ridiculous things you’ve ever said.”

“How so?” he asked, not sure if he felt more irritated with himself or with her.

“I hate to feed your ego, but most of the women in this office fantasize about you. You’re too good-looking for the moral fortitude of pretty much the whole female race. Do you really think women don’t get worked up over you, then unleash their frustration and passion on some lucky, unsuspecting male?”

He looked at her in disbelief, words eluding him.

She folded her hands together. “So what I’m saying is if you dislike the idea that you’re heating a lot of pots when somebody else is getting the meal, you just need to get over it.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “No one has ever said anything like that to me.”

“It’s just the truth.”

“You can damn well be sure it hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Of course it hasn’t. You’re too busy being your handsome, sexy, workaholic self to notice.”

“I’m trying to tell if you’re complimenting or insulting me.”

“Both and neither. I’m just being practical, like you. Telling you the truth.”

Gannon looked into her eyes for a long moment. She’d grown stronger during their time apart. Smarter. More practical. He felt the burn of challenge chafe at him. It was the same feeling he’d given in to last year. Only it seemed even stronger now. Erika had always managed to turn his head and harden his groin as no other woman could. Her combination of mental toughness and hidden emotional softness drew him like a magnet.

Even though he knew getting involved with her could wreak havoc with his family’s reputation and hers, he had a tough time depriving himself of going after her. Nothing and no one but his career grabbed his attention as she did. He’d broken the rules with her before and damn if he didn’t want to again.

Gannon reined in the impulse to seduce her past her practicality until she was moaning with him inside her. He summoned a businesslike tone and said, “Let me know if you have any questions. I’d like to get the contract signed tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll look it over tonight.”

“Good. And by the way, my father wants four representatives from Pulse at a cocktail party hosted by the United Nations ambassador from India. It’s tomorrow night. You want in or not?”

He saw immediately that she did. In her eyes he saw a dozen lights signifying a dozen feature ideas.

“Yes,” she said. “May I bring a guest?”

Gannon paused, feeling a quick, unwelcome spike of an unpleasant emotion he preferred not to examine. “Sure. As long as they can pass a security search. Give the name to my assistant.”

The following morning New York City was hit by a nor’easter that brought a foot of snow. EPH allowed employees to leave early as reports of electrical outages and traffic accidents increased throughout the day.

Erika took advantage of the quiet and finished some work on HomeStyle, then turned her hand to editing one of the three articles for Pulse that had greeted her that morning on her desk.

An e-mail from Gannon’s assistant informed her that the cocktail party was cancelled due to the weather, which was probably just as well since she was on the fence about whether she wanted to see Gerald, the TDH podiatrist, again.

When she’d met him for drinks, she’d found him tall, dark and handsome, funny and intelligent, but it seemed that every hour since she’d met him, for some reason unknown to her, her interest had waned.

Making a face, she turned her attention back to the article she was editing. At five o’clock she glanced out the window at the mess of weather and traffic and decided to fix herself a mug of hot chocolate instead of going home yet. She walked through the nearly deserted office to get some water for her coffeemaker, which she didn’t use for coffee. On her way back she noticed the door to Gannon’s office was ajar and the light was on.

Tempted for a second to say hi, she thought better of it and continued toward her office.

“You’re not going to share?”

Gannon’s deep voice traveled down the hall to tickle her ears just as she started to turn a corner. She stopped midstride and considered continuing on as if she hadn’t heard. Her hesitation decided for her.

Gannon appeared just behind her and the sight of him made her stomach do a little dip. “I know that pot of water isn’t for coffee. It’s for hot chocolate. You steal the community coffee at work on the rare times when you want it.”

“If it’s community, I’m not stealing it. And I don’t advertise my hot chocolate with marshmallows. I generally confine it to my office.”

“You don’t have to. We can smell it. There’s a blizzard outside. We’re the only two people left on the floor and you’re not going to share your hot chocolate with me?”

Even though he was joking, she couldn’t help feeling like a selfish little beast. “Okay, come on. I have a couple extra packets. What I don’t understand is why you want my instant hot chocolate when you could get the real thing in the executive dining room.”

“Proximity,” he said, joining her as she walked toward her office. “Besides, the executive dining room is closed.”

“You could tell your assistant to get it for you.”

“Except she’s not here. And although she would do what I asked, she’d think I’m a chauvinistic ass if I told her to get hot chocolate for me.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She poured the water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. “And you’re not?”

He tossed her a dark look. “You’ve met my sister and my aunt Finola. Those two file their teeth on the bones of men who displease them.”

Erika laughed. “Looks like you’ve successfully escaped their fury.”

“It can be a tricky challenge. Which mug are you going to give me? The one with the New York skyscraper scene?”

His ability to remember many of the little things he’d learned about her during their affair continued to surprise her. After he’d dumped her so easily, she’d decided she must not have been important to him at all. “Sorry. I think a cleaning person broke the skyscraper mug.”

A look of trepidation crossed his face. “You’re not giving me the PMS mug, are you?”

She laughed again. “No. I have a new one perfect for you to use.” She pulled a mug from a box she hadn’t unpacked yet. “I received this during a Chinese gift exchange at the HomeStyle Christmas party. I realize it’s missing a zero, but I think it will do.”

He glanced at the mug and gave a cryptic smile. It had a computer-altered image of a million-dollar bill wrapped around it. “I’ll take it.”

She dumped an envelope of hot chocolate mix into the mug and poured hot water, then stirred with one of the plastic straws she’d taken from the community coffee area. “You may borrow the mug,” she said. “I’m not giving it to you.”

“Thanks. You’re growing more territorial in your advanced years,” he said, taking the mug.

“Just embracing the boundaries that protect me,” she said and fixed her own mug of hot chocolate.

“That sounds like a line from either a shrink or a self-improvement book.”

“Paula’s psychologist. It clicked for me.”

“How about the TDH? Did he click with you?”

“So far,” she said, surprised he’d asked and not wanting to discuss it further. She buried her face into her mug and took a sip of hot chocolate.

Silence followed.

“That’s all? So far?” he prodded.

She nodded. “Uh-huh. What about you? How’s your love life?”

He blinked at her question and looked away. “It’s not a priority. I’ve got my hands full with this competition for the position of CEO of EPH.”

“Is that your standard answer?” she couldn’t resist asking.

He met her gaze and shook his head, then took a quick drink from his mug. “There was a time when you were intimidated by my position and name.”

That was before you ripped out my heart and stomped it under the heel of your Italian loafer. “That was before you tried to guilt me into giving you hot chocolate from my private stash.”

“I didn’t just try,” he said and took another sip from the mug. “I succeeded.”

“So you did. Please excuse me while I finish editing this article.”

He glanced at her desk. “Which one is it?”

“The one on the growing influence of women in sports,” she said.

“I thought that might appeal to your feminist side.”

“I suppose,” she said. “We’ve still got a long way to go to catch up with the kinds of salaries men in sports make. But that’s a matter of finding a commercial angle and creating a rabid fan base. There are plenty of barriers left to be broken.” She paused. “I’d like to see some insets on some of the current barrier-breaking women and include a little personal information with each one.”

He grinned and lifted his mug in salute. “It was a good article, but I knew you’d find a way to make it better.”

“Thanks.” His praise warmed her almost as much as the hot chocolate. Sinking into his green gaze, she caught herself. She might need more than a distance rule with Gannon. A time limit, too. “If you’ll excuse me so I can get back to it …. ”

“You’re hinting for me to go.”

“Smart man,” she said and moved to sit behind her desk.

“Thanks for the hot chocolate, Erika.”

“You’re welcome.” She forced herself to look at her computer screen as he left the room. “I’ll get the mug from you another time.”

She focused her attention on the article for thirty minutes and then stretched as she glanced at her frog clock. She looked out the window, down to the street below. The traffic appeared lighter. She should be able to catch a train home without fighting the extra riders who usually took a bus or car. Wrapping her scarf around her neck, she pulled on her coat and hat. She grabbed her purse and cut off her lamp and light, then left her office.

She couldn’t avoid passing Gannon’s office on the way to the elevator. “Night,” she called without stopping.

“If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll give you a ride home.”

The offer stopped her in her tracks. Normally she would choose to avoid riding in a vehicle with Gannon because of her two-foot rule. But declining a chauffeur-driven ride home in a toasty-warm vehicle that would deposit her at her front door as opposed to walking two blocks in sleet from the train station would be insane.

“Thank you. I’ll wait,” she said.

Gannon appeared from his office in a long black wool coat with a cashmere scarf bearing his initials. “Just talked to my driver. He said there are outages all over the place. I’m glad my building has its own emergency generator.”

“I don’t usually have a problem with losing power. When I do, it only lasts a couple of hours. I can live with that, although I was looking forward to using my electric blanket tonight.”

“TDH can’t take care of that?” he asked, punching the elevator button.

“I’m sure he could if I invited him,” she said, feeling prickly at his repeated references to Ger, even though Gannon didn’t know who Ger was. “But the cocktail party was canceled, so he accepted a rain check. Why are you so interested?”

The elevator doors whooshed open and they stepped inside. “Just making conversation. Are you sensitive about discussing your TDH?”

“No,” she said but felt as if she wasn’t telling the truth. She pushed back. “How’s Lydia?”

He did a double take. “Lydia?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I think you dated her after you dumped me.”

“I didn’t dump you,” he said.

“Yes, you did,” she said. “I can repeat the dump conversation word for word for you if you like. ‘Rumors about my involvement with you are getting back to me. I think we need to cool things down. This wouldn’t be good for my reputation or yours.’”

They arrived on the ground level and the doors opened. “The car’s here. We can finish this discussion later,” he said and led the way.

Wind and sleet slapped Erika’s face as she saw the driver appear to open the car door. “Good evening, Mr. Elliott. Ma’am.”

“Sorry to drag you out in this mess,” Gannon said as he waited for Erika to slide into the backseat.

She nearly moaned at the toasty temperature inside. A jazz CD played. Erika wouldn’t mind spending the night in such comforting surroundings. Getting a cab would have been nearly impossible, and walking those blocks to her brownstone would have been a freezing pain in the booty.

He turned to Erika. “Did you ever think I ended our relationship more for you than for me?” he asked in a low voice.

She looked at him in surprise. “No,” she said in a quiet but blunt voice. “You told me from the beginning that we had to be discreet because your grandfather frowned heavily on Elliotts getting romantically involved with coworkers.”

“Right,” Gannon said. “Ever thought whose reputation would suffer most if our relationship had become public?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “No,” she admitted.

“Who do you think would suffer more? Me? An Elliott? Or you?”

“A non-Elliott,” she said. A non-Elliott without a tenth of Gannon’s power, let alone his family’s power.

“I don’t want the press involved in my sex life.”

“But what about Lydia?” she asked. “Her name and your name were all over the place after you dumped me.”

“It’s none of your business, but I was never intimately involved with Lydia. She didn’t work for EPH and she loves making the society pages.”

“She’s quite beautiful. The two of you made a lovely couple,” she said in a voice that couldn’t hide her resentment.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he asked, shaking his head. “I went out with Lydia after you and I broke up to throw the attention away from you. I learned a long time ago that I didn’t want the press commenting on my intimate relationships. On people I care about. So I keep the people I care about out of the limelight. I keep it private.”

She looked at him for a long moment while his explanation sank in. Was he saying that he had cared about her? That their relationship had meant something to him?

“Since I graduated from college I’ve had a goal of getting engaged before the press could even guess at the woman I’ll marry.”

Erika shook her head. “I don’t know, Gannon. With your family’s high profile, that may be nearly impossible.”

Gannon gave a half grin. “Maybe. But remember, nearly impossible is what Elliotts do best.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her mind still humming with what he’d said about protecting the women he’d really cared about from the press, she stared out the window. As the driver turned onto her street, Erika noticed that the entire block was dark. No light emanated from the doorway of her brownstone. Her stomach sank.

“Looks like the power outage hit your place,” Gannon said.

“Yes, it does,” she said and shrugged. “It probably won’t last long.”

“Probably not,” he agreed, and a full silence dangled between them, growing and swelling with each passing second.

“You could come over to my place,” he offered.

She immediately rejected the idea for the sake of her sanity, her two-foot rule and her time limit, which she hadn’t come up with yet. “That’s nice of you but not necessary. I’m sure it won’t last long. I’ve got a little battery-operated TV-radio that my father gave me for Christmas. He even gave me batteries, so I know it works. I have great quilts and snuggly socks.”

“I know,” he said, his voice holding an undercurrent of sensuality. “I remember.”

Erika felt a punch of awareness in her stomach. It hit her so hard she instinctively covered her belly with her hand.

She ignored his response and reached for her door handle as the driver pulled the car to a stop. “Thank you for the ride. It was a treat to dodge mass transit and the snow.”

“Just curious—why did you accept the offer of a ride when you wouldn’t accept the offer to sit out your power outage in my apartment?”

“Well, there are two things you never turn down. A ride home during a snowstorm in a nice, warm vehicle as long as you know you’re not riding with a serial killer.”

“And the second?”

“A trip to South Florida in the winter.”

“But you do turn down the offer of a warm apartment with power while your place is likely to be cold and dark. As long as the offer isn’t from a serial killer.”

“Yeah. Because in this case the offer is from the Big Bad Wolf.” She smiled. “Thanks again. G’night, Gannon.”

She stepped outside the car and struggled to maintain her balance and dignity as she trudged toward the door. When she arrived still standing, she turned to wave and received a snowball hit to her shoulder.

The icy splat surprised her. Gannon laughed and she looked up at him as he approached her. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he said without an ounce of sincerity. “I was aiming for your back, but you turned.”

Peeved, she backed away as he came closer. “That’s not even fighting fair. Aiming for my back?”

“Snowball fights are always dirty,” he said. “I just wanted to get your attention. You’re being stubborn and silly.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are. I’m offering you the use of my warm apartment and you’d rather stay in your cold place. It’s stubborn and silly.” He lifted his hands. “I won’t touch you.”

His declaration pricked her ego. But it shouldn’t, she quickly told herself.

“Unless you beg me to touch you,” he added in a sexy, casual voice that should have disarmed her.

But she knew better. She knew how irresistible Gannon could be. She hadn’t ever begged him to touch her because he’d always initiated their lovemaking until the breakup. After that, she’d been too wounded to consider approaching him.

“I’m not big on begging,” she said.

“Too much pride,” he said.

“No. I’ve never found begging necessary.” She turned toward her door.

His hand on her shoulder stopped her, and her heart raced in her chest. “C’mon, Erika. It’ll just be for a little while, and my genetically grown gentleman’s genes would never allow me to let you freeze in the darkness while I’m warm with a glass of whiskey and watching the New York Knicks.”

“Your guilt would spoil the enjoyment of the game,” she said, turning back around to face him, unable to resist responding to him.

“Something like that,” he said, his gaze holding hers the same way it used to when he’d looked at her as if she was the most fascinating woman in the world and he couldn’t get enough of her.

She should run screaming into her cold, dark apartment. Now, she told her feet. Go now.

Her feet, however, didn’t budge an inch.

Seven

Gannon could see the argument she was holding with herself flash in her eyes. His gut tightened. One of the things that had always fascinated him about Erika was the way her eyes told stories about what was going on inside her. He had the sense that if he paid attention, he could eventually read her like a book. She was a book he wanted to read again and again.

Breaking up with her had been necessary and he’d been mostly successful in putting her out of his mind, especially after she’d moved to HomeStyle. He hadn’t second-guessed his decision. Breaking up had been the right thing to do for both of them. When his grandfather, however, had issued the challenge for CEO at New Year’s, her image had shot to his mind, front and center.

Professionally Erika possessed a winning combination of drive and human insight. Personally she managed to both comfort and challenge him, something no other woman had done.

“If you don’t come back to my place,” he said, lifting his hand to brush snowflakes from her hair, “I’ll start thinking you can’t resist me.”

Erika scowled. “You’re so full of yourself. Despite the fact that you’re loaded and entirely too good-looking, you are not all that and a bag of chips.”

“What’s not to love?” he asked, taunting a response out of her.

Her face turned serious. “At some point you have to love in order to be lovable.”

He felt the punch of her statement in his gut.

“But maybe you just haven’t found the right girl yet,” she said and smiled. “I’ll go to your apartment, but I need to grab a few things first.”

“You’re going in there in the dark?”

“It won’t be the first time,” she said and unlocked the door. “Probably won’t be the last.”

“Wait a minute,” he said to Erika, then turned to the driver. “Can you bring me the flashlight you keep in the glove compartment?” he asked and Carl brought it to him. “Take the car around the block if you need to. We’ll be a few minutes.”

“We?” she asked, glancing back at Gannon in surprise. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I haven’t been in your place in a while. I want to see what you’ve done with it.”

“It’s not bad,” she said, automatically reaching for a light that didn’t turn on. “I got some help from a decorator that contributed to HomeStyle. But you may not get the whole effect since it’s so dark.”

“That’s okay. I really just wanted to smell it,” he said and inhaled the combined scents of peaches, vanilla and sugar cookies.

He felt her gaze on him. “Smell it?”

“Your place always smelled good to me. Sometimes it smelled like cinnamon and apples. Sometimes it smelled like tropical fruit. It always made me want to come in and sit down and stay for a while.”

“But not too long,” she muttered under her breath. “Candles. You can experience these wonderful scents in your own home with candles.”

Before he could interject, she went on as she led the way to the kitchen. He wondered if she was part cat with the way she could see in the dark. “Or since you’re filthy rich, you can pay someone else to make your home smell wonderful.” She rustled in a cabinet. “Could you shine the light up here, please?”

He illuminated the cabinet and watched as she pulled down instant hot chocolate and another box and a bag from one shelf and some kind of liquor from the upper shelf. “We came in for hot chocolate.”

“And Godiva Liqueur,” she added. “And a couple of apples and toiletries. If I remember correctly, you don’t keep food in your apartment.”

“I’m never there, so it goes bad. But I have a full bar.”

“Bet you don’t have Godiva Liqueur,” she said and headed out of the room.

She was right. He didn’t.

“Sissy liquor,” she called from down the hall.

She’d taken the words from his mouth.

He heard something fall on her bathroom floor. “Oops. Flashlight, please.”

He hurried down the hall and found her on the floor groping for her toothbrush. She glanced at him and smiled. “Don’t leave home without it.” She stood with an assortment of things cradled in one hand and with her other hand reached for his flashlight. “Need to borrow this for a minute. You just wait here.”

“Why don’t you let me go with you?”

“Because,” she said and pulled the flashlight from his hand and left him in the dark.

“Does this mean you’re getting a sexy negligee to surprise me?”

“No,” she said, and a minute later the light from the flashlight bobbed toward him, signaling her return. She carried a tote bag along with her purse. “I’m ready now.”

He wondered what she’d put in her tote. Lord, the woman made him curious about the most mundane things. He took the flashlight and led the way to her door. “If you were stranded on a desert island, what five items would you take?”

“Cell phone.”

“Not unless you had satellite coverage.”

“Like you,” she said.

He turned abruptly and she walked into his chest. “Are you mocking my wealth?”

She looked up at him, and because of the darkness he could only see the suggestion of a glint in her eyes. “Yes.”

Something inside him burst into flame and he hadn’t even a little bit of a desire to snuff it out. Instead he slid his hand through the back of her hair and tilted her chin upward and lowered his mouth to hers.

Her soft inhalation cranked up the heat. He could taste her excitement on his lips. He rubbed his mouth over hers until she eased open her lips and he could slide his tongue inside. Her mouth hugged his tongue the same way her body would hug him intimately.

He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth and felt himself grow hard with the sensual motion, with the heady suggestion of having more of her, of feeling her beneath him, wet, hot and ready ….

He felt her drag her lips from his, turning her head to the side. “Oh wow,” she whispered, her breath uneven. “I thought you said I would have to beg you to touch me.”

Gannon forced his sex-muddled mind to clear. “You didn’t? I could have sworn I heard you beg. But I haven’t broken my promise even if you didn’t say anything,” he continued, feeling an odd tension build between them. It was about sex and something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with arousal that ricocheted through him like a wild bullet. “How?”

He cleared his throat. “We’re at your place, not mine.

I told you I wouldn’t touch you at my apartment unless you begged.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Sounds like a technicality. How can I trust you to keep yourself—” She broke off and glanced away. “How can I trust you to keep yourself to yourself at your apartment?”

“You can trust me,” he said. “I give you my word.” Even if I die from a hard-on that won’t quit, he added silently.

An hour and a half later they’d eaten a frozen pizza and she was fixing s’mores in his microwave. A fire blazed in the fireplace and he was sinking into his favorite leather chair with a glass of whiskey. One minor adjustment would complete the picture.

If Erika would strip off her clothes, straddle his lap and kiss him into next week, the evening would be perfect.

Instead she was bundled in an extra sweatshirt, sipping her doctored hot chocolate and positioned too far away from him. It was only three feet, but Gannon knew it might as well be a mile.

“I’m glad you talked me into this,” she said, leaning her back against the couch. She lifted her cell phone. “Since I asked my neighbor to give me a call when the power returned, I know it would still be cold and dark at home.”

“Feeling grateful?” Gannon asked.

Erika met his gaze and caught his unspoken suggestion.

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Yes. I’ll have to bake some brownies for you in a few days.”

He swallowed a groan. He didn’t want brownies. Why did this woman remind him that he hadn’t had sex in a while? Why did she affect him so strongly? She was pretty but not drop-dead gorgeous. She clearly spent a minimal amount of time on her appearance. He was certain that was due to the fact that she had more important things to do.

He just wished she would do him into oblivion. Maybe that would get her out of his system. The problem with that theory was that he’d had an affair with her before. He should have gotten enough of her then, especially after the rumors started.

Something about Erika made him want to break all his rules. It was more than the need to get her sexually, although that need was damn strong. He liked just having her in his apartment with him. Her presence calmed and aroused him at the same time. He liked talking with her. He liked the way she didn’t take crap from him, yet he could tell she admired him and was attracted to him. She clearly liked his genes, he thought, scowling as he recalled her desire for him to donate his sperm to her. For Pete’s sake, this was a complicated situation, the kind he always avoided.

“You didn’t ever tell me your five things you’d want on a desert island.”

“Oh.” She took a sip from her hot chocolate and thought for a moment. “An iPod. With a battery that never dies.”

He chuckled. “Okay. What music?”

“Everything,” she said. “Alicia Keys, Seal, some beach tunes to cheer me up when I’m blue.”

“For a girl from Indiana, you seem to have a thing for the beach.”

“I do. I was landlocked entirely too long. I love the warmth, the sand, the water.”

“The hurricanes,” he interjected.

“Cynic,” she said and gave a sniff. “You don’t have to visit during hurricane season.”

“Back to your music,” he said.

“Some classical music played by a full orchestra, some standards and ‘Marshmallow World’ by Sammy Davis Jr.”

“Sounds eclectic,” he said, hiding a grin behind his glass of whiskey. “Two items left.”

“Hot chocolate mix with marshmallows. I would be very sad without my hot chocolate and marshmallows. And the complete unabridged collection of Louisa May Alcott.”

“No blow-dryer?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Why bother? The humidity would make my hair curly.”

“No cosmetics?”

“Some soap would be really nice. Maybe I’d trade soap for the cell phone that doesn’t work. What about you? Not that such a thing could ever happen to an Elliott because you, of course, would have a satellite cell phone. Plus a search party would be combing every inch of the planet for you.”

“Are you mocking my wealth again?”

“No. Just your family position this time,” she said with a sassy smile. “Five things.”

“Sports radio with extra batteries.”

“Can’t do without your Knicks.”

“Or Yankees, depending on the season. The complete works of Tolstoy. A bottle of great Irish whiskey. And a woman.”

She blinked. “A woman? Who?”

He nodded. “A woman who satisfies my soul and body so much that I don’t care if I ever leave the island.”

“Tall order,” she said, lifting her eyebrows skeptically.

He looked her over and remembered how she’d looked naked, how she’d felt in his arms, the sexy sounds she’d made when they’d made love. She was there. He was here. They were dressed. What a waste. He bit back an oath and took a long swallow of whiskey.

She pulled out his game of Scrabble and he beat her in the first round. She beat him in the second because he couldn’t stop thinking about convincing her to play strip Scrabble. Just past midnight the Godiva Liqueur took effect and she began to yawn.

“Hot chocolate with a kick kicking in?” he asked, liking the way she looked with her eyes sleepy and her hair mussed.

“A little. Do you mind if I take your couch tonight?”

“I have a guest room.”

She nodded and glanced at the fireplace. “But the fire is so cozy.”

“It is,” he agreed, wishing he hadn’t made the stupid promise not to touch her unless she begged. Inbred cockiness had caused trouble for more than one Elliott.

“You can go to bed if you want,” she said.

“No rush. I’ll get a pillow and blanket for you.” He ambled down the hall in his sock feet and pulled a pillow from the guest bed and a soft, warm blanket from the closet. He returned to find her with her legs folded against her, her arms wrapped around them as she stared into the fire.

“I always wondered why you didn’t have a full-time servant. Or several,” she mused aloud.

“Privacy,” he said. “This is one of the few places I can be totally alone if I want to be. The cleaning lady takes care of everything when I’m not here.”

“Phantom help,” Erika said with a soft smile.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t get a phantom check,” he said drily. He watched her expression turn serious, pensive. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just wondering.”

“Wondering what?” he prodded, joining her on the sofa.

“You said that you keep the people who are important to you out of the press. I’m wondering how many women you’ve kept out of the press.”

He studied her. “Not many.”

“Not many is not a number.”

“Three,” he told her.

She glanced at him in surprise. “I would have expected more.”

“You would have been wrong.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Are any of them still speaking to you?”

“Yes,” he said, shooting her a hard look. “My breakups have always been civil. One of the women has gotten married. The other one lives in France.”

“And the third?”

“Is sitting beside me right now,” he said, meeting her gaze and feeling a snap of the electricity that sizzled between them.

“Neither of the other women threw a tantrum?”

“No.”

“I could have,” she confessed. “I was so hurt I wanted to scream and beat my hands against the wall. Throw dishes, expensive crystal with champagne at you, a pie in your face.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You’re joking. You’re one of the most civilized, rational women I know.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you could say you don’t always bring out my civilized, rational side.”

He stared at her, trying to visualize her throwing a temper tantrum, and he shook his head. “You’re too mature for that.”

Erika sighed. “Maybe. Maybe it’s the Godiva Liqueur talking. But you know what they say—there’s yin and yang, light and dark.”

“If you’re passionate in one way, you could be passionate in another,” he added.

“Could be,” she said and smiled slyly. “Bet I’ve scared you.”

“Not quite,” he said, feeling his temperature edge up a degree. He’d always gravitated toward relationships with women he knew he could ultimately control. Last year he’d been able to control his relationship with Erika. He wasn’t sure it would be so easy now, and damn if that didn’t make him want her more. He swallowed an oath. Where was this self-destructive streak coming from?

He cleared his throat. “I’ll hit the sack and let you get some sleep.”

“Thanks again,” she said. “G’night.”

He strolled down the hall, thinking about how much he’d like to strip off her clothes and sink inside her on his sofa. The visual would keep him awake for hours.

Erika awakened early and left a thank-you note along with a packet of hot chocolate for Gannon before she grabbed a cab downstairs. Her feelings for him jerked her from one extreme to the other. She wanted to be with him, craved his attention and knew she was insane to go down that road again. Hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time? Playing with Gannon Elliott was like dancing barefoot on hot coals. There was no way she wouldn’t get burned.

But oh, it felt so good before the burn singed her. She loved the way he looked at her, teased her and even played Scrabble with her. She knew he wanted her, and that knowledge made her nuts. Gannon was the most desirable man she’d ever met in her life. His desirability coupled with his obviously superior genetics was the reason she wanted him to father her child. Even if the fertilization took place in a tube instead of au naturel.

The problem was that Erika knew from intimate, personal experience that fertilizing au naturel would be so much more enjoyable.

Groaning, she entered her brownstone and told herself to get a grip. Luck finally smiled on her and the power came on within fifteen minutes of her return. She jumped in the shower and got ready for a full workday during which she would be focused on her work and not Gannon.

Her phone rang as she was putting on her mascara. She checked the caller ID before answering. Gerald. Answer it, she told herself. For the sake of your sanity, answer it. She snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Erika, how’d you survive the storm? I was worried about you when I heard about the power outages in your area.”

How nice, she thought and felt a sliver of guilt at the same time since she’d ended up spending the whole night with Gannon at his great, warm apartment. “I made it okay. We got our power back. How about you?”

“Didn’t ever lose it, thank goodness. I was wondering if I could call in my rain check tonight. I’d like to take you to dinner. It’ll have to be a little late, though.”

Erika held her breath, swallowing her instinct to refuse. Why did she want to refuse? Gerald was a perfectly eligible TDH. Plus he had great genes to contribute to her baby. “What time were you thinking?”

“Eight o’clock. I know it’s late, but I’ll try to take you somewhere worth the wait.”

Nice again, she thought. “Okay, I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll call you later today after I get reservations so you’ll know where to meet me.”

“Sounds good. Have a good day.”

“You, too. I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Erika frowned as she hung up. She needed to be looking forward to tonight, too. Maybe if she kept telling herself she was looking forward to seeing Gerald, she would start actually feeling that way. “I’m looking forward to seeing Gerald tonight,” she chanted under her breath all the way to work.

She strode from the elevator at the office determined to focus on her work away from Gannon today. That was her best course of action.

No sooner had she taken off her coat and sat at her desk than her phone rang. Erika picked up the receiver.

“Mr. Elliott on line one,” her new assistant said.

“Which Mr. Elliott?” Erika asked.

“Oh. Mr. Michael Elliott.”

“Put him through please.” Erika waited a half second. “Erika Layven. How can I help you, Mr. Elliott?”

“You can call me Michael. You may be calling me something else by the end of the day.”

Erika heard exasperation in his voice. “What’s the problem?”

“We have two feature articles that have to go to print, but they’re disasters. I want you and Gannon to take care of them today.”

Erika blinked. “Gannon?” she echoed, hearing a flushing sound as she saw her time and distance rules go straight down the toilet.

“Yeah. I hope you didn’t have anything else planned today.”

“Of course I had plans, but this sounds much more important. I can reschedule.”

“Good. I’ve already told Gannon. You can work from his office.”

“Yes, sir. ’Bye for now,” she said and hung up, feeling a twinge of suspicion. Had Gannon set this up with his father to force her to be with him? She shook her head. She was being paranoid or maybe placing too much importance on herself. Gannon didn’t have to resort to tricks to get a woman to be with him. Including her, she thought with a scowl. Grabbing her pen and a notepad, she headed for his office.

His assistant waved her inside.

Gannon looked up from his desk, which was uncharacteristically covered with papers and photos.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“Current events. Breaking stories. Fill-in reporter, new photographer.” He shook his head in disgust. “The good news is the photographer took lots of shots, so we should be able to find something.”

“Okay,” she said, moving to his desk. “Tell me where you want me to start.”

Eight

Erika and Gannon worked nonstop through lunch on the features, rewriting and editing. Erika made phone calls to obtain clarification. Gannon sent the photos they selected to their photo editor.

The time passed like lightning. If she thought about the way they worked together—as if she were one hand and he were the other—then it might have freaked her out. But they were too busy.

With her focus on the feature articles, she shouldn’t have noticed him too much, but she did. She inhaled his aftershave and wanted to drown in it. He raked his fingers through his hair and she wanted to touch his hair. Once, his hand grazed hers and she felt a thrill race through her. She met his gaze and what she saw there stopped her heart.

As if both of them knew they couldn’t let down their guard, they both looked away and forged on. By the end of the day, though, she couldn’t help staring at his mouth when he talked.

At six-thirty, when they finished what had initially looked like mission impossible, she felt giddy.

Gannon sank into his chair and pulled his tie off. He’d loosened it hours ago. He met her gaze and chuckled. “Cheers to us.”

She smiled in return. “Cheers to us. All we need is some champagne.”

He lifted his hand. “I have some,” he said and rose toward a minibar on the other side of his large office. Underneath the cherrywood bar he opened a small refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne. “Cristal.”

She gaped at the bottle, then at him. “That’s a little extravagant, isn’t it?”

“Are you saying we don’t deserve it?” he asked, unwrapping the foil. He grabbed a towel from beneath the counter and popped the cork.

“I guess it’s too late to debate now.” She stood. “Do you have glasses?”

He tilted his head behind him. “Lower left cabinet.”

Erika walked to the cabinet and pulled out two crystal flutes. “These are beautiful. They look like Water-ford.”

“My mother gave them to me. Hinting,” he said, moving toward her and pouring the sparkling wine into the glasses she held. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the chairs on the other side of his desk.

Erika sank into her chair while Gannon sat next to her. “To conquering the mission impossible,” she said, lifting her glass, enjoying his mussed look and the hint of a five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. She liked him when he looked a little rough around the edges. She also liked him when he was wearing a black suit. Then again, she really liked him with just a sheet or nothing at all.

He clicked his glass against hers. “To our friendship,” he said.

She took a sip of the wine and then another. “Very good, of course.”

“Very good.”

“So what was your mother hinting about?”

“Me settling down and getting married.”

“Ah. What did you tell her?”

“Same thing I always tell her. When the time and the woman are right.”

She took another sip to cover the odd mix of feelings inside her. “I get some of the same thing from my mother.”

“What do you tell her?”

“I change the subject and ask how her bridge game is,” she said, and thought about the baby contract that Gannon hadn’t produced. She told herself to be a little more patient.

“That’s pretty good. I’ll have to remember it for future reference.” He topped off her glass. “Drink up. We should finish this.”

“And end up with a champagne headache? I don’t know. But maybe it’s worth it if it’s Cristal,” she said, feeling a conspiratorial thrill as she let herself sink into his gaze. She took another few sips and felt a flush of heat. “Whew. With no lunch, this is going straight to my head.”

“I can take care of that,” he said in a voice that reminded her that he could take care of her in a lot of ways.

Feeling a twist of flat-out lust form in her belly, she closed her eyes and took another long sip. “Oh, what a day. A blur. Do you think your father will be happy with what we did?”

“Ecstatic,” Gannon corrected. “In his way.”

She smiled at his dry tone and opened her eyes. “He’s not the kind to jump up and down very often, is he?”

“No, but he always makes it clear if he’s pleased or not.”

“And he’s almost always pleased with you,” she ventured.

“There have been a few times that I set him off, but I’m the oldest.”

She understood because she was the oldest in her family. “The bar is higher.”

Gannon nodded and lifted his hand to her cheek. “What about you?”

She should move away, she told herself. She was breaking both the time and distance rules, but she liked the way that one finger of his felt on her skin. The slow movement was mesmerizing. “I’m the oldest, too, but I’m lucky. I don’t work for my mother or father. I live in a different state. At the same time, you can take the girl out of Indiana, but you can’t take Indiana out of the girl.”

He smiled. “Soft heart under the black suit, hot chocolate. Do you miss your parents?”

She nodded. “Sometimes, but I think a little distance can be a good thing.”

“Can’t disagree.”

“Yet you stay.”

He shrugged. “I never considered anything else. I never really wanted anything else.”

“Never? You never had a rebellious moment as a teenager or as a college kid?”

“Okay,” he relented. “So there was a week or two when I seriously considered becoming a fly fisherman’s guide in Montana.”

She laughed. “I’m trying to picture you in rubber waders instead of a Brooks Brothers suit.”

He moved his hand to her mouth and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Are you mocking me again? There was also that summer in high school when I was determined to play in a garage band.”

Surprise raced through her. “Oh, I never knew. You never mentioned that before when we—” She broke off. “When we were involved. There’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”

“You don’t sound happy about that,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

She wasn’t, and the knowledge irritated her. “Not much I can do about it, is there?”

“You can do more than you think you can,” he said and leaned back to toss back the rest of his champagne.

What an obscure comment, she thought, watching the muscles of his throat as he swallowed. She remembered kissing him there on his throat and hearing him groan in pleasure. The sounds he’d made when they’d made love had made her crazy to please him.

He tilted the bottle of champagne and filled his glass and topped off hers again. “Almost done.” Meeting her gaze, he leaned closer. Then closer. So close her vision blurred.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“I didn’t beg,” she said in the only protest she could muster. She hadn’t begged. Not aloud anyway.

“We’re not in my apartment,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

All the breath left her lungs. He moved his mouth over hers, caressing, exploring. His tongue slipped over her lips and she instinctively opened, letting him in.

He made a ghost of a groan that melted her thighs and turned her to liquid. He pulled back slightly. “Take a drink of champagne,” he told her. “I want to taste it on your mouth.”

Oooooh, wow. With a not-so-steady hand she lifted the flute and took a sip.

He slid his hand underneath her jaw and lowered his mouth again, slipping his tongue over her mouth and then over her tongue.

The kiss went on and on and she felt as if she’d been injected with a drug that made her move in slow motion. Nothing moved quickly except her heart. She felt the flute lifted from her hand.

The kiss turned deeper and Gannon pulled her from her chair onto his lap. A sliver of caution dented the thick aura of desire infusing her brain. “Is this a good idea?” she managed.

“We’re just kissing,” he said.

But her body wanted more, she thought. A lot more. He slid his hand around the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth.

Almost of their own accord her hands went to his hair. His groan of pleasure rewarded her and she felt his hands on the sides of her breasts. Her nipples immediately peaked against her bra. One, two, three seconds passed and he touched her nipples.

The sensation sent a ricochet of tension down between her legs, where she felt wet and swollen.

“Do you want more?” he whispered.

The forbidden offer tantalized her unbearably. “How can I possibly think straight with the way you’re touching me?”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Both,” she muttered, biting her lip as he continued to rub his thumbs over her tender nipples.

“Tell me you want me to stop,” he said, stopping the sensual movement.

So she was going to have to be a big girl after all. Responsible. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel him, every way, everywhere. She closed her eyes. “I can’t say that I want you to stop,” she admitted in a low voice.

He tugged her mouth back to his and took a long draw from her lips as if she were a drink he couldn’t get enough of. At what felt like the speed of light he unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened her bra. With restless fingers she unfastened his shirt and pushed it down his arms, but he wore a T-shirt underneath.

Frustration bubbled from her throat. “Not fair,” she said.

He quickly obliged her by removing his undershirt. She slid her fingers over his pecs and down his torso, thrilled by his quick intake of breath when her fingers dipped to his waistband.

He buried his face in her breasts, sliding one of her nipples into his mouth. The way he tugged on her nipple sent her temperature soaring and tightened the empty ache inside her. She shifted restlessly on his lap, sliding against his hard arousal.

He gave a groan that mixed frustration and pleasure. “You get me so—” He broke off and stood her between his legs, pulling down her stockings and the skirt she wore. She’d ditched her boots late afternoon in the middle of their intense work session.

His gaze dark with the same need she felt, he pulled a condom from his pocket, unfastened his belt and shoved down his slacks and briefs. Sinking down onto the chair, he pulled her onto his lap.

He kissed her while his fingers searched and found her sweet spot. “Wet and good,” he murmured in approval. His tongue stroked hers while his fingers caressed her intimately.

Erika got so hot she could barely breathe. Anticipation warred with anxiousness. “I want you inside me,” she whispered to him. Then more to herself, “This is insane,” she said, overwhelmed by the need to be with him, by the need to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Gannon lifted her hips over him and she slid down his shaft, taking him inside her. The way he filled her took her breath away.

He shuddered. “You have no idea how good …”

She lifted her hips and slid down him again, the friction stimulating all her most intimate nerve endings. “Oh, I think I have an idea.”

And the rhythm began. He thrust upward when she rippled down over him. He drew her breasts to his mouth, sucking her nipple while he thrust inside her. The dual sensations made her crazy.

He slid his hand between them and stroked her sweet spot, and Erika felt an explosion of pleasure kicking through her blood like a current coming in fits and starts. He continued to move and she felt herself clench in a mind-blowing climax.

She heard him mutter something that was either an oath or a prayer. Or both. And he rocked his hips upward, thrusting, his body arched in release.

Squeezing her bottom, he swore under his breath. “Oh damn, that was amazing.” He met her gaze with eyes dark with arousal and fulfillment. “You’re incredible. Just—”

A knock sounded at the door. Shock raced through her. Someone might as well have thrown a bucket of water on Erika. “Oh no—”

He covered her lips with one finger and shook his head. Another knock sounded.

“Mr. Elliott? Cleaning service is here to take care of your office.”

“Give me about fifteen minutes, thank you. I’m finishing a project.”

Recriminations immediately filled Erika’s head. What in the world was she doing? Had she learned nothing? She’d gotten involved with Gannon before and he’d hurt her so much she couldn’t feel anything at all for another man.

This was even worse. They’d never gone this far in the office.

Bitter regret filling her throat, she struggled to climb off his lap, stumbling as she tried to stand.

Gannon stood and steadied her. “You okay?”

She could feel him studying her face and she refused to meet his gaze. “I could probably be better. Getting dressed wouldn’t hurt.”

He moved to lock the door. “It’s okay. No one walked in on us.”

“But they could have,” she said, jerking on her clothes. “I’m in here bonking the boss and—”

“I’m not technically your boss,” Gannon said. “I made sure of that when you returned to Pulse.”

She sent him a withering glance. “That could have been anyone behind that door. And what if they hadn’t knocked?”

“Everyone knocks on my door before entering.”

“What about your father? What about one of your brothers or your sister? Or one of your thousands of cousins?” She tried to keep the hysteria from her voice.

He pulled up his pants and fastened them. She noticed it took him about one-tenth the time to pull himself together, while she was still dressing herself with hands that refused to steady themselves.

She struggled with the zipper on her boots and he brushed her hand away. “You need to calm down, Erika. Nothing happened. I would protect you. This thing between us …” he said and shrugged. “We just got carried away. We need to keep it private.”

“I’m not sure we should keep it at all,” she told him. “I already bought the T-shirt for this ride one time.”

“But you want my baby,” he said, meeting her gaze dead-on.

Her throat closed up and she looked away. “I want your genes. Otherwise you and I know it’s not the right time or I’m not the right woman.”

Silence followed, swelling between them, creating an unbearable tension inside Erika.

“Do we really know that?” he asked.

His question made her heart stop. It gave her a crazy kind of hope that she didn’t want to buy into for her sanity and emotional safety. “We know it’s not the right time. And if I were the right woman—the really right woman—then any time would be the right time.” She successfully pulled up the zipper on her other boot.

“Erika,” he said, putting his hand over hers.

She closed her eyes at the strong tug she felt, the wanting to be with him. “No, Gannon, for you this is just about the crazy chemistry between us and some amazing hot sex. And I’m hardwired differently.” She glanced at the clock. Seven-fifteen. Her head clearing, she felt a nudge from her brain. What—

Remembering her late date with Gerald, she swore and began to gather the rest of her belongings. “Oh, great. Just great.”

“What is it?”

“I have a dinner date in forty-five minutes.”

Gannon went completely silent.

“You’re not really going to meet him after we—”

She bit her lip and waved her hand. “I’ll handle it. I’ll take care of it. I’ll, uh—” She swallowed over the terrible distraught lump in her throat. “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He reached for her and she stumbled backward. “No. Please don’t touch me right now. I need to leave.”

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