Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6

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Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 4

by Various Authors


  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 be ginning 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.

&nbs
p; Finally his lips touched hers. He increased the pres sure 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 hap pen 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 be cause 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 non sense 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 in tense.”

  “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 as signed 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 per haps I should say hormones—separate. But unlike you, I’m mere mortal, carbon-based, and boundaries help me immensely.”

 

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