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 con tract 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 to ward 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 sky scraper 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 ex change 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 fight
ing 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 stop ping.
“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 voic
e 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 man aged to both comfort and challenge him, something no other woman had done.
Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 7