“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 un even. “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 any thing,” 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 your self 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, sip ping 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 pres encecalmed 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 break ups have always been civil. One of the women has got ten 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 her self 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 s
anity, 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 re fuse. 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.”
Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 8