The Elliotts: Mixing Business with Pleasure

“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.