Читать книгу The Elliotts: Mixing Business with Pleasure - Brenda Jackson - Страница 10

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.”