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“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 breakups have always been civil. One of the women has gotten 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 herself 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 sanity, 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 refuse. 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.”
Erika blinked. “Gannon?” she echoed, hearing a flushing sound as she saw her time and distance rules go straight down the toilet.
“Yeah. I hope you didn’t have anything else planned today.”
“Of course I had plans, but this sounds much more important. I can reschedule.”
“Good. I’ve already told Gannon. You can work from his office.”
“Yes, sir. ’Bye for now,” she said and hung up, feeling a twinge of suspicion. Had Gannon set this up with his father to force her to be with him? She shook her head. She was being paranoid or maybe placing too much importance on herself. Gannon didn’t have to resort to tricks to get a woman to be with him. Including her, she thought with a scowl. Grabbing her pen and a notepad, she headed for his office.
His assistant waved her inside.
Gannon looked up from his desk, which was uncharacteristically covered with papers and photos.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“Current events. Breaking stories. Fill-in reporter, new photographer.” He shook his head in disgust. “The good news is the photographer took lots of shots, so we should be able to find something.”
“Okay,” she said, moving to his desk. “Tell me where you want me to start.”
Eight
Erika and Gannon worked nonstop through lunch on the features, rewriting and editing. Erika made phone calls to obtain clarification. Gannon sent the photos they selected to their photo editor.
The time passed like lightning. If she thought about the way they worked together—as if she were one hand and he were the other—then it might have freaked her out. But they were too busy.
With her focus on the feature articles, she shouldn’t have noticed him too much, but she did. She inhaled his aftershave and wanted to drown in it. He raked his fingers through his hair and she wanted to touch his hair. Once, his hand grazed hers and she felt a thrill race through her. She met his gaze and what she saw there stopped her heart.
As if both of them knew they couldn’t let down their guard, they both looked away and forged on. By the end of the day, though, she couldn’t help staring at his mouth when he talked.
At six-thirty, when they finished what had initially looked like mission impossible, she felt giddy.
Gannon sank into his chair and pulled his tie off. He’d loosened it hours ago. He met her gaze and chuckled. “Cheers to us.”
She smiled in return. “Cheers to us. All we need is some champagne.”
He lifted his hand. “I have some,” he said and rose toward a minibar on the other side of his large office. Underneath the cherrywood bar he opened a small refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne. “Cristal.”
She gaped at the bottle, then at him. “That’s a little extravagant, isn’t it?”
“Are you saying we don’t deserve it?” he asked, unwrapping the foil. He grabbed a towel from beneath the counter and popped the cork.
“I guess it’s too late to debate now.” She stood. “Do you have glasses?”
He tilted his head behind him. “Lower left cabinet.”
Erika walked to the cabinet and pulled out two crystal flutes. “These are beautiful. They look like Water-ford.”
“My mother gave them to me. Hinting,” he said, moving toward her and pouring the sparkling wine into the glasses she held. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the chairs on the other side of his desk.
Erika sank into her chair while Gannon sat next to her. “To conquering the mission impossible,” she said, lifting her glass, enjoying his mussed look and the hint of a five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. She liked him when he looked a little rough around the edges. She also liked him when he was wearing a black suit. Then again, she really liked him with just a sheet or nothing at all.
He clicked his glass against hers. “To our friendship,” he said.
She took a sip of the wine and then another. “Very good, of course.”
“Very good.”
“So what was your mother hinting about?”
“Me settling down and getting married.”
“Ah. What did you tell her?”
“Same thing I always tell her. When the time and the woman are right.”
She took another sip to cover the odd mix of feelings inside her. “I get some of the same thing from my mother.”
“What do you tell her?”
“I change the subject and ask how her bridge game is,” she said, and thought about the baby contract that Gannon hadn’t produced. She told herself to be a little more patient.
“That’s pretty good. I’ll have to remember it for future reference.” He topped off her glass. “Drink up. We should finish this.”
“And end up with a champagne headache? I don’t know. But maybe it’s worth it if it’s Cristal,” she said, feeling a conspiratorial thrill as she let herself sink into his gaze. She took another few sips and felt a flush of heat. “Whew. With no lunch, this is going straight to my head.”
“I can take care of that,” he said in a voice that reminded her that he could take care of her in a lot of ways.
Feeling a twist of flat-out lust form in her belly, she closed her eyes and took another long sip. “Oh, what a day. A blur. Do you think your father will be happy with what we did?”
“Ecstatic,” Gannon corrected. “In his way.”
She smiled at his dry tone and opened her eyes. “He’s not the kind to jump up and down very often, is he?”
“No, but he always makes it clear if he’s pleased or not.”
“And he’s almost always pleased with you,” she ventured.
“There have been a few times that I set him off, but I’m the oldest.”
She understood because she was the oldest in her family. “The bar is higher.”
Gannon nodded and lifted his hand to her cheek. “What about you?”
She should move away, she told herself. She was breaking both the time and distance rules, but she liked the way that one finger of his felt on her skin. The slow movement was mesmerizing. “I’m the oldest, too, but I’m lucky. I don’t work for my mother or father. I live in a different state. At the same time, you can take the girl out of Indiana, but you can’t take Indiana out of the girl.”
He smiled. “Soft heart under the black suit, hot chocolate. Do you miss your parents?”
She nodded. “Sometimes, but I think a little distance can be a good thing.”
“Can’t disagree.”
“Yet you stay.”
He shrugged. “I never considered anything else. I never really wanted anything else.”
“Never? You never had a rebellious moment as a teenager or as a college kid?”
“Okay,” he relented. “So there was a week or two when I seriously considered becoming a fly fisherman’s guide in Montana.”
