Brenda Jackson

The Elliotts: Mixing Business with Pleasure


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because Erika had made a bizarre request didn’t mean he didn’t still want her on the Pulse team. There had to be a way around this.

      Seemed like old times, Erika thought as she walked into the quiet cocktail bar miles from the office. She and Gannon had met in countless bars just like this one during their affair. Far from the office, quiet, not trendy. Something inside her twisted at the memory, but she ignored it. She hoped this place made good martinis.

      Glancing around, she caught sight of Gannon standing as he waved her toward his booth. She walked toward him feeling a slight jump in her stomach at the sight of him. It was a sin the way the man looked just as good at the end of the day as he did at the beginning. His clean-shaven jaw and the scent of cologne had made her dizzy in morning meetings. She’d found his five-o’clock shadow ruggedly sexy during the evenings they’d worked late. After the first time he’d left her breasts red from the friction of his jaw against her skin, he’d made a point to shave. She remembered how having his passion directed solely at her had made her giddy.

      She told herself not to feel that way.

      “Thanks for coming,” he said, motioning her to the other side of the booth. Ever the gentleman, he took his seat after she did. “How was the traffic?”

      “Busy as always. I’m glad I caught my cab before it started to sprinkle.”

      “I have a hired car tonight. I can give you a ride home if you like.”

      “I may take you up on that.”

      “Would you like dinner?” he asked, giving her a menu.

      “Maybe an appetizer and a drink,” she replied, eyeing the shrimp.

      “Appletini still your favorite?” he asked with a grin that was a little too sexy and knowing for her comfort.

      She shook her head. “Peach with champagne on top.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “A change?”

      “I’ve found I like a little fizz,” she said.

      The waiter approached the table and Gannon gave her order, then his own. “Whiskey,” he said. “And buffalo wings. Hot,” he added.

      “Hope you’ve got your antacid handy,” she said, unable to prevent a grin. “I hear that as people age their stomachs become more sensitive.”

      He stared at her for a long moment. “Are you suggesting that I’m getting old?”

      She shrugged. “None of us is getting younger,” she said and switched the subject. “So tell me why you wanted to meet with me.”

      “I’ve thought about your requests and I think we can work something out. It may require some modification,” he said.

      “Such as?” she prompted, her heart picking up. She couldn’t believe Gannon would agree to her demand.

      After he’d left her office the other day, she’d wondered if she’d been half-crazy to make such a request. But one thing she’d learned was that if a girl didn’t ask, a girl wouldn’t get.

      “Within two weeks I can get a contract from our legal department with the terms of your employment, including your position and the increase in your salary.”

      “And an office with a window and a door that can be closed,” she added.

      He gave her a half smile. “My, my, you’ve gotten much more demanding during the last year.”

      “It’s been a learning year,” she told him. A year of learning, hurting and getting over him. She was still working on that last part.

      “Good for you.” He paused while the waiter served the drinks, then he took a long draw from his whiskey.

      Erika took a tiny sip from her martini and told herself there was no reason for her to feel nervous. None at all. She had a perfectly wonderful position and she would be perfectly fine to stay where she was at HomeStyle. Pulse would be more hectic, more exciting and, with Gannon always around, much more distracting and disturbing.

      “Regarding the other matter,” he said vaguely in a low voice.

      “The donation of your sperm,” she clarified.

      He took another drink of whiskey. “Yes. I’ll have to do that through my personal attorney. My grandfather would implode if he saw anything like this on a company contract.”

      So Gannon was actually considering her request. She couldn’t believe it.

      “This would require secrecy. Not discretion. Complete secrecy. I’m sure my attorney can do it, but it won’t be done overnight because he’s out of the country.”

      “When is he due to return?” she asked with healthy skepticism.

      “Two weeks. He’s on a Mediterranean cruise celebrating a second honeymoon.”

      She took a breath. “So how would we work this? I would start at Pulse after he returns?”

      Gannon shook his head. “No. I told you Pulse is under the gun. I want you to start immediately.”

      She laughed. “I don’t see how. HomeStyle will need some sort of transition.”

      “I’ve already suggested that Donna Timoni could take your place. You can start work at Pulse by the beginning of next week.”

      Erika blinked at him. Although she agreed that Donna Timoni would be her ideal successor, she wasn’t ready to hand over the reins this second. “This is fast.”

      “Have you forgotten?” he asked with more than a hint of daring in his green eyes. “At Pulse the only speeds are fast, faster and fastest.”

      She nodded, remembering the magazine’s mantra. “We don’t leave them laughing. We leave them in the dust.” She paused and took a sip of her martini. “What about the contracts?”

      “Like I said, I can have the company contract for you within a week or two. The personal contract will take a little longer.”

      “Okay. There’s only one other part to this agreement. I can go back anytime.”

      “It’s a deal,” he said and met her gaze. “You won’t want to go back, Erika. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit you’ve missed Pulse.”

      His instincts about her had always gotten under her skin. No man had known her better. No man had been more intuitive about her. In bed or out. She swallowed a sigh. Just because she was getting his sperm didn’t mean she was getting his heart or his mind. Or even his body, if he made his deposit at a lab.

      Working with him every day would probably drive her mad. She would use all that excess energy to keep looking for the man who could top Gannon Elliott.

      The appetizers arrived and they naturally changed the topic of conversation. While she shared her shrimp with Gannon, she asked about his grandmother, Maeve Elliott.

      “I’ve always been fascinated by the story of how your grandfather and grandmother got together,” she said.

      He offered her a buffalo wing and she shook her head. “The seamstress and the tycoon who stole her away from Ireland.”

      “How has she put up with your grandfather all these years?”

      “He adores her,” Gannon said. “And she’s a saint. You can’t help but love her. She makes up for all the affection Grandfather has such a tough time giving.”

      “She’s the one member of your family I always wanted to meet,” Erika said, then quickly realized she should have kept that confession to herself. “It would have been a great feature for HomeStyle. Tea with Maeve Elliott.”

      “Not a bad idea for Pulse for a personality-slash-human interest story.”

      “You’re