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The Elliotts:
Mixing Business
With Pleasure

BILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSITION

LEANNE BANKS

TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS

BRENDA JACKSON

CAUSE FOR SCANDAL

ANNA DEPALO

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Intense sexual chemistry was making all their plans go astray … in the most delicious ways!

The Elliotts: Mixing Business With Pleasure

Three intense and satisfying romances from

three beloved Mills & Boon authors!

BILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSITION

About the Author

LEANNE BANKS, a USA TODAY bestselling author of romance and 2002 winner of the prestigious Booksellers’ Best Award, lives in her native Virginia with her husband, son and daughter. Recognised for both her sensual and humorous writing with two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times BOOKclub, Leanne likes creating a story with a few grins, a generous kick of sensuality and characters that hang around after the book is finished. Leanne believes romance readers are the best readers in the world because they understand that love is the greatest miracle of all. Contact Leanne online at leannebbb@aol.com or write to her at PO Box 1442, Midlothian, VA 23113, USA. An SAE (with return postage) for a reply would be greatly appreciated.

One

“I have an announcement to make,” Patrick Elliott said to the roomful of Elliotts, interrupting the roar of conversation among the nearly fifteen present for the New Year’s Eve celebration. Patrick had stipulated that only family members and spouses attend the gathering.

The announcement must be big news, Gannon Elliott thought as he stood next to his brother Liam. Curious, Gannon studied his grandfather as he held court across the den of the family home in the Hamptons. The Christmas decorations would come down tomorrow, but tonight the lights on the trees twinkled in three of the rooms on this level of the nearly eight-thousand-foot turn-of-the-century home. The house his grandmother had lovingly furnished had provided a haven for the Elliotts through the births and, tragically, through the deaths of children and through the ever-increasing power and wealth of Patrick Elliott and his heirs.

Gannon’s Irish-immigrant grandfather might be seventy-seven, but he was still sharp as a razor. He made dominating the magazine-publishing world look like a piece of cake, with magazines that covered everything from serious news to celebrity watching, showbiz and fashion.

“But it’s not midnight,” cracked Bridget, Gannon’s younger sister, in response to their grandfather. “You have the night off, Grandfather. Did you forget it’s New Year’s Eve?”

Patrick’s eyes sparkled as he wagged his finger at her. “How could I forget with you here to remind me?”

Grinning, Bridget dipped her head and lifted her glass in response. Gannon shook his head and took a swallow of whiskey. His brash sister always seemed to be stirring the pot when it came to their grandfather.

Pausing for a moment, Patrick glanced at Maeve, his petite wife of more than fifty years. Patrick might be the workaholic lion who had built a publishing empire, but Maeve was the one woman who could soothe the savage beast.

The love and commitment emanating from both their gazes never failed to humble Gannon, arousing a gnawing sensation in his stomach, a vague dissatisfaction that he refused to explore. He mentally slammed the door on the feeling and watched his grandmother Maeve, love shining in her eyes as she nodded at his grandfather.

Patrick looked back at the family assembled by his invitation. “I’ve decided to retire.”

Gannon nearly dropped his glass of whiskey. He’d figured the old man was so wedded to his conglomerate that he would spend his last moments on earth making another deal. Murmurs and whispers skittered through the room like mice.

“Holy—”

“Oh my God.”

“Do you think he’s sick?”

Patrick shook his head and lifted his hand in a quieting motion. “I’m not sick. It’s just time. I have to choose a successor, and because all of you have performed so well with the various magazines, the choice is difficult. I’ve decided the only fair way to choose is to give each of you an opportunity to prove yourself.”

“What on earth is he doing now?” Bridget whispered.

“Do you know anything about this?” Gannon asked his brother Liam, who worked for the conglomerate rather than one of the individual magazines. Everyone knew Liam was the closest of any grandchild to Patrick.

Liam shook his head, looking just as stunned as everyone else in the room. “Not a clue.”

Like the rest of the family, Gannon knew that the four top magazines were headed by Patrick’s sons and daughter. Gannon’s own father, Michael, was editor in chief of Pulse magazine, a publication known for cutting-edge serious news.

“I will choose from the editors in chief of our most successful magazines. Whichever magazine makes the largest profit proportionally will see its editor in chief take over the reins of Elliott Publication Holdings.”

Complete silence followed. A bomb wouldn’t have been more effective.

Three seconds passed, and Gannon saw shock cross the faces of his uncles and cousins. He looked across the room at his father, who looked as if he’d been hit on the head with a two-by-four.

Bridget gave a sound of disgust. “This is insane. How can it work? Do you realize that since I work for Charisma I’ll be working against my own father?”

Liam shrugged. “Is that any worse than pitting brother against brother, brother against sister?”

“Shane against Finola?” Bridget added in disbelief about their aunt and uncle. “They’re twins, for Pete’s sake. Someone has to talk to Grandfather and make him see reason.”

Finola stepped next to Bridget and shook her head at her father. “He won’t be changing his mind. He’s got that ‘till hell freezes over’ expression on his face. I’ve seen it before,” she said with a trace of bitterness.

“It’s not fair,” Bridget said.

Finola had a faraway look in her eyes. “He has his own definition of fairness,” she said softly, then seemed to shake out of her split-second reverie. She smiled at Bridget. “I’m glad I have you on my team.”

Gannon had never been one to shirk a tough fight and he wouldn’t shrink from this one either. “May the best Elliott win,” he said to Finola, although he knew the stakes were damn high. “Talk to you later,” he said to Bridget, Liam and Finola, then moved toward his father immediately confident that he would do anything to help his father make their magazine, Pulse, the top dog at EPH.

He was an Elliott, born and bred to compete, excel and win. Every Elliott in the room had been raised with the same genes and high expectations. It was in their blood to fight and win. Shrewd as always, his grandfather had known that fact when he’d issued the challenge, Gannon thought. Regardless of who won—and Gannon was damn determined to make sure his father was the winner—Patrick had just assured a banner year of earnings for each magazine and Elliott Publication Holdings.

His uncle Daniel stopped him on the way to his father. “You look like a man with a mission.”

“I think we all are,” Gannon said wryly and squeezed his uncle’s shoulder. “The least he could have done was pass out a year’s supply of antacid with this kind of news.”

Daniel chuckled and shook his head. “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” Gannon said and walked the few feet to where his father and mother stood.

Twirling his glass of brandy, his father met Gannon’s gaze. “I should have known this earthquake was coming.”

“Who could have predicted this?” his mother, the most easygoing person he knew, asked. She met Gannon’s gaze and smiled. “I see you’ve already recovered and are ready for the game.”

“It’s in my genes,” Gannon said with a nod to his father.

“You have some ideas already?” his father asked, clearly pleased.

“Sure do.” Gannon knew the first person he wanted on the Pulse team: Erika Layven, the woman he broke up with over a year ago.

Erika Layven reviewed the layout for the April issue of HomeStyle magazine with a critical eye as she took another sip of instant hot chocolate with marshmallows. Wiggling her sock-clad feet beneath her desk, she studied the spring-flower theme of multicolored roses, sprigs of lavender and cheery pansies. A huge contrast from the gray, bitter-cold January late afternoon she glimpsed outside her fifteenth-story window in Manhattan.

The weather made her feel cold and old. The recent report from her doctor hadn’t helped much either. Add to that the New Year’s Eve party she’d attended with a forgettable man and the more forgettable kiss at midnight and she could feel downright morose.

If not for the pansies, she told herself and straightened in her chair. She had a bunch of reasons to feel good. As managing editor of Elliott Publication Holdings’ new magazine HomeStyle, she had the opportunity to help create a vision and make it come true. She had power. She had influence. She had a dream job. If she felt herself missing the rush she’d felt when she’d worked for Pulse, she pushed it aside. This was better, she told herself. In this world, she ruled.

A knock sounded at her door and she glanced at the frog clock on her desk. It was after five-thirty on Thursday night. Most employees had left for happy hour.

“Yes?” she called.

“It’s Gannon,” he said, then unnecessarily added, “Gannon Elliott.”

Erika’s stomach jumped into her throat and she took a full moment to catch her breath. What did he want? Pushing her curly hair from her face, she pulled together her composure. “Come in,” she said in as cool a voice as she could manage.

The door opened and Gannon—six-foot-two, black hair, green eyes and killer body—filled the doorway, filled the room. She steeled herself against him and strictly instructed her hormones to behave, her palms to stop sweating and her heart to stop racing.

Idly wishing she’d kept on her boots so she could meet him almost eye to eye, she stood in her sock feet behind her desk. “Gannon, what a surprise. What brings you here?”

“Hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Your choice, she thought but took a different tack. “I’ve been very busy with HomeStyle.”

“So I hear. You’re doing a fabulous job.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to fight a sliver of gratification. Gannon was tough. He’d never been given to flattery. “It looks like Pulse is full of excitement as always.”

He nodded. “What did you think of the series we ran on fighting Internet viruses?”

“Excellent,” she said. “I loved the day spent with an Internet security soldier. Fascinating.” She paused a half beat. “I would have added a fraction more human interest.”

His mouth lifted in a half grin. “That’s one of the things I always admired about you. You see the good in an article but are always looking for a way to make it better.”

“Thank you again,” she said, feeling curious. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

He glanced at her bookcase and tilted his head sideways to read a few titles. “How much do you like it here?”

Confused by his attitude, she studied him carefully as he lifted her frog clock from her desk. He wasn’t acting normal. Although she wasn’t sure what normal was for Gannon. Their relationship had clouded her instincts where he was concerned.

“What’s not to like? I get to help rule,” she said and smiled.

He glanced up and met her gaze and she felt a mini kaboom go off inside her. He chuckled. “That’s one way of looking at it.” He returned her frog clock to her desk and reached for her mug, lifting it to just below his nose. He smiled. “Hot chocolate with marshmallows. You must not want to stay up tonight.”

Erika’s stomach twisted and she felt her sense of humor wane. Gannon possessed all kinds of insider information on her because they’d been lovers. A fact she had tried hard to forget during the past year. “A good night’s sleep keeps me sharp.”

He nodded and paused thoughtfully. “Do you miss Pulse at all?”

The blunt question surprised her. “Of course I do,” she said. “The fast pace, always being on the cutting edge. There was an adrenaline rush every day.”

“And you don’t get that here,” he concluded.

“HomeStyle provides a different kind of satisfaction.”

“What if you were given the opportunity to come back to Pulse with a promotion and salary increase over last time?” he asked.

Erika was taken off guard again. The prospect of being inside the best newsmagazine in the world provided a potent lure. There was nothing laid-back about Pulse. Working for that magazine had demanded the best of her mental and creative energy. It had forced her to grow. She’d been surrounded by brilliant, ambitious people.

And she’d gotten involved with a man who had ruined her for other relationships.

She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked outside the window as she tried to form a response. “It’s tempting,” she admitted.

“I want you back on the Pulse team,” Gannon said.

“Tell me what it would take for you to make the move and I’ll make it happen.”

Erika gaped at him in shock. When the faintest gossip had surfaced about her relationship with Gannon, he’d stopped everything between them cold and had begun to treat her as if she were just another team member. His behavior had knocked her sideways enough that she’d known she couldn’t work with him anymore. The position at HomeStyle had offered a haven from him, and she was slowly getting over him.

“I need to think about this,” she finally managed.

He blinked in surprise and she felt a sliver of satisfaction. Gannon was accustomed to hearing yes, not maybe. She saw his jaw clench and felt another dart of surprise. What was going on here?

“That’s fair enough. I’ll drop by to talk with you tomorrow after work.”

“Sorry. Can’t do,” Erika said. “I have an appointment out of the office at four-thirty. I’m not coming back in.”

He gave a slow nod, as if she were trying his patience. “Okay, are you working this weekend?”

“From home.” She glanced at her calendar. “Tuesday would be best.”

“Monday, after work,” he said in a brusque voice that had frightened the life out of more than one intern.

The tone unsettled her enough not to push further. “Monday after work,” she confirmed.

“Good. See you then,” he said, holding her gaze for a couple of seconds too long. A couple of seconds that sucked the oxygen from her lungs before he turned around and left her office.

Erika immediately sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. “Damn him,” she whispered. He still knocked her sideways. She scowled. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all.

But part of her response was understandable, she told herself. Preparation was key with Gannon. She absolutely couldn’t fly by the seat of her pants with that man.

Erika rubbed her knees and paused for a breath after ten games of one-on-one. She’d had her lunch handed to her during the last six games. Looking at the fourteen-year-old responsible for pounding the living daylights out of her via a basketball, Erika shook her head. “You could show a little pity for the elderly.”

Tia Rogers, the pretty but lanky girl with chocolate-brown eyes who Erika was mentoring, shrugged as she walked to the side of the basketball court Erika had reserved for their use. Since she’d been promoted, she got dibs on the EPH gym.

“You ain’t old. You just sit on your butt too much in that fancy high-rise office.”

“Aren’t old,” Erika automatically corrected, though at the moment thirty-two seemed over the hill. “Getting paid to sit on your butt isn’t all that bad. And I don’t just sit on my butt,” Erika said. “By the way, how’s algebra?”

Tia made a face. “I don’t like it.”

“What’d you get on your last test?”

“B minus,” Tia said.

“It’s going up. That’s the right direction.” Erika patted the girl on the shoulder and scooped up both their coats from the bleachers. A group of men immediately took their place on the basketball court. Erika led the way to the elevator. Tia was quiet on the ride down.

“I need an A,” Tia finally said in a glum voice. “I need all As if I’m going to get a scholarship to college.”

“You’ll get a scholarship,” Erika said, waving at the security guard before the two of them stepped out into the cold night.

Tia swore and spit as she stepped outside. “How do you know?”

Erika swallowed a wince. She was supposed to inspire Tia and help polish her mentee’s rough edges. Tia, who lived with her aunt because her mother was in prison for repeated drug violations, had been chosen for the mentor program because she worked on the school newspaper. “Ditch the spitting and swearing.”

“Everyone else swears and spits,” Tia said in a challenging voice.

“Everyone else isn’t you. You’re different. You have talent, brains, common sense and, most importantly, you have drive.”

Tia met her gaze with wide brown eyes filled with hope but tempered with skepticism. It was Erika’s job to help give the hope and drive she glimpsed in the young teen a bigger edge in the battle.

“Is that what got you your fancy job in the office you showed me a couple weeks ago? I hear you always need a connection.”

Erika exhaled and her breath created a visible vapor trail. “I’m working for a company where most of the executives are related and I’m not part of the family.”

Tia smiled. “So you’ve had to kick some butt, too.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” she said as an image of Gannon’s backside slithered across Erika’s brain. She’d had a tough time totally banishing him from her mind since his surprise visit yesterday. She still didn’t know what she was going to do about Pulse. She lifted her hand to hail a taxi.

“My aunt keeps asking me why you don’t have no man.”

“Why I don’t have a man,” Erika corrected.

“S’what I said,” Tia said and climbed into the taxi that stopped by the curb.

Erika climbed in beside her and gave the taxi Tia’s address. “I don’t have a man because—” She broke off. Why didn’t she have a man? Because Gannon had ruined her for other men. “Because I fell for someone and he dumped me.”

“Wow,” Tia said. “Why’d he do that? You’re pretty for an older lady. You got it going on.”

Erika groaned at the reference to age. “Thanks, I think. Why’d he dump me? I guess he didn’t think I was the right woman for him.”

Tia swore again. “You should teach him a lesson. Go get you another man. A better man.”

“Yeah,” Erika said, thinking she’d been trying to do that for a year now.

An hour later Erika walked into the Park Slope brownstone she owned and immediately stepped out of her shoes and into her bunny slippers. She looked down at the pink furry footwear and smiled. They always made her smile.

Making a mental promise to wash the clothes in her gym bag, she left the bag in the hallway and headed for the kitchen as she glanced through her mail. Bills, bills … She paused at the postcard that featured a Caribbean cruise and felt a longing for hot weather, sunshine, an icy margarita and the sound of steel-drum music.

Sighing, she dismissed the mini fantasy and used her remote to turn on the sound of Alicia Keys while she poured herself a glass of red wine. She picked up her phone and listened to her messages.

The first was from one of her best friends, inviting her to visit a trendy new bar. The second was her mother checking on her. Erika bit her lip in response to that. Her mother had called her at a weak moment and Erika had told her too much about the results of her doctor’s visit. The third message was from Doug. Doug the dud, she added. A nice enough guy. He was just so boring.

The call-waiting beeped as she listened to his message and she automatically picked up. “Hello?”

“Erika, I wondered when I would hear your live voice again. How are you, sweetheart?”

Her mother. Erika winced. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been very busy at work and I took on a mentoring project with an inner-city teenager. How are you? How’s bridge?”

“Your father and I came in second last night. We host tomorrow night. What is this about mentoring an inner-city teenager? Darling, you don’t really think that will take the place of having your own child, do you?”

Erika’s chest twisted. “No, but it’s a good use of my energy right now.”

“Honey, if you would just make a little effort and be more open-minded, I know you could find a man in no time. Then you could have both the husband and the baby you want.”

Erika squeezed her forehead. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mom. I’ll go out with two men next week if you stop asking me about this for the next week.”

“I’m just thinking of your well-being. You’ve always wanted children.”

“I know.”

“You just kept putting it off,” her mother added.

“Mom,” she said, and Erika couldn’t keep the warning note from seeping into her voice.

Her mother sighed. “Okay. Two dates, two men next week. I’ll say a prayer and make a wish on a star.”

Erika felt her heart soften. Her mother did love her. She just felt the need to interfere sometimes. “I love you. Have fun tomorrow night.”

Clicking off the phone, she set it down and smiled, picturing her parents and the house in Indiana she’d left behind when she moved to attend college in the East.

The town of her childhood had often felt sleepy to her, the pace hadn’t been fast enough. She’d wanted more excitement, more action, more challenge.

She remembered the smell of the cholesterol-laden, but delicious home-cooked meals that had greeted her every time she returned home, and the scent of chocolate chip cookies every time she left again.

She remembered making crafts with her mother on rainy days and the countless times her mother had sat with Erika while she’d done her homework. Her father had taught her to play basketball and encouraged her to relish her height instead of being afraid of it.

She’d always known she had the best parents in the world. She’d also always known that she would need to leave in order to really fly.

And she’d certainly learned to fly. At least professionally. In the back of her mind, she’d had a mental plan. Graduate from college, get on a career track that would take her to the top and along the way she would squeeze in finding a husband and having a baby.

Before she’d even graduated from college, Erika had wanted a child, but she’d told herself not to get caught in the trap of getting married and having a baby before establishing her career. It was all about discipline, she’d said, but many times she felt a strong longing on rainy days to make crafts with a child of her own, to nurture and love a human being and experience the wonder of helping a little someone become the very best person they could be.

Her work was exciting and rewarding, but part of her remained untouched. Part of her longed for something that work couldn’t fulfill.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and pulled a sheet of paper from the wooden file she kept for mail. She glanced at the medical report again and sighed. Endometriosis. That was why she’d had such terrible cramps. That was why her fertility was headed into the toilet. That was why she would consider having a baby without a husband.

Two

At precisely five thirty-one in the afternoon, Erika heard a knock at her office door. Her stomach dipped, but she ignored the sensation. Today she hadn’t kicked off her shoes below her desk. Nope, today she wore high-heel boots that brashly flaunted her five-foot-nine-inch height and a black suit with a crisp white blouse. Today she was prepared.

She strode to her door and opened it, spotting Gannon lifting his hand for another knock. He was still too damn tall. She would need stilts to meet him eye to eye. Dressed in a black wool suit with a faint blue stripe, he would leave quivering females in his wake wherever he went—the elevator, his office, the street. Erika imagined women all over the office melting into the carpet.

His green gaze flicked over her, then he looked into her eyes for an assessing second. When he’d taken the time, he’d always been able to read her. Better not to let him see too much, she thought.

“Come in,” she said and returned to stand behind her desk. She liked having a large wooden object between her and Gannon. At that moment she wished her desk was a little bigger, perhaps boat-sized. “How are you?”

“Fine, and you?” he asked, moving the folder he held into his other hand.

“Good, thank you.” Pleasantries over. “I’ve thought about your offer. I loved working at Pulse. It was the most challenging and creative job I’ve ever had. I loved the fast pace. I loved working with such sharp minds.” She paused and took a quick breath and reminded herself she was doing this for her sanity. “But I’m very happy and productive where I am right now. I have an excellent rapport with everyone who works for me. It’s a warm atmosphere and it works for me.”

He remained silent.

Poo. He was going to force her to say the words. She would have much preferred doing this via e-mail or fax. “So thank you very much for your wonderful offer. While I’m tempted, I’m going to decline.”

He looked at her for a long moment and gave a slow nod. He moved closer to the desk and picked up her half-full mug. “The job you have at HomeStyle is like hot chocolate with marshmallows. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. A few challenges every now and then. You have to choose whether to feature needlepoint or knitting, find new crafts for Valentine’s Day, a decor for spring.”

Erika felt defensive. “You’re right. Making marsh-mallow bunnies isn’t going to rock the world. It’s just going to make it a little nicer, a little more comforting.”

“As I said, this job is hot chocolate. The problem, Erika, is you had the best whiskey in the world at Pulse. You know what it’s like to come to work knowing you’ll get an adrenaline rush. That the story you tell and the way you tell it could rock the world. Underneath the hot chocolate with marshmallows and bunny slippers is a world-rocker. You can fight it all you want, but you and I both know it’s in you.”

The challenge in his eyes made something inside her sizzle and pop. She hated that he knew her so well. She hated that he’d known her so well and left her so completely, but she wouldn’t tell him that was the reason she wouldn’t return to Pulse.

“I want you to reconsider,” he said.

She swallowed a groan. She’d really had to pump herself up for this. “I’ve given your offer a lot of consideration. You have my answer.”

His lips turned up slightly in a grin she’d seen before. A grin that signaled Gannon was in for a battle, determined to win. A grin that scared the life out of her. “Your answer isn’t acceptable to me. I want you to reconsider. My father does, too.”

Oh great, she thought wryly. Two Elliotts teaming up against her. “I’m very happy here.”

“We’ll make sure you’re happy at Pulse.” He laid the folder he’d held during their discussion on the desk and flipped it open. “How would you like to do this story?”

Erika saw photos of babies and her heart stopped.

She bent down to look at the copy. “Making the Perfect Baby: The New World of Genetic Manipulation,” she read and looked at him.

He smiled. “I knew that would get your attention. You always loved the combination of science and human interest. Cover story with your name on the front. That’s the kind of story that could win awards. Rock the world.”

Gazing at the photos of the beautiful sweet faces of the babies, she swallowed over the lump in her throat. Did he know how much she wanted a baby? How could he know? They’d never discussed it.

She took a shallow breath and forced herself to smile. “Very tempting, but I’ve given you my answer.”

He paused just a second, as if she’d surprised him. “Okay. You don’t mind looking over the story and giving me your thoughts, do you? Think about it and I’ll drop by on Wednesday.”

The trendy new cocktail bar, the Randy Martini, was packed with twenty- and thirty-something Manhattanites testing the wild, extensive menu of over a hundred martinis. It took two and a half martinis for Erika’s best friends, Jessica and Paula, to get Erika to confess what had her so distracted. “I want to have a baby and my gynecologist told me I need to do it soon or maybe not at all.”

“That stinks,” Jessica said and patted Erika’s hand.

“Maybe you could get a dog or a cat,” Paula suggested.

Erika shook her head. “I want a baby, not a canine or feline.”

Paula lifted her own martini in salute. “You might change your mind when the kid hits puberty or when you start shelling out the green for college.”

Erika shook her head again. “Even though I’ve been career-oriented, I always knew I wanted to have a child.”

“You could wait until you find Mr. Right and try adopting, although I hear that can take forever,” Jessica said. “Any Mr. Rights on the horizon?”

An image of Gannon slipped into her mind. She immediately stamped it out. “No.”

Jessica made a face. “I guess you could go the insemination route.”

Paula looked horrified. “Get pregnant without being able to blame it on a man for the rest of your life?”

“It could be fun,” Jessica said.

“For whom?” Paula asked. “Erika grows to the size of a beached whale, then gives birth to something that looks like a screaming pink alien.”

“You have no maternal instincts,” Jessica said. “It could be fun for you and me. We could throw her a shower and go to those labor classes with her. We could even go in the delivery room with her.”

“Speak for yourself,” Paula said.

“And we could be aunties,” Jessica said with a smile. “I’m liking this idea. I’ll even go with you to a sperm clinic, Erika.”

“I hadn’t considered anonymous insemination,” Erika said. “I have this fear that they would give me the wrong vial and I’d end up with a crazy man’s sperm.”

“They probably toss the crazy sperm,” Jessica said.

“But how do you know what you’re getting?” Erika mused.

“You don’t,” Paula said. “Unless you do a genetic study or at least get a look at all the guy’s siblings and parents … and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents.”

Erika thought of the Elliotts. Now that was an awesome gene pool. “It would be great if I could choose.”

“Yeah,” Jessica said as she sipped her drink. “We could start with that blond guy by the bar with the buff bod.”

“And what if he’s dumb as a bag of hair?” Paula asked.

“We can put intelligence on the list, but that guy looks good enough that he could make millions by being a model and then retire in leisure.”

“What list?” Erika asked, feeling a little blurry from the alcohol.

“We’re making a list of sperm-donor requirements. Play along,” Jessica said firmly. She pulled a pen from her purse and shook the dampness out of a cocktail napkin. “We’re doing this for the sake of your future child.”

“I would want intelligence,” Erika said, allowing herself to be drawn into the ridiculous discussion. “Good looks aren’t enough.”

“I agree,” Paula said. “And no terrible diseases or addictions.”

“Excellent points,” Erika said.

“You’ve already got the height factor covered,” Jessica said.

“No shrimps,” Paula interjected. “He doesn’t need to be the height of a pro basketball player, but definitely over six feet, right?”

“Right,” Erika agreed. “And a sense of humor. Is that genetic?”

“Lack of it can be,” Paula said and waved for the waiter. “Three death-by-chocolate martinis.”

“Chocolate?” Erika echoed. “I’m on my third.”

“No meal is complete without chocolate,” Paula said.

“I didn’t think martinis constituted a meal,” Erika said.

“Sure they do,” she said, pointing to her glass. “Celery’s a vegetable, isn’t it? Cream cheese inside the olive counts as protein, and appletini provides the fruit.”

“Back to the list,” Jessica prompted. “Do you have a strong preference for hair or eye color?”

“No back hair,” Paula said.

“I’ll second that,” Erika said, amazed at how much this ridiculous conversation was reducing her stress level. “I prefer dark hair.”

“Eye color?”

“Green, if possible.” Why not go for the whole shebang, she thought.

“Okay,” Jessica said and nodded at the waiter as he delivered their chocolate martinis. “We have our assignment now. Each of us is to keep our eyes open for a father for Erika’s baby. A tall, intelligent man with dark hair and green eyes. Healthy, no addictions. He must have a sense of humor.”

“And what are we supposed to do once we find this specimen?” Paula asked.

“That’s easy,” Jessica said with a scoff. “Ask him to donate some sperm to Erika.”

Erika choked on her sip of chocolate martini. “He’ll think you’re crazy.”

Jessica shook her head. “That’s why he needs a sense of humor.”

The following morning Erika awakened late, feeling as if a truck had run over her. Thank goodness she didn’t have any appointments this morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hangover. Oh, wait, yes she could. It was last year when Gannon had broken up with her. The bad thing about having a mad, passionate affair with her boss was that she hadn’t been able to tell a soul, not even Paula or Jessica.

Keeping the secret had intensified everything about her relationship with Gannon. The highs, the lows, the ending. She kept telling herself that if she’d been able to talk with her friends about him, he wouldn’t have affected her so much. Unfortunately part of her remained unconvinced.

Her phone rang, the sound of it reverberating painfully in her brain. She snatched it from the cradle. “Hello.”

“Erika, this is Cammie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured her. “Since I didn’t have any appointments scheduled this morning, I decided to come in a little later.”

“That’s fine,” Cammie said. “Except Gannon Elliott has called twice asking for you.”

Darn. “Just tell him I’ll get back to him this afternoon.”

“I think he wanted you to sit in on a luncheon meeting.”

“For what?” Erika asked, immediately feeling suspicious.

“He didn’t tell me.”

Erika sighed. “I’ll call him in a few minutes.” Frowning, she turned on her coffeemaker while she jumped in the shower. Skipping the blow-dry, she smoothed on some hair-wax stuff her stylist had given her and pulled her hair into a low ponytail. She applied some makeup, pulled on a don’t-mess-with-me black trouser suit and a pair of boots, grabbed her coffee and coat and walked out her door, glowering as she hailed a cab.

As she scooted into the taxi, she called his office number by rote. One more thing to irritate her. She needed to forget him. “Erika Layven, returning Gannon Elliott’s call,” she said to his assistant.

“I’ll put you right through.”

“Hello, Erika. I wondered where you were,” Gannon said in a deep voice that slid through her like warm whiskey.

“I understand you wanted me to attend a luncheon appointment. My afternoon is crammed. What did you have in mind?”

“We’re having a luncheon meeting at Pulse. The subject for the article I gave you is on the agenda. Love to have you there. I think your input would be invaluable.”

Erika thought again of the article outline he’d left for her. The subject fascinated her. She’d peeked at it at least a half dozen times after he’d left her office. Temptation slid through her like an evil serpent. “I don’t know. Like I said, I’m very busy this afternoon.”

“You could scoot out after the discussion about the article,” he suggested.

He made it too easy. “Okay. As long as you understand that I’m staying at HomeStyle.”

“Great. I’ll see you at noon,” he told her.

Erika walked into the Pulse meeting room a few minutes early. Furnished with a large wooden table set with seven lunch boxes from a local deli-bakery, the room emitted a let’s-get-busy feeling.

“Very nice choice, Lena,” Erika said to Gannon’s assistant.

Lena, a young married woman who was the mother of twins, beamed. “When Gannon told me you were coming, I made sure there was decent food. Inside the box there’s a chicken-salad sandwich, spicy vegetable soup, a fruit cup and a slice of lemon pound cake.”

“You’re a woman after my own heart. Wouldn’t you rather work for me?” Erika joked. “I’m so much easier to please than he is. And I don’t bark.”

“Who says I bark?” Gannon asked from behind Erika.

She cringed at being caught talking about him at the same time she felt a shot of adrenaline at the sound of his voice. His voice had always affected her that way, sent her heart and hormones off to the races. She definitely needed to rein in her response to him. “Coffee, please,” she mouthed to Lena, then turned to face Gannon. “Good morning. Your assistant has arranged a lovely spread for the meeting.”

His killer Irish eyes were a bit too sharp for her taste this morning. And why did she always forget how broad his shoulders were?

He glanced at the table, then returned his gaze to Erika. “Yes, she has. She resisted fast food when I told her you were coming.”

“Bless you, Lena,” Erika said and accepted the piping-hot coffee Gannon’s assistant offered her.

“You weren’t trying to steal her away from me, were you?”

“Just making her aware of her options,” Erika said with a smile.

“Who says I bark?”

“Everyone,” she said without batting an eye.

He glanced at her coffee. “Black?”

She nodded and took a sip.

“Hmm. Black coffee … coming in late this morning … Did you have a late night last night?”

“Nope.” That was true. She’d come home early and fallen into bed as a result of one too many martinis.

“Out with the deadly duo?” he quizzed, speaking of Jessica and Paula.

She’d revealed far too much of her personal life to him during their affair and she didn’t like his reminders. “As a matter of fact, yes. How’s your family?” she asked, turning the personal questions on him.

He paused and shook his head. “Same as ever.”

“That’s about as vague as you can get,” she said, studying him.

He leaned closer to her, making her heart jump. “You’ll learn more if you rejoin the Pulse team,” he told her in a low voice as four more people entered the room.

Michael Elliott, editor in chief of Pulse and Gannon’s father, entered the room and extended his hand to Erika. “Good to have you back. We’ve missed you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Elliott,” she said as she shook his hand.

“Erika, glad you’re back,” Jim Hensley, chief copy editor, said as he entered with the rest of the department heads.

“Great to see you,” Barb said.

Howard gave her a thumbs-up.

The greetings felt good. A couple of minutes passed while Lena provided everyone with coffee and a bottle of water.

Michael called the meeting to order. “Let’s get to business. Gannon, you go first.”

“I’d like to start with the baby story since Erika tells me she’ll need to cut out early. Erika, what are your thoughts?”

“I suggest incorporating several points of view. A scientist, a couple who have chosen their baby’s sex, outlining the procedures and costs involved, and a couple who considered choosing their baby’s sex but changed their minds. It would be interesting to learn which sex is chosen most frequently. And at-home techniques that do or don’t work.”

“I like it all,” Michael Elliott said. “And you’re the one to do it.”

Erika blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Since you’re moving back to Pulse,” Gannon’s father said, “you should take the lead on this. It’s going to be a major story with possibilities for awards. You’re perfect for it.”

Erika tossed a questioning glare at Gannon.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” he said. “We have a contact for the scientist, but knowing you, you have your own. You always found the most amazing contacts and got the best quotes.”

“Hey,” Barb said, “if you keep talking about Erika like she walks on water, you’re going to make the rest of us feel like hacks.”

“She does walk on water, doesn’t she?” Howard said, wearing a deadpan expression.

Erika glanced at Gannon and felt a sliver of suspicion. This meeting was way more warm and fuzzy than the meetings she remembered from a year ago, and while Michael Elliott gave the occasional pat on the back, he’d never been one for effusive praise.

If Gannon had pulled his father and three of Pulse’s top power brokers in on seducing her back to the team, something had to be up. Something she hadn’t been told. Something big.

“You guys are too good to me.” She glanced at her watch. “Time for me to go back to HomeStyle land. It was great seeing all of you.”

Gannon stood. “I need a quick word with Erika. How about if everyone starts on lunch?”

“No problem,” his father said. “Don’t take too long.”

Lena handed Erika’s lunch box to her. “Don’t forget your lunch.”

Erika couldn’t prevent a smile. “Spoken like a true mom. Thanks.” She walked out the door, feeling Gannon directly behind her.

He pulled the door closed and she rounded on him. “There seems to be some confusion.”

“What confusion?” he asked, his face revealing nothing.

“Your father, along with other staff members, appears to have the false impression that I’m rejoining Pulse.”

“Admit it, Erika. You can’t resist the baby story. You want to be back on Pulse so bad you can taste it.”

“The baby story interests me, but it’s not enough to bring me back to Pulse.”

“Then what is?” he asked, surprising her again with his wide-open offer. “We need you on the team more than ever. Name your price.”

Three

Gannon allowed Erika thirty hours to think about what he could do to bring her back to Pulse. The negotiation process was turning out to be tougher than he’d planned. In the past, although he’d appreciated Erika’s originality and adventurous attitude on the professional end, he’d always thought of her as cooperative.

Even at the end of their affair, she hadn’t fought him when he’d abruptly broken off with her. He still felt a twinge about it. He’d always been scrupulous in avoiding office affairs. Lord knew his grandfather frowned on anything that bore even a hint of scandal. Gannon knew the reason he’d risen to his present position so quickly was because he’d embraced the Elliott family work ethic by skipping vacation for two years and because he’d built a reputation of integrity.

Erika had been his one slip. Her combination of natural beauty and willingness to take chances and succeed had caught his attention. He’d never met a woman he could talk with more easily. At the same time, he knew about the kick of fire beneath her black suits and businesslike attitude. He’d seen her naked, felt her body against his, felt himself sink inside her, into an oblivion of pleasure.

He felt himself harden at the memory and swore under his breath. He adjusted his tie and opened his office door to find his father on the other side.

His father looked at him quizzically. “Bad time? You headed somewhere?”

“Just wrapping up a little negotiation. What do you need?”

His father gave a short laugh. “Funny. You looked like you were gearing up for battle.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Gannon said and shook off a ripple of discomfort.

“I’m knocking off early to take your mother to dinner.”

Gannon did a quick mental calculation. “Let’s see, it’s not your anniversary, her birthday or your birthday. What’s the occasion?”

His father frowned at him. “No need for a special occasion,” he said but pointed to the slight bulge at his middle. “She’s trying to get me to cut out some of my takeout.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Having a wife wouldn’t be a bad idea for you either.”

Gannon shook his head. “I’m married to my job. I’m married to winning the competition so you’ll be the new CEO of EPH.”

His father smiled and squeezed Gannon’s shoulder.

“You’re a formidable opponent, Gannon. I’m glad you’re on my team.”

Even though Gannon was thirty-three years old, he still appreciated a pat on the back from his father. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Okay. Don’t stay too late or your mother will fuss at me.”

“Enjoy your meal and give Mom a hug from me,” Gannon said and headed toward the elevators. “Good night.” He stepped inside and punched the button for Erika’s floor. Seconds later the doors whooshed open and he walked to her office.

Her assistant had already left, so he knocked lightly on her door.

“Come in,” she called.

Gannon stepped inside her office and watched her hold up one finger as she talked on the phone. He nodded and pulled the door shut behind him. He approved of the comfortable but businesslike room. Erika’s touches of individuality made it interesting without being fussy.

Down deep Gannon felt the drag of fascination with her. She was perfectly groomed, with curves in all the right places. Unashamed of her height, she wore heels without batting an eye. She rarely attempted to tame her riot of long brown curls. Her hair suggested a wild streak, one which he’d experienced intimately.

She hung up the phone and met his gaze. “Sorry. That was the nervous producer of a new decorator makeover show we’re featuring.”

“You reassured him,” Gannon said.

She nodded and lifted her wrist to look pointedly at her watch. “He should be good for fourteen hours. Have a seat.”

Good sign, he thought. At least she was willing to talk this time. Unbuttoning his jacket, he pulled the chair closer to her desk and sat down. “What do you want?”

She met his gaze for a long, level moment that ricocheted through his system. “First, what is behind your determination to get me back at Pulse? I’ve been at HomeStyle for a year. You didn’t make a peep when I left. Why the big rush now?”

“Circumstances have changed. I can tell you why, but I’ll need you to keep it confidential,” he said.

“Of course,” she said.

He knew firsthand that Erika could keep a secret. She’d been as discreet as he had been when they’d been involved. “My grandfather has decided to step down and he has chosen an odd way of determining his successor. The four top magazines of EPH will compete against each other during the next year. The editor in chief of the magazine with the highest increase in sales proportionally will become the new CEO of EPH.”

Erika stared at him speechless for a long moment. “Wow,” she finally managed and nodded. “So you, of course, are determined to see your father be CEO.”

“That’s why I’m willing to give you a raise, a promotion and whatever else I’m capable of giving to get you on our team.”

She gave a half smile and glanced away. “In that case, this is what I want,” she said and opened the folder to the photos for the baby article he’d shared with her days ago.

She wanted the article? This was too easy, he thought with a surge of victory. He leaned back in his seat and waved his hand toward the folder. “We have a deal. The article’s all yours.”

“I’m not talking about just the article, Gannon. Yes, I want the article. I also want a baby.”

Gannon stared at her in confusion. He shook his head. “I couldn’t have heard you correctly. You said you wanted a baby?”

“You heard me. I want a baby.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Erika stood. “You have excellent genes. I want them for my child.”

The woman had gone insane. Totally, he thought. He shook his head and opened his mouth to tell her she was crazy, but she raised her hand to stop him.

“Just listen. It really won’t be that difficult for you. We can sign an agreement. I won’t expect financial or any other kind of support. All I want is your sperm. We don’t even have to go to bed. You can donate it at a laboratory. I’ll even buy the girlie magazine. All I want is your sperm,” she repeated.

He gaped at her for a moment of intense silence, then stood. “You’ve lost your mind. Why do you want me? Why don’t you find some other guy? Get married?” he asked, although the prospect of Erika getting married didn’t sit well.

“I told you. You’re tall, intelligent, no diseases. Great genes. If I’m going to have a baby, I need to get pregnant soon.”

“Why? Plenty of women wait until late in their thirties to get pregnant.”

“I can’t,” she said, and he saw the edge of desperation in her eyes. “My doctor told me I have a condition that affects my fertility and the longer I wait to conceive, the less likely I’ll be able to. I’ve always wanted a child, so I need to do this now.”

The strain in her voice made his gut knot. “What about adoption?” he asked.

“I looked into it. It’s expensive and takes forever.”

Of all the requests he’d expected when he walked into Erika’s office, this one didn’t even come close. He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t see how—” He broke off when he saw the combination of stubborn determination and desperation on her face. “I’m going to have to think about this.”

She nodded. “I understand. Let me know when you decide.”

“Would you consider working part-time for Pulse while I decide about—” he cleared his throat “—donating my sperm?”

She looked at him for three seconds. “No.”

“But I can guarantee an increase in your salary, a promotion over your last tenure with the magazine, increased visibility. How can you turn that down?”

“I want a baby. You won’t have to do that much to help me. Your donation is a deal breaker. And I want a contract.”

Gannon swallowed an oath. What had happened to sweet Erika during the last year? She’d grown a spine of steel. Lord help him. “I’ll get back to you,” he said shortly and turned toward the door.

“Thanks, and good night to you, too,” she murmured from behind him.

He strode to the elevator, mentally swearing every other step of the way. He punched the elevator button and shook his head. How in hell could he make this kind of deal? He could see the discussion he would hold with his attorney now. If he found out, his grandfather would have a cow.

Gannon had been told by both his father and grandfather that he needed to set an example of unimpeachable discretion and integrity. How could he possibly explain this to his family, let alone the rest of the world? He walked out of the elevator and headed for his office, giving a distracted nod in response to a copy editor’s greeting.

Entering his office, he closed the door behind him and loosened his tie as he walked to the window. Staring down at the city lights, he rested his hands on his hips, his mind sorting through a dozen possibilities.

Just 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.