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