Brenda Jackson - The Elliotts - Mixing Business with Pleasure

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.”

She laughed. “I’m trying to picture you in rubber waders instead of a Brooks Brothers suit.”

He moved his hand to her mouth and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Are you mocking me again? There was also that summer in high school when I was determined to play in a garage band.”

Surprise raced through her. “Oh, I never knew. You never mentioned that before when we—” She broke off. “When we were involved. There’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”

“You don’t sound happy about that,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

She wasn’t, and the knowledge irritated her. “Not much I can do about it, is there?”

“You can do more than you think you can,” he said and leaned back to toss back the rest of his champagne.

What an obscure comment, she thought, watching the muscles of his throat as he swallowed. She remembered kissing him there on his throat and hearing him groan in pleasure. The sounds he’d made when they’d made love had made her crazy to please him.

He tilted the bottle of champagne and filled his glass and topped off hers again. “Almost done.” Meeting her gaze, he leaned closer. Then closer. So close her vision blurred.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“I didn’t beg,” she said in the only protest she could muster. She hadn’t begged. Not aloud anyway.

“We’re not in my apartment,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

All the breath left her lungs. He moved his mouth over hers, caressing, exploring. His tongue slipped over her lips and she instinctively opened, letting him in.

He made a ghost of a groan that melted her thighs and turned her to liquid. He pulled back slightly. “Take a drink of champagne,” he told her. “I want to taste it on your mouth.”

Oooooh, wow. With a not-so-steady hand she lifted the flute and took a sip.

He slid his hand underneath her jaw and lowered his mouth again, slipping his tongue over her mouth and then over her tongue.

The kiss went on and on and she felt as if she’d been injected with a drug that made her move in slow motion. Nothing moved quickly except her heart. She felt the flute lifted from her hand.

The kiss turned deeper and Gannon pulled her from her chair onto his lap. A sliver of caution dented the thick aura of desire infusing her brain. “Is this a good idea?” she managed.

“We’re just kissing,” he said.

But her body wanted more, she thought. A lot more. He slid his hand around the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth.

Almost of their own accord her hands went to his hair. His groan of pleasure rewarded her and she felt his hands on the sides of her breasts. Her nipples immediately peaked against her bra. One, two, three seconds passed and he touched her nipples.

The sensation sent a ricochet of tension down between her legs, where she felt wet and swollen.

“Do you want more?” he whispered.

The forbidden offer tantalized her unbearably. “How can I possibly think straight with the way you’re touching me?”