Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6

by Various Authors

  “You know you can call me for anything.”

  “Including grandchildren?”

  He groaned. “I should have known you’d find a way to slip that in.”

  “Don’t make me wait forever. ’Bye, darlings,” she said and kissed each of them before she left.

  Silence fell over the four of them.

  “This is weird,” Bridget said. “I’m worried.”

  “She doesn’t want us to worry,” Liam said.

  “What do you think it is?” Tag asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gannon said.

  “Has Dad said anything to you?” Tag asked.

  “Not a word.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Bridget said, and from the looks on his brothers’ faces and the knot in his own gut, Gannon sensed she was speaking for all of them.

  Erika plowed her way through the work that had piled up during her absence on Friday. The afternoon wore into early evening before she took a break and stretched. A light knock sounded on her door and Gannon walked in.

  Her heart immediately lifted and she rose from her chair. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, smiling at the sight of him.

  “Same here,” he said, tugging her from behind her desk and into his arms. “Are you sure someone didn’t try to pack two days into this one?”

  “I’m with you on that, but the weekend was great,” she said, relishing the feel of his arms around her. “It’s like I turn my back and everyone races into my office and dumps their work on me before I can yell stop.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, this is crazy, but I’ve missed you.”

  Her heart tightened at his confession. “I guess we can be crazy together, because I’ve missed you, too.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that made her dizzy and warm. She pulled back slightly and looked at him. “That felt like two martinis on an empty stomach.”

  He gave only a half grin, making her take a second look. Something about him was different. Sure, the office brought the usual pressures, but he seemed more tense.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He narrowed his eyes and glanced away. “Nothing. Regular headaches. Rough landing after my trip to paradise with my dream girl.”

  Her heart gave a little flip. “I appreciate the flattery.”

  “It’s more than flattery,” he told her, his gaze making her heart skitter.

  “Thanks,” she said, lifting her hand to his jaw. “Dream guy.”

  His jaw clenched slightly.

  She frowned in concern. “Gannon, I don’t want to pry, but something’s wrong. You can tell me if you want, but you don’t have to.”

  He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, then exhaling. “My mother is going into the hospital for some tests. She won’t tell us what’s wrong. Neither will Dad. I grilled him this afternoon and couldn’t get anything out of him.”

  The pain in his voice made her chest hurt. “Oh, Gannon, I’m so sorry. All of you must be sick with worry.”

  He shook his head. “My father may seem like the rock of my family—and don’t get me wrong, he’s solid. But my mother…she’s the glue. I mean, look at the personalities in my family. All of us kids have been a handful at one time or another, but she smoothes everything out and makes it work. I don’t know what we’d do if something happened to—” He broke off, shaking his head again.

  “You can’t think that way until you find out the rest of what’s going on.”

  “I prefer having all the information,” he said in a rough voice.

  “You like having control,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “And you don’t have it in this situation.”

  He sighed. “No. I don’t. And I don’t understand why she wouldn’t confide in her own children.”

  “Don’t you think she must have had her reasons?” she asked.

  “She’s usually the most reasonable person in the world.”

  “Then you’re going to have to give her some room to do what she feels she needs to do.”

  “None of us likes being shut out.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. You think she’ll tell you more after she gets the test results?”

  “Yeah, I just wish I knew…”

  “So you could fix it,” she added. “What can I do to help you?”

  He met her gaze. “You’re doing it.”

  The way he looked at her made her feel light-headed. The way he looked at her made her feel necessary. Was that possible with a man like Gannon?

  After that, they spent every night together. It was as if the puzzle pieces between them had clicked together and neither wanted to question it. It just felt right.

  Gannon joined her when she visited Tia and he waved coffee under her nose in the mornings to help her wake up. They made love every night and she fell asleep in his arms.

  The fact that he still hadn’t produced a contract from his personal lawyer bothered her. She’d brought it up several times once he’d insisted it was in its final draft. She had to believe he would come around. Maybe this time she would get the man and the baby. Maybe she would get it all.

  The prospect made her so breathless she couldn’t overthink it.

  Gannon joined his family for dinner one of the week end nights but showed up at her apartment afterward. Erika knew she was falling more deeply in love with him with each passing moment and she couldn’t find any motivation to stop herself.

  Monday started out the same way. She and Gannon worked their jobs and he surprised her with a rose that evening. Erika carried the secret pleasure of the rose and his attention all through the next day.

  Late Tuesday afternoon he entered her office with a somber expression on his face. He closed the door be hind him and adjusted his tie.

  Erika felt a spike of alarm. “What’s wrong? Is it your mother?”

  She rushed toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her. “No. Not my mother.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sighed. “The rumors have started again. A copy editor mentioned to an intern that she’d seen us together. It must have been when we took that walk the other night.”

  She fought a wave of apprehension. “You’re not dumping me again,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No. Not dumping. We just probably need to cool things down for a while.”

  She didn’t find his response at all reassuring. “What do you mean by cool down? And how long is a while?”

  “Cool down means we probably shouldn’t see each other outside of work for a while.”

  A knot of ugly tension formed in her throat. “And a while is?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, Erika. Maybe we should put this off until the CEO challenge is over.”

  She gasped. “But that’s a whole year.”

  His jaw tightened in displeasure. “Yeah, I know. But it might be best.”

  “For whom?” she demanded.

  “For everyone,” he said, his impatience bleeding into his voice. “This isn’t what I want.”

  “Well, you sure made the decision fast. I think I was in your bed this morning.”

  “C’mon, Erika. This is a tough time. My focus has to stay on Pulse and getting my father into the CEO position. I have feelings for you, but this isn’t the right time.”

  Feeling like the worst kind of fool, she fought a mix of fury and tears. She felt totally betrayed. He hadn’t made promises, she reminded herself, but it didn’t matter. She’d allowed herself to believe. She’d let down her guard.

  Gannon might watch out for Pulse, his father and her job, but he wasn’t going to watch out for her heart.

  Her throat was so tight she could barely speak. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this from you. Again.”

  “It’s not the same thing,” he said.

  “Yes, it is.” She shook her head to clear it. She had to take care of herself. “I can’t stay with Pulse.”

&n
bsp; “What?”

  She shook her head again. “I can’t stay with Pulse.”

  “You’re not going to use that as a trump card to force me to go public with our relationship, are you?”

  He may as well have slapped her. “This isn’t about you,” she said. “This is about my emotional well-being.

  Not that you would understand that. I don’t want to have to see you every day and—”

  “We can make arrangements so we don’t have to interact as much,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be on the same floor. I’m not going to do that to myself. I’m going back to HomeStyle immediately.”

  “You can’t,” he said.

  “I can. You never signed a contract for me and my contract stipulated that I could return to HomeStyle at any time.”

  He stared at her in disbelief.

  An ugly suspicion boiled inside her. “You never even intended to give me your sperm, did you?”

  Gannon gave an exasperated sigh. “It was an insane idea. I hoped I could make you see—”

  “My insanity,” she interjected, fury rising inside her. “Yes, I can and I will return to HomeStyle,” she repeated, clinging to the resolve growing inside her. “I’m getting off your seesaw, Gannon. And I’m not getting back on.”

  Gannon stayed up until nearly dawn, prowling his empty, lonely two-story apartment. He could still smell the scent of Erika, hear the echo of her laughter. He didn’t want to sit on the sofa because she wasn’t there smiling up at him.

  As he watched the sun rise over the cold city from his window, he searched his mind for ways to keep her in his life. Sure, he wanted her at Pulse, but he wanted her after work even more.

  In fact, the want was feeling a lot closer to need. More than sexual, though heaven knew he couldn’t get enough of her in bed either.

  There had to be a way to negotiate this situation. There was always a way.

  Riding the wave of her anger and refusing to give in to her hurt, Erika went to work early and moved her be longings back to her HomeStyle office. Her successor hadn’t gotten completely settled in, so Erika just stacked her boxes against the wall next to the door.

  She left a note for Michael on his assistant’s desk simply telling him that she preferred to return to HomeStyle because the position suited her better. She arranged a transfer to a highly coveted position for her temporary replacement. No need for the woman to get the shaft just because things hadn’t worked out for Erika at Pulse.

  She kept busy putting her office in order and reacquainting herself with the business of producing HomeStyle.

  Midmorning an e-mail from Gannon popped up. Even the sight of his name made her heart jump. Disgusted with her reaction, she vacillated over whether to delete it without reading it, but some sick part of her couldn’t resist.

  He was surprised she’d moved so fast. They should talk about things. A year wasn’t so long.

  Maybe not for him, she thought and deleted the message.

  She told herself she was doing fine—not great but okay—until she walked out of her office and nearly plowed into him. Seeing him shocked the air out of her lungs.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she managed.

  “We need to talk.”

  Talking with Gannon got her into trouble. Looking at Gannon got her into trouble.

  “I’m busy,” she said and was amazed that her feet followed her mental direction to step away from the fire that had burned her twice.

  I’m busy became her mantra. She practiced it at odd moments when he invaded her mind. She said it to him when he tried to invade her office. She even began to repeat it in her sleep for the next two nights.

  On Wednesday she received an unexpected invitation. Tea on Thursday with Maeve Elliott, the wife of Patrick Elliott, current CEO of Elliott Publication Holdings. Cameras and recorders permitted.

  She was so excited she could barely stand it. For months she’d requested an interview with Maeve at the family townhome, but Maeve’s assistant had always put her off.

  She couldn’t believe her luck. What a coup. She immediately began to plan for the meeting, jotting down notes and arranging for a sensitive, polite and talented photographer. She told herself the fact that Maeve was Gannon’s grandmother wasn’t part of her intense curiosity about the woman. Her interest was purely professional.

  Which sounded like bull and she hadn’t even said it aloud. The following morning she changed her clothes three times and took an extra outfit to work in case she spilled something on herself.

  A half hour before her appointment with Maeve, she and the photographer took a cab to Ninetieth and Amsterdam Avenue. Gannon had told her the place was huge by Manhattan standards, with three stories of living space and an unheard-of half-submerged garage. Erika also knew that Maeve and Patrick’s orphaned twin granddaughters lived at the townhome during the week since both of them worked at EPH.

  As the cab driver slowed in front of the address, she took in the Manhattan home of Gannon’s grandparents. The black wrought-iron gate covered in ivy discouraged uninvited guests. The gray stone building with white trim and a red front door sat back from the street about ten feet.

  The photographer, Tom, gave a low whistle. “Nice place.”

  “It’s beautiful. We won’t take outside shots in order to protect their privacy.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I’ve got my flash ready for inside.”

  “I’ll ask her permission before you shoot,” she said, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. “Are you ready?”

  He nodded and got out of the car, then turned to assist her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Great manners. That’s part of the reason I chose you.”

  He smiled. “My mother will be delighted to hear it.”

  They rang the doorbell and a woman answered the door. “Mrs. Elliott will have tea in the library,” she said and led Erika and Tom to the room left of the foyer. The grand entrance boasted a ceiling that went up to the roof and showcased a stained-glass skylight.

  Erika spied a grand piano farther down the entryway. She heard the quiet click of Tom’s camera as she entered the formal library. The lovely room emanated a warm ambience while filled with antiques.

  A silver tray was already set with tea, tiny sandwiches and pastries. Three place settings of delicate rose-covered bone china were placed on the cocktail table.

  “I wonder who—”

  “Hello, Erika,” a familiar voice said from the foyer.

  Gannon. She looked at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  He laughed. “I’m having tea with my grandmother.”

  Realization sank inside her. “You set this up,” she said, unable to keep an accusing tone from her voice.

  “Yes, I did. And you’re glad I did. Right?”

  She opened her mouth and worked it, wanting to stalk out of the town house. But that would have been unbearably rude, and she couldn’t give up the opportunity to meet Maeve even with Gannon there.

  He turned behind him and extended his hand. “Grandmother Maeve, this is Erika Layven, the man aging editor of our new magazine HomeStyle.”

  A small-boned, thin woman with mostly white hair pulled into an elegant updo entered the room. She wore a well-tailored dress and a locket around her neck, but what captured Erika’s attention was the spark in her eyes and her kind smile.

  “Erika, it’s lovely to meet you. Gannon has told me you’re a clever, industrious woman with a good heart. He mentioned your involvement in the mentoring pro gram.” Maeve extended her hand in welcome as she spoke in her lilting tone.

  Erika fought an odd urge to curtsy and shook Maeve’s hand instead. “Thank you for inviting me today. I’m honored.”

  “Please sit so we can enjoy our tea,” she said, waving her hand toward the chair across from the settee. “You, too, Gannon. It’s been a long time since you took afternoon tea.”

&n
bsp; Gannon smiled gently at his grandmother. “Can’t deny that. I’m usually drinking coffee around this time to get a second wind.”

  “Tea’s better for you,” she said and turned to Tom. “Would you like to take a few pictures now?”

  “Thank you very much, ma’am,” he said and began to snap away.

  “May we take a couple with Gannon, too, please?” Erika asked.

  Maeve beamed. “I’m always happy to have my picture taken with my handsome grandson.”

  Gannon threw Erika a questioning glance. “You’ll let me see this if you decide to print it.”

  “Of course,” she said, feeling her stomach knot with a sense of loss as she watched him treat his grand mother with such deference. Erika longed to be part of Gannon’s whole life, his work, his home and his family. But it would never happen.

  Tom took a few more shots and Maeve lifted her hand. “That’s enough. I’ll ask Annie to bring another setting and you can join us, too.”

  Tom glanced at Erika with a look of desperation. He was obviously terrified of taking tea with Mrs. Elliott.

  “I know Tom would love to stay, but he has another assignment today,” Erika said.

  “Exactly,” he said. “I hope you’ll excuse me.”

  “That’s fine,” Maeve said. “Don’t let us keep you. Be careful with the wind. It’s a bit nasty today.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said and smiled, then left for the door.

  “What a polite man,” Maeve said. “You don’t see that often enough these days. Let’s have Annie serve the tea and we can chat.”

  Erika was scrupulously polite during the visit, biting back the urge to scowl at Gannon for ruining the time with his intrusion. She didn’t want to be distracted by the way he stretched out his long legs or the way he laughed at his grandmother’s tales. She didn’t want to notice the deference with which he treated her. She didn’t want to think of him as capable of sweet attentiveness. She much preferred the cold-monster image she’d built in her mind as a form of protection.

  “Tell Erika how you and Grandfather met,” Gannon suggested.

  “I was a seamstress in Ireland and he had come for a visit. I was nineteen years old and Patrick was tall with black hair and eyes as blue as the sea. And relentless. When he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it,” she said, shaking her head. “Back then I had long red hair and a few men wanting my hand, but Patrick just pushed them out of his way. Swept me off my feet and took me away from Ireland, and that was that.”