again. “No. I have a new one perfect for you to use.” She pulled a mug from a box she hadn’t unpacked yet. “I received this during a Chinese gift exchange at the HomeStyle Christmas party. I realize it’s missing a zero, but I think it will do.”
He glanced at the mug and gave a cryptic smile. It had a computer-altered image of a million-dollar bill wrapped around it. “I’ll take it.”
She dumped an envelope of hot chocolate mix into the mug and poured hot water, then stirred with one of the plastic straws she’d taken from the community coffee area. “You may borrow the mug,” she said. “I’m not giving it to you.”
“Thanks. You’re growing more territorial in your advanced years,” he said, taking the mug.
“Just embracing the boundaries that protect me,” she said and fixed her own mug of hot chocolate.
“That sounds like a line from either a shrink or a self-improvement book.”
“Paula’s psychologist. It clicked for me.”
“How about the TDH? Did he click with you?”
“So far,” she said, surprised he’d asked and not wanting to discuss it further. She buried her face into her mug and took a sip of hot chocolate.
Silence followed.
“That’s all? So far?” he prodded.
She nodded. “Uh-huh. What about you? How’s your love life?”
He blinked at her question and looked away. “It’s not a priority. I’ve got my hands full with this competition for the position of CEO of EPH.”
“Is that your standard answer?” she couldn’t resist asking.
He met her gaze and shook his head, then took a quick drink from his mug. “There was a time when you were intimidated by my position and name.”
That was before you ripped out my heart and stomped it under the heel of your Italian loafer. “That was before you tried to guilt me into giving you hot chocolate from my private stash.”
“I didn’t just try,” he said and took another sip from the mug. “I succeeded.”
“So you did. Please excuse me while I finish editing this article.”
He glanced at her desk. “Which one is it?”
“The one on the growing influence of women in sports,” she said.
“I thought that might appeal to your feminist side.”
“I suppose,” she said. “We’ve still got a long way to go to catch up with the kinds of salaries men in sports make. But that’s a matter of finding a commercial angle and creating a rabid fan base. There are plenty of barriers left to be broken.” She paused. “I’d like to see some insets on some of the current barrier-breaking women and include a little personal information with each one.”
He grinned and lifted his mug in salute. “It was a good article, but I knew you’d find a way to make it better.”
“Thanks.” His praise warmed her almost as much as the hot chocolate. Sinking into his green gaze, she caught herself. She might need more than a distance rule with Gannon. A time limit, too. “If you’ll excuse me so I can get back to it …. ”
“You’re hinting for me to go.”
“Smart man,” she said and moved to sit behind her desk.
“Thanks for the hot chocolate, Erika.”
“You’re welcome.” She forced herself to look at her computer screen as he left the room. “I’ll get the mug from you another time.”
She focused her attention on the article for thirty minutes and then stretched as she glanced at her frog clock. She looked out the window, down to the street below. The traffic appeared lighter. She should be able to catch a train home without fighting the extra riders who usually took a bus or car. Wrapping her scarf around her neck, she pulled on her coat and hat. She grabbed her purse and cut off her lamp and light, then left her office.
She couldn’t avoid passing Gannon’s office on the way to the elevator. “Night,” she called without stopping.
“If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll give you a ride home.”
The offer stopped her in her tracks. Normally she would choose to avoid riding in a vehicle with Gannon because of her two-foot rule. But declining a chauffeur-driven ride home in a toasty-warm vehicle that would deposit her at her front door as opposed to walking two blocks in sleet from the train station would be insane.
“Thank you. I’ll wait,” she said.
Gannon appeared from his office in a long black wool coat with a cashmere scarf bearing his initials. “Just talked to my driver. He said there are outages all over the place. I’m glad my building has its own emergency generator.”
“I don’t usually have a problem with losing power. When I do, it only lasts a couple of hours. I can live with that, although I was looking forward to using my electric blanket tonight.”
“TDH can’t take care of that?” he asked, punching the elevator button.
“I’m sure he could if I invited him,” she said, feeling prickly at his repeated references to Ger, even though Gannon didn’t know who Ger was. “But the cocktail party was canceled, so he accepted a rain check. Why are you so interested?”
The elevator doors whooshed open and they stepped inside. “Just making conversation. Are you sensitive about discussing your TDH?”
“No,” she said but felt as if she wasn’t telling the truth. She pushed back. “How’s Lydia?”
He did a double take. “Lydia?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think you dated her after you dumped me.”
“I didn’t dump you,” he said.
“Yes, you did,” she said. “I can repeat the dump conversation word for word for you if you like. ‘Rumors about my involvement with you are getting back to me. I think we need to cool things down. This wouldn’t be good for my reputation or yours.’”
They arrived on the ground level and the doors opened. “The car’s here. We can finish this discussion later,” he said and led the way.
Wind and sleet slapped Erika’s face as she saw the driver appear to open the car door. “Good evening, Mr. Elliott. Ma’am.”
“Sorry to drag you out in this mess,” Gannon said as he waited for Erika to slide into the backseat.
She nearly moaned at the toasty temperature inside. A jazz CD played. Erika wouldn’t mind spending the night in such comforting surroundings. Getting a cab would have been nearly impossible, and walking those blocks to her brownstone would have been a freezing pain in the booty.
He turned to Erika. “Did
