“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
An arched eyebrow expressed surprise. “Then I’m sure there’ll be plenty of contenders for the position at the party.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, given the blatant sexiness of her dress. “But will I click with any of them?” she tossed out a touch ruefully, knowing how very rare that had been in her life, and the one possibility of it happening tonight was distancing himself from her.
“Very elusive, that click,” he remarked dryly.
“You find that, too?” She was babbling—babbling because she was so knotted up inside, any words were better than silence.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
The hard challenge in his eyes made her feel silly. It derided any assumption that everything was easy for him. She really had no idea what his life was like, had come to find out, but…this wasn’t why he was here and she was putting every foot wrong.
“I’m sure you have a bigger choice of candidates for the click than I have,” she shot out defensively.
“Believe me, that doesn’t make it any less elusive.”
“I’m told you’ve had a lot of women, Peter.”
“Trial and error. How many errors have you made, Erin?”
She shook her head, completely rattled by the swift riposte and the highly personal probing in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how we moved onto this stuff. You wanted to know about Mrs Harper.”
“And the errors made there,” he agreed, releasing her hand and gesturing to the chair opposite his. “Are you in a hurry to get this dinner over with?”
The question flustered her. Everything about this meeting seemed to be going hopelessly awry, including her fiction about a party, which he naturally assumed would put a limit on this meeting. “No. No. Time doesn’t matter,” she muttered, settling on the chair and shooting him a look of appeal for a less pressured feeling to this meeting. “It’s Thomas who matters. His life is being screwed up by warring parents.”
“You care more about the child than the father?” Peter queried as he resumed his seat.
It made Erin pause to consider. “I guess I empathise more with Thomas. My own parents divorced when I was seven.”
“Were you the only child?”
“Yes.” She grimaced, remembering all too well the sense of being deserted. “A very lonely only child.”
“Who got custody of you?”
“My mother.”
“Was that what you wanted?”
“I wanted them to stay together.” She flashed him a look of burning conviction. “You shouldn’t have children if the marriage isn’t rock solid.”
“Is that why you haven’t married? You’ve never felt secure enough in a relationship?”
This conversation was going right off the rails. She didn’t want to analyse herself, not to him or anyone else. As it was, he’d drawn stuff from her she never talked about and it was none of his business. “We’re not here to talk about me,” she tersely reminded him.
“Just curious about where you’re coming from,” he said amiably, reaching for the bottle of wine, which was resting in an ice-bucket. “This is a Margaret River Chardonnay. Would you like to share it with me?”
No way was she going to add alcohol to the volatile mix of feeling emotionally torn up by this man. Her tongue was running out of control and she needed to put a guard on it. She nodded to the corked bottle on the table. “I’ll stick to water, thank you.”
“Saving yourself for party drinks.”
Erin paused to take stock of what was happening here. The party lie kept spawning questions that were pricking at her private life. Why was Peter Ramsey putting her so much on the spot if he had no personal interest in her?
His reaction to her attempt to look as attractive as she could had definitely been negative, yet since she’d dismissed her dressed up appearance as nothing to do with him, he seemed intent on finding out more about her than the main purpose of this meeting warranted.
Feeling uncomfortably confused with the situation, she looked him straight in the eye and belligerently stated, “No. I just prefer water. I like to keep a clear head.”
“Even at a party?”
“Especially at a party.”
“Had a bad experience,” he assumed.
“No. And I don’t want to invite one.”
“Sounds like being in control is of prime importance to you.”
He was boring in again, the piercing blue eyes focused so intensely on hers, answers to his questions had been spilling out as though drawn from her by a magnet. Despite being stone cold sober, Erin felt hopelessly out of control with Peter Ramsey. Her pulse was racing and her mind was struggling to keep up with his.