“No.” There was no party.
“So come with me instead.” His mouth broke into a dazzling white grin. “Think about it. It’s only right for the prince to sweep Cinderella off to his castle. We can’t let the story end here, Erin.”
Her mouth had gone completely dry. She swallowed hard to work some moisture into it as her dazed mind came to grips with a move she’d given up believing would happen. Peter Ramsey was attracted to her. He wanted her to go with him, be with him.
“No. Ending it here wouldn’t feel good,” she blurted out, throwing all sense of caution to the wind.
He laughed, delighted with her reply. “Click!” he said, reminding her of their earlier conversation about finding someone who was tuned in on the same wavelength. “My horse awaits,” he added, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to draw her to hers.
“Is it a white charger?” she asked giddily, her hand shooting up to meet his, her body lifting from the chair in a surge of wild happiness.
“Blue,” he replied with mock ruefulness. “But it is charged with a lot of horsepower.”
She laughed, deliriously aware of his fingers enclosing hers, forging a link that was not about to let her slip away from him. A brief separation came as they paused on their way out of the restaurant to pay for the dinner, but once that was done, Peter instantly recaptured her hand and maintained the connection while they walked along together.
It was Friday night and Oxford Street was thronged with people intent on having a good time at the end of their working week. Despite the boisterous crowd milling around them, they moved in a space of their own, as though the big man beside her generated a force-field that kept others from touching them. They occupied a magic circle, Erin thought fancifully, refusing to think about where they were going, revelling in the exhilarating sense of not knowing what might come next.
They turned a corner. “Parking stable in the next block,” Peter informed her, still enjoying the fiction she had fallen in with.
Her feet wanted to dance. She did feel like Cinderella, miraculously going to the prince’s ball. “I wonder if we can stop the clock from striking twelve,” she said whimsically.
“Are you planning on running away at midnight?”
“That’s when this day ends,” she reminded him, secretly hoping that the adventure they were embarking upon would keep its exciting fascination for both of them.
“I do have a glass slipper up my sleeve,” he said with arch confidence.
“You do?”
He grinned. “I know where you work so I can find you again.”
She didn’t work at the preschool, but he could find her through her aunt if he really wanted to. A fountain of joy was bubbling through her as they entered the parking station. She felt no trepidation whatsoever about accompanying him anywhere at all. It seemed to her that a fairy godmother had waved her wand, ordaining their coming together, because however unlikely it was, they were meant to meet.
This lovely sense of a benign Fate was abruptly shaken when Peter led her to a royal-blue BMW Z4 sports convertible. It was too coincidental for her to be personally confronted by two such cars on the same day. Her heart quivered with shock as her mind made the obvious connection. She turned to Peter, her eyes searching for the truth in his.
“It was you at the pedestrian crossing near the preschool.”
“Yes, it was,” he acknowledged without the slightest hesitation.
“And then…then you just happened to drop in at that park?”
“No. Your smile drew me there.”
“My smile…”
Bright red danger flashes were popping in her mind. This was crazy. A man as powerful as Peter Ramsey stopping for a woman he thought was a preschool teacher? It was too far out…too…
His hand was suddenly cupping her cheek, its warmth arousing an instant pleasure in his touch. She automatically leaned into it. His fingers gently stroked her temple, somehow soothing the tumult his words had triggered. He smiled, making it seem perfectly reasonable that a smile could have immense drawing power. Her throat had seized up. She was speechless, staring at the unmistakable glitter of desire in his eyes—desire for her, no longer hidden—desire intent on being satisfied.
His head was bending down, coming closer.
He was going to kiss her.
A moment before his lips touched hers, one last panicky thought broke through the mesmerised state of acceptance—what kind of man would do all Peter Ramsey had done to get to this moment with her…just from seeing her in the street?
CHAPTER FIVE
ERIN’S heart was galloping. The light brush of his lips against hers caused an electric buzz. She ceased to think. The tip of her tongue darted out to sweep over the acute sensation. He sucked it into his mouth, instantly turning the kiss into a deeply intimate connection.