She heaved a sigh, following it up with a wry grimace. “I have a vivid imagination, Peter. Sometimes it just takes off. I know it’s a bit disconcerting for the people I’m with. I don’t mean to block them out. Please just excuse it. Okay?” She gave him a blindingly brilliant smile. “I’m right back in your world now.”
As opposed to her world? Which she thought he couldn’t, wouldn’t share?
“What was going on in your imagination?” he pressed.
Her eyes instantly took on a guarded look. It told him she was mentally backing off even before she voiced the dismissal in her mind. “I was just playing with an idea. Let’s leave it at that.” Then she was on her feet, emitting a sense of urgency. “I really need to go to the ladies’ room. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
He stood to accompany her part of the way but she was already rushing off, leaving Peter feeling that he’d somehow lost that round with Erin Lavelle. Though she had given him a valuable insight into how she viewed this encounter with him. They came from separate worlds and to her mind, it wasn’t feasible that the two would mix, so any long-term relationship with him was not on the cards.
She might be right.
But Peter was not about to give up on what he felt with this woman. The sense that he’d be missing out was stronger than ever.
Wonderful winged horses were flying through Erin’s mind as she quickly negotiated her way to the ladies’ room—five of them: white, grey, chestnut, dark brown and black, with beautifully coloured wings, like butterflies. The Mythical horses of…of…Mirrima. That sounded right. They were going to make a marvellous, magical story.
She’d been constructing the opening verse for it when Peter had called her out of her creative reverie. This wasn’t the time or place for her to go on with it but she wanted to get these first thoughts into her notebook for later. Luckily she had transferred everything from last night’s handbag to the new black one she’d bought this morning. It was automatic—never going anywhere without a notebook and pen.
As soon as she reached the ladies’ room, she had them out, writing down the ideas that had come to her. They were exciting and she had to quell the urge to keep playing with them. Peter Ramsey was her top priority today and she didn’t want to put him off her. If she hadn’t already by tripping somewhere else in her mind.
Not good, Erin chided herself. She’d had the amazing luck to meet an amazing man and what he’d given her so far was much better than any imaginary world. Stupid to put it at risk by acting oddly. Their differences would no doubt end it soon enough, but she’d much prefer it to be later than sooner.
“Giving Peter Ramsey a rating in your little black book?”
The mocking drawl snapped Erin’s head around. A beautiful blonde, spectacularly dressed in a Colette Dinnigan creation with a gorgeous fascinator pinned to her hair, was eyeing her with such malicious spite, Erin was momentarily speechless with shock.
“So where did he find you?” the blonde bored in.
Erin swiftly found wits enough to say. “I beg your pardon. Have we met?”
“Since you don’t run with the usual crowd and Peter has been steering you clear of me today, no, we haven’t. I’m Alicia Hemmings, Peter’s very recent ex.”
And obviously smarting from rejection or she wouldn’t have sought this confrontation. Erin couldn’t help wondering what had caused Peter to end the relationship. Had the designer clothes come from him? Had Alicia Hemmings got too greedy, wanting more and more?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know nothing about this.”
“You’re obviously very new on the scene,” Alicia jeered.
“Yes,” Erin agreed. “I haven’t been in Australia for quite a while.” That left everything nicely vague, nothing for this woman to seize on and tear apart.
“Brought you back from London with him, did he?”
She wasn’t going to stop, though whatever satisfaction she was looking for, Erin wasn’t about to give it. “This really is none of your business, Alicia,” she said bluntly. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“No doubt he swept you off your feet, being a billionaire and all that goes with it,” Alicia mocked as Erin hastily stowed the notebook and pen in her bag. “But let me tell you he’s a strait-laced bastard who wants his pound of flesh unblemished, so better give up any dirty little habits you have if you want to hang onto him.”
Curiosity got the better of Erin’s sense of discretion. “I don’t know what you mean,” tripped off her tongue.