If she walked out there and touched him as she had on their first night…could he—would he—put the author thing aside?
Another fantasy, Erin, her mind savagely chided. It lay between them now. Nothing would be the same as before.
Heaving a desolate sigh, she forced her eyes open. Peter hadn’t moved. Was his back a message in itself?—I’m out of your way. Go!
It was probably the best thing to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to sneak out without at least saying goodbye. Peter had given her much of himself and that deserved some recognition and appreciation. He was a good man. He just wasn’t accustomed to having his top gun status taken by a woman.
She walked over to the opened doorway to the balcony, close enough to speak, but leaving a fair distance between them. “Peter…” she called softly, hoping his anger had cooled a little.
He turned slowly, eyeing her up and down as he settled to leaning back against the railing, his arms folded forbiddingly across his magnificently sculptured chest. Her appearance in the green, lemon and lime dress did not ignite one spark of desire. It was patently clear that a wall of hard pride ensured she didn’t reach him in any way whatsoever. Indeed, the blue eyes were so cold a little shiver ran down Erin’s spine.
“Was going to a party on Friday night a lie, too?” he asked sardonically.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I set out to make myself as attractive as I could, but you didn’t seem to like what was probably too obvious an effort, so I made up an excuse for it.”
He nodded, as though she was only confirming what he’d already worked out. “You wanted some playtime with me.”
Erin frowned over his choice of words. “I wanted the man I’d met in the park to want me because I found him very attractive. I wasn’t thinking in terms of playtime.”
“You didn’t give a real relationship between us a chance,” he mocked accusingly. “You’re drawing the line because it’s not playtime anymore.”
“I took the chance you gave me, Peter, because in my heart of hearts, I did want it to be real.”
He shook his head. “You can’t build anything real on deception. Every time I tried to make progress with you, you shut me out.”
That was probably fair comment from his point of view, yet Erin knew only too well why she’d done what she’d done. “I was trying to hang onto what we had together. Just a man and a woman. Not the billionaire and the author.”
Her sad irony was lost on him.
“But it always had an ending in your mind,” he replied cuttingly. “You didn’t trust me to take the author on board and deal with your world.”
“I hoped you would,” she said quietly, her whole body aching from the loss of that hope. He was attacking her on deception because he didn’t want to deal with her world. It was easier to paint her black than to look into himself and acknowledge he wasn’t big enough to take on all that she was.
He stared at her, the twin blue lasers of his eyes stabbing hard, transmitting his disbelief in the hope she had just expressed. Erin gave up, her hand lifting to communicate the futility of any further talk, gesturing her helplessness to save the situation.
“I’m sorry you imagined something different, Peter. I just wanted to thank you for all you did give me.”
His mouth thinned into a grim line as though he was refusing to let what they’d shared be worth anything. Erin sensed he was too deeply into painting her black to even see there could be other colours.
“Goodbye,” she said and turned away quickly, wanting to run, run so fast her heart would pump out the awful weight of misery it was carrying. Somehow she managed to hold her legs to a reasonably steady walk across the bedroom to the door, which would lead to her exit from his life.
She fiercely willed Peter to remain silent, to simply let her go.
He did.
It wasn’t a good silence. It pulsed with violent feelings that were being forcibly repressed. Peter Ramsey felt ill-used by her and he hated it with a vengeance. Erin hated him feeling like that—she’d loved the man who had made love to her. But she couldn’t change what was unchangeable and the fantasy was over.
There could be no transition to real life.
The billionaire and the author did not click.
CHAPTER NINE
HER little fling…
Peter seethed over being cast for that role by Erin Lavelle. He couldn’t see it any other way, given her readiness to leave him when the situation no longer suited her. Toy with the prince for a while, fulfil a few sexual fantasies, enjoy whatever entertainment he provides, but keep him in the box marked Playtime.