The tension emanating from him tore along her own nerves. She didn't want to be in conflict with this man. He was special. Uniquely special. But this was real life now, not an impulsive adventure, and real life had taught her that any kind of domination was bad.
She'd had too many experiences with men who expected her to fall into line with them, following wherever they led, not even considering or respecting the fact that she had a mind of her own-a mind that would not play second fiddle to anyone else's. As powerful as Peter Ramsey undoubtedly was, Erin was not about to crumble under his will.
"I'd be happy to accompany you to the races, but not as your doll," she said determinedly.
"Doll?"
He didn't like the description, but Erin couldn't think of anything more apt. They weren't "clicking" this morning. Maybe it was only fantasy that had brought about the "click" last night. Disappointment cramped her heart. She couldn't stay in his bed if he didn't respect the person she was.
"I can dress myself, Peter. I was just checking with you what would be suitable for the occasion."
He grimaced, annoyed at not having read the stand she was making. The laser blue eyes softened with apologetic appeal. "I only meant to smooth the way, not offend you, Erin. I didn't want you to feel out of place with the people who'll be there."
Protecting her?
The knots in her stomach loosened. That wasn't so bad. But the means of doing it was unacceptable. And there could be another motive behind his intention to put her in designer clothes. "You think I might shame you in front of them?" she challenged, watching his eyes to see if she'd hit a chord of pride.
Cinderella was fine for the bedroom but not to be paraded out in public?
His chin lifted in dismissive scorn. "I wouldn't care if you wear jeans." A cynical mockery glittered in his eyes. "It's the women who enjoy pecking other women apart. It didn't seem like a good idea to subject you to that, but if you can let it float over your head … "
"Fine!" A joyous relief poured into a smile so wide Peter looked as though he was completely thrown by it. "What time is it?" she asked.
"Almost nine," he answered somewhat absently.
"And what time do we have to be at the races?"
"About noon."
"I can do it." She hurled off the bedclothes, leapt out of bed and headed for a door, which stood ajar and obviously led to an ensuite bathroom. "Would you call me a taxi, Peter?" she tossed over her shoulder. "I'll be showered and dressed, ready to go in fifteen minutes."
"Go where?" He was on his feet, ready to take preventative action if he didn't like her reply.
Definitely a warrior, Erin thought, happily revelling in the secure knowledge that Peter Ramsey was not about to accept an ending to their relationship at this point and didn't care what anyone else thought of it.
"To David Jones in Elizabeth Street," she instructed. It was the classiest department store in Sydney. A couple of hours' shopping would see her dressed to the nines, nobody's fool at Randwick Racecourse. "You can pick me up at the taxi rank outside the store at eleven-thirty."
Peter's whole body clenched with frustration as she walked towards the bathroom, her black silky bedmussed hair tumbling over her shoulders, the sexy curve of her spine drawing his gaze down to the even sexier derriere, its voluptuous sway reminding him of how provocatively exciting it had been last night. And the supple strength in those long legs … winding around him, inviting, inciting a possession which she now denied.
You don't own me.
He'd meant to have her again this morning. The sight of her stretching so sensuously had paused him short of the bed, desire for her kicking in so strongly he was amazed by how deeply she stirred him. Then seeing her initial shock at the recollection of where she was, he'd thought a quick assurance that what they'd shared was not a one-night aberration on his part would please her. The hell of it was, he still wasn't sure he'd recovered the ground he'd lost with the clothes issue.
You don't own me.
The urge to stride into the bathroom and make her his again was burning through him-kiss her until passion exploded between them and she was happy for them to spend the whole day in bed together. Forget the damned horse and its maiden race! He didn't want anything getting in the way of what he'd found with Erin Lavelle.
But his rational mind warned that sex might not hold her. His wealth wouldn't hold her, either. There'd been no lure whatsoever in having designer gear freely showered on her. Quite the contrary. She hadn't liked that idea one bit. Hadn't even flirted with it for a moment. Erin Lavelle was up and running her way and that proud streak of independence in her was not about to bend.
Okay, so roll with her plan.
But no taxi.
He'd drive her to David Jones himself, talk with her on the way, make sure she wasn't running out on him. Peter frowned over that thought as he strode into his dressing room to throw on some clothes. Women invariably hung onto him as long as they could. Why was he feeling a lack of confidence in Erin's interest in him?
Because she was different.
Everything about her was different.
Which made it new to him.
And undoubtedly he was new to her, too.
Preschool teachers did not normally socialise with billionaires. If she had reservations about that this morning-seeing no real future for this relationship-he had to allay them, because one thing was certain in his mind. He didn't want her walking out of his life. Not at this point.
Erin was surprised and pleased that Peter had decided to drive her into the city centre himself-an unnecessary double journey since he'd be picking her up later. She happily thought he wanted to spend the time with her, though once they were on their way, she noticed he wasn't particularly relaxed. In fact, his hands had a knuckle tight grip on the steering wheel.
Had he changed his mind about taking her to the races, introducing her to his social circle? Was he about to excuse himself-impulse shouldn't be carried too far? Maybe he felt guilty about her spending money on dressing up for him and was about to stop it before she was out of pocket. It was okay for him to be needlessly extravagant on a whim but letting her invest in a relationship that was going nowhere …
His silence fed the churning in her mind. When he finally spoke, Erin was gearing herself up to accept the end with as much grace as she could muster.
"About last night … " He darted a sharp look of concern at her. "I don't usually forget about protection … "
Protection!
Not rejection.
Relief billowed over her inner turmoil. She didn't want it to end here. She really didn't.
"It's okay," she swiftly assured him. "You won't get trapped into unplanned fatherhood with me, Peter. I'm on the pill."
Had been since she was sixteen. Her early teens had been plagued by irregular and very severe periods and she had no wish to suffer them again. The pill provided a regular monthly cycle, giving her peace of mind from being caught out in a desperately embarrassing flooding situation, not to mention the onset of almost intolerable pain.
A horrid thought occurred to her. "That's not to say I'm madly promiscuous. In case you're wondering, you don't have to worry about health issues, either." She took a deep breath and darted a sharp look of concern at him. "I hope you're not going to confess … "
"No." He flashed a reassuring smile. "I promise you I'm clean."
"Good!"
It certainly was good to have that settled. She frowned over her reckless behaviour. "I should have thought of it last night."
"No harm done," he tossed at her, the smile still lingering even after he'd returned his attention to the traffic ahead.
Erin sighed away the load of tension he'd just lightened. Of course, he'd want such a serious issue raised and disposed of. They'd played a dangerous game last night. Luckily they hadn't been punished for it.
"Do you want to be a mother sometime in the future?" he asked in a tone of casual interest.
Erin took heart from the question. It didn't sound as though he was working up to bidding her goodbye just yet. "I would love to have children but I don't really see it happening," she said wryly.
"Why not?"
"Well, as I said last night, I think a solid marriage is the best environment for bringing up children and I'm not sure I'm cut out to be good wife material."
He shot her a quizzical look. "Define that for me."
"Oh, you know." She couldn't stop herself from mocking his need for an explanation. "Being subordinate to a husband. Having to give up part of me to get along with him. Seems to me it's never the other way around."
He frowned. "Sounds like you've had some disappointing personal experiences. How old are you, Erin?"