The Billionaire's Captive Bride(13)

     



 

"I passed the big three zero almost a year ago," she answered  flippantly, refusing to let that bother her. Life was to be lived, no  matter what.

"So the biological clock is ticking," he muttered.

"Can't stop that," she agreed. No one had control over time. "How old are you, Peter?"

"Thirty-five."

"Then you must have had quite a few disappointing personal experiences, too."

"Click!" he said, throwing a wide dazzling grin at her.

Erin's heartbeat did its own clickety-click. Peter Ramsey was an  absolutely gorgeous man. She was loving this experience with him. No  doubt disappointment would come sooner or later, but until it did …

"To me the ideal marriage is a true partnership," he said. "Two people complementing each other, not competing for top billing."

"Ever seen that ideal in practice?" she challenged.

He nodded. "My parents. My sister and her husband. Though there are  different aspects to their marriages. My mother might appear subordinate  to my father, but she is very serious, very caring about her charity  work and Dad respects and supports her desire to help, to make a  difference. He doesn't demand that she always be at his side, looking  after his needs. On the other hand, Charlotte and Damien are two like  minds, sharing everything. Both have very solid marriages."

He spoke with such warmth about his family, Erin couldn't help feeling a stab of envy. "That's nice. You're very lucky, Peter."

"No." He shook his head. "They are. They found the right partners."

She looked at him curiously. "So which kind of marriage would you envisage for yourself, the first or the second?"

It could be possible for her to fit into the first mould, she was thinking. No way the second.

"I think if you find the person you want to spend your life with, you work it out from there."

"Hmm … that's an interesting theory, Peter." She smiled at him. "Meanwhile you're hanging loose."

He laughed and a hot blast of sexy blue twinkles zipped from his eyes  and tingled all over her. "Not so loose at the moment," he drawled,  leaving Erin in a ridiculously blissful state of exhilaration.

The parting of the ways was not going to happen today.

Peter Ramsey still wanted her.

Her prince …

She didn't care how different their worlds were. In fact, it would be  fascinating to have a little taste of his today, so it was worth making  the effort to fit in as well as she could, not create any awkward waves.  Just being with him was making her feel anything was possible between  them.

He drove around the northern end of Hyde Park and pulled up behind the  taxi rank in Elizabeth Street. Illegal to park, so with engine idling,  he reached across to squeeze one of her hands, his bright blue gaze  seriously commanding. "Don't blow your budget on this, Erin. It really  doesn't matter. Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled at his caring. "I'll just satisfy my female pride."

He smiled at her levity, pleased that she wasn't too concerned about the  people she'd meet with him at Randwick. "Go to it. I'll be back here at  eleven-thirty."

"I won't keep you waiting," she promised, and quickly alighted from the car.

Having waved him off, Erin hurried down to the pedestrian crossing which  would take her directly to David Jones. Her dress from last night drew a  few looks. It wasn't exactly morning wear. It could be put in a bag  once she changed into whatever she bought. The great thing about David  Jones was it could provide the lot; classy clothes and accessories,  beautician, hair-stylist, manicurist. By eleven-thirty, she was going to  look like a million dollars for Peter Ramsey and she didn't care about  the cost.

Why should she?

The royalties on her books had made her one of the wealthiest authors in  the world. One of the reasons, she suspected, her editor wanted a more  personal as well as a professional connection with her. Money did make  people more attractive to the opposite sex. Though her success had drawn  quite a lot of nasty envy, as well.

She didn't have to wear that with Peter.

Different worlds.

Maybe that wasn't bad.

Maybe …

Erin quelled the heart-fluttering hope before it took really wild wings.  Today she was going to Randwick to watch horse-races with Peter Ramsey  and that was adventure enough. Plus right now she had the fun of  shopping to knock his socks off.

A happy day.

Silly to start wanting too much.





CHAPTER SEVEN




PETER had to stop the BMW at the pedestrian crossing from Hyde Park to  St Mary's Cathedral, just short of where he had dropped Erin this  morning. The dashboard clock read eleven thirty-one. He'd timed his  arrival almost perfectly. Was she waiting for him?         

     



 

He checked the sidewalk that curved down to Elizabeth Street. His  quickly scanning gaze caught sight of a woman standing in the shade of  an overhanging tree, just past the end of the taxi rank-a stunningly  attired woman who looked as if she'd stepped out of the fashion pages of  Vogue magazine.

Was it Erin?

A very stylish black hat dipped over her face, making her identity  uncertain for a moment, though the hair was right, the body shape was  right. Her head turned towards him and his heart thumped with a great  leap of excitement. It was her. She saw the blue BMW, smiled, waved,  moved out from the shade towards the edge of the sidewalk, ready to join  him.

The dress she wore was a sleeveless, silky wraparound, a deep jade-green  with big black polka dots. A wide black leather belt held it in place  and accentuated the smallness of her waist and the curve of her hips.  The crossover bodice gave a teasing hint of cleavage, and as she walked,  the skirt flapped open enough to give a provocative glimpse of thigh.  Black high-heels with thin straps around her ankles completed an outfit  that was all sexy woman.

A hot rush of blood to his groin warned him he'd be in serious  discomfort if he didn't lift his mind off the desire she aroused. The  car behind him honked impatience. The traffic lights had turned green.  He quickly accelerated, signalling his intention to pull over to the  sidewalk, and doing so right beside Erin.

She held up a large black and white signature David Jones carry-bag. "Can I put this in the boot of the car?"

"Sure can." He pressed the central unlocking button, then leaned over to open the passenger door for her.

Having stowed the bag in the boot compartment, she slid into the seat  beside him, another flash of legs raising his body temperature again.  She quickly closed the door, grabbed the seat-belt and the lush fullness  of her breasts was temptingly emphasised as the belt was whipped  between them and fastened.

"We're off!" she declared, lifting a face that glowed with happy anticipation.

No. We're on, Peter thought, a fierce wave of feeling driving a  determination to make Erin Lavelle realise she was his woman. That  didn't mean owning her. It meant he was the man in her life.

"Do I pass muster?" she asked as he put the car into gear, ready to ease into the traffic.

The note of vulnerability in her voice reminded him of what it must have  cost her to look the part of his companion at Randwick. He didn't want  her feeling nervous about appearing at his side in public and she  certainly had no reason to be.

"You look fabulous, Erin," he quickly assured her, smiling his  appreciation of how incredibly striking she was. "Every guy at the  race-course will be jealous of me."

She laughed her pleasure in the compliment. "Thank you." Her gorgeous  green eyes skated over him, taking in the mid-grey suit with its darker  grey pinstripe, the white shirt and gold silk tie. "You look fabulous,  too."

The husky words ended in a sharp intake of breath and a long sigh as  though she needed to relieve a tightness in her chest. Peter was  suffering a fair amount of physical tightness himself. He concentrated  on driving because there was no other optional action at the moment, but  he was acutely aware of the woman beside him, wanting her more than he  could remember wanting any other woman.

"Are you the jealous type, Peter?" she asked in a wary tone.

"No." He threw her a teasing look. "You can strike jealousy off the list."

She looked startled. "What list?"

He grinned. "The bad husband material list you were citing this morning."

"Oh! I was not … I mean … " She floundered, embarrassed by having her general observations applied so personally to him.

She definitely wasn't measuring him up as a possible husband.

Was a marriage to him too pie-in-the-sky to her mind?

He didn't feel she was anti-marriage, just distrustful of how the commitment was worked.

No problem with sharing his bed, so sharing his life had to be the  stumbling block. From what she'd said, the idea of sharing any man's  life was not an attractive proposition, and his certainly carried the  penalty of public scrutiny. Though she hadn't backed off from that  aspect, probably spending far more than she could really afford on  clothes to be with him at Randwick today.