Peter wondered how far he could push the relationship, how far Erin Lavelle would let it be pushed before her strong sense of independence kicked in and cut him out. He didn't think his wealth counted for anything with her. In fact, far from being a gold-star attraction, that might well be a stumbling block, too.
"It was you who brought up the subject of marriage, Peter," she said, still discomfited by his husband-list comment.
"Marriage and motherhood," he readily conceded, intent on stirring some more telling reactions.
"Right! So we've covered that ground."
She was drawing a line of finality under it.
"I've never been to the races," she quickly stated. "Tell me what to expect. Tell me about your horse."
She made it easy to oblige her, flooding him with eager questions, listening to his answers so she could hit off them, broadening her inquiry into the whole business of horse-racing. In fact, her concentrated interest made it a pleasure to give her the knowledge she sought, and by the time they reached Randwick Racecourse, Peter was thinking he'd never been interviewed so intelligently on a subject.
Her lively curiosity continued over lunch in the directors' dining room and in the champagne bar afterwards. The people they met-friends, acquaintances and associates of his-all responded very positively to the happy energy she emitted. It was impossible not to like her.
Her smile, the gorgeous green eyes sparkling with fascinated interest, the way she listened, focussing so directly on the person who was speaking to her and soaking in every word that was said … the men were all charmed by her, the women intrigued, surreptitiously eyeing her over, half of them probably wanting to find fault and frustrated at not finding anything to criticise.
He knew what they were thinking-Who is this Erin Lavelle?
The wife of one of the race-course directors actually mulled over the name out loud. "Erin Lavelle … I'm sure I've read about you somewhere. I just can't think of the connection. Such a pretty name. Are you an actress or something?"
Erin laughed at the idea, shaking her head. "I'm simply lucky enough to be Peter's companion today." She hugged his arm, her eyes flirtatiously engaging his, deflecting any further pursuit of her personal identity.
Peter got the message that she didn't want him to give out information on her background so he deftly turned the conversation away from what might be a sensitive issue to her in this company.
Was it another fantasy, he wondered, being his mystery companion for the day?
As they moved away, heading for the members' terrace to watch the races, he aimed a quizzical smile at her. "Are you worried that I might be uncomfortable about having it known that you're a preschool teacher I met in a public park?"
He wouldn't be, Erin thought. He'd probably be amused by the reactions such a statement would arouse. But would he be as amused to find himself with a woman who was not a nobody? If she'd told that director's wife why the name of Erin Lavelle was familiar to her, revealed the fame she had in her own field, this easy comfort zone she and Peter currently occupied could have been blown sky-high.
She hadn't wanted to risk that-people gushing over her in public, ignoring the man who was giving her this special day, making him feel stupid for not knowing the truth about her. The truth would have to be told soon enough. But not yet. She didn't want him to look at her differently. She liked what they were sharing right now, didn't want anything to spoil it.
"I have the right to keep my private life private, Peter," she said quietly. It was best that way. She hated all the fuss that came with being the author. And the men she'd been with hadn't liked it, either, being put in the shade of her success.
"The longer you're with me, the less chance you have of that, Erin," Peter warned seriously.
She heaved a rueful sigh, realising that his high profile would inevitably stir interest in any woman at his side. Her eyes appealed for his forebearance. "It's no one else's business how we met or what we're doing together. Let's just take one day at a time, Peter."
Peter's protective instincts rose instantly to the fore as he read the vulnerability in her eyes. No way would he let anyone badger Erin about her background, making her feel not up to his status. Though her obvious insecurity about how long they'd be together stirred an even stronger determination that this connection with Erin Lavelle was not going to be a one-day wonder.
"Well, today is race day," he said lightly, "so let's go and watch the races."
They found good seats on the members' terrace and Erin relaxed, eager to soak up more new knowledge. He explained the coloured silks of the jockeys as the horses were paraded out to the starting gates. She seemed totally entranced by the scene, sitting with her hands in her lap, her body leaning forward, her gaze trained on the horses as they raced around the course.
She didn't leap up in excitement as they turned for the gallop to the winning post. The crowd on the terrace was in its usual uproar but she simply sat quietly, and Peter had the uneasy feeling her mind had slipped to another place and she was there by herself, not with him or anyone else. The race finished and she didn't even seem aware of the bustling aftermath-people going off to get drinks, celebrating their winnings or commiserating over their losses.
"Erin … "
No response.
He reached over and touched her hands. Her head jerked towards him, eyes wide and startled.
"Where were you?" he asked.
"Oh!" Hot colour whooshed into her cheeks. Embarrassed confusion in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drift off. I just do sometimes," she rattled out apologetically.
Did she have some mental problem?
"It's nothing to do with you, Peter," she swiftly assured him. "You've been marvellous company. It was watching the horses. They're so beautiful and it started me thinking … "
She hesitated, frowning, and he sensed a deep reluctance to reveal the inner workings of her mind. Instinctively recognising a barrier that had to faced, crossed if possible, Peter pushed for an understanding of what it entailed.
"Erin, I don't have to be the centre of your attention. I'm just curious about what did captivate it so exclusively."
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.