"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.
"Oh, come on. The London party scene is rife with ecstasy and cocaine. I've been there, done that."
"And Peter doesn't do drugs?"
"Squeaky clean, darling. A total control freak. And no patience with anyone who isn't." A nasty smile curled her mouth. "Just thought I'd warn you what you're in for."
"Thank you," Erin said, curiosity completely satisfied.
Apparently Alicia was satisfied enough with having delivered her piece of poison to let Erin make her exit from the ladies' room without throwing any more nasty darts. No doubt she had been all sweetness and light with Peter, doing her utmost to hang onto him, and was bitter about having been caught out indulging herself with designer chemicals. He was well rid of her, Erin thought. And she didn't mind one bit about Peter being a control freak-being inclined that way herself-as long as he didn't try to control her.
It was one thing to choose, quite another to be pressured into complying with someone else's will.
Peter had been completely fair in his dealings with her so far. Even last night on the balcony of his Bondi Beach penthouse … she paused for a moment, her thighs squeezing together at the exciting memory of being touched so erotically, touching him, her stomach contracting as her mind relived being totally out of control with the wild, hungry passion he'd evoked in her.
Her heart actually quivered as she caught sight of him breaking from a group of people, his vivid blue eyes trained purposefully on her as he made his way to where she stood. Her entire body seemed to hum with pleasure at just this minor connection with him. He was such a magnificent man, and as fabulous as he looked in his superb suit, Erin couldn't help mentally stripping him of it, revelling again in his splendid physique. She wanted him. Again and again and again.
Her consciousness was so swamped by the desire he stirred, she didn't pick up his tension until he was right in front of her, his eyes searching hers with sharp intensity. "Are you okay, Erin?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she quickly assured him, belatedly recalling her distraction with the horses and hoping he would let it slide.
"You weren't subjected to an unpleasant scene in the ladies' room?" The hard, ruthless edge to his voice woke her up to the fact he was bristling from his failure to protect her from his ex.
"Oh, that!" She smiled, relieved at hearing the different concern, and loving his caring for her. "No problem, Peter. Though I'd have to say your ex is not a very nice person."
His grimace was both rueful and apologetic. "I saw Alicia hot-footing it to the ladies' room but was too far away to run interference."
"Don't worry about it." She stepped forward, hooking her arm around his. "Let's go back to the terrace. It must be time for the next race."
"You're not bothered by anything she said?" he asked, falling in with the suggestion and hugging her arm tightly to his side as they moved on together.
She slanted him a teasing look. "Should I be?"
He frowned. "I like to get things sorted, Erin. Clear the air."
His tension hadn't eased. Erin realised a blithe dismissal of her encounter with Alice Hemmings was not relieving it. Peter didn't want to be left wondering about what had transpired between them. Which was fair enough, given that the idea of being bad-mouthed behind one's back wasn't exactly palatable.
"As far as I'm concerned, it was all good," she assured him, rolling her eyes in amusement as she elaborated. "Alicia called you a squeaky-clean control freak who doesn't tolerate dirty little habits like recreational drug-taking."
His mouth took on an ironic quirk. "You thought that was good?"
"Well, since squeaky-clean certainly appeals, and I have no inclination to tamper with how my brain works with mind-altering drugs, the only question mark hovers over the control bit, but I haven't found you freaky yet, so I'm willing to ride with my own judgement until it's proved wrong," she flipped at him.
"Thank you," he said mock seriously, then laughed as though delighted with how her brain worked, his blue eyes sparkling so brightly, so appreciatively, Erin felt his pleasure in her filling her heart with happiness, making it swell with happiness.
And the realisation hit her … she was falling in love with Peter Ramsey. It was more than a strong physical attraction. She wasn't going to be able to write off this connection with him as an experience and just move on with her own life. She wanted him with an intensity that was suddenly frightening.
Panic swirled through her mind.
She wouldn't fit into his life.
He wouldn't fit into hers.
Then overriding the panic came a fierce resolution.
Take now, and spin now out for as long as it feels right.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE irritating buzz of the bedside telephone woke him. Peter quickly reached out and snatched up the receiver, not wanting Erin to be disturbed from her sleep. It had been a long night of the most sensual sex he'd ever experienced. The desire they stirred in each other was incredibly mutual and he wanted her to stay in his bed as long as he could keep her there.
The clock-radio read one minute past eight. His mother was nattering away on the telephone line. He muffled the voice noise with his hand as he slid swiftly from Erin's side and strode out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath to quell his sharp annoyance at being called this early on a Sunday morning. If it wasn't his mother …
He lifted the receiver to his ear and couldn't quite keep an impatient terseness out of his voice as he demanded, "What's up, Mum? Some emergency?"
A blank silence, then, "Haven't you been listening, Peter?"
"I'm barely awake," he said on an exasperated sigh.
"Then you don't know that you and Erin Lavelle are front page news? They've even used a full colour photograph!"
"Oh, for pity's sake! Haven't they got better things to report than spotting me with a new woman." He remembered photographers clicking away when his horse had won its maiden race and in the excitement of the win, he hadn't thought to shield Erin from them.
"But she isn't just any new woman, is she, dear?" his mother drawled pointedly.
"What do you mean by that?" he growled. Had the gossip merchants spun some stupid story about her? Something that would embarrass her at the preschool?
"I'd love to meet her, Peter. Do bring her out to lunch with us today."
His mother's enthusiasm struck an extremely false note. She didn't hand out invitations at the drop of a hat. "Why do you want to meet her, Mum?" he asked warily. "We've only known each other a couple of days." Usually he had to be attached to a woman for months before his mother began taking an interest in her.
"Darling, you go to any children's wards in any hospital and Erin Lavelle's books are there by the dozen. Her stories whisk even the sickest children off to a better place. They love them. Why wouldn't I want to meet the author who can make them forget their misery?"