The Billionaire's Captive Bride(15)

"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?"