"Sorry, Mum. I should have got back to you before this. Can't do lunch today. Erin is not available."
"Oh!" A big sigh of disappointment. "I was so looking forward to meeting her. Can we arrange something else, Peter?"
He grimaced at the unwelcome suggestion though he probably should have anticipated it, given his mother's interest in the author. "I can't oblige on that, either. We had an argument this morning and it's all off between us," he said bluntly, not wanting to be pestered on the sore subject.
"Oh dear! Just when I thought you'd found someone really nice," his mother said wistfully. "There's so much heart in her stories … "
She hadn't shown much heart to him!
" … and the way they're told and illustrated," his mother babbled on. "She has to have a beautiful mind to think of such things. You must have felt attracted to her, Peter. She looks beautiful on the outside, too. Why on earth would you let her go?"
"Mum, it's a case of her letting me go. Okay?" he bit out, hating the necessity to spell that out.
"Why? What did you do to upset her?"
Like it was his fault!
Peter unclenched his teeth enough to say, "I really don't want to go into this."
"Was it the publicity? Didn't she realise that being with you would attract media attention?"
He reached his car which was parked handily at the street kerb outside the gym. "I said I don't want to go into this," he repeated emphatically. "Bye, Mum."
He broke the connection, tucked the small cell-phone in his shirt pocket, unlocked the BMW, sat himself in the driver's seat and decided he didn't want to go back to the apartment where memories of Erin were far too close. Yacht Club, he thought. Sailing might help get her out of his mind.
Over the next few weeks, Peter worked very hard at blocking Erin Lavelle out of his consciousness, pouring his energy into dealing with business during the day, carrying on with his usual social life at night, playing various sports at the weekend-squash, tennis, polo. He dismissed any questions about his relationship with her by saying Erin had wanted to know about horse-racing. End of story.
It was a lie-a self-protective lie.
And he felt uncomfortable with it.
Especially since he could not get her out of his mind.
He was blind to the attraction of any other woman. He didn't want anyone else in his bed. His mother's comment-beautiful inside and outside-began to haunt him, reminding him of all the things he'd liked about Erin. Maybe he'd made a mistake in reacting so negatively to what might have been a self-protective lie on her part. Hadn't there been a moment in the park when he'd felt a strong reluctance to reveal his own identity?
Just a man and a woman …
Erin sat in the chair behind her desk, staring at a blank monitor screen. There was no point in turning on the computer. No way could she get her head around work today. She didn't know why she was sitting here. Instinctive, probably, putting herself in the place where she was most comfortable, tapping out words on a keyboard. But there was only one mountainous word in her mind, blocking out the flow of any others.
Pregnant.
The shock of it drained her of any sense of purpose. She hadn't recognised the symptoms. How could she, knowing nothing about pregnancy, and not even suspecting such a cataclysmic cause to feeling off? She hadn't been sleeping well-too much churning over memories of Peter Ramsey. And eating too much comfort food, then feeling queasy in the morning.
It seemed reasonable to think her normal system was messed up when the contraceptive pill she'd been taking for years didn't produce the regular monthly period, but she'd decided to check it out with a doctor, uneasy with the idea of her body not responding as it should to what had always been reliable before.
Pregnant.
She was going to be a mother.
And Peter Ramsey was the father.
Never mind that the pill was ninety-nine percent safe from falling pregnant. Peter Ramsey had beaten that percentage in two nights of intense sexual action. Or her own body had treacherously welcomed him beyond the point of stopping anything, because what had been happening between them was so … so extraordinary.
But fantastic sex wasn't enough to make a relationship work. He didn't like the author taking over his spotlight. Not that she wanted it. She would have been perfectly happy standing in his shadow for the rest of her life. It was her evasion of publicity that had made her so newsworthy. But evasion would probably be impossible if she was appearing at his side, so the problem would never go away.
Neither would this one.
She was now faced with having his child.
And he would probably think she'd lied about being protected from pregnancy, too.
If she told him about it.
Could she keep this child a secret from him? They occupied such different worlds. In the normal course of events, they should never meet again. It was possible … or was it, given that someone somewhere would blab about Erin Lavelle having a child and it could end up being a news story that she had no control over.
Then if Peter put two and two together, the warrior in him would fight her tooth and nail over custody, and everything could turn really, really nasty. He'd accuse her of more and more lies, hating her for shutting him out of where he had every right to be. That was definitely not a road to go down.
Besides, knowing how strongly Peter felt about fatherhood, hiding his child from him would never sit well on her conscience. It wasn't fair, not to him and not to their son or daughter who would want to know their father.
She would have to tell him, try to work out some amicable arrangement about the future. Hopefully he would care about what was in the best interests of the child enough to put their differences aside and deal with what was important. She certainly would. This was never going to be the ideal parenting situation for either of them, but with some reasonable co-operation, maybe they could give their child the best of both worlds.
Her hand moved automatically to the top drawer of the desk, opening it and taking out the business card Peter had given her in the park-the card which had made Thomas Harper's mother realise that her selfish possessiveness was not going to go unchallenged. She'd thrown it back on Sarah's desk, not wanting any part of Peter Ramsey, and Erin had picked it up and kept it, secretly wanting every part of the prince she imagined him to be.
She fingered it now, remembering how confident Peter had been in the intimidating power it carried-the might of his wealth behind it. Would he use that power against her?
Her mind churned through a mess of dark, miserable thoughts. Telling him could wait a while, she finally decided. Her most immediate aim was to start looking after herself-and the baby-by eating properly, which might help her sleep better. Some exercise wouldn't go astray, either. A walk along the beach to the shopping centre would do her good. And she needed to buy a book on pregnancy, learn what she should be doing, what was best for the baby.
Yes, that came first.
CHAPTER TEN
Seven months later …
ERIN checked that she had everything ready for the meeting; jug of iced water in the refrigerator, glasses ready on the kitchen bench, coffee percolator loaded-Jane Emerson, her agent, never drank anything else-Earl Grey tea for Richard Long, her very English editor, and a plate of assorted cookies that should please everyone. The living room was tidy, the curtains pulled back to showcase the view of Byron Bay-white sand and crystal clear turquoise water.
She had bought this beach house four years ago. It suited her, right away from the bustle of major cities, especially for writing. She didn't care if the animated film people thought she was some prima donna author, insisting that they travel to her for the consultation on how her story was to be brought to the big screen. At eight months' pregnant, and determined on keeping that fact as private as possible, she didn't want any fanfare about this meeting.
The publicity could come afterwards, when everything had been signed. No doubt her editor and agent would make the most of it, eager to push more book sales on the back of a film created by Zack Freeman who also happened to be an Australian, and top of the tree at delivering the best computerised special effects. He'd won two academy awards for his work. Apparently he was now putting his creativity into animated movies. Erin was looking forward to meeting him, wondering what he planned to do with her story.
The sound of cars pulling up in the street outside drew her down the hallway to the front door. A glance at her watch assured her it was time for her visitors to arrive, just a couple of minutes short of ten o'clock. They were all staying at the plush Bay Resort on Johnson Street and had probably already established an acquaintance, either last night or this morning. She took a deep breath, mentally put on her author hat, tried to forget how ungainly she looked with her hugely swollen belly, and opened the door.