The Billionaire's Captive Bride(5)

"Absolutely," Erin pressed, hopping off the desk and waving a goodbye before her aunt had second thoughts. "See you later."

She didn't walk far. Her feet automatically took her back to the  bench-seat Peter Ramsey had occupied in the park. She sat precisely  where he had sat, her mind running hot with thoughts about him. He  hadn't acted like a playboy. He had seemed serious and caring. Though  she had to admit the serious caring had been directed at a father and  his son, both of whom were apparently being short-changed by a woman.

Maybe his attitude towards women fell into an entirely different  category. What experiences had shaped the man who had stepped in to make  a difference-a positive difference-to a man and boy he didn't even  know? Erin knew she was too intrigued to turn her back on learning more  of Peter Ramsey. She'd promised to report back to him on Thomas's mother  and she would make the call.

If she had imagined a personal interest in herself, he wouldn't set up a  further meeting with her. But if she hadn't imagined it … if he did want  another face-to-face encounter … a surge of strong resolution tossed  caution-or wisdom-aside.

She wanted to be with him.

How many times in her life had she felt like this about a man?

None!

Seize the day, she fiercely told herself.

If she got the chance to seize it.





CHAPTER THREE




"PETER RAMSEY."         

     



 

His voice held a clipped self-assurance, demanding an efficient reply.

Erin took a deep breath to calm her jiggling heart. Speak to the man.  Reach out to him, she told herself. You have this one chance!

"Hi! It's Erin Lavelle." The words spilled out in a breathy rush. Oh  great! she thought. He's probably hearing the pant of a gold-digger who  hopes she's onto a good thing with this call.

"You do have a very distinctive voice," he said, and it sounded as though he was smiling through the words.

Smiling with pleasure!

A wild, wonderful hope danced through her mind. "You asked me to call," she reminded him.

"It's come later than I expected. I thought you weren't going to contact me. I'm glad you have."

It was pleasure. Warm pleasure. A smile burst across Erin's face. "Mrs  Harper didn't come until five o'clock. She's only just left."

"Ah!" The sound of satisfaction. "There must be a lot to tell me and I  do want to know all of it. Would you join me for dinner, Erin? I've been  with Dave Harper most of the afternoon, getting his side of the story  to a good lawyer. I need to hear your impressions of his wife."

"Dinner … " she repeated dazedly. The invitation had come so fast her head was spinning.

"Regardless of what people might have told you about me since our  meeting in the park, I promise I'm not the big bad wolf, and you don't  have to fear my gobbling you up on the spot," he assured her with dry  mockery.

"Right!" she said, though the idea of being gobbled up by Peter Ramsey  had actually sent her pulse-rate zooming. "Where and when?" she asked,  trying to sound efficient and not too eager.

"Whatever suits you, Erin."

Which lobbed the ball straight into her court.

Was it a test of how much she would try to screw out of him?

What did he expect her to choose?

Best to go for her own comfort zone, she swiftly decided, given she was  in an absolute tizz about meeting him again. The intimidation of a ritzy  restaurant would only make her more nervy.

"Are you okay with a downmarket place?" she asked, wondering if he  preferred the privileges that went with being recognised in trendy  surroundings.

"No problem," he assured her.

So he didn't need ego-stroking.

"Do you like Thai food?"

"Fine with me."

He was being very accommodating.

Glowing happily, Erin gave directions. "Along Oxford Street, between the  end of Hyde Park and Taylor Square, there's a little restaurant called  Titanic Thai. I could meet you there at seven-thirty."

"Should I book a table?"

"No. I'll drop in and ask them to keep me one."

"You live nearby?"

"More or less," she answered vaguely, not wanting to divulge too much about herself at this point. "I'll see you there then?"

"Seven-thirty, Oxford Street, a Thai restaurant called Titanic but it's only little," he said in a tone of amusement.

"That's it," she confirmed and rang off, feeling pleased with herself  for not only seizing the chance he'd held out, but for taking command of  proceedings, as well.

Her feet wanted to skip all the way to the bus stop.



Got her!

Peter's hand clenched in exhilarating triumph.

Then he laughed at himself for being so absurdly excited over another  meeting with a woman whose life was so remote from his, they'd probably  have nothing to talk about apart from Dave Harper's miserable situation.

Nevertheless, that bit of reality did not dim his desire to experience  all there was to know of Erin Lavelle. He'd been in the mood to embrace  the wildly improbable ever since she'd smiled at him at the pedestrian  crossing, and tonight was another step in the same vein. Knowing who he  was, she could have taken him for an expensive dinner at a top class  restaurant. He wouldn't have cared if she had, but he was delighted with  her choice. It was in keeping with this whole encounter-totally  off-the-wall.

"Titanic Thai, here I come!" he said out loud, grinning to himself as he  bounded up the stairs to the master bedroom of his Bondi Beach  apartment. Shower, shave, change of clothes, get to Taylor Square, scout  the restaurant … tonight he was going to get the princess with the magic  rainbow smile and the heart of gold!



Erin knew that the most sensible course was to play it cool with Peter  Ramsey, not look as if she expected anything from him, turn up in jeans  and pretend she wasn't madly wishing he found her too desirable to pass  up. Their lives were too different to envisage any serious relationship  between them.         

     



 

On the other hand, she'd never been so captivated by a man. Even if it could only be a mad fling with him …

Temptation wove its own more exciting path around common sense and was  in full swing by the time she reached the Hyde Park apartment hotel  where she invariably stayed while in Sydney. It was in easy walking  distance of the Thai restaurant where she had frequently dined.

As she showered, washed and blow-dried her hair into a silky black mane  that rippled over her shoulders, her mind moved into a totally reckless  whirl of wanting to make something happen between her and Peter Ramsey.  Her hands reached into the clothes cupboard and pulled out the lemon,  lime and green dress. It was a gorgeous dress. She loved the colours and  the colours loved her. It was also a wicked little dress. In fact, her  London editor, Richard Long, who regularly tried to move their  relationship into a sexual one, had described it as a bed-me dress.

It was halter-necked, virtually backless, had to be worn braless, the  low V-neckline in front showing a seductive hint of cleavage. A wide tan  leather belt drew attention to the curvy lines of her figure, and the  soft fabric flowed into a frothy skirt that was deliciously feminine.  Teamed with strappy tan leather sandals and no jewellery, it wasn't too,  too dressy, Erin decided.

And so what if it did stir the pot tonight!

Peter Ramsey had appeared like magic in her life.

Why not use a bit of female witchery to keep him in it, at least for long enough to explore the feelings he'd aroused?

She was thirty years old and had virtually perfected the role of an  onlooker of life, a passer-by who'd never felt truly wanted enough by  anyone to become enmeshed in a deep involvement. A lasting attachment to  Peter Ramsey was not really within the bounds of reason, but a brief  one … a fiercely compelling conviction surged through her … that was worth  going for, given that no other man had ever made such a deep impact on  her.



Peter glanced at his watch as the waitress uncorked the bottle of  chardonnay he'd bought from the liquor-mart next door and proceeded to  pour him a glass of wine. Seven twenty-five. Only a few more minutes to  wait if Erin was punctual. No reason for her not to be, he reasoned. Her  choice of restaurant was very much a drop in place.

The front half of it was divided into a kitchen along one wall with a  bench-seat along the wall facing it for takeaway customers to wait for  their orders to be cooked. The back section had just two rows of five  tables each side. He'd been led to the third one behind the kitchen,  which provided privacy from the more transient customers.

The table had a laminated surface for easy cleaning. Paper serviettes  were available from a dispenser. Pepper and salt and various sauces were  contained in a holder. A corked bottle of water stood by two drinking  glasses. If customers wanted to drink wine with their meal, it was a  case of bring your own-information Peter had received when he'd arrived  earlier. An ice bucket could be provided and was, the waitress leaving  the bottle in it after she finished serving him.