The Billionaire's Captive Bride(8)

But would it be from a sense of possession or did he really intend to be a hands-on parent?

"Not all fathers want the responsibility of raising their children," she said quietly. "They prefer to leave it to the mothers."

A flash of hard mockery preceded a swift switch to the laser probing. "Is that your personal experience, Erin?"

"Yes, it is," she conceded, adding her own touch of mockery as she  explained. "My father is an academic, a professor of English, who lives  in the rarefied world of literature. He takes it for granted that his  needs will be looked after by a woman. A child's needs … " She shook her  head, smiling wryly. "He only ever did what suited him and that was  mainly talking books to me. Which I liked. But I was always aware that  our relationship was limited to what he enjoyed doing. I didn't really  exist for him beyond that bit of sharing. In fact, I rather painfully  learnt … after my parents separated … there was no point in asking him for  more."

Peter grimaced. "A totally self-centred man. I'm sorry, Erin. We're not all like that."

"No. And all women aren't like Mrs Harper."

"Your mother didn't want you, either?"

Erin hesitated. Her comment on Thomas's mother had been aimed at what  she sensed was a general cynicism about women, wanting him to review his  attitude. Another probe into what was deeply personal to her made her  feel uncomfortably vulnerable. She'd just revealed more to Peter Ramsey  about her childhood than she'd ever revealed to anyone. Somehow the  issue with the Harper family had lured her into it … or was it the keen  interest in the riveting blue eyes?

Did it matter if she told him how it had been for her? They were simply  talking around the consequences of divorce. This was a one-off night in  their lives so it was highly unlikely that any private information she  gave him would come back to bite her in a discomfiting fashion. Besides,  answering his questions gave her grounds for demanding he answer hers.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say my mother didn't want me, but she  bitterly resented my father not doing his share, so she kept pushing me  at him. In hindsight, I realise she hated having been displaced by  another woman and used me to spike his new comfort zone as much as she  could."         

     



 

"So your father left her."

Erin sighed, remembering all the yelling and screaming that had preceded  the separation, shutting herself in her bedroom, trying not to hear,  desperately wishing it would stop. "My mother discovered he was having  an affair and made it impossible for him to stay," she said flatly.

"Sounds like she cared more about making him pay for his infidelity than  she cared about you, Erin. Is that how it was?" Peter asked  sympathetically.

She shrugged, her mind instinctively sheering away from the lonely steps  of learning how to cope by herself, preferring not to ask anything of  her parents than suffer more rejection from her father or a harangue  from her mother about how difficult it was, being a single parent.

"I guess I learnt to detach myself from both of them. I think a lot of  children become victims of the emotional crossfire that divorce  invariably triggers." She heaved another sigh, which drifted into an  appreciative smile for his concern. "I hope Thomas gets to feel good  with his father. And I hope his mother comes around to understanding  that he needs both parents to love him."

"I hope so, too."

"So what about you, Peter?"

The question caught him by surprise. She could see he was still sifting  through her personal experience of divorce, perhaps applying it to his  Good Samaritan act and wondering if it would lead to a better life for  Thomas Harper. He looked quizzically at her as he repeated, "What about  me?"

"What's it like to have been born and raised as a prince, able to distribute largesse on a whim?"

She had tossed the question at him lightly but his face hardened as  though she'd hit a raw nerve. "Does anyone really care about a prince as  a person, or do they simply work at getting close and staying close for  what he can do for them? What they can get out of him? The largesse  they might be able to tap?" One eyebrow lifted in sardonic challenge.  "You'd be surprised how lonely that life can be, Erin."

She stared at him, wondering if his trust in friendship had been totally  tainted by the wealth at his disposal. It was a sad situation if that  was his reality. She could see why he'd feel good about giving to Dave  Harper because it hadn't been expected of him, hadn't been asked for.

Their meals arrived. Once their plates were set in front of them and the  waitress gone, Erin leaned forward to say, "I'll be paying for my  dinner, Peter. I didn't come for a free ride."

She'd come for something else entirely-an adventure with him.

"I did ask you to join me, Erin," he pointed out, amused by her independent stance.

"My choice," she reminded him. "Let's eat."

The food was good; fresh vegetables lightly cooked, succulent king  prawns, flavours enhanced by the spicy chilli jam. "Enjoying it?" she  asked, hoping that her choice was to his liking.

"Mmm … very tasty."

His eyes locked with hers for a moment, a bombardment of bright blue  twinkles arousing the strong sensation he was once again applying the  words to her, not the meal. She kept eating but the excitement racing  around her mind made the action completely mechanical.

"Sure you wouldn't like a glass of wine?" he asked, lifting the bottle from the ice-bucket.

Erin shook her head, feeling she was intoxicated enough just being with  him. When he replaced the bottle without refilling his glass, she said,  "Please don't let me stop you from enjoying it."

"I have to keep a clear head, too. I'm driving."

Away from this meeting place.

The thought delivered a shaft of cold sanity. Erin once more berated  herself for being so foolish as to think he might want to extend this  connection with her. Hadn't he just more or less rebuffed her attempt to  delve into his life? He was now assured he'd done the right thing by  Dave and Thomas Harper. Once this dinner was over … and it was … both of  them setting their emptied plates aside for the waitress to  collect … there was no reason for him to prolong this encounter.

Unless …

She couldn't suppress the hope for something more.

"Do you have far to drive?" she asked, trying to force herself to accept the inevitable.

"No. It's only a short distance to Bondi Beach."

"Is that where you live?"

"I have an apartment there." His mouth curved into a dry little smile. "I live in many places, Erin."

"So do I," tripped off her tongue.

It caused him to look at her quizzically.

She didn't want to talk about herself anymore, didn't want him to stay  on out of politeness, listening to the kind of footloose life she had  adopted. Besides, most people considered her odd-those who had roots  they cared about. Rather than be seen as odd by this man, she laughed  and said, "I can go anywhere in my mind, Peter."         

     



 

He smiled his understanding. "You must have a vivid imagination to tell  stories so well. Can your mind encompass going with me tonight?"

The question was slid out so smoothly, tapping straight into her own  secret desire, Erin wasn't sure if it had really been spoken. "I beg  your pardon?" she rattled out, her heart thumping so hard her chest  hurt.

He leaned forward, bringing the full power of his physical magnetism  into play as he spread his hands out to her in open appeal across the  table. His eyes engaged hers with almost hypnotic intensity as he said,  "You're not committed to meeting anyone in particular at your party."

"No." There was no party.

"So come with me instead." His mouth broke into a dazzling white grin.  "Think about it. It's only right for the prince to sweep Cinderella off  to his castle. We can't let the story end here, Erin."

Her mouth had gone completely dry. She swallowed hard to work some  moisture into it as her dazed mind came to grips with a move she'd given  up believing would happen. Peter Ramsey was attracted to her. He wanted  her to go with him, be with him.

"No. Ending it here wouldn't feel good," she blurted out, throwing all sense of caution to the wind.

He laughed, delighted with her reply. "Click!" he said, reminding her of  their earlier conversation about finding someone who was tuned in on  the same wavelength. "My horse awaits," he added, rising to his feet and  holding out his hand to draw her to hers.

"Is it a white charger?" she asked giddily, her hand shooting up to meet  his, her body lifting from the chair in a surge of wild happiness.

"Blue," he replied with mock ruefulness. "But it is charged with a lot of horsepower."

She laughed, deliriously aware of his fingers enclosing hers, forging a  link that was not about to let her slip away from him. A brief  separation came as they paused on their way out of the restaurant to pay  for the dinner, but once that was done, Peter instantly recaptured her  hand and maintained the connection while they walked along together.