The Billionaire's Captive Bride(9)

It was Friday night and Oxford Street was thronged with people intent on  having a good time at the end of their working week. Despite the  boisterous crowd milling around them, they moved in a space of their  own, as though the big man beside her generated a force-field that kept  others from touching them. They occupied a magic circle, Erin thought  fancifully, refusing to think about where they were going, revelling in  the exhilarating sense of not knowing what might come next.

They turned a corner. "Parking stable in the next block," Peter informed her, still enjoying the fiction she had fallen in with.

Her feet wanted to dance. She did feel like Cinderella, miraculously  going to the prince's ball. "I wonder if we can stop the clock from  striking twelve," she said whimsically.

"Are you planning on running away at midnight?"

"That's when this day ends," she reminded him, secretly hoping that the  adventure they were embarking upon would keep its exciting fascination  for both of them.

"I do have a glass slipper up my sleeve," he said with arch confidence.

"You do?"

He grinned. "I know where you work so I can find you again."

She didn't work at the preschool, but he could find her through her aunt  if he really wanted to. A fountain of joy was bubbling through her as  they entered the parking station. She felt no trepidation whatsoever  about accompanying him anywhere at all. It seemed to her that a fairy  godmother had waved her wand, ordaining their coming together, because  however unlikely it was, they were meant to meet.

This lovely sense of a benign Fate was abruptly shaken when Peter led  her to a royal-blue BMW Z4 sports convertible. It was too coincidental  for her to be personally confronted by two such cars on the same day.  Her heart quivered with shock as her mind made the obvious connection.  She turned to Peter, her eyes searching for the truth in his.

"It was you at the pedestrian crossing near the preschool."

"Yes, it was," he acknowledged without the slightest hesitation.

"And then … then you just happened to drop in at that park?"

"No. Your smile drew me there."

"My smile … "

Bright red danger flashes were popping in her mind. This was crazy. A  man as powerful as Peter Ramsey stopping for a woman he thought was a  preschool teacher? It was too far out … too …

His hand was suddenly cupping her cheek, its warmth arousing an instant  pleasure in his touch. She automatically leaned into it. His fingers  gently stroked her temple, somehow soothing the tumult his words had  triggered. He smiled, making it seem perfectly reasonable that a smile  could have immense drawing power. Her throat had seized up. She was  speechless, staring at the unmistakable glitter of desire in his  eyes-desire for her, no longer hidden-desire intent on being satisfied.         

     



 

His head was bending down, coming closer.

He was going to kiss her.

A moment before his lips touched hers, one last panicky thought broke  through the mesmerised state of acceptance-what kind of man would do all  Peter Ramsey had done to get to this moment with her … just from seeing  her in the street?





CHAPTER FIVE




ERIN'S heart was galloping. The light brush of his lips against hers  caused an electric buzz. She ceased to think. The tip of her tongue  darted out to sweep over the acute sensation. He sucked it into his  mouth, instantly turning the kiss into a deeply intimate connection.

She felt him lift her hand to his shoulder, felt the fingers that had  been stroking her face slide into her hair, felt his arm slide around  her waist. Then her body was being pressed against his and it felt so  good to be held there, her soft femininity revelling in his hard  strength, her breasts swelling ecstatically across the hot, muscular  wall of his chest, a wild excitement coursing through her stomach at the  unmistakable evidence of his desire, her thighs quivering at the  tension in his, the sense of melting into him spreading right through  her as the kiss went on and on, erotically gathering an urgent passion  that was totally beyond any experience she'd ever had of kissing.

She wasn't aware of thrusting her own hand into his hair, holding his  head down to hers, wasn't aware that her other hand was clamped to his  back, doing its utmost to increase the pressure of their embrace. Only  when Peter's mouth broke from hers did she become conscious of her own  lustful complicity in what he had started.

"I want you very badly, Erin Lavelle." Words bursting through ragged breathing.

"Yes," fell from her lips before she gathered wits enough to know what she was saying.

"Into the car," came the gruff command.

Erin felt like a bundle of jelly. Peter virtually scooped her into the  passenger seat of the BMW, deftly fastening her seat belt before closing  her door and striding around the bonnet to the driver's side. She  dazedly wondered how he could summon so much forceful purpose when her  body seemed to have lost all sense of co-ordination.

He whooshed into the seat beside her, charging the air inside the car  with his highly active energy. The powerful engine of the sports  convertible thrummed into life. He flashed a grin at her. "Will you be  worried about your hair getting blown about if I put the hood down?"

"No," she said, thinking a cooling breeze might help glue her back together.

Peter pressed a button and the hood lifted up and disappeared behind  them. Then they were off, heading out of the parking station, driving  into the night. Red traffic lights stopped them at the Oxford Street  intersection. Pedestrians streamed across the road in front of them.  People looked at the car, just as she had earlier today, looked at the  occupants to check what they were like.

Was Peter eyeing the women as they passed?

She glanced sharply at him.

He wasn't smiling at any of them. His attention was trained on the  traffic lights, waiting for them to turn green. Impatient to get where  they were going? He either caught her glance out of the corner of his  eye or sensed her unease.

"What?" he asked, his gaze spearing to hers, the blue eyes alert to a possible problem.

The sense of taking a huge risk with him made her blurt out, "Is it a  game with you, picking out a woman who's outside your social circle  and-"

"No," he broke in emphatically. His hand moved swiftly from the gear  stick, reaching for one of hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.  "You're a first, Erin. And you shine more brightly than any woman who's  ever been in my social circle. My life has seemed grey for a long time  and today you put colour into it."

A first …

She liked that.

It made her feel special.

She smiled.

He smiled back.

Warmth curled around her heart and calmed the spurt of agitation in her mind.

The lights turned green. Peter released her hand and drove on. Erin  relaxed into the contoured leather seat, telling herself to enjoy the  ride in a sports convertible, the sense of being open to the night, air  rushing past, ruffling her hair, the sights and scents of the city much  sharper than from a closed car.

She wanted to be simply swept along by this man, let whatever happened  with him happen, even if it was madly reckless. Yet a natural wariness  in her mind kept pricking at a hardy strain of common sense. He might  have lied about her being the first. He might get his kicks from taking a  trip with a woman he chose out of nowhere.

He had definitely manipulated the situation today, directing her  personal co-operation with his plan to defuse the traumatic scene with  Dave Harper, appointing her as the person to collect Thomas from his  father, giving her his business card and pressing her to contact him,  motivating her to meet him again. None of it was really spontaneous. All  of it spoke of a man primed to seize opportunity and turn it to his  advantage.         

     



 

Peter Ramsey … billionaire … ruthless in going after what he wanted and getting it?

Here she was, taking a ride straight to his bedroom, right where he  wanted her, maybe where he'd decided he'd like to have her from the  moment she'd smiled at him. A Latin phrase her father was fond of  quoting slid into her mind, Julius Caesar's famous boast … Veni, vidi,  vici …  I came, I saw, I conquered.

In a way, billionaires were the modern day version of empire-builders,  taking over whatever piece of the world fired their interest. There was  no doubt in her mind now that Peter Ramsey was of that special breed of  men. Hadn't she instinctively picked that up, casting him as a Viking  warrior even before she'd known who he was?

Maybe she should be frightened of him but she wasn't. He excited her,  more than any man she had ever met. So what if she had been his puppet  today, being pulled by strings she hadn't seen! She still wanted this  adventure with him, and had tried to pull strings herself to get it,  deliberately sexing up her appearance. Her life had been grey for a long  time, which was why she immersed herself so much in her stories. She'd  used them to colour it. And her travels through other countries … looking  for colour, wanting it.