One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (22 page)

He frowned. “Sounds like you've had some disappointing personal experiences. How old are you, Erin?”

“I passed the big three zero almost a year ago,” she answered flippantly, refusing to let that bother her. Life was to be lived, no matter what.

“So the biological clock is ticking,” he muttered.

“Can't stop that,” she agreed. No one had control over time. “How old are you, Peter?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Then you must have had quite a few disappointing personal experiences, too.”

“Click!” he said, throwing a wide dazzling grin at her.

Erin's heartbeat did its own clickety-click. Peter Ramsey was an absolutely gorgeous man. She was loving this experience with him. No doubt disappointment would come sooner or later, but until it did…

“To me the ideal marriage is a true partnership,” he said. “Two people complementing each other, not competing for top billing.”

“Ever seen that ideal in practice?” she challenged.

He nodded. “My parents. My sister and her husband. Though there are different aspects to their marriages. My mother might appear subordinate to my father, but she is very serious, very caring about her charity work and Dad respects and supports her desire to help, to make a difference. He doesn't demand that she always be at his side, looking after his needs. On the other hand, Charlotte and Damien are two like minds, sharing everything. Both have very solid marriages.”

He spoke with such warmth about his family, Erin couldn't help feeling a stab of envy. “That's nice. You're very lucky, Peter.”

“No.” He shook his head. “
They
are. They found the right partners.”

She looked at him curiously. “So which kind of marriage would you envisage for yourself, the first or the second?”

It could be possible for her to fit into the first mould, she was thinking. No way the second.

“I think if you find the person you want to spend your life with, you work it out from there.”

“Hmm…that's an interesting theory, Peter.” She smiled at him. “Meanwhile you're hanging loose.”

He laughed and a hot blast of sexy blue twinkles zipped from his eyes and tingled all over her. “Not so loose at the moment,” he drawled, leaving Erin in a ridiculously blissful state of exhilaration.

The parting of the ways was not going to happen today.

Peter Ramsey still wanted her.

Her prince…

She didn't care how different their worlds were. In fact, it would be fascinating to have a little taste of his today, so it was worth making the effort to fit in as well as she could, not create any awkward waves. Just being with him was making her feel anything was possible between them.

He drove around the northern end of Hyde Park and pulled up behind the taxi rank in Elizabeth Street. Illegal to park, so with engine idling, he reached across to squeeze one of her hands, his bright blue gaze seriously commanding. “Don't blow your budget on this, Erin. It really doesn't matter. Okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled at his caring. “I'll just satisfy my female pride.”

He smiled at her levity, pleased that she wasn't too concerned about the people she'd meet with him at Randwick. “Go to it. I'll be back here at eleven-thirty.”

“I won't keep you waiting,” she promised, and quickly alighted from the car.

Having waved him off, Erin hurried down to the pedestrian crossing which would take her directly to David Jones. Her dress from last night drew a few looks. It wasn't exactly morning wear. It could be put in a bag once she changed into whatever she bought. The great thing about David Jones was it could provide the lot; classy clothes and accessories, beautician, hair-stylist, manicurist. By eleven-thirty, she was going to look like a million dollars for Peter Ramsey and she didn't care about the cost.

Why should she?

The royalties on her books had made her one of the wealthiest authors in the world. One of the reasons, she suspected, her editor wanted a more personal as well as a professional connection with her. Money did make people more attractive to the opposite sex. Though her success had drawn quite a lot of nasty envy, as well.

She didn't have to wear that with Peter.

Different worlds.

Maybe that wasn't bad.

Maybe…

Erin quelled the heart-fluttering hope before it took really wild wings. Today she was going to Randwick to watch horse-races with Peter Ramsey and that was adventure enough. Plus right now she had the fun of shopping to knock his socks off.

A happy day.

Silly to start wanting too much.

P
ETER
had to stop the BMW at the pedestrian crossing from Hyde Park to St Mary's Cathedral, just short of where he had dropped Erin this morning. The dashboard clock read eleven thirty-one. He'd timed his arrival almost perfectly. Was she waiting for him?

He checked the sidewalk that curved down to Elizabeth Street. His quickly scanning gaze caught sight of a woman standing in the shade of an overhanging tree, just past the end of the taxi rank—a stunningly attired woman who looked as if she'd stepped out of the fashion pages of
Vogue
magazine.

Was it Erin?

A very stylish black hat dipped over her face, making her identity uncertain for a moment, though the hair was right, the body shape was right. Her head turned towards him and his heart thumped with a great leap of excitement. It
was
her. She saw the blue BMW, smiled, waved, moved out from the shade towards the edge of the sidewalk, ready to join him.

The dress she wore was a sleeveless, silky wraparound, a deep jade-green with big black polka dots. A wide black leather belt held it in place and accentuated the smallness of her waist and the curve of her hips. The crossover bodice gave a teasing hint of cleavage, and as she walked, the skirt flapped open enough to give a provocative glimpse of thigh. Black high-heels with thin straps around her ankles completed an outfit that was all sexy woman.

A hot rush of blood to his groin warned him he'd be in serious discomfort if he didn't lift his mind off the desire she aroused. The car behind him honked impatience. The traffic lights had turned green. He quickly accelerated, signalling his intention to pull over to the sidewalk, and doing so right beside Erin.

She held up a large black and white signature David Jones carry-bag. “Can I put this in the boot of the car?”

“Sure can.” He pressed the central unlocking button, then leaned over to open the passenger door for her.

Having stowed the bag in the boot compartment, she slid into the seat beside him, another flash of legs raising his body temperature again. She quickly closed the door, grabbed the seat-belt and the lush fullness of her breasts was temptingly emphasised as the belt was whipped between them and fastened.

“We're off!” she declared, lifting a face that glowed with happy anticipation.

No. We're on,
Peter thought, a fierce wave of feeling driving a determination to make Erin Lavelle realise she was
his
woman. That didn't mean owning her. It meant he was the man in her life.

“Do I pass muster?” she asked as he put the car into gear, ready to ease into the traffic.

The note of vulnerability in her voice reminded him of what it must have cost her to look the part of his companion at Randwick. He didn't want her feeling nervous about appearing at his side in public and she certainly had no reason to be.

“You look fabulous, Erin,” he quickly assured her, smiling his appreciation of how incredibly striking she was. “Every guy at the race-course will be jealous of me.”

She laughed her pleasure in the compliment. “Thank you.” Her gorgeous green eyes skated over him, taking in the mid-grey suit with its darker grey pinstripe, the white shirt and gold silk tie. “You look fabulous, too.”

The husky words ended in a sharp intake of breath and a long sigh as though she needed to relieve a tightness in her chest. Peter was suffering a fair amount of physical tightness himself. He concentrated on driving because there was no other optional action at the moment, but he was acutely aware of the woman beside him, wanting her more than he could remember wanting any other woman.

“Are you the jealous type, Peter?” she asked in a wary tone.

“No.” He threw her a teasing look. “You can strike jealousy off the list.”

She looked startled. “What list?”

He grinned. “The bad husband material list you were citing this morning.”

“Oh! I was not…I mean…” She floundered, embarrassed by having her general observations applied so personally to him.

She definitely wasn't measuring him up as a possible husband.

Was a marriage to him too pie-in-the-sky to her mind?

He didn't feel she was anti-marriage, just distrustful of how the commitment was worked.

No problem with sharing his bed, so sharing his life had to be the stumbling block. From what she'd said, the idea of sharing any man's life was not an attractive proposition, and his certainly carried the penalty of public scrutiny. Though she hadn't backed off from that aspect, probably spending far more than she could really afford on clothes to be with him at Randwick today.

Peter wondered how far he could push the relationship, how far Erin Lavelle would let it be pushed before her strong sense of independence kicked in and cut him out. He didn't think his wealth counted for anything with her. In fact, far from being a gold-star attraction, that might well be a stumbling block, too.

“It was you who brought up the subject of marriage, Peter,” she said, still discomfited by his husband-list comment.

“Marriage and motherhood,” he readily conceded, intent on stirring some more telling reactions.

“Right! So we've covered that ground.”

She was drawing a line of finality under it.

“I've never been to the races,” she quickly stated. “Tell me what to expect. Tell me about your horse.”

She made it easy to oblige her, flooding him with eager questions, listening to his answers so she could hit off them, broadening her inquiry into the whole business of horse-racing. In fact, her concentrated interest made it a pleasure to give her the knowledge she sought, and by the time they reached Randwick Racecourse, Peter was thinking he'd never been interviewed so intelligently on a subject.

Her lively curiosity continued over lunch in the directors' dining room and in the champagne bar afterwards. The people they met—friends, acquaintances and associates of his—all responded very positively to the happy energy she emitted. It was impossible not to like her.

Her smile, the gorgeous green eyes sparkling with fascinated interest, the way she listened, focussing so directly on the person who was speaking to her and soaking in every word that was said…the men were all charmed by her, the women intrigued, surreptitiously eyeing her over, half of them probably wanting to find fault and frustrated at not finding anything to criticise.

He knew what they were thinking—
Who is this Erin Lavelle?

The wife of one of the race-course directors actually mulled over the name out loud. “Erin Lavelle…I'm sure I've read about you somewhere. I just can't think of the connection. Such a pretty name. Are you an actress or something?”

Erin laughed at the idea, shaking her head. “I'm simply lucky enough to be Peter's companion today.” She hugged his arm, her eyes flirtatiously engaging his, deflecting any further pursuit of her personal identity.

Peter got the message that she didn't want him to give out information on her background so he deftly turned the conversation away from what might be a sensitive issue to her in this company.

Was it another fantasy, he wondered, being his mystery companion for the day?

As they moved away, heading for the members' terrace to watch the races, he aimed a quizzical smile at her. “Are you worried that I might be uncomfortable about having it known that you're a preschool teacher I met in a public park?”

He wouldn't be,
Erin thought. He'd probably be amused by the reactions such a statement would arouse. But would he be as amused to find himself with a woman who was not a nobody? If she'd told that director's wife why the name of Erin Lavelle was familiar to her, revealed the fame she had in her own field, this easy comfort zone she and Peter currently occupied could have been blown sky-high.

She hadn't wanted to risk that—people gushing over her in public, ignoring the man who was giving her this special day, making him feel stupid for not knowing the truth about her. The truth would have to be told soon enough. But not yet. She didn't want him to look at her differently. She liked what they were sharing right now, didn't want anything to spoil it.

“I have the right to keep my private life private, Peter,” she said quietly. It was best that way. She hated all the fuss that came with being
the author.
And the men she'd been with hadn't liked it, either, being put in the shade of her success.

“The longer you're with me, the less chance you have of that, Erin,” Peter warned seriously.

She heaved a rueful sigh, realising that his high profile would inevitably stir interest in any woman at his side. Her eyes appealed for his forebearance. “It's no one else's business how we met or what we're doing together. Let's just take one day at a time, Peter.”

Peter's protective instincts rose instantly to the fore as he read the vulnerability in her eyes. No way would he let anyone badger Erin about her background, making her feel not up to his status. Though her obvious insecurity about how long they'd be together stirred an even stronger determination that this connection with Erin Lavelle was not going to be a one-day wonder.

“Well, today is race day,” he said lightly, “so let's go and watch the races.”

They found good seats on the members' terrace and Erin relaxed, eager to soak up more new knowledge. He explained the coloured silks of the jockeys as the horses were paraded out to the starting gates. She seemed totally entranced by the scene, sitting with her hands in her lap, her body leaning forward, her gaze trained on the horses as they raced around the course.

She didn't leap up in excitement as they turned for the gallop to the winning post. The crowd on the terrace was in its usual uproar but she simply sat quietly, and Peter had the uneasy feeling her mind had slipped to another place and she was there by herself, not with him or anyone else. The race finished and she didn't even seem aware of the bustling aftermath—people going off to get drinks, celebrating their winnings or commiserating over their losses.

“Erin…”

No response.

He reached over and touched her hands. Her head jerked towards him, eyes wide and startled.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Oh!” Hot colour whooshed into her cheeks. Embarrassed confusion in her eyes. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drift off. I just do sometimes,” she rattled out apologetically.

Did she have some mental problem?

“It's nothing to do with you, Peter,” she swiftly assured him. “You've been marvellous company. It was watching the horses. They're so beautiful and it started me thinking…”

She hesitated, frowning, and he sensed a deep reluctance to reveal the inner workings of her mind. Instinctively recognising a barrier that had to faced, crossed if possible, Peter pushed for an understanding of what it entailed.

“Erin, I don't have to be the centre of your attention. I'm just curious about what did captivate it so exclusively.”

She heaved a sigh, following it up with a wry grimace. “I have a vivid imagination, Peter. Sometimes it just takes off. I know it's a bit disconcerting for the people I'm with. I don't mean to block them out. Please just excuse it. Okay?” She gave him a blindingly brilliant smile. “I'm right back in your world now.”

As opposed to
her
world? Which she thought he couldn't, wouldn't share?

“What was going on in your imagination?” he pressed.

Her eyes instantly took on a guarded look. It told him she was mentally backing off even before she voiced the dismissal in her mind. “I was just playing with an idea. Let's leave it at that.” Then she was on her feet, emitting a sense of urgency. “I really need to go to the ladies' room. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course.”

He stood to accompany her part of the way but she was already rushing off, leaving Peter feeling that he'd somehow lost that round with Erin Lavelle. Though she had given him a valuable insight into how she viewed this encounter with him. They came from separate worlds and to her mind, it wasn't feasible that the two would mix, so any long-term relationship with him was not on the cards.

She might be right.

But Peter was not about to give up on what he felt with this woman. The sense that he'd be
missing out
was stronger than ever.

Wonderful winged horses were flying through Erin's mind as she quickly negotiated her way to the ladies' room—five of them: white, grey, chestnut, dark brown and black, with beautifully coloured wings, like butterflies. The Mythical horses of…of…Mirrima. That sounded right. They were going to make a marvellous, magical story.

She'd been constructing the opening verse for it when Peter had called her out of her creative reverie. This wasn't the time or place for her to go on with it but she wanted to get these first thoughts into her notebook for later. Luckily she had transferred everything from last night's handbag to the new black one she'd bought this morning. It was automatic—never going anywhere without a notebook and pen.