Chapter 45
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Peter seethed over being cast for that role by Erin Lavelle. He couldn't see it any other way, given her readiness to leave him when the situation no longer suited her. Toy with the prince for a while, fulfil a few sexual fantasies, enjoy whatever entertainment he provides, but keep him in the box marked Playtime.
The infuriating part was all the signals had been there if he hadn't been so blindly arrogant about his own appeal to a Cinderella preschool teacher. Erin had dressed to bowl him over on Friday night and there'd not been the slightest hesitation over going tohis castle. Even her serene silence in the car on the drive out to Bondi Beach should have telegraphed he was doing precisely what she'd wanted of him. Why bother with conversation when the game was well and truly on?
Then the way she'd taken over out on the balcony…
All the pleasure she'd given him was soured by the knowledge that she had only been interested in having a physical relationship, and only on her own terms, as well.
Her proud refusal to be indebted to him over a set of clothes, the sharp warning, You don't own me, Peter, her evasion on the husband-list issue, the way she'd concentrated so much interest in horses and horse-racing, which could be of use to her as a writer—in fact, she'd obviously had some idea for a story yesterday afternoon—the whole encounter had been on her terms.
But the game was now up.
She'd closed the door on it and he wasn't about to contest her decision. In his whole life, no one had ever made him feel this small. Totally insignificant.
He waited until she had to be clear of the apartment complex, taking a taxi to wherever she lived—another fact withheld from him—then got himself ready to go to the gym, needing an outlet for the volcano of aggressive energy, which he'd
somehow kept capped while Erin was calmly going about her departure.
Two hours later, after a punishing workout, Peter was leaving the gym when his cell phone rang. His mother's number on the screen reminded him of her luncheon invitation, which had completely slipped his mind. Cursing under his breath, he made the connection and offered his apology.
'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 likethe 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.
