—”
“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.
Click!
She and Peter Ramsey were together on that tonight.
Her prince…his princess…more than likely a one-night fantasy, but let it be, she thought fiercely.
Let it be.
Peter had to keep cautioning himself not to exceed the speed limit as he drove. Exhilaration was pumping through him and it craved action.
Fast action.
He was acutely conscious of Erin’s presence beside him, could still feel the imprint of her body on his…so soft and giving, stirring caveman instincts that were running rampant.
He was so caught up in his own physical excitement, it was a while before he realised she’d said nothing since the Oxford Street intersection.
Most women were full of chatter. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to break the sense of being drawn into a magical tunnel that promised the fulfilment of all he wanted with a woman. Fantasy, perhaps, but the urge to give it free rein tonight was gall oping through him.
Yet was her silence one of contented acquiescence to spending this night with him, or did it hide less harmonious thoughts?
She’d said yes.
But then there’d been the question about his motives for pursuing a connection with her—a game he played. Had she been satisfied with his reply? How was she to know he’d never done this before?
He shot a quick assessing glance at her. Her head was tilted back against the headrest, eyes closed, long strands of hair blowing into a feathering dance around her face. No troubled frown. No sign of tension. Her expression was completely serene, her body relaxed, her hands loosely linked in her lap. Was she, too, floating with the night, not letting any worry touch it?
Recalling a comment she’d made over dinner, he quietly asked,” Where have you gone in your mind, Erin ?”
“I’m right here, living this moment with you,” she answered and he could hear the smile in her voice.
“It feels good?” he prompted, wanting confirmation.
“It feels…marvel ous.”
The eloquent thril in her voice relieved him of any concern about how she was reacting to his initiatives in getting to this moment.
She was with him.
Or was she with the Ramsey billions, dismissing any sense of risk in favour of riding this opportunity to get into a relationship with him and…
His jaw clenched in frustration. He didn’t want to think like that with Erin .
Not tonight. Just go with the flow. Don’t spoil it, he told himself savagely.
She was beautiful, delightful, and cynical thoughts would blunt his desire for her and tarnish the magic. Block them out, let them go, enjoy having this woman.
His castle was a penthouse apartment, set up on the hill overlooking Bondi Beach. An elevator from the basement garage took them straight to a spacious living room, which spread out to a terrace with a swimming pool. Erin caught only a glimpse of these luxurious surroundings in passing. Peter led her straight up a staircase which took them to the master bedroom where he opened a wall of curtains, revealing a view that instantly evoked the sense of being on top of the world.
There was a balcony outside. He slid glass doors apart, smiled and ushered her to the railing, staying behind her, his arms encircling her waist, his head bent close to hers, his breath warming her ear as he murmured,” This night is ours, Erin.”
“Yes,” she whispered, a huge welling of emotion sighing through her voice. It was a beautiful cloudless night, stars twinkling above the far horizon, a crescent moon shining brightly, a light breeze wafting the salty scent of the sea, the rhythmic roar of waves rushing onto the beach and withdrawing. But what made it incredibly special was the presence of the man who was holding her.
She leaned back against him, nestling her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder, loving his strong masculinity, feeling safe in his embrace, safer than she had ever felt in her life. Which was strange because she barely knew Peter Ramsey, yet her instincts saidtrust him. He was a big man, big in every way, a man who would fight for what he believed was right, a man who would protect what he held dear to the last breath in his body.