The Billionaire's Captive Bride. Emma Darcy
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with pleasure!
A wild, wonderful hope danced through her mind. “You asked me to call,” she reminded him.
“It’s come later than I expected. I thought you weren’t going to contact me. I’m glad you have.”
It was pleasure. Warm pleasure. A smile burst across Erin’s face. “Mrs Harper didn’t come until five o’clock. She’s only just left.”
“Ah!” The sound of satisfaction. “There must be a lot to tell me and I do want to know all of it. Would you join me for dinner, Erin? I’ve been with Dave Harper most of the afternoon, getting his side of the story to a good lawyer. I need to hear your impressions of his wife.”
“Dinner…” she repeated dazedly. The invitation had come so fast her head was spinning.
“Regardless of what people might have told you about me since our meeting in the park, I promise I’m not the big bad wolf, and you don’t have to fear my gobbling you up on the spot,” he assured her with dry mockery.
“Right!” she said, though the idea of being gobbled up by Peter Ramsey had actually sent her pulse-rate zooming. “Where and when?” she asked, trying to sound efficient and not too eager.
“Whatever suits you, Erin.”
Which lobbed the ball straight into her court.
Was it a test of how much she would try to screw out of him?
What did he expect her to choose?
Best to go for her own comfort zone, she swiftly decided, given she was in an absolute tizz about meeting him again. The intimidation of a ritzy restaurant would only make her more nervy.
“Are you okay with a downmarket place?” she asked, wondering if he preferred the privileges that went with being recognised in trendy surroundings.
“No problem,” he assured her.
So he didn’t need ego-stroking.
“Do you like Thai food?”
“Fine with me.”
He was being very accommodating.
Glowing happily, Erin gave directions. “Along Oxford Street, between the end of Hyde Park and Taylor Square, there’s a little restaurant called Titanic Thai. I could meet you there at seven-thirty.”
“Should I book a table?”
“No. I’ll drop in and ask them to keep me one.”
“You live nearby?”
“More or less,” she answered vaguely, not wanting to divulge too much about herself at this point. “I’ll see you there then?”
“Seven-thirty, Oxford Street, a Thai restaurant called Titanic but it’s only little,” he said in a tone of amusement.
“That’s it,” she confirmed and rang off, feeling pleased with herself for not only seizing the chance he’d held out, but for taking command of proceedings, as well.
Her feet wanted to skip all the way to the bus stop.
Got her!
Peter’s hand clenched in exhilarating triumph.
Then he laughed at himself for being so absurdly excited over another meeting with a woman whose life was so remote from his, they’d probably have nothing to talk about apart from Dave Harper’s miserable situation.
Nevertheless, that bit of reality did not dim his desire to experience all there was to know of Erin Lavelle. He’d been in the mood to embrace the wildly improbable ever since she’d smiled at him at the pedestrian crossing, and tonight was another step in the same vein. Knowing who he was, she could have taken him for an expensive dinner at a top class restaurant. He wouldn’t have cared if she had, but he was delighted with her choice. It was in keeping with this whole encounter—totally off-the-wall.
“Titanic Thai, here I come!” he said out loud, grinning to himself as he bounded up the stairs to the master bedroom of his Bondi Beach apartment. Shower, shave, change of clothes, get to Taylor Square, scout the restaurant…tonight he was going to get the princess with the magic rainbow smile and the heart of gold!
Erin knew that the most sensible course was to play it cool with Peter Ramsey, not look as if she expected anything from him, turn up in jeans and pretend she wasn’t madly wishing he found her too desirable to pass up. Their lives were too different to envisage any serious relationship between them.
On the other hand, she’d never been so captivated by a man. Even if it could only be a mad fling with him…
Temptation wove its own more exciting path around common sense and was in full swing by the time she reached the Hyde Park apartment hotel where she invariably stayed while in Sydney. It was in easy walking distance of the Thai restaurant where she had frequently dined.
As she showered, washed and blow-dried her hair into a silky black mane that rippled over her shoulders, her mind moved into a totally reckless whirl of wanting to make something happen between her and Peter Ramsey. Her hands reached into the clothes cupboard and pulled out the lemon, lime and green dress. It was a gorgeous dress. She loved the colours and the colours loved her. It was also a wicked little dress. In fact, her London editor, Richard Long, who regularly tried to move their relationship into a sexual one, had described it as a bed-me dress.
It was halter-necked, virtually backless, had to be worn braless, the low V-neckline in front showing a seductive hint of cleavage. A wide tan leather belt drew attention to the curvy lines of her figure, and the soft fabric flowed into a frothy skirt that was deliciously feminine. Teamed with strappy tan leather sandals and no jewellery, it wasn’t too, too dressy, Erin decided.
And so what if it did stir the pot tonight!
Peter Ramsey had appeared like magic in her life.
Why not use a bit of female witchery to keep him in it, at least for long enough to explore the feelings he’d aroused?
She was thirty years old and had virtually perfected the role of an onlooker of life, a passer-by who’d never felt truly wanted enough by anyone to become enmeshed in a deep involvement. A lasting attachment to Peter Ramsey was not really within the bounds of reason, but a brief one…a fiercely compelling conviction surged through her…that was worth going for, given that no other man had ever made such a deep impact on her.
Peter glanced at his watch as the waitress uncorked the bottle of chardonnay he’d bought from the liquor-mart next door and proceeded to pour him a glass of wine. Seven twenty-five. Only a few more minutes to wait if Erin was punctual. No reason for her not to be, he reasoned. Her choice of restaurant was very much a drop in place.
The front half of it was divided into a kitchen along one wall with a bench-seat along the wall facing it for takeaway customers to wait for their orders to be cooked. The back section had just two rows of five tables each side. He’d been led to the third one behind the kitchen, which provided privacy from the more transient customers.
The table had a laminated surface for easy cleaning. Paper serviettes were available from a dispenser. Pepper and salt and various sauces were contained in a holder. A corked bottle of water stood by two drinking glasses. If customers wanted to drink wine with their meal, it was a case of bring your own—information Peter had received when he’d arrived earlier. An ice bucket could be provided and was, the waitress leaving the bottle in it after she finished serving him.
He sipped the chardonnay—a fine Margaret River wine that he hoped would be to Erin’s taste. He wanted to please her, wanted her to be pleased with him. This meeting place virtually shouted that to her mind, any romance between them was out of the question. No doubt, the Ramsey name had intimidated her into thinking that. A smile of happy anticipation spread across his face. He relished the challenge of overriding that barrier with a full-on charm offensive.
Except