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 Lavel e 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 unchal enged. 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.
Chapter 10
Seven months later…
Erin checked that she had everything ready for the meeting; jug of iced water in the refrigerator, glasses ready on the kitchen bench, coffee percolator loaded—Jane Emerson, her agent, never drank anything else—Earl Grey tea for Richard Long, her very English editor, and a plate of assorted cookies that should please everyone. The living room was tidy, the curtains pulled back to showcase the view of Byron Bay —white sand and crystal clear turquoise water.
She had bought this beach house four years ago. It suited her, right away from the bustle of major cities, especially for writing. She didn’t care if the animated film people thought she was some prima donna author, insisting that they travel to her for the consultation on how her story was to be brought to the big screen. At eight months’ pregnant, and determined on keeping that fact as private as possible, she didn’t want any fanfare about this meeting.
The publicity could come afterwards, when everything had been signed. No doubt her editor and agent would make the most of it, eager to push more book sales on the back of a film created by Zack Freeman who also happened to be an Australian, and top of the tree at delivering the best computerised special effects. He’d won two academy awards for his work. Apparently he was now putting his creativity into animated movies.
Erin was looking forward to meeting him, wondering what he planned to do with her story.
The sound of cars pulling up in the street outside drew her down the hallway to the front door. A glance at her watch assured her it was time for her visitors to arrive, just a couple of minutes short of ten o’clock. They were all staying at the plush Bay Resort on Johnson Street and had probably already established an acquaintance, either last night or this morning. She took a deep breath, mentally put on her author hat, tried to forget how ungainly she looked with her hugely swol en belly, and opened the door.
Richard and Jane were alighting from the first car, a local taxi. Jane was dressed in her London black business suit even though it was November here in Australia, and so hot today at Byron Bay, Erin had dressed comfortably in a sleeveless cotton shift. However, she had the air-conditioning on so Jane shouldn’t suffer too much inside the house. Richard was in a suit, too, a grey pinstripe, very English.
Her gaze shifted to the second car, a white Mercedes. A tall, black-haired man, dressed in a lightweight grey suit, emerged from the front passenger seat. An even taller man, with dark blond hair and very broad shoulders underneath a tailored navy jacket, appeared from the driver’s side. He turned towards the house and Erin reeled back in shock.
Peter Ramsey !
Disbelief fought with unmistakable recognition. A tumult of emotions roared through her, putting knots in her stomach, squeezing her heart, shattering her mind. All throughout her pregnancy she’d struggled with facing him about his unplanned fatherhood, and now he was here, about to see what a short weekend of intimacy with her had wrought. He’d hate her for it, accuse her of all sorts of nasty things…
No-o-o-o-o-o….
The scream inside her head pushed her feet into spinning around, moving out of sight. Sheer panic pelted her down the hallway, the need to hide, to avoid this meeting at all costs churning through her. She was breathless, heaving in agitation as she stopped at the sliding glass doors at the far end of the living room, gripping the handles to yank them apart. Pain speared across her lower back.