The Wealthy Man's Waitress

‘I know exactly what kind of talents my son is endowed with, Miss…?’

‘Robards.’

‘Miss Robards. But somehow I don’t think they’re the same ones that you’re so keen to endorse. And, for what it’s worth, setting up a pottery in an already overcrowded market in the middle of St Ives is not my idea of a viable venture. If you want my opinion, and I’m sure you don’t…’ The piercing blue eyes frosted over as they swept over her flushed features, causing Emma to bite apprehensively down on her lip. ‘…it’s just another excuse for Lawrence to swan around abdicating all responsibility for his own welfare at my expense. I’ve given him money more times than I care to mention to finance any number of madcap schemes, and he squandered his mother’s legacy in less than a year. I’m afraid as far as I’m concerned he’s more than had his quota of help from me. Shame you had a wasted journey, Miss Robards.’ And with that Piers walked around his desk and picked up the phone.

Emma could hardly believe he was dismissing her so easily, so coldly, and without consideration. It was his son she’d come to talk about, not some stranger who wasn’t anything to do with him! She’d never had a man cry in her arms before, but last night Lawrence had. He’d broken down and poured out all his heartbreak—his lonely, unloved childhood, the death of his poor unhappy mother, driven to numerous affairs during her marriage to Piers because of his addiction to work and making money, and his father’s coldness to him whenever he asked for his help. No wonder he hadn’t got into university, he’d told her with wounded eyes. No wonder he’d drifted ever since. He was a lost soul and Emma was only too glad to help him in whatever way she could. She might have started out as just the girl who occupied the flat downstairs, but they’d quickly become friends and she’d often fed him when he’d run out of money for food and his cupboards were bare. The least his cold, imperious father could do was hear her out on his behalf!

‘Mr Redfield.’ Piers glanced up in surprise as Emma crossed the room to the edge of his desk and laid her hand across his where it rested on the receiver. Her skin was exquisitely soft, like the dewy petals of a rose, and he had to curb his surprise at the effect it had on him. A sensual little charge of electricity ran up his arm at her touch and created a nicely warm heat haze in his groin. Time seemed to stand still as all Piers’s senses were drowned in the sheer eroticism of the moment. Then, giving himself a mental shake, he moved his gaze to her face and was gratified to see her blush, amused when she quickly withdrew her hand as if he might have something contagious. Was she for real? That becoming colour flooding her cheeks certainly couldn’t be faked. He might not admire Lawrence for much, but he could certainly admire his taste in this particular woman. She was too young, of course—twenty-three or -four at most—but she had gumption: that much was clear, or else she wouldn’t have risked arriving unannounced in his office to plead her case for his good-for-nothing son. And the way that cerise jacket fitted across that sexy little black stretch top of hers… Well, those delicious curves could keep a man distracted better than the latest Ferrari out of the showroom. Piers withdrew his hand to his trouser pocket, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed in deeply to contain his sudden lust.

‘Was there something else, Miss Robards?’

‘Don’t give up on your son. He already feels rejected by you. He needs your help, not your condemnation. He told me to tell you he absolutely promises that this will be the very last time he asks for your help. Can’t you just meet up with him for half an hour and hear him out?’

‘And what’s in it for you, Miss Robards?’

‘What do you mean?’ Her softly defined brows drew together as she frowned, and her perfume seemed to envelop Piers enticingly as she blushed again. He absorbed the sensation for a long moment as he watched her, registering its impact deep in his belly, deciding he liked the effect it had on him far too much.

‘I mean, how does it benefit you if I help Lawrence? Are you looking for an easy life down in the West Country as well?’

He thought… He thought she was pulling some kind of scam to get hold of his money! Emma blanched at the very idea. There wasn’t a dishonest bone in her body, and she’d always gone out of her way to help others less fortunate than herself. And this man…this…this arrogant despot was suggesting that the only reason she was helping Lawrence was to somehow secure herself an easy life in Cornwall! Her hand itched to slap that conceited smirk right off his too handsome face, but she’d already risked enough trouble without being hauled off for assault as well. Instead she curled it into a fist by her side and told herself to take a deep breath before retaliating.

‘I should have known to expect such a low blow from a man such as you,’ she said passionately. ‘For your information, Mr Redfield, I only came here because Lawrence asked me and I happen to believe in what he wants to do. Personally I’m totally unimpressed by your wealth and wouldn’t ask you for a penny if my life depended on it, but Lawrence is a different matter. We’re not all cut out to run multimillion-pound corporations, you know. Some of us are struggling with deeper issues that sometimes make it hard for us to find our feet.’

What deeper issues was she struggling with? Piers mused fleetingly before dismissing the thought as irrelevant.

‘Are you sleeping with him?’

‘What?’ Emma stared at him as if he’d just accused her of embezzling all the corporation’s funds.

‘Let me make it clearer.’ Folding his arms across an impressively wide chest clad in an expensive suit with no doubt impeccable credentials, Piers let his gaze linger for a moment on the fulsome shape of her breasts, lovingly outlined by the black clingy top beneath her jacket. The coming board meeting really wasn’t the most pressing thing on his mind right now. ‘Are you having sex with my son?’

‘How dare you? That’s none of your damn business!’ Emma was hardly going to tell him that Lawrence had tried to lure her into bed several times since they’d met but, although she was attracted to him, she wasn’t ready to make that particular leap of faith just yet. For now she was just happy to think of him as a very good friend.

Besides…he had enough girls parading in and out of his flat, as far as she could see. Like father, like son? According to Lawrence, Piers’s love of beautiful women had earned him a reputation as a bit of a playboy. Very aware of that fact, Emma wished her heart wouldn’t beat so wildly when he narrowed his penetrating gaze at her as if he was imagining what she looked like without her clothes.

‘You must be. Why else would you be championing his cause? Don’t be so gullible, Miss Robards. He’s only using you, you know. And you wouldn’t be the first misguided fool to fall for his dubious charm either.’ Sighing, Piers rubbed at his forehead as if a headache had started and Emma was the cause. Then, before she could retaliate, he smiled a slow, knowing little smile that caused a shocking wave of heat to pulsate throughout Emma’s body as if she’d suddenly been locked inside a steam room. ‘Are you my reward for meeting my son’s demands?’

‘What?’ For a crazy instant, Emma told herself she’d imagined the innuendo in his question. She simply couldn’t believe that a rich, powerful individual like Piers Redfield would deign to make a pass at an ordinary girl like her. But then as reality set in, so did anger. Waves of it. ‘I can’t believe you’re insinuating such a foul thing! Lawrence told me your opinion of him was low, but how low I didn’t begin to guess. How dare you suggest for even a second that your own son would do such a thing? And even worse—that I…that I would comply with it!’

Piers’s glance was unflinchingly direct. ‘Then you clearly do not know Lawrence as well as you think you do, Miss Robards. As I said before, he’s probably only using you. The sooner you realise it, the better.’

‘He’s not using me!’ she insisted. ‘We’re good friends. I’d trust Lawrence with my life!’

‘Oh, really?’ Piers’s tone was deliberately scathing. ‘Then don’t put such a cheap price on it, is my advice to you.’

Emma’s slender shoulders sagged dejectedly. It had been a complete waste of time coming to see him. He clearly had no intention and, more to the point, no interest whatsoever in helping his only son. She only hoped he wouldn’t have cause to regret it if Lawrence went and did something rash. Was Piers aware that his offspring suffered with chronic depression? Well, now wasn’t the time to illuminate him. He looked eager for her to be gone so he could go and chair his obviously far more important board meeting, and frankly Emma didn’t feel like subjugating herself to any more far too intimate questions about her love life…or lack of it.

‘Whether I’m sleeping with Lawrence or not is neither here nor there,’ she said shakily, brown eyes hurt and disappointed. ‘All I came here for was to ask you to talk to him, to maybe give him some help…not just financial help, either. He gets very low sometimes and I worry about him. He’s not strong like you.’ She flushed when Piers’s glance became even more piercing.

He was well aware that his son had a deeply melancholic side. But part of Piers still wrestled with the fact that even when things were good for Lawrence, he still managed to muck things up big time. He’d been a greedy and demanding boy who’d only ever thought of himself, and had replicated those less than admirable qualities as an adult, acting as if the world—or at least his father—owed him a living. Piers couldn’t even remember how many interviews and meetings he’d set up with friends and clients in business to help Lawrence get his foot in the door. But time and time again he either hadn’t shown up for the interview or, if he’d taken the job, had got bored within a week or two and found some pathetic excuse as to why it wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. Piers didn’t think Lawrence would know what it was he was looking for if it came up behind him and sunk its teeth into his backside. What on earth Emma Robards found remotely appealing about him, apart from his looks, his father could only wonder. Unless, of course, she was hoping that some of Piers’s own wealth might trickle down to him.

‘Lawrence will survive, mark my words. He’s too selfish to do anything that might deprive the world of his presence, so please stop worrying on that score.’

‘And that’s all you’ve got to say on the subject?’ An ache started between Emma’s shoulder blades where anger and disappointment turned her spine into a steel rod instead of cartilage and bone, and she couldn’t help but wish that her interview with Lawrence’s harsh, uncaring father had not concluded with such a discouraging outcome. Poor Lawrence would be devastated. He’d told Emma before she left that Piers was his last and final hope. The banks just didn’t want to know. He had debts outstanding on two big loans already and even his father’s illustrious name had not been enough to persuade them to extend him more largesse.

Abruptly bringing the interview to an end, Piers strode to the door and pointedly held it open. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Emma walked towards him, her brown eyes desperately trying to conceal the fact that she was close to tears. She hated letting anybody down…especially a friend. When she’d agreed to do as Lawrence asked, she’d taken on the task with such high hopes, even knowing that his father’s reputation was formidable. But she could get along with most people, she told herself, and at the end of the day Piers Redfield was only human, wasn’t he? And Lawrence was his son…his only son.

‘Don’t take it personally, Miss Robards. It’s certainly no failing on your part. You’re not responsible for fixing Lawrence’s life, and neither am I. He’s an adult. He’s made his choices and I’m afraid he’ll just have to learn to live with them.’

There was not the slightest flicker of regret in those coldly crystalline eyes, Emma noticed indignantly. Not even the smallest notion that another human being might dare question his judgement—his particular choices. Number one being the apparently total abandonment of his only son in his time of need.

‘I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say that would change your mind?’ As she raised her hopeful gaze to his, Piers could do nothing about the flash of heat that suddenly throbbed through him. It was not dissimilar to the drenching, languid heat that assailed his body when he was lying out on his terrace in Marbella, but it didn’t make him think longingly of margaritas by the pool. No, it conjured up longings of a very different kind. She had the most bewitching eyes, Piers realised—beautifully framed by the most lavish dark lashes the colour of warm melted caramel.

‘That kind of question could get you into all kinds of trouble, Miss Robards,’ he drawled softly.

Reacting as though he’d just slapped her face, Emma stood rigid with shock as she stared into his eyes, suddenly consumed by a sea of such blazing sensuality that every inch of flesh on her body felt as if it was bathed in warm, silken honey. Her nipples grew almost painfully tight beneath her shirt and she had to bite back a gasp.

‘I—I…’ She tried to speak but to her humiliation couldn’t get the words past her throat.

‘Take my card.’ His voice lowered to a more sensual cadence, Piers retrieved a business card from his inside jacket pocket. He pressed it into her hand, briefly and devastatingly curling his fingers around hers. ‘Why don’t you give me a ring some time?’

Willing herself to move, Emma tore her gaze away from his, knowing that if she didn’t get out of there soon she was going to end up in all kinds of trouble. This wasn’t how she had planned it at all! How had she ended up with Lawrence’s high-powered father telling her to give him a ring some time instead of agreeing to a meeting with his son?

‘I have a relationship with your son, Mr Redfield—that’s why I’m here. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Presumably you’re not asking me to ring you to help arrange a meeting with Lawrence?’

Not flinching for a second from her indignant censure, Piers clenched his jaw, completely unperturbed by the shock in her eyes. ‘What do you think, Miss Robards?’

‘What do I think? I think you don’t deserve to be a father, that’s what I think!’ Angrily hefting her briefcase under her arm, Emma tore the little embossed card he’d given her straight down the middle and let the pieces flutter uncaringly to the floor. Disconcertingly, Piers merely smiled enigmatically, his cheekbones deep golden slashes in a face so extraordinarily handsome that once imprinted on a woman’s memory it wouldn’t be forgotten or relinquished easily.

Shrugging off the insult as easily as brushing a piece of lint off his suit, Piers lifted one corner of his disturbingly attractive mouth in a sardonic little smile. ‘Well…if you change your mind, you know where I am.’

Emma turned and fled down the corridor before she said or did something she might definitely have cause to regret.

Returning to his desk, Piers flipped open his diary, glancing down at it unseeingly. There was now no doubt in his mind that Lawrence had deliberately sent the beguiling Emma Robards to do his dirty work for him, and for a moment rage swirled in his gut and clamped his vitals in a vice. Was there no road his feckless son would fail to go down in a bid to get what he wanted? Cursing beneath his breath, Piers dropped down into the black leather chair and deliberately loosened his tie, which just then felt as if it was strangling him. Things between himself and Lawrence just seemed to go from dire to disastrous and right now Piers couldn’t think of one damn thing he could do to improve relations. Been there, tried that, been let down more times than any law-abiding parent deserved, in his opinion.

So Lawrence had thought to sweeten his father’s attitude towards him by presenting him with a bribe? Did he really believe that Piers wouldn’t take him up on it? Maybe he thought his father was too old to be attractive to a pretty young thing like Emma. At the memory of those innocent brown eyes staring back so fetchingly into his, Piers felt inevitable erotic heat settle in his groin. Lawrence should know by now that when it came to a challenge—whether business or personal—Piers was not a man to trifle with.

CHAPTER TWO

‘SO, HOW did it go with the old man?’ His expression wary, blond hair tousled, chest bare and his jeans hung low on his youthful hips, Lawrence strolled into Emma’s living-room and dropped down onto the sofa. As he leant forward, his blue eyes were very intense as they flicked across Emma’s face. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. How was she going to tell him she had failed to get the help he needed when his gaze was so trusting and hopeful? It would be like kicking a dog when he was already down.

‘I take it you did get in to see him?’ His smile a little nervous, Lawrence helped himself to an apple from the cut-glass bowl on the coffee-table and took a bite. Momentarily surprised by his assumption that she’d actually got that far at least, Emma frowned as she looked at him. ‘Don’t you believe in wearing clothes? It’s November, not the middle of July!’

‘I’m OK.’ He shrugged his wide shoulders uncaringly. ‘I just had a shower. As soon as I heard you come back I just left everything and came downstairs.’

Hearing footsteps walk across the floor above, Emma swallowed down the unexpected hurt that suddenly cramped her throat as she glanced knowingly up at the ceiling. ‘Have you got a girl up there?’

For a moment the brilliant blue eyes clouded over. Throwing the half-eaten apple back into the bowl, Lawrence got to his feet and came to join her. ‘She means nothing, Em. You know how I’ve been lately. I just needed some comfort. Someone to hold.’ The unspoken censure was there in his eyes, Emma realised. He’d had to resort to someone who ‘meant nothing’ because Emma refused to go to bed with him. He slid his hands onto her shoulders, regret and concern competing for her understanding in his gaze.