Maggie Cox - The Wealthy Man's Waitress

‘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.

‘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.

Emma swallowed down her disappointment and hurt and tried to rally her spirits, despite feeling like an ant that had just been stamped on by an elephant. ‘I have feelings too, Lawrence. I tried to explain to you that I needed more time. You tell me you want us to be closer, yet you go to bed with someone else at the first opportunity? I really don’t understand.’

‘I’m sorry I hurt you, angel. Please, don’t be angry with me. I know it’s hard for you to understand but a man has needs. You must realise I wouldn’t be interested in any other girl at all if you would just allow yourself to be a little more intimate with me.’

Telling herself she was too damn forgiving for her own good, Emma wished she didn’t suddenly feel like crying…and she still hadn’t managed to give Lawrence the bad news yet. ‘Anyway, I did manage to see your father.’

‘I knew you would.’ His hand moved up from her shoulder to settle briefly at the side of her cheek. ‘So…how did it go?’

‘Not good, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh?’ Moving away from Emma, Lawrence strode back across the room to the sofa and stood in front of it with his arms folded across his bare chest.

‘I’m afraid he won’t help.’ Hating the fact she was forced to state things so baldly, Emma chewed down anxiously on her lip, fielding the hurt she already saw reflected in the dazzling blue irises and wishing there was some way she could eradicate it forever.

‘You explained everything to him? That I wanted to make a new start down in Cornwall? That I wouldn’t bother him again if he helps me out just this one last time?’

‘Lawrence, I did my best, I really did, but he was resolute. Nothing I said seemed to reach him.’

‘Then you clearly didn’t try hard enough!’ His lips twisting in a scowl, Lawrence glared at Emma as if she were solely responsible for the predicament he found himself in. As his words scorched into her brain, Emma stared back at him, feeling as if she’d just received a sudden, unexpected blow to the head.

‘What did you say?’ Nervously, she wove her hand through her shoulder-length hair then pulled it free again.

‘You know how desperate I am!’

That was it, Emma told herself soothingly. He was only angry with her because he felt so desperate. When he calmed down, everything would be right again between them. But beneath her own assurance another feeling was rising, one that resembled something very close to resentment. Many of her friends—and she herself—had come from far more difficult situations and not everyone had had the cushion of comfort to fall back on that Lawrence had had. Was he right to always expect his father to bail him out of trouble? When did the boy become an adult and start to look after himself?