The Wealthy Man's Waitress. Maggie Cox
‘He didn’t tell me he was seeing anyone special.’ He was leaning back against his desk, his eyes glimmering with suddenly interested speculation.
‘Why should he when you don’t even return his phone calls?’ The accusation was out before she could check it and once again Emma had cause to regret her impulsive nature. Especially when Piers threw back his head and laughed as though it was the best joke he’d heard in ages.
‘Poor hard-done-by Lawrence. Is that the tack you’re going to employ? OK, then, let’s cut to the chase. I take it you’ve come to petition me for some money on his behalf?’
‘No, of course not! I mean—I mean, I just wanted to talk to you about all the sacrifices he’s made lately to finance his new career. To—to demonstrate to you that he’s finally found the thing that inspires him most. He told me you always put him down. Won’t even give him a chance. Everybody deserves a chance, Mr Redfield. Didn’t somebody help you at the start of your famous career?’
Hard work, resilience and the ability to make tough decisions without wavering had taken him to the top, Piers mused passionately. Not a leg up from his father. Now, as he considered the rather arresting brunette in front of him, with her pouty coral lips, honey-brown eyes and the cute little beauty spot just above her left cheek, he could only think it typical that she’d been led to believe that he was the storybook hard-hearted father and Lawrence the poor, misunderstood, rejected son. If he’d been in the mood he could have illuminated her misconceptions with a few unpalatable facts about that poor, misunderstood, rejected son, but Piers didn’t see the point when her mind was so obviously already made up.
Glancing down at the Rolex encircling his tanned wrist, he briefly noted the time, then looked pointedly at the young woman in front of him.
‘You said sacrifices? What ‘‘sacrifices’’ has my son made lately to finance his new career that I should know about? And, by the way, you’ve got precisely three minutes before I have to go and chair a board meeting.’
‘Well…’ Clearing her throat, Emma wished she had a glass of water to hand. It wasn’t easy to articulate her concerns about Lawrence when her mouth felt as dry as sun-bleached bones. Only now it started to hit her how stupidly presumptuous she’d been in waltzing into the building and infiltrating this man’s protected enclave as if she had every right. He was Piers Redfield, for goodness’ sake! The role model for aspiring corporate geniuses everywhere, according to his son. Head of one of the premier management consultancies in the country, with a worldwide reputation to match. And not only was his business acumen admired by the great and the good, but he was also awesomely attractive, a fact that Emma hadn’t really been prepared for. The man had so much class it practically oozed from his pores, she reflected a little resentfully, reluctantly admiring the beautiful cut of his tasteful dark grey pinstripe suit.
‘He sold his car and his motorbike to raise some capital, and they were both his pride and joy, but it’s still not enough for him to start up in Cornwall. He’ll also need to pay rent on a place as well as buy food. It’s going to take a while before the business takes off, but you mark my words, Mr Redfield, it will! Have you any idea how talented your son is?’
‘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