Maggie Cox – The Wealthy Man's Waitress (страница 3)

‘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.