The Wealthy Man's Waitress (HQR Presents) Read online

  Swallowing hard, Emma studied his pained, angry expression and something told her that it got to him the way some people wanted to take advantage of his wealth and position. It probably made it hard for him to trust even his closest friends sometimes.

  ‘Well, I don’t sue, so please don’t worry on that score.’ Automatically she put her hand out to touch his sleeve and almost immediately felt the steely muscles of his arm tense beneath the expensive material of his suit. One minute she was transfixed by the sudden urgent longing in his eyes and the next she was in his arms, her mouth claimed hungrily in a hard, hot kiss that seemed to melt all the bones in her body and sent her mind into a heady, tumbling spin. The touch of his lips then his tongue invading her scalded Emma like searing flames. A little desperately she shoved at his chest, but her efforts were pathetically ineffectual as her senses succumbed to the passion and need of that highly erotic stolen kiss.

  ‘Let me go.’ Dazedly staring up into the stunning blue depths of Piers’s gaze, Emma knew a dazzling, shimmering moment out of time—one she’d never forget—and her fingers curled possessively into his lapels, even as she brokenly articulated the contradictory words. Her mind told her to do one thing and her body another. She’d felt the manifestation of his arousal pressing deep into the apex of her thighs and her feelings had been so wild and hot in response that she had been shaken to her core. She was practically struck dumb with the power of them. This wasn’t the Emma Robards she knew. There was nothing self-contained and reserved about the way she reacted to this man’s touch.

  Caressing her lips one more time before stepping away, Piers shuddered, making Emma realise it had been no easy task for him to release her. Briefly he adjusted the knot of his tie, his lips hitching in a totally unapologetic little smile before he twitched his suit cuffs level with the ones on his crisp white shirt.

  ‘You taste sweeter than the crème brûlé I had for dessert. I don’t normally get cravings for sugar but in your case I’d definitely make an exception.’

  Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he brought out a blue and white envelope with a well-known airline’s first-class insignia on it. Without preamble he handed it to her. ‘Come to Paris,’ he said, eyes glittering. ‘I’ll meet you in the VIP lounge at seven o’clock Saturday morning.’

  Emma was still staring down at the envelope several minutes after he’d left.

  She packed and then unpacked, sat on the bed with her head in her hands then in desperation rang Liz.

  ‘What do you mean you don’t think you should go?’ Liz’s normally evenly toned voice suddenly increased in volume. Her employer and friend had been hugely excited when Emma told her of Piers’s invitation, and had urged her to accept it. Emma wished she could feel half as excited. What she felt right now was closer to terror than excitement. Twirling a silky brown strand of hair around her finger, she stared at her grandmother’s patchwork quilt covering her bed and thought how preposterous it was that a man like Piers could possibly be interested in a girl like her. He was a corporate genius and millionaire and she was a waitress. She wasn’t the kind of girl men said, ‘Come to Paris’ to—at least, not until now. She was the kind of girl men told their problems to, then maybe as an afterthought tried to take to bed as a sort of consolation prize—like Lawrence. The fact that she’d been ready to promise to be Piers’s love slave for life when he had kissed her at the restaurant didn’t alter the fact that she wasn’t the kind of woman he usually took out. His dates would be beautiful, sophisticated women used to travel and luxury—who knew all the right things to say in any situation, who knew how to please and flatter a man and how to dress appropriately. What did Emma know of any of these things? It was a whole other world and one she wasn’t sure she was so ready to step into—even on a short trip to Paris.

  ‘Liz, I hardly know the man.’

  ‘But he likes you—that’s evident. He wouldn’t have found out where you work and come here not once, but twice to see you! He’s a respectable businessman with a solid reputation. Do you imagine that I’d let him near you for one second if I suspected that wasn’t the case? I don’t think you have anything to fear from him, I honestly don’t.’

  Remembering the way he’d kissed her, Emma silently begged to differ. Ever since it had happened she’d been feeling as if she’d been kissed awake from some kind of drugged sleep. Afterwards the world suddenly appeared so much sharper and in focus.

  ‘We won’t have anything in common,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you,’ Liz replied knowingly.

  ‘I was hoping you’d talk me out of it, not encourage me!’

  ‘Emma, when are you going to start to live a little? You’re a wonderful girl and I love you to bits but you can’t stay being a waitress forever, taking care of your grandmother. Your loyalty and kindness are commendable but your youth is passing you by! You need to take opportunities where they come and grab them with both hands. I’ve already been on the phone to Fleur in Paris and she’s so excited for you. She wants you to meet up if you can so be sure to ring her when you get to your hotel.’

  The hotel. That was another thing. If she went to Paris with Piers she was in effect agreeing to sleep with him—to share a bed. The very idea brought her out in a sweat. What would he expect from her? Her experience with men was limited to say the least. Up until this point in her life she’d told herself she was happy to keep it that way, but then she hadn’t bargained for sexual desire so acute it was like a force of nature she was powerless to resist. Why else was she even contemplating going on this trip with him? She shouldn’t be ashamed that she had needs…womanly needs that hadn’t been satisfied in a very long time. There, she’d admitted it. Oh, lord! How could she possibly contemplate spending a weekend with such a powerful, sophisticated man?

  Fleur. She was the anchor that Emma could hold on to should things go awry. Just knowing her best friend would be close by put a whole new complexion on the situation. ‘You’re right,’ she said to Liz. ‘I should go, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘You’ll have a great time. See how the other half lives! And if you need me or Adam we’re right on the end of the phone, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I appreciate it, Liz. Thanks.’

  ‘Have you told your gran you’re going?’

  Emma released her curled-up hair from her finger to trace a pattern on one of the patchwork squares instead. ‘She was pleased for me. Excited. Glad that I was going to be doing something else this weekend rather than looking after her. Her neighbour, Pam, is going to pop in from time to time the way she does during the week when I’m at work. She’s told me she’ll be fine.’

  ‘And so she will be,’ Liz agreed. ‘She loves you so much, Emma. Of course she wants you to go and have a good time.’

  ‘I’ll see you at the restaurant Monday evening, then.’

  ‘Don’t worry if you’re late back or your plans change. Just give me a ring to let me know and we’ll cover it.’

  Checking the time on his watch, Piers frowned. A second later, he checked it again. Pacing the VIP lounge at Heathrow like an expectant father waiting outside the maternity ward, he deliberately blanked the curious looks of the handful of other passengers that had gathered in the plush waiting-room to await the announcement of their flight. Would she come or wouldn’t she? Three days had gone by since he’d seen her and he hadn’t had a phone call in the interim to say she wasn’t coming. He’d briefed Fiona, his PA, that he might get a call from an ‘Emma Robards,’ and if he did she was to put it through straight away—even if he was in a meeting. But no such call had come through and Piers had held on to that fact like some kind of good omen.

  But now as the time drew nearer and nearer to the arrival of his flight, he found himself doubting his previous confidence. The feeling was completely new to him as far as the opposite sex was concerned, and he hated it. It made him feel vulnerable somehow, and that was definitely a feeling he was unaccustomed
to. Piers Redfield admitting to feelings of vulnerability? It was akin to some pumped-up twenty-stone weightlifter admitting he had a feminine side.

  Tension eating into his shoulders, he vividly recalled the sensation of Emma’s supple, curvaceous body in his arms and angrily bit back his growing frustration. The uniquely bewitching taste of her delectable lips had almost brought him to his knees and the way she’d trembled in response to his kiss yet had opened to him as if he were already her lover had just been the biggest turn-on. He readily admitted to himself that this particular trip would be missing the most essential ingredient if Emma decided not to show up, and would be all the duller and more lacklustre for it. Paris was meant for lovers, not single businessmen with a bad case of unrequited lust. Glancing towards the long glass corridor beyond the room doors, he saw Miles, his driver, quicken his pace as he drew nearer. Preparing to be disappointed, Piers gave the man a curt nod as he came into the room.

  ‘Miss Robards has just checked in, Mr Redfield. A steward will be bringing her along shortly.’

  ‘Thank you, Miles.’ Feeling like a stranded climber who had just seen the search and rescue helicopter hovering above, Piers gave a broad smile. For the first time that morning he could relax. Deciding to take advantage of the comfortable seating, he carefully shook out his precisely folded copy of the Financial Times to read while he waited for Emma to show.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HER heart was galloping so fast, Emma feared for her ability to stay upright as she approached the VIP lounge with the steward. All the way to the airport that morning she’d anguished about whether to go or stay and in the end she’d taken a decisive deep breath and decided to live a little, as her friend had advised. But when she saw Piers fold his newspaper and rise to greet her, she almost turned and ran back the way she’d come.

  How could it be possible that one man could generate so much hope and excitement inside her and at the same time so much anxiety? And why did his eyes have to be such a break-your-heart blue that there was nowhere for Emma to hide from them even if she wanted to? There was an aura about him that was almost palpable. An aura that surely came from wearing the mantle of authority as though you were born to it. Even his suit—beautifully tailored yet understated—had the mark of importance about it. Glancing down at her simple yet classic black V-necked sweater and skirt beneath the long camel-coloured coat she’d bought in last year’s winter sale, Emma prayed she wouldn’t disgrace him with her lack of a designer wardrobe. She loved beautiful clothes as much as the next woman but a waitress’s salary didn’t stretch to such things. Feeding herself, meeting her bills and ensuring that her grandmother didn’t go without necessities were far more important.

  Piers stood smiling as the young uniformed steward held open the door for Emma and wished her a very pleasant flight before smartly departing.

  ‘You came,’ he said gruffly, his glance swiftly assessing the soft blush of colour on her cheeks.

  ‘I don’t know why,’ she replied, lower lip trembling. A ripple of pleasure and need coursed through Piers’s bloodstream and anticipation simmered inside him, eager to be gratified. With her shining eyes and beautiful face, she reminded him of a young doe—ready to bolt at any second if he got too near. The last thing Piers wanted to do was scare her. He was an experienced man of the world, and Emma was a babe in arms in comparison. She might possess the chutzpah to inveigle her way into his office but that didn’t mean she was automatically equipped to deal with situations that were potentially intimidating. He would have to tread very carefully. Even so, Piers couldn’t deny the pleasure he would receive from introducing her to the delights and adventure of a weekend in one of the most delightful cities in the world.

  ‘Have you been to Paris before?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘Once. My friend Fleur works in one of the Paris fashion houses and when she first moved there I travelled with her to help her settle into her apartment. Unfortunately we were so busy unpacking suitcases and boxes and buying stuff for the flat that I didn’t really get time to sightsee. But I always promised myself I’d come back one day and see some of the things I’d missed.’

  ‘Good. A short amount of time will be devoted to my work, unfortunately, but my driver, Miles, is coming with us so a car will be at your disposal to take you anywhere you wish to go. I will, however, endeavour to conclude my business just as soon as I can…then I’ll be all yours.’

  Emma’s mouth went slack. If he had meant to reassure her, his words had the opposite effect. Now she trembled even worse than before. She tried to smile but somehow that was like trying to smile when you were abseiling down the side of a mountain at full pelt. ‘Good. I—I mean, thank you for arranging the car and everything. You won’t mind if I go visit my friend?’

  ‘Sweetheart, Miles will take you wherever you want to go and wait for you to bring you back to the hotel. Just don’t stay away too long, will you? I’m looking forward to us sharing some time together.’ Placing his hand on the pure wool lapel of her coat, Piers stroked it, the little gesture oddly seductive, and suddenly Emma’s legs felt as weak as a kitten’s. The effect of this man’s touch was tumultuous and instant and created the most unsettling riot of sensation in her body and her heart. How on earth was she going to survive a weekend in the most intimate of circumstances with such a man? And more to the point—would she be able to cope with the aftermath when she returned to the real world?

  It wasn’t in the realms of Emma’s experience to walk into the lobby of one of the most luxurious hotels in Paris and find herself intimately acquainted with eighteenth-century décor in the style of Louis XV, with Italian marble floors and Baccarat crystal chandeliers. While Piers registered at one of the several individual reception desks, Emma stood in awe, feeling like a character from a fairy tale who had just stumbled upon a cave full of untold treasure. Observing the other occupants of the opulent reception area, she saw people going about their business as if this was everyday, like visiting the supermarket for groceries. Nobody appeared as awed or nervous as she felt, and she told herself she must stick out like a sore thumb while Piers blended in with the rest of them like a prince used to living in a palace. Only he didn’t quite blend in. The man had too much charisma and presence for that. Even now, the attractive receptionist with her awesomely perfect chignon and faultlessly applied make-up was smiling prettily up at something Piers had said, her body language revealing that she wasn’t immune to the charm and good looks that made him stand out from the crowd.

  And neither was Emma. She’d spent almost the entire plane journey feeling overwhelmed. Not just by the luxury and ‘specialness’ of travelling first class for the first time in her entire life, but by the fact that she was accompanying one of the most attractive men she’d ever been acquainted with—on a trip to Paris, as romantic a destination as one could wish to find. All she could do was stare out the window and wonder what other astounding events fate had in store for her.

  ‘Emma.’

  Sucking in a breath sharply, Emma picked up her green and tan suitcase, straightened the strap of her brown leather bag more comfortably on her shoulder, then moved gingerly across the dazzling white marble in her unaccustomed high heels to join Piers at the desk.

  ‘Leave the suitcase. The bellhop will bring the luggage up to our suite.’ Briefly touching the back of her waist, his glance was concerned and intimate and for a terrifying moment Emma was unable to tear her own glance away. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the words ‘our suite’ and just about managed to keep her feet on the ground and not pick up her suitcase and flee.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Fine. This place is beautiful, isn’t it?’

  Right now, as far as Piers was concerned, it couldn’t hold a candle to Emma. With her petal-soft skin and beguiling features—not to mention the innate grace with which she carried herself—the woman was quite simply stunning. And if he’d been impressed by her demeanour before, he was even
more so now after travelling with her. Granted he’d had to work on his laptop for most of the journey, but she hadn’t bent his ear with inconsequential chatter as some other women of his acquaintance would. She’d been quite content to relax and stare out of the window, then flick through the glossy fashion magazines that he’d instructed Miles to purchase for her at the airport shop. They’d had some conversation over breakfast on the plane but even then Piers quickly realised that Emma wasn’t a woman who needed constant attention. She was remarkably self-contained for someone of her years. It didn’t surprise him that his son should find her so easy to confide in.

  ‘We’ll go up to the suite and freshen up, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you for a few hours to amuse yourself. I’ll be back later on this afternoon then perhaps we can take a walk and see some of the sights together?’

  Strolling along at leisure on a crisply cold winter’s day was one of Emma’s favourite pastimes too, and where better to do it than in a cosmopolitan, elegant city like Paris?

  ‘I’d like that.’ Sensing her skin grow hot as his gaze idly drifted over her face, Emma wished she knew how to control her embarrassment more easily. If Piers expected her to act the sophisticate in any way, the man was bound to be disappointed. That said, she wasn’t a total philistine. People were her business, after all. In the restaurant trade, the one attribute that came top of the list of requirements in providing good service was knowing how to deal with people from all walks of life. ‘Keep the customer happy and they’ll come back—maybe even bring their friends.’ She’d like a pound for every time Liz or Adam had expounded that particular little homily.

  ‘Good.’

  Mere words were hardly adequate to describe the suite of rooms that they had been allocated by the hotel. Hardly batting an eyelid as he undid his suit jacket and loosened his tie, Piers seemed to take the grandeur of their opulent surroundings as his due. As Emma stood transfixed just inside the door, her new high-heeled shoes pinching her toes, her glance fell on the plumply cushioned gold wing-backed chairs either side of the marble fireplace, then drifted around the room, examining every antique lamp, every candlestick and every gilt-framed painting as though she stood in a museum admiring the artefacts. It was just like being a child again. She could almost imagine her mother stooping down beside her, whispering, ‘You can look, but don’t touch.’ As she bit her lip at the memory, her gaze somehow stumbled back to Piers.