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

  ‘Why don’t you take off those shoes?’ he suggested lightly. ‘Rest your feet while you have the chance.’

  Her slender black-stockinged legs looked amazing in the black stilettos with their dainty little criss-crossed straps, but Piers had known from the off that they were killing her. Smiling a little sheepishly, she nudged one shoe off with the toe of the other, then stood in her stockinged feet looking as if someone had just given her the key to heaven. Piers’s desire was instantaneous, tightening his groin and heating his skin flame-hot so that he had to move away to conceal his sudden arousal. Inwardly he cursed the fact that he had to go to a meeting across town and would be away for at least three hours, maybe more. Now he’d got her alone, he was frustrated and impatient that he couldn’t take her to bed straight away. If he had his way, they wouldn’t see any of the sights of Paris the whole weekend other than this suite. But as much as the idea turned him on, he knew it wouldn’t be entirely fair to Emma to bring her to such a beautiful city and not let her see some of its famous landmarks. So Piers would go to his meeting, let Miles take her wherever she wanted to go and when he returned to the hotel later he would take her for a long, romantic walk around the city, deriving great pleasure from introducing her to some of the sights and places that he’d long been familiar with.

  ‘You must be a mind-reader.’

  ‘If only that were true—it would make my work a whole lot easier, I can tell you.’

  ‘I’m sorry you have to work while we’re here.’ Hesitating over expressing such a revealing sentiment, Emma turned away before she could gauge Piers’s expression.

  ‘You couldn’t possibly be as sorry as I am, sweetheart. But I’ll make it up to you later… That’s a promise.’

  As she swung her gaze back to his, Emma insides tightened at the irrefutable flare of longing in Piers’s fascinating blue eyes.

  ‘I’d suggest you wear something more comfortable on your feet if you’re going sightseeing,’ he said, slightly rough-voiced, then moved across the sumptuous carpet to the door that the bellhop had explained led to the bedroom. ‘I’ve instructed Miles to take you wherever you want to go, and he’ll pay for whatever you need. I have only one stipulation…’

  Emma raised her eyebrow. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Enjoy yourself. That’s an order.’ And before Emma could tell him that she had money of her own, that she preferred to be independent and would pay her own way as much as possible, he disappeared inside the door and shut it behind him.

  She found a pleasant and good-humoured ally in Miles, Piers’s chauffeur. From the east end of London, he was as chatty and as jovial as one of that city’s famed taxi drivers, littering his conversations with amusing anecdotes about the places he’d been with his employer and the people he’d met from all walks of life. He was also well acquainted with the French city and seemed to know its back streets and wide avenues like the back of his hand. When Emma expressed her nervousness about going up to the top of the Eiffel Tower on her own, he quickly agreed to accompany her. But even with his reassuring presence, Emma hardly dared look down as, ensconced in one of the tower’s two working elevators, they ascended higher and higher up its intricate, lace-like iron structure. At the top, she took her courage in both hands and stared down at the panoramic view of the city in awed wonder.

  ‘Now, how’s that for a sight for sore eyes?’ Miles teased gently beside her.

  ‘It’s fantastic,’ Emma breathed, brown eyes shining. Looking on like a doting father, Miles smiled with deep satisfaction. He could quite see why his illustrious boss was indisputably taken with this particular young lady. If he’d been twenty years younger and not so happily married to Veronica, he’d be quite taken with her himself. Pretty as a picture she was, with her soft chestnut-brown hair and sparkling dark eyes. And she wasn’t aloof, not like some of Piers’s other lady friends who thought they were so much better than they were. Quite content working for the man the papers dubbed a corporate genius, Miles knew he would enjoy this trip even more than usual because of the affability and sweetness of Emma Robards.

  She had lunch with Fleur. She’d invited Miles to join them in the bustling sidewalk bistro not far from the Place de la Concorde where their hotel was situated but he’d politely declined, told her where she could find him when she was ready to leave, then discreetly made himself scarce. Excited and happy to be with the friend she had known since her schooldays, Emma hugged the petite and pretty Fleur then sat opposite her across the wrought-iron table and caught up with everything that had been happening since Emma had seen her last.

  ‘And now you must tell me your news,’ Fleur insisted after a while. ‘I especially want to know about the man you’re with. Mum’s told me that he’s utterly gorgeous, loaded and single and that he came into the restaurant twice looking for you. Things like that don’t happen every day. Talk about kismet!’

  ‘Fleur, I—’

  ‘Where are you staying, by the way? Somewhere swish, I hope?’

  Amused at her friend’s excitement, Emma told her and Fleur released a long, low whistle. ‘He’s got taste as well as money! That’s only about the best hotel in Paris, Em. You need a small fortune just to have coffee there!’

  Raising her glass of mineral water to her lips, Emma couldn’t prevent the wave of heat that washed over her. Her friend seemed perfectly accepting of the fact that Emma was here in Paris with a man she’d barely known for five minutes—sharing a suite with him at a luxurious hotel with all that that situation entailed. For a few unsettling moments Emma couldn’t help but question the mad impulse that had made her go through with such a thing…and then she thought about Piers himself and automatically pressed her thighs closer together beneath her simple black skirt. Desire. That was what had driven her to undertake this trip. Even though the mere idea terrified the life out of her, when it came down to the most basic of reasons, she’d come to Paris to let Piers Redfield seduce her.

  ‘I—He’s nice.’ Shrugging, she was painfully aware that of all the adjectives she could have chosen to describe Piers Redfield, ‘nice’ was the most ineffectual and inappropriate one of all. Dynamic, gorgeous, sex-on-legs, perhaps even a little ruthless—now, if Emma had used those she’d be getting somewhere.

  Her friend was also affronted by such a lame description. ‘Nice?’ Fleur made a face. ‘You could have worked for MI5, you know? When it comes to getting information out of you I’d get more joy from someone deaf, dumb and blind! Give me a break, Em. Who is he? What’s his name? How did you meet? More to the point—how do you feel about the man? And if you don’t come up with satisfactory answers soon, I’m not going to give you the perfectly gorgeous little black dress I managed to wangle out of my employer specially for you!’

  ‘Oh, Fleur, you didn’t! You shouldn’t!’ Overwhelmed by her friend’s generosity, Emma stared for the first time at the beautifully printed cream and gold bag that Fleur had tucked beneath her chair.

  ‘I won’t, unless you spill the beans in three seconds flat!’

  After just a few short hours, Emma pronounced herself in love with the city. With its elegantly faded patina, the buildings of Paris easily reminding her of so many paintings, she was utterly enchanted. No wonder artists past and present found such inspiration there. After leaving Fleur, and clutching the unexpected gift of the beautiful little black dress, Emma asked Miles to take her to the famous Louvre museum, once a medieval castle and now transformed into the largest museum in the world. She was suitably impressed by the glass pyramid entrance that was just a foretaste of the treasures to come inside. At her insistence, Miles accompanied her and they both stood awestruck in admiration along with other silent visitors to pay due homage to the Mona Lisa.

  After almost three hours walking around just one of the vast wings that held some of the huge collection of exhibits, Emma’s feet started to protest, even in her sensible shoes. At Miles’ suggestion they drove back to the hotel so that she could rest for a while and w
ait for Piers’s return. As trepidatious as that made her feel, Emma couldn’t deny that she needed a break. As well as rising ridiculously early that morning, she’d lain awake half the night fretting over the wisdom of going to Paris with a man she hardly knew.

  When she let herself into their suite, her heart almost stalled in her chest when she saw Piers lounging in one of the luxurious wing-back chairs, a magazine on his lap and a glass of iced water set down on the beautiful antique occasional table beside him. Immediately that crystalline blue gaze of his in all its unsettling, provocative intensity attached itself to Emma and wouldn’t let go.

  ‘Hello.’ Her words felt like prisoners trapped in her throat and she struggled to set them free. ‘I didn’t think you’d be back yet. How did your meeting go?’

  Her face looked a little rosy from the fresh air outside, her soft brown hair was prettily mussed and her expression was all eyes. Just like a little girl, accidentally stumbling upon a place she’d been warned not to venture into yet couldn’t resist. One glance at her angelic face and Piers was immediately and heavily aroused. All through the tedium of his meeting he’d had more than half his mind on the girl he’d brought to Paris, and when the gathering of international board members drew to a thankful close he’d found himself in a state of almost agonising anticipation at the idea of seeing Emma again. Of having her all to himself for the rest of the weekend… Now he rose to his feet, stripped off his tie, threw it on a chair and unbuttoned his waistcoat, and through all of those actions never once took his eyes off the girl still standing by the door.

  ‘The meeting was tedious but necessary, I’m afraid.’ He shrugged, advancing slowly across the room towards Emma as he spoke. ‘How have you been enjoying Paris? What have you been up to, hmm?’

  Swallowing hard, Emma managed a nervous smile. ‘I’ve had a wonderful time. Miles and I went up the Eiffel Tower, then I had lunch with my friend Fleur. After that Miles took me to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. Piers, it was so beautiful! Oh, and I took my shoes off because my feet were aching and one of the invigilators told me off and I had to put them back on. We only came back to give my feet a rest because I’ve walked so much. Oh!’

  She gasped when Piers stepped forward and started to ease her coat off her shoulders. Emma immediately dropped the carrier bag containing her new dress.

  ‘Give me your coat. That’s better. Kick off your shoes and come and sit down. Where is Miles now?’ Laying her coat on the back of the ornate gold chaise longue, Piers turned back to admire her figure in her simple black skirt and sweater, his gaze gravitating to the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the black wool with a hunger he could hardly contain. Just now when he’d helped her off with her coat, the heady, sensual fragrance of her perfume had merely compounded the effect of her on his heightened libido and it was all Piers could do to stay just this close to civilised. In all his experience with women, he’d never been so acutely and passionately aroused.

  Folding her arms self-consciously across her chest, Emma tried to look anywhere but at Piers. But it was practically impossible to wrench her gaze free from those burning blue eyes of his—like trying not to crave chocolate when you were on a diet… From the moment she’d set eyes on him every cell in her body had been given an injection of energy. All the sights of Paris paled into insignificance when she looked at this man. He was so out of Emma’s league in every way, yet it was impossible for her to deny the fact that she desired him above all other men. Now as he stood there, tall, tanned and undeniably gorgeous, every inch the dynamic, powerful businessman, Emma thought: This can’t be happening to me. Not plain Emma Jane Robards. There must be some mistake.

  He’ll break your heart, a small voice warned inside her, but Emma knew she was way past the point where she would heed it.

  ‘Miles has gone back to his hotel room. He said to—to phone him if you needed anything.’

  Thoughtfully silent for a few moments, Piers strolled across the room to the old-fashioned cream and gold telephone seated atop a polished bureau and raised the receiver to his ear. ‘Bonjour.’

  With not much more than schoolgirl French to get by on, Emma surprised herself by understanding that Piers had asked not to be disturbed for the next couple of hours at least. As the receiver was replaced carefully back on its rest, her heart started to pound alarmingly.

  With bated breath she stared at Piers for explanation.

  ‘Do you need anything?’ he asked her, his intense glance making it almost impossible for her to move.

  Her brow puckering, Emma lifted her shoulders in confusion. ‘I—Do I need anything? I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘OK…now ask me the same question.’

  Emma finally understood. Her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth, she took a deep, shuddering breath to give herself courage then looped her softly mussed hair behind her ears with trembling hands. ‘Is there anything…you need, Piers?’

  Relief and desire warring for precedence, Piers nodded slowly. ‘Yes, sweetheart. Right now I badly need to touch you.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  HARDLY knowing what she was about, Emma started to move towards the bedroom door. ‘You know what?’ she said breathlessly. ‘I really should unpack and get myself sorted out. Do you mind?’

  ‘I’ve already had a maid come up and do that.’ Two steps behind her, Piers was in turn frustrated and amused by her haste to put some distance between them. Halfway into the bedroom with its glorious red and amber silk canopy draped above the French-style bed, Emma spun around in genuine alarm. ‘You had a maid come up and unpack for me?’

  Her first thought was that she wasn’t entirely sure she liked the idea of some stranger going through her clothing, probably thumbing her nose up at Emma’s non-designer apparel, and no doubt jumping to all sorts of unwanted conclusions about her relationship with Piers.

  ‘You’d already gone out and I didn’t think you’d want your clothes left lying creased in a suitcase.’

  ‘Thank you.’ His calm explanation immediately took the wind out of Emma’s sails but still left her flustered and ill-prepared to deal with what was going on. ‘That was thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Why are you trying to run away from me?’

  ‘I’m not!’

  Assessing her panic-stricken expression from the other side of the beautiful, elegant bed, Piers couldn’t help but smile. The girl fascinated and excited him more than any other woman had in the longest time. Along with her natural beauty there was an artlessness about her that led Piers to believe that artifice just wasn’t part of her make-up—even if she had somehow contrived to get into his office without being caught. As far as he knew she hadn’t lied to anyone to get there. He was a little jaded with women who acted like men in the bedroom stakes, and Emma’s charming innocence was a refreshing change.

  ‘Do I frighten you?’ he asked reasonably.

  ‘No. I mean yes… I mean, I don’t know.’ Once she’d had some intelligence; now she was acting like an idiot. Emma wished she could stop shaking. How was it that this man was able to reduce her to a mumbling jelly in his presence when she was used to dealing with all kinds of difficult people at the restaurant? Even overenthusiastic young men who’d had too much wine to drink and decided that Emma must be part of the menu too. They got short shrift from their previously polite waitress, along with a stern lecture on how to behave properly in public. But Piers Redfield… He was a challenge she’d never imagined being faced with in a million years. Just thinking about who he was and the awesome reputation that preceded him was enough to make Emma quake—let alone entertaining the very real possibility that they might make love!

  ‘I don’t want to frighten you, Emma. I just want us to get better acquainted. Is that all right with you?’

  As far as Emma was concerned, that was like asking her if she wanted to throw herself out of a plane without a parachute. She was so overwhelmed it made her dizzy. As Piers drew near, she mused that it was highly unfai
r that one man seemed to possess so many advantages but at the same time was perversely glad that he did. His expensive cologne lingered around him in a potent mix of virile heat and sexual edge. His hard, well-defined jaw clearly denoted he took no prisoners and the more deeply tanned skin just at the base of his throat where he’d freed the top button of his impeccable white shirt was somehow erotically tantalising, along with the relentlessly blue eyes that blazed back at her so hotly.

  Emma wondered how a girl was supposed to withstand such a sensual onslaught without losing her mind. When it came to matters of sex and seduction, she’d barely left the starting block. Her economics lecturer, Richard—the one she’d had the disastrous love affair with—had proclaimed himself ‘infatuated’ with her naïveté, but would Piers find it remotely charming in the same way? Her insides tightened unbearably and she had to remind herself to breathe as Piers laid a hand on the softly accentuated curve of her hip and with very little force impelled her against him. His touch provoked such violent trembling throughout Emma’s body that she was certain he must hear her teeth chatter. Finding her already exquisitely tender breasts up close and personal against the iron wall of his chest, she tipped up her chin to find her sharply released breath mingling with his, her gaze suddenly imprisoned by the wry little twist at the corner of his highly appealing mouth.