She snatched her hand away and rubbed it as if to erase his touch.
Piers frowned. He wasn’t used to women responding to him in such a negative way and, frankly, it irked him. Did she still nurse hopes for herself and Lawrence? Was that the way of it? If so, she was on a hiding to nothing because when Lawrence had answered the door to him earlier, his errant son had clearly had company. Company of the bedroom kind—a cute little blonde with an impish smile and breasts to write eulogies to if that tight red dress she’d been wearing was any true indication of the facts. After he’d agreed to furnish Lawrence with twice the amount he needed to set up in Cornwall, his son would have told Piers anything he cared to know. It had been easy to get him to reveal the name and location of the bistro where his pretty neighbour worked. Lawrence himself had mentioned it during the course of their conversation—no doubt to lessen Emma’s appeal by revealing that she was a waitress and not in a league his father would be interested in. ‘Why would a Redfield do anything?’ Emma had suspiciously asked… Why indeed? Perhaps ruthlessness ran in the blood after all?
Now, as he sat staring up at the beautiful girl his son had thought to use to further his own ends, Piers felt that same blood in his veins heat and slow with all the excitement and anticipation of fierce desire. All the aces were on his side if he played his cards right, and if she was sweet to him Piers would reward her with anything her little heart desired…
‘What time do you finish?’
Emma reluctantly told him.
‘I’ll wait and take you home. It’ll have to be a cab; my driver’s gone home for the night.’
‘Your driver?’
‘Chauffeur, then. Anyway, as I said, I’ll wait and take you home, then we can talk.’
‘No!’
‘No?’
‘I mean, I don’t want you to wait and take me home and I definitely don’t want to talk to you, Mr Redfield! What can you possibly have to say to me that would be of interest? I’ve already apologised for sneaking into your office; what more do you want?’
His blue eyes went so dark that Emma stepped back from the table as though a hot lick of flame had suddenly scorched her tender skin. Her blush was so deep she felt sure everyone in the room must notice it. In fact Lorenzo was headed her way right this second—no doubt angry that she seemed to be antagonising his customer—because it was plain to see that Piers wasn’t smiling.
‘Is everything all right?’ He specifically addressed Piers, but his suspicious gaze broke away for all of a couple of seconds to silently rebuke Emma.
‘Everything is fine. Grazie.’ To her amazement, Piers started to converse with Lorenzo in what sounded like flawless Italian and the younger man, obviously delighted and surprised, responded enthusiastically in his native tongue as though they were long-lost buddies. Relieved that Lorenzo wasn’t about to berate her in front of Piers, Emma moved to make herself scarce, and was shocked when Lorenzo waved her commandingly into the seat opposite Piers and all but pushed her down into it.
‘I am cross with you, Emma, that you didn’t tell me that this man was your fiancé! Even if you had a fight you must not keep such secrets from me, huh? I am your friend as well as your manager.’
‘But he’s not my—’
Beneath the table Piers gave her ankle a sharp kick. Glaring at him with pointed little daggers of pure dislike, Emma wondered what the hell he thought he was playing at. Of all the things he could have said, what on earth had possessed him to tell Lorenzo that they were engaged to be married?
CHAPTER THREE
‘I WILL bring that bottle of wine pronto! Emma, you must take the rest of the evening off. Scusi, Mr Redfield, I will be back in a moment.’
When they were alone, Emma struggled for all of two seconds to contain the anger that was threatening to burst like a dam.
‘How dare you lie to him? How will I explain to him later that it was just some kind of sick joke? I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr Redfield, but whatever it is I don’t want any part of it!’
‘For your information, Miss Robards, I’m not playing. When I see something I want I cut right to the chase—whatever it takes. Do I make myself clear?’ His penetrating gaze signalled his seriousness and Emma felt her stomach flip over in fright. Was he saying that he wanted her? What had she done to warrant such unasked-for attention? This man was rich beyond imagining and could clearly have any woman he set his sights on—so why had he set his sights on her? An insignificant little waitress who’d championed his son’s cause because he was in need and she’d mistakenly believed he was a true friend.
‘It’s not clear at all.’ Her face burning, Emma fiddled with the little silver napkin ring in front of her. ‘I don’t know what you want from me.’ Finally risking a direct glance, she saw a corner of his mouth hitch up slightly into what could be the beginnings of a smile—only she wasn’t entirely sure. Everything about him inspired awe, from the width of those amazing shoulders in his exquisitely tailored suit, to the clean-cut edge of his hard, chiselled jaw and those scintillating eyes that clearly didn’t miss a trick. Imagining him as chairman of the board at meetings with the country’s most prominent and influential businessmen and entrepreneurs, Emma knew there’d be a respectful hush when he entered the room.
‘Your attention is what I want, Emma.’
‘And you had to tell Lorenzo you were my fiancé to get it?’
‘Whatever it takes, remember? How old are you?’ he asked, amused.
‘Twenty-five.’ Her guard down, Emma widened her dark eyes in puzzlement. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because you look more like nineteen. Tell me. Are you serious about Lawrence?’
The steely muscles that made up the hard wall of his stomach actually clenched as Piers waited for her to answer. Her features were compellingly beautiful, with skin as fine and pale as alabaster and eyes and lips a man could happily gaze at until he grew old—yet she was also possessed of an extraordinary innocence that intrigued Piers even more. He could hardly believe she didn’t know what kind of effect she could have on a man, but that was the impression he was getting. Look at him, he thought wryly. Just one encounter with her and he’d gone against all his principles and signed Lawrence a cheque for a ridiculous amount to set up some pie-in-the-sky little venture that was surely doomed to failure before it even started. He’d have been better off just throwing his money into an incinerator.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Flushing, Emma glanced up almost with relief as Lorenzo descended upon them, flourishing a bottle of the best red wine in the house. Addressing Piers, the young Italian poured the wine, all the while chattering away in his native tongue, then left them to, ‘Enjoy, enjoy!’ with a final departing wink in Emma’s direction and a too knowing smile as he slid behind the bar again.
His fingers sliding around the stem of his wineglass, Piers continued to survey her with an unnerving intensity that made it difficult to corral her thoughts. ‘Would you be heartbroken if you didn’t see him again?’
‘Why? Is he going somewhere?’
‘Cornwall, if everything goes to plan.’ Piers shrugged as if he had his doubts.
‘Then you agreed to help him?’ Her mouth dropping open, Emma couldn’t disguise her astonishment.
‘Let’s just say I had second thoughts after you left.’
‘He must have been over the moon.’
‘I left him getting ready to go out and celebrate with his lady friend.’
‘Oh.’
‘You don’t mind?’ Watching closely for signs of hurt or distress, Piers was gratified when he found none. Instead she looked resigned.
‘Our relationship