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 isn’t like that.’
‘Sexual, you mean?’
Emma felt the heat in her face deepen. ‘Lawrence has lots of girlfriends but our association is purely platonic.’
One fair brow jutted towards his hairline. ‘You’re telling me you didn’t sleep with him?’
Emma sighed and took a careful sip of the dark red wine that Lorenzo had poured out for her. Her tastebuds barely registered the smouldering burst of grape on her tongue. ‘Look, where is this leading? I hardly know you and yet you sit there expecting me to discuss my private life with you as though it was the most natural thing in the world. I’m glad you decided to help your son, Mr Redfield, but as far as he and I are concerned, I don’t actually care if I never set eyes on him again!’
‘So he gave you a hard time when you told him I wasn’t going to help?’ Raking his fingers through his dark blond hair, Piers sat back in his seat and shook his head. ‘That figures.’
‘Look, I really should get back to work.’
‘Stay right where you are.’ Emma suddenly found she had his undivided attention again. Heat ignited in his eyes with all the impact of a dazzling white flare against a coal-black sky, and an answering shiver zigzagged down her spine. ‘We’re supposed to be engaged, remember? You don’t want Lorenzo over there to think we’ve had another fight, do you?’
‘I don’t care what he thinks, considering this whole thing is a complete farce!’
‘I want to see you again.’
‘Why… For what reason?’
‘Because you intrigue me. Isn’t that reason enough?’
She’d never had a man tell her that she intrigued him before and the fact that Piers Redfield—who was generally regarded as a phenomenon himself—said so was more than a little difficult to take in. Try impossible. Emma could only draw the conclusion that he must be up to something…but what?
‘So, you’re intrigued by waitresses? With some men it’s lap dancers or nurses but obviously you—’
‘Emma.’
The soft yet steely command in his voice stopped her dead. Her heart started to race again and she wished her face wouldn’t burn so. ‘What?’
‘I don’t have a fetish for waitresses. Though I’d be lying if I said you didn’t look extremely sexy in that tight black skirt.’
In fact Piers had never seen another woman look half so good in a tight black skirt. Emma was slender but her figure was definitely hourglass-shaped and her fitted clothes showed just how delectable that shape was. Now she was blushing again and Piers sensed his attraction deepening. Surely she was used to men paying her compliments all the time? But there was nothing coy about her response. She merely looked flustered and uncertain, like a young girl out on her first proper date.
She’s too young for you, urged the voice of reason. But Piers was in too deep to pay much attention to it. He was only forty-two, for God’s sake! Nowhere near a mid-life crisis or anything as dull as that, and he didn’t particularly lust after younger women. He’d dated plenty of women his own age and older. He simply enjoyed the company of beautiful women. In his career he’d met many, but he’d never yet met one who intrigued him enough to make that relationship permanent. As far as he was concerned, marriage was out. Been there, tried that and, apart from a few short months when Lawrence was a baby and he and Naomi had felt like a real family instead of two angry people who merely tolerated each other, Piers had hated it. Freedom was far preferable in his opinion.
‘It’s not tight, it’s fitted, and I’m not pursuing this pointless conversation with you any
