by Maggie Cox
A hand touched him on the shoulder and Piers almost leapt out of his seat in shock. An apologetic staff member explained to him that they had just received a message from Mademoiselle Robards that said she was spending the night with a girlfriend and would return to the hotel in the morning.
After relief had washed over him that she was safe, Piers couldn’t deny the shattering disappointment that welled up inside his chest at the thought of not seeing Emma until the morning. All of a sudden he was consumed with the need to make up with her, to hold her in his arms and show her in every conceivable way just how sorry he was he’d upset her. Unable to do that and unreasonably angry that she hadn’t thought to furnish him with her friend’s address or telephone number, Piers turned back to the ever solicitous barman and ordered another brandy.
Before returning to the hotel the next morning, Emma spent over two hours visiting Notre Dame Cathedral, her hurt and unhappiness for a moment put aside as she wandered around inside the vast, awe-inspiring edifice. The light that illuminated the interior came purely from hundreds upon hundreds of glowing candles and the sight was utterly breathtaking. Finding herself alone in one of the several small chapels, Emma lit a candle, said a prayer for her grandmother’s return to health, then spent several tortured minutes anguishing about her growing feelings for Piers. In spite of her outburst last night at the restaurant, she was still mesmerised by the man. It was her own fault, Emma scolded herself. She should have been stronger where he was concerned. She should never have agreed to come to Paris with him…and, most of all, she should never have allowed him to seduce her so recklessly that she hadn’t even given a thought to protecting herself from the possible consequences.
Fleur had insisted Emma was being much too hard on herself. Her friend seemed to believe that somehow Piers would see that he was in the wrong, that of course he would want to see Emma again after this weekend—why shouldn’t he? Emma was a beautiful young girl and he should count his blessings! She just hadn’t been able to get it through to Fleur that Piers was an important man: he wasn’t going to waste his time with a girl like Emma when he could take his pick where women were concerned. And beautiful, sophisticated women from his own eminent stratosphere, at that.
‘My job is not who I am…’ Why did that particular comment come back just then to taunt her and fill her with longing? Because you’re a fool, Emma Robards, that’s why! Turning away from myriad glowing candles, Emma hurried from the peaceful haven of the little chapel with its heart-rending images of the Madonna and child and the drugging, sweet-smelling incense that pervaded the air, suddenly desperate to be outside again. Then, the thought filling her with equal doses of dread and hope, she decided to go back to the hotel, where no doubt Piers would be waiting—probably with her suitcases packed, and ready to deposit her back to the airport.
‘Have you had breakfast?’ Was it his imagination or had his heart suddenly galloped in his chest at the sight of her? There was certainly a multitude of strong emotions vying for precedence as he allowed his starved gaze to wander from the top of Emma’s glossy brown hair to the tips of her feet in her delicate little open-toed sandals. Had she walked the streets of Paris in those shoes? Recalling her obvious discomfort in high heels, Piers was about to suggest she discard them and go barefoot when, as if reading his mind, she bent down to release the narrow black straps around her ankles and kicked off her shoes with a sigh. When she stood up her cheeks were pink and her eyes wary, her glance nervously breaking away to wander around the room; she was looking anywhere, it seemed, rather than look at Piers.
‘I had croissants and coffee with Fleur before she left to go and see her boyfriend.’ Undoing the buttons of her coat, she slipped her fingers through her long chestnut hair then let it fall softly again around her face.
‘I was very concerned when you took off like that last night. It was reckless behaviour, Emma—anything could have happened!’
So he was ‘concerned’ but not sorry? Her throat constricting unhappily, Emma couldn’t prevent her snort of derision. ‘You’re probably just angry because I inconvenienced you—not because you give a damn! Be honest, Piers—all that concerns you now is that I might be pregnant. But don’t worry, because no matter what happens you’re the last person in the world I’d come to for help, so you can breathe easy. I promise when we return to London this evening, you won’t see or hear of me again!’
Determinedly on her way to the bedroom to pack her case, Emma squealed in shock when Piers grabbed hold of her arm and swung her around to face him. His eyes were dazzlingly blue and spitting fire and for a moment she was light-headed with fear.
‘What makes you so damn sure I don’t want to see you again?’ he demanded savagely. Barely registering the question, Emma slid her gaze as if spellbound down to his mouth—that perfectly designed instrument of delight that made her curl her toes just looking at it, especially when she vividly recalled that practically every inch of her body knew the innate mastery of its touch so intimately…
‘Oh, please don’t insult me by telling me you’ve had a change of heart! Or is it that you just thought you’d get your money’s worth before the weekend is up?’ Wrenching her arm free, Emma barely had a moment to think before she found herself crushed up against the adamantine wall of Piers’s chest, her anger suddenly quelled by the shocking feelings of submission and desire washing through her. Feelings engendered by the captivating textures of the hard male body that was pressing so relentlessly against her own softer curves. Her legs started to shake, growing feebly weak as she struggled to stay in control.
‘Don’t pretend you don’t desire me as much as I desire you.’ His face was very close. So close that every dark blond eyelash and every lightly grooved line spreading outward from his incredibly compelling eyes was revealed in stunning clarity. Up close, they were devastating. Her stomach dropped to her shoes. Oh, God! What were they doing? She didn’t want them to waste precious time fighting. Even though there was probably not so much as an ounce of hope for their shared future, something urged her to make the most of these short-lived moments together because Emma wasn’t sure that there ever would or could be another man she was so wildly attracted to again…
‘I didn’t say I didn’t desire you.’ Her lip quivering, her eyes were dark and shimmering as she gazed up into Piers’s. ‘But I have feelings…even if you don’t. Your offer of help was so—so clinical. I know you’re probably used to dealing with problems extremely efficiently, but I don’t want to be seen as some kind of problem that has to be dealt with then conveniently forgotten! I’m a human being, Piers. Granted, I’m maybe not as sophisticated as some of your girlfriends who can easily accept that all you want is the physical—and some casual fling at that—but that doesn’t mean I’m any less deserving of your respect.’
‘I do respect you, damn it!’
Because at that moment he was torn between kissing her and shaking her, Piers let her go and walked away. Emma was stirring up feelings inside him that he expressly didn’t welcome. Feelings didn’t feature largely in his modus operandi as a rule. His life was complicated enough without allowing emotions to call the shots. He only had to remember his life with Naomi all those years ago to recall how explosive and dangerous emotions were. He had been devastated when she’d died in a car accident, but after the first couple of years after her death had gone by, he was ashamed to say he’d started to feel relief at the fact she wasn’t around. The woman had put him through hell with her affairs, her lying and her constant accusations that he was a cold, callous bastard who didn’t care about his family. Piers didn’t want that stress again—ever.
They should never have got married so young. But with Lawrence on the way and his sense of responsibility for the nineteen-year-old Naomi kicking in, Piers had not stopped to consider his true feelings for his girlfriend. He’d convinced himself he’d loved her when he really hadn’t. After a while Naomi had obviously sensed the fact and sought to pay him back by ha
ving as many affairs as she could. Being so young, she hadn’t had the maturity to ride out the storm and try and win back her husband’s affection in some way. The truth was that they’d both made an almighty mess of things—a mess that had repercussions even to this day, when poor Naomi was no longer around. Piers only had to think of the hostility in his son’s blue eyes to be reminded of that.
Striding to the window now, he stood gazing out at the fashionable little courtyard at the back of the hotel where patrons relaxed at wrought-iron tables, sipped coffee and enjoyed easy conversation in the bright winter sunshine. For a fervent few moments he wished that he and Emma could do the same but suddenly somehow—without him expecting it—their relationship had developed into something far more complicated than he’d anticipated. There was nothing easy or simple about their situation anymore. And even though desire was flowing through his veins with all the combined force of storm and flood, Piers knew it would be wrong to tumble into bed with Emma again when it was obvious she was in turmoil about being here with him in the first place.
‘It’s probably difficult for you to understand the kind of frenetic life I lead unless you’ve been in it. I’ll tell you the truth, Emma—it doesn’t make for lasting relationships. My relationships with women are usually brief out of necessity…though I have to say, we usually part as friends.’
‘Is that what you want me to be? Your friend?’
No. Having become intimately acquainted with Emma’s divine body, there was no way Piers could even think about reverting to a platonic relationship. Even he wasn’t that strong.
‘When we get back to the UK I’m practically flying straight out again to Australia. From there I go on to New Zealand, Indonesia, Bali and then South Africa. I’m going to be away for at least three months. Right now I can’t promise you very much except that I will get in touch when I get back.’
Emma’s heart sank as if it were weighted down with a heavy stone. It was obvious to her that he was just trying to placate. He hadn’t even expressed a desire to have her as a friend, so clearly he had no real intentions of seeing her again at all.
‘I understand.’ Her fingers curled tightly into her palm. Without Piers saying another word, she knew the subject was now strictly off limits for the rest of their trip and her heart grieved that that was the case.
‘So…how about us spending the rest of the day doing some sightseeing together?’ Jamming his hands into his trouser pockets, Piers dragged up a smile from somewhere, though right then it was the last thing he felt like doing. What he could do was try and make damn sure Emma enjoyed her last day in Paris. Make up for their disastrous dinner date last night, at least.
‘Sightseeing?’ Emma frowned.
‘You know: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame?’
‘I saw the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre with Miles yesterday, remember? And this morning after I left Fleur’s, I went to Notre Dame. I wanted to light a candle for my grandmother.’
Now, why did that last comment make him feel ten times worse? Because she was an angel and he had taken unfair advantage of the fact… Self-loathing rolled through him and he silently cursed it. Sighing, he withdrew his hands from his pockets and grimaced instead.
‘Things haven’t turned out the way I’d hoped—not by a long shot. Yesterday I had to work and today… Well, anyway, I should have taken you to all those places myself.’
Sensing his genuine regret, Emma couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse him. ‘There’s still plenty to see, isn’t there? I mean…if you’d like to, that is?’ She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been hoping to make love with Piers one last time. But now everything was changed…spoiled. Looming over them both was the fact that Emma might even now be pregnant. Because of her allergy to oral contraception, she couldn’t even take the morning-after pill to circumvent matters. But silently acknowledging that Piers was probably feeling bad enough about the way things had turned out—not least the accusations she had levelled at him—she could hardly find fault with his suggestion that they make things easier for themselves by doing some harmless sightseeing instead.
‘Yes, I’d like to. You want to change out of that dress first? As eye-catching as it undoubtedly is, I think you’d be more comfortable in something a bit more casual, don’t you?’
Fingering the buttons on her coat, Emma self-consciously pulled the lapels of the garment across the black beaded bodice of her elegant couture dress, acknowledging to herself that it would probably be a long time before she ever had occasion to wear it again. Perhaps never if all it did was conjure up bitter-sweet memories of Piers…
‘Miles will drive you home.’
‘But what about you?’ Standing in the busy mêlée of Heathrow Airport, Emma wished the moment of parting hadn’t arrived so soon. Their last afternoon in Paris had come to an end far too quickly and now she was faced with the reality of her homecoming. Sliding a hand into her coat pocket, she glanced down at her luggage, then at Miles a few feet away, standing patiently by the sliding doors marked ‘Exit.’ She caught his eye for a moment, glimpsing what appeared to be a reassuring smile.
‘I’m meeting a colleague at a nearby hotel. Miles will come back for me when he’s dropped you off.’
‘You’re sure?’
Unable to stop himself from touching her, Piers reached out and stroked her cheek with the flat of his hand. Her big eyes looked so anxious and unhappy that he felt an acute pang of sharp regret that he had to let her go. Now it came down to it, he asked himself if he wasn’t being too hasty in concluding that a relationship between them could never be. Just the thought of her being in someone else’s arms instead of his was agony. But what could he promise her? His lifestyle was so frenetic and disjointed and Emma was hardly equipped to jump from waitress to corporate wife, expected to act as hostess to clients and colleagues at the drop of a hat, and everything else that went with being married to someone in Piers’s position.
It took him a full minute to fully realise the dangerous road his thoughts were travelling down. Marriage? He clenched his jaw tight and gave himself a mental shake.
‘I’m absolutely sure. And you must promise me that you’ll get in touch if you need anything. If you ring the office my PA, Fiona, will pass on a message wherever I am. You know what I mean, don’t you?’
Resisting the urge to lean into the smooth, warm hand that caressed her cheek, Emma stiffened her shoulders. He meant if she was pregnant. But she would rather die than ask him to support her if she should happen to find herself in that terrifying position.
‘I’ll be fine. There is just one thing I wanted to ask you before I go.’
Reluctantly Piers withdrew the hand that had been stroking that baby-soft cheek. ‘Go ahead.’
Her gaze steady, Emma wondered if he thought she might be going to demand something that would make his life difficult. She couldn’t wait to show him that once she left him today he wouldn’t set eyes on her again if she could help it. He could forget that their little liaison ever happened—which Emma was certain was his preferred option.
‘Make friends with Lawrence. He needs you, even if you think he doesn’t.’
Her comment catching him on the raw, Piers glanced down at his watch, suddenly glad that he had a legitimate excuse not to linger. Right now Lawrence was the last person he wanted to think about.
‘I’ll do my best.’ He had been going to kiss her but then decided that if he did he probably wouldn’t end up going anywhere he needed to go. Emma made him feel all sorts of unsettling emotions that he normally tried so hard to suppress and the sooner he could find his equilibrium again, the better. ‘I’m sorry, Emma, but I’ve got to run. I’m already twenty minutes behind schedule.’
‘Then I won’t keep you any longer.’ Picking up her bags, Emma made herself smile even though it almost killed her to do so. ‘Thanks for taking me to Paris. I’ll always remember it.’
As she moved gracefully through the throng of people towards the
exit and Miles, Piers wondered why, instead of him feeling relieved, his chest was crowded with an entirely different emotion. One he didn’t welcome.
CHAPTER NINE
DROPPING down onto the bench seat outside the ICU where she’d just left her grandmother amid a flurry of doctors and nurses, Emma rubbed hard at her temples in an attempt to force away the fear that was currently crashing through her like Niagara Falls. The smell of disinfectant and disease was making her feel as if she wanted to throw up and she clenched her hands, pleading with herself over and over again to try and stay calm. Oh, God…was her precious grandmother going to die? Just two days ago Emma had endured an awkward and unsatisfactory goodbye at the airport with Piers because of the plainly unfinished business between them. Despondent, she’d returned to work, telling herself there was nothing for it but to face the fact that that was probably the last time she would see him again—ever. Her only consolation in the midst of her unhappiness was that she still had one person in her life who loved her unconditionally, and Emma had thanked her lucky stars. With her beloved grandmother’s support, she would cope with whatever fate lay at her door in the future. Now all her hopes and reassurances had been upended like a barrel of apples because the worst thing that could possibly happen had happened. Two hours ago in the midst of the lunchtime rush at the bistro, she’d had a phone call to tell her that her grandmother had suffered a heart attack at her home. Liz had driven a stunned Emma to the hospital, only leaving her a few minutes ago to go in search of some coffee for them both.
Nervously plucking some lint off her black skirt, Emma tried hard to ward off the battery of fearful thoughts that was currently bombarding her, with little success. Hearing the distinct sound of heels clicking down the hall of the white-painted corridor, she turned her head, rising to her feet as Liz approached, two steaming polystyrene cups of coffee in her hands.