by Maggie Cox
‘The only reason you’ve come back into my life is because of Emma. You couldn’t give a damn whether I sink or swim, could you? You never could. Then I find out you took her to Paris…a woman I was interested in! You think giving me money fixes everything but I’ve got news for you—it doesn’t! All it does is make me despise you even more!’
‘Since when did you want anything more from me than money?’
His crisp, cultured tones commanding attention even though he hadn’t remotely raised his voice, Piers considered his son with an ice-cool glance that could cause frostbite and which Emma knew instinctively must crush any opposition in his business dealings. But zinging through her brain first and foremost was Lawrence’s admission that he had been trying to get one over on his father by kissing her. He must have set her up… He must have been expecting Piers—otherwise, why the conveniently left-open front door? Not to mention the door to the flat… At the very idea that Lawrence could have stooped even lower than he had already without so much as a single thought for her welfare, Emma felt her stomach recoil in dismay.
‘You knew Piers was coming, didn’t you, Lawrence? You weren’t concerned about me not eating at all… You just wanted to use me as some kind of ammunition against your father in this stupid game you’re both playing! How could you?’
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Em. I meant it when I asked you to come to Cornwall with me and I am concerned that you haven’t been eating properly. I know how much your grandmother meant to you. Whatever you think of me I’m still your friend.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re just a user, Lawrence. I guess it must run in the family.’
Trying hard to give Piers a wide berth as she rounded him to reach the door, Emma didn’t miss the scalding glance he gave her as she accidentally nudged his arm, and her heart jumped wildly in her chest.
‘Don’t go far, will you?’ he warned. ‘You and I have some unfinished business.’
Unable to bring herself to speak for the tumult of emotions crowding her chest, Emma hurried out the door and banged it shut behind her.
Back inside her own flat she made a half-hearted attempt at some ironing, her whole body tensing at every sound she heard from upstairs, flinching when the two men’s voices were threateningly raised, listening intently when things went ominously quiet. Sighing, Emma switched on the radio for distraction, then grew tearful when she inadvertently tuned in to a programme her grandmother had loved. When over an hour had passed and all seemed peaceful upstairs, she finally put away the iron and went into the kitchen to make a hot drink. Her gaze alighting mournfully on the damp-riddled walls, she felt as if they were closing in on her and knew a sudden deep desire to escape. Where to didn’t matter because right now her poky little flat was a too painful reminder that she was more or less going nowhere with her life. Before her grandmother died she’d kidded herself she stayed there because it was all she could afford, but now that Helen Robards was no longer around Emma really had no excuse not to make a change. God help her, at this moment even going to Cornwall with Lawrence was more appealing than staying put.
But of course she would never really consider such a thing. Notwithstanding the look of disbelief and rage that Piers had worn on his face at the sight of her in his son’s arms, after his recent behaviour Emma wouldn’t trust Lawrence as far as she could throw him. But in the light of what she had learned from him, that surely now went for his father too.
The brief knock on her living-room door almost made her wish there were somewhere to hide. She could pretend she wasn’t in but there was no way Piers would buy that. Threading her fingers anxiously through her hair, Emma went to answer the door, her mouth going dry at the thought of being alone with Piers for the first time since they’d returned from Paris.
He stepped inside without saying a word, his clear blue eyes taking a silent inventory of her haphazard living-room, making Emma wish that she’d cleared up a little before he appeared. But why worry when she wouldn’t be inviting him to stay?
‘You look terrible.’
It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear and it hurt. ‘Thanks.’
‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’ Rubbing his hand around the back of his collar, Piers took a stride towards her, seemed to think better of it then shrugged off his overcoat instead.
Emma swallowed hard. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m going to help you pack.’
‘Pack?’
‘You don’t think I’m letting you stay here all by yourself in that condition?’
‘That’s the second time you’ve insulted me in the space of two minutes! For your information I’m fine. What do I need to pack for? I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Yes, you are.’ Piers’s jaw was resolute as his exasperated gaze swept over Emma’s troubled features. Throwing his coat onto her couch, he loosened his tie and pushed a hand through his dark blond hair. ‘You’re coming home with me, and don’t waste your breath giving me an argument because my mind’s made up and you won’t change it.’
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN she’d recovered from the shock of his ultimatum, Emma turned and marched into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she took out a carton of milk, placed it on the counter, then delved into the cupboard beneath the sink to find a saucepan. Piers appeared in the doorway just as she reached into another cupboard for the tin of chocolate powder she kept there.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Making a bedtime drink—what does it look like?’ she snapped.
‘Didn’t you hear what I just said?’
‘Listen, you may be lord of all you survey at work but that doesn’t apply to me! I’m not going anywhere with you and I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. You must think I’m some kind of simpleton, that’s all I can say! You have the barefaced audacity to waltz in here as if you own the place and order me about when you coldly and calculatingly used me to get back at your own son! Why I even let you through the front door I don’t know, but I’d be grateful if you just turned around and left. I’m sick of your games, Piers, and your son’s. Just go away and leave me alone.’
His face went white. ‘So Lawrence did his worst, did he?’
Emma swallowed hard. ‘He told me that you took me to Paris to score a point. Do you know how that makes me feel, Piers? Have you any idea?’
He had the grace to flinch. Lawrence had inadvertently found out about the trip to Paris from Fiona, Piers’s PA. He’d rung to speak to his father and Fiona had told him he’d gone away for the weekend. Apparently Lawrence had made some quip about ‘business or pleasure?’ and Fiona had let slip that he’d taken a girl called Emma Robards. He’d had the full story from Lawrence just now upstairs, and had been appalled when he’d learned that his son had put his own damning slant on it. Piers might have started out wanting to compete for Emma’s attention, but he had not succumbed to trumpeting his victory under his son’s nose. Yet perhaps he deserved that Emma believed he did.
‘I didn’t tell him I took you to Paris. He found out from my secretary. You must know he was only looking for an excuse to damn me in your eyes.’
About to tell him that Lawrence had succeeded in doing just that, Emma caught the flash of remorse in Piers’s troubled blue eyes and wearily decided against it.
‘You know, the more you two fight the less likely it is you’re ever going to reach a resolution. Don’t you think life’s too short for all this upset?’ As she pushed her hair back from her forehead, the skin around Emma’s mouth looked pale and strained and her eyes profoundly tired. An acute pang of regret hit Piers somewhere deep in his solar plexus.
‘I’m sorry about your grandmother. It must have been a terrible blow.’ His softly articulated words made her stop what she was doing and her hand clutched the tin of chocolate powder as if it were the last defence against him and her grief.
‘It was.’
Piers shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze gen
uinely sympathetic yet his expression not inviting confidences. Instinctively Emma guessed he was not entirely sure how to handle her grief.
‘And I’m also sorry for that cheap little stunt that Lawrence pulled just now. I wish I could have spared you that.’
‘Is he still mad at you?’ Emma wanted to know.
‘We’ve got some way to go before we resolve things but we’ve had a long talk and hopefully we’ve made a start.’
‘He had no right to use me like that just to score points against you.’
‘Believe me, I don’t condone what he did.’ If it had been any other man besides his own son, Piers would have been ready to be violent, such was the jealous rage that had gripped him. ‘I don’t suppose you plan on forgiving him any time soon?’
Emma honestly didn’t know. Right now she was feeling hurt and more than a little let down by her supposed friend. ‘We’ll have to see how things go. From where I stand at this moment, he’s got a long way to go to redeem himself in my eyes.’
‘He suspects that already. He thinks a lot of you, Emma. You’ve been a good friend to him.’
‘As crazy as it may sound I don’t dislike him…even now.’
‘He’s a good-looking young man. I could hardly be surprised if you did find him attractive.’
Emma lifted her head in surprise. His arms folded across his chest, Piers leant against the doorjamb, his perceptive blue eyes plainly keeping watch for any noticeable signs of too-eager compliance.
‘Well, I don’t. I’m afraid he’s a little too immature for me.’
‘That aside, I don’t think many girls would find it a hardship to be kissed by Lawrence.’
Didn’t he have any idea that Lawrence the boy couldn’t hold a candle to Piers the man? Emma was truly bewildered that Piers could even suggest that she might prefer his son’s immature kisses to his own.
‘‘‘Handsome is as handsome does,’’ as my gran used to say. I told you before, Lawrence and I are just friends—though God knows you’d never believe it with the way he’s carried on lately.’
‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking that he doesn’t care about your good opinion of him. From what I’ve seen I can tell he does. He saw an opportunity to get back at me in some way and he took it. I really don’t think he thought of it as using you. Believe me, he knows now it was the wrong thing to do.’
Had Piers been jealous when he’d found her in his son’s arms? Emma dismissed the thought as quickly as it had arisen. She wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking she meant something to either him or Lawrence again. They both seemed to regard her as some kind of possession, that was all—and a disposable one at that.
‘So you’ve agreed on some kind of a truce?’ she asked.
Piers nodded. ‘We’ve both agreed to let down some barriers. We’ve got to if things are going to improve.’
Sucking in a surprised breath, Emma let it out again slowly. ‘You’d be willing to do that?’
‘Perhaps I’m not as intransigent as you think I am.’ The little half-smile that played around his lips made Emma’s insides tighten and the front of her thighs grow warm.
‘That’s good…really. At least it will be a start. I never got the chance to get to know my father. He left when I was nine.’ Brushing back her hair again with her hand, Emma turned back to the counter. She marvelled that her voice could sound so steady when all she could really think about was Piers holding her, letting her lean into some of that seductive strength of his for a while. She imagined him stroking her hair and telling her that everything would be all right, because she really believed that if this man would deem a thing so, then it would be. For her he undoubtedly had that much charisma; that much power…
‘And you’ve no idea where he is?’ Frowning, Piers wondered if this was what Emma had been referring to the first time he’d made her acquaintance—when she’d commented, ‘some of us are struggling with deeper issues.’
‘Not specifically. I mean, I don’t have an address or anything but as far as I know he’s in Australia. He wrote to my grandmother when he first went over there but he moved around a lot and they soon lost touch. He’s made no attempt to contact me in all these years, and now I can’t even let him know that his own mother is dead.’
Studying her slim, straight body, the dark chestnut hair that gleamed even under that unforgiving fluorescent light, and the weight of sadness that was clearly weighing her down, Piers no longer questioned whether he had done the right thing in cancelling his trip abroad. When he’d rung Lawrence to try and make some kind of restitution for his previous lack of contact, during the course of their conversation his son had casually blurted out, ‘By the way, Emma’s grandmother has died. I think it’s hit her pretty hard.’ Remembering the touching sight of her arrestingly beautiful dark eyes illuminated by tears in the Parisian café that rainy afternoon, Piers had experienced such a powerful need to see her that almost as soon as his call to Lawrence was at an end, he’d rung his deputy and instructed him to make the scheduled trip abroad in his place. It was the first work-related trip that Piers had cancelled for many a long year, and if his young deputy had been surprised by his decision, he’d done a remarkable job of not revealing it.
Clearly Emma needed time to come to terms with her grandmother’s death, but Piers had no intention of letting her do it here in this depressing, dingy little flat with its peeling wallpaper and damp patches on the walls. He was even more adamant about that when he considered that she might actually be pregnant with his child. The thought commanded such unexpected feelings of protectiveness that even though he refused to stop and ask himself why, Piers was determined to do the right thing by Emma…whether she welcomed it or not.
‘Well, make your drink if you insist but then you’re going to go into your bedroom and pack. I’m not leaving you here on your own to brood when you can have the run of my house with all your meals cooked and Miles to take you wherever you want to go. Oh, and before we leave, I want the name and telephone number of your landlord.’
Inwardly bristling at being dictated to again, Emma swung around, her desire for the hot chocolate she’d been going to make gone completely. ‘Now, wait a minute! I told you I’m not going anywhere with you, and why on earth do you need the name and telephone number of my landlord?’
‘Because I’d like a little chat with him about letting his property go to rack and ruin. It’s a health hazard living in a place this damp, Emma. Don’t you know that?’
Glancing up at the offending areas on the walls, Emma shrugged to hide her embarrassment. It shamed her to see her home through his critical eyes. She knew he was right about the landlord reneging on his responsibilities, and yes, damp was a health hazard. She only prayed he wouldn’t have cause to use her bathroom because it was worse in there. But underlying her embarrassment was resentment that he naturally assumed he knew what was best for her.
‘Of course I know that! I’ve rung my landlord more times than I care to mention to tell him about the damp and ask that he do something about it but he always fobs me off with some excuse. Look, Piers, we said goodbye at the airport and I assumed that was the last we would see of each other, so why do you imagine you have a perfect right to just walk in here and start telling me what to do? Never mind. Whether you stay or go I’ve got things to do.’
Intending to brush past him, Emma was shocked when Piers started to walk towards her, his forbidding expression as intractable as rock.
‘If you’re expecting my child then I have every right to be concerned about the conditions you’re living in—not to mention responsibility for your welfare.’
Stunned by his words, Emma felt her mouth drop open. Since her grandmother died she’d barely given the possibility that she might be pregnant a second thought. She hadn’t dared. Already hurting because Piers had been so distant with her when they’d said their goodbyes at the airport—as if their lovemaking had never even happened—she hadn’t wanted to make herself even mor
e miserable by fearing the worst. But now when she thought about it…would it really be the end of the world if she was to find out she was pregnant with Piers’s child? What if it was a new beginning instead? At least she would have someone of her own to take care of. For a girl with no family at all, it was the first ray of hope she’d had since being told by the surgeon that he’d been unable to save her grandmother. Practicalities about how she would support herself flew out of the window as the thought flourished in the frozen soil of her bereaved heart and took root.
Closing her mouth, Emma swallowed hard. ‘We don’t know that. And I’m not your responsibility, no matter what. Now, I’m asking you again to just go, Piers. I’m very tired and there’s so much to do. I’ve got piles of my grandmother’s correspondence to deal with as well as my own, and if I don’t begin somewhere I—’
‘Don’t you ever listen?’ Suddenly his face was very close to hers and Emma backed up against the counter, her heart starting to thud alarmingly. But even though he intimidated her, a renegade pleasure was racing through her bloodstream, making her tremble with longing. His nearness had the power to totally banish every other thought in her head and make her long to be in his arms instead. In a million years she’d never dreamt of begging a man to make love to her but right now, with Piers, Emma was so close. It would be so good to experience some pleasure again, she thought longingly, even if it was only temporary—because the last few days had been pure hell. Her face suffusing with heat, she dipped her head to shield her hungry gaze before it betrayed her. ‘I’m not going with you, Piers. It would—it would be wrong.’
