The British Bachelors Collection

Her gentle smile was like a wisp of ephemeral smoke—there one minute and gone the next. But, having seen it, he couldn’t help but feel reassured.

At the top of the stairs a pretty young woman with gently waving blonde hair, wearing a tan-coloured raincoat over a smart blouse and jeans, stood waiting for them.

‘You’re not leaving, Colette?’ Layla asked, startled.

‘Sweetheart, you don’t need me to hang around now. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I guessed when I heard a man’s voice that it must be the guy you were going to tell me about.’ She glanced up at Drake with a smile, ‘I’m Layla’s friend Colette.’ She reached out and shook his hand, adding, ‘And you are …?’

‘Drake.’ He didn’t hesitate to give his real name, because something in the girl’s frank blue eyes told him that she was fiercely loyal to Layla. ‘Drake Ashton.’

‘You’re the famous architect that’s helping to regenerate the town?’

He grimaced. ‘I’m just one of a group of professionals that’s been commissioned.’

The blonde’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘And are any of the other professionals as fit as you, Drake?’

‘Colette!’ Layla shook her head in disbelief at her friend’s daring.

‘Don’t worry, Drake, I’m only teasing. Layla knows I’m very happily married, and right now I’m going to head back home and suggest that my other half and I go out for a nice romantic meal somewhere. Why don’t the two of you open that bottle of wine I brought and enjoy it on me?’

Noticing that Layla was frowning, as though concerned that her friend felt under pressure to cut short her visit, Drake caught her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘I promise that the next time you and Colette arrange a girls’ night in I won’t break up your evening by demanding you spend time with me instead.’

‘That’s settled, then. I’m going.’ The blonde gave him a satisfied conspiratorial wink.

‘And the bottle of wine is on me next time, Colette,’ he promised.

‘I’ll hold you to that. Just make sure the two of you have some fun tonight, won’t you? And there’s just one more thing, Drake …’

‘What’s that?’

‘Don’t break her heart. Trust me, you’re a very lucky man that she’s interested in you. I was beginning to wonder if she’d ever find someone she really liked.’

His eyes lit on Layla in a penetrating gaze. ‘Rest assured I don’t take her for granted.’

Tearing her glance from his, Layla stepped round him to give her friend an affectionate hug. ‘Thanks for coming over. I’ll give you a ring very soon, I promise.’

‘I’ll look forward to it. Bye, sweetie.’

As soon as she and Drake were alone again, Layla walked in silence back into the flat. It disturbed him that she appeared so ill at ease. Did she really have no idea how he felt? Following her into the kitchen, he glanced at the unopened bottle of wine standing on the counter. Standing beside it were two slim-stemmed glasses and a corkscrew.

‘I know I said I’d have coffee, but shall we break the ice by having a glass of wine?’ he suggested lightly, hunting for a way to help her relax.

‘Break the ice?’ Layla rounded on him with a disbelieving glare. ‘Has our relationship become so brittle since we last saw each other that we need an icebreaker to help us communicate? I for one would rather just get straight to the point.’

‘I agree. Why don’t we do just that?’

‘You agree?’

Resisting the urge to smile, because she looked so damn adorable right then, Drake threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I do. Why don’t you go first and tell me what you’ve been thinking?’

‘All right, then. I will.’ Folding her arms, she moved restlessly across the black and white tiled floor and back again. ‘Something happened when you dropped me back home on Sunday. You were going to stay for coffee, but then you suddenly changed your mind. Personally, I don’t believe your urgent departure had anything to do with work or having to return your phone messages. Something about being in my home made you uncomfortable. What was it, Drake? Did you suddenly fear I’d make some sort of demand on you that you didn’t want or perhaps didn’t feel ready to meet? Or maybe it was that you wished you hadn’t shown me where you’d grown up because it made you feel too vulnerable?’

Wincing, Drake pushed his fingers through his hair and nodded slowly. ‘I didn’t fear you making demands on me, Layla. But you’re right … I did have reservations about showing you my old home … at least the first time. The second time we went back I was less tense, because I wanted to tell you that I’d changed my mind about tearing the houses down … that I had decided to renovate instead. But when we came back here and I saw that you’d grown up in a much better part of town than I had … and in such a beautiful home … the home you share with a brother who clearly means the world to you and who clearly adores you too … I wondered what I could possibly offer you that would be an incentive for you to exchange all that simply to be with me?’

Sweeping her fringe back off her face, Layla knew her expression was genuinely stunned. ‘You seriously don’t know what you could offer me that would be an incentive to stay with you?’

His heartbeat accelerated, making it hard for him to articulate his feelings. He drew in a deep breath to steady himself. ‘Let’s look at the facts, shall we? You have a lovely home here—a home full of warm family memories that you understandably returned to when things turned sour for you in London. You’d probably never consider living in the city again, and even though I came back here to help with the town’s regeneration and improve it I’m sure you can understand why it’s not a place I would personally ever want to live in again.’

‘Going back to what you were saying before. Are you telling me that you want me to stay with you, Drake? I mean … as in living with you?’

His mouth drying, he moved across the room to stand in front of her. ‘Yes … that’s exactly what I’m saying, Layla.’

Her soft cheeks flushed rosily. ‘Why? Why do you want me to live with you?’

The blood in Drake’s veins thundered hotly in embarrassment when he realised she didn’t know. Instead of telling her how he felt, as he’d planned to do, he’d somehow lulled himself into believing she would intuit everything. Grimacing, he silently made a vow that he would never let fear and doubt stop him from confessing his true feelings to this woman ever again.

He touched his palm to her cheek and held it there, loving the sensation of her warm satin skin. ‘I want you to live with me because I’m crazy about you … crazy to the point of feeling like you’ve put me under some kind of spell. Even when I’m supposed to be working I can’t stop thinking about you. What I’m trying to tell you is that I love you, Layla. I love you more than I ever dreamed it was possible to love anyone, and I don’t want to blow my one chance at real happiness by letting you go. If you can’t live in London, and I can’t live here, then we’re just going to have to come up with some mutually agreeable compromise.’

Her beautiful dark eyes danced teasingly. ‘What makes you think I’d never consider living in London with you?’

Frowning, Drake rested his hands either side of her svelte hips and couldn’t resist the compelling urge to bring her closer into his body. ‘That low-life of a boss of yours must have hurt you badly with what he did. I perfectly understand why the memory of such a painful experience might put you off the idea of living there. I also understand why it means a lot to you to live here. For one thing, apart from the happy memories of your childhood, your brother’s here. Not only that, you’ve got a job working for him. I doubt that you’d agree to resign to come and live with me, would you?’

‘You seem to think you know a lot about what I want and don’t want, don’t you? Will you give me the chance to tell you what I want myself?’

‘Of course.’

Emitting a soft breath, Layla smiled. ‘First of all, I love you too, Drake … I didn’t know it at the time, but maybe it happened when your incredible grey eyes looked back into mine that very first time? I never dreamt I’d fall for someone so hard and so fast, and at first it scared me. It scared me a lot. But the truth is I’d live anywhere you wanted me to just so long as I could be with you. And as for Marc—I’m sure I can persuade him to rent out my flat to help him make some extra money to pay off his debts, and also to give the café some much needed redecoration.’

‘What about your job there?’

‘I was thinking I’d keep it until the town project comes to an end. I don’t mean I’ll stay living here, if you want me to move in with you sooner, but when the regeneration is complete I’ll get a job somewhere local to wherever we’re living.’ Pausing, she reached up to gently push some hair back from his forehead. ‘There’s one more thing I want to tell you. When I lost my life savings I didn’t really lose anything of value … at least not in the sense of true value. Even though I was upset and demoralised by it at the time, after I moved back here I started to realise I should be grateful for what I had … not mourn what I’d lost. And for me it’s always been the people I love that I value the most.’

Capturing her hand, Drake brought it up to his lips and planted a warm lingering kiss in the centre of her palm. ‘You are one incredible woman—you know that?’

‘No, I’m not. It’s you who’s incredible. To come back here and help bring hope and new life to the community by improving the town after your sad experiences growing up here … well, it’s beyond brave in my book. Why did you decide to take the commission, by the way? You’ve never told me.’

He thought hard for a moment, wanting to be absolutely truthful. ‘I suppose subconsciously I was looking to reinvent my relationship with the place … to bury my regrets and turn my memories into much more positive ones. When I was first contacted about working on the regeneration my instinct was not to touch it with a bargepole. But I forced myself to think more deeply about it, and in the end I decided to take it on for the very reasons I just explained. Seeing as that decision brought me to you, Layla, I’m guaranteed the good memories I always secretly craved. I never thought for one moment that I’d find the most beautiful girl in the world living here, and that I’d instantly fall in love with her, but I did … I did. It really is a dream come true.’

‘I’m just ordinary, Drake … hardly the most beautiful girl in the world.’

‘Sweetheart, you’re going to have to learn to take compliments if you’re going to be with me, because I plan to shower you with them every day throughout our long and happy marriage.’ He smiled.

This astounding announcement put Layla’s mind into a dizzying spin and made her heart clamour wildly. ‘You want to marry me?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Just as soon as it can be arranged—and I won’t be slow to pull a few favours from the official powers-that-be to help me achieve that, I promise you.’

‘There’s one more thing I’d like to ask you.’

‘What’s that?’

This time when he responded to the notion of her asking what might be another personal question he didn’t look remotely wary or defensive, Layla noticed. Instead his glance was infinitely warm and understanding.

‘Not jumping the gun or anything … but would you really consider us having children?’

‘Would you believe me if I told you that when I realised I might have made you pregnant I honestly considered asking you to go ahead and have the child if there was one? When you told me you’d taken that emergency contraceptive I felt like I’d been robbed of an incredible opportunity that I’d never even realised was important to me.’

Feeling her heart melt, Layla couldn’t disguise the wondrous happiness she felt at his words. ‘I’d love to have your baby—you know that? Because I know you’ll be the most incredibly loving and inspirational father. In which case I’m guessing I should definitely say yes to your proposal, shouldn’t I?’

She didn’t have a chance to say anything else right then, because Drake lowered his head to hers and kissed her with a hunger that wouldn’t be sated until they both capitulated to the desperate need to be even closer—a desperately wild and passionate need that would always be a feature of their marriage until they were old, Layla guessed happily …

His Temporary Mistress

Cathy Williams

CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon Modern Romance books as a teenager, and now that she is writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London, and her three daughters—Charlotte, Olivia and Emma—have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspirations in her life.

To my three daughters,Charlotte, Olivia and Emma,and their continuing supportin all my endeavours…

CHAPTER ONE

SO IT WAS bad news. The worst possible. Damien swivelled his leather chair so that it was facing the magnificent floor-to-ceiling panes of glass that afforded his office suite such spectacular views of London’s skyline.

The truism that money couldn’t buy everything had come home to roost. His mother had been given the swift and unforgiving diagnosis of cancer and there was nothing a single penny of his bottomless billions could do to alter that bald fact.

He wasn’t a man who ever dealt in if onlys. Regret was a wasted emotion. It solved nothing and his motto had always been that for every problem there was a solution. Upwards and onwards was what got a person through life.

However, now, a series of what ifs slammed into him with the deadly precision of a heat-guided missile. His mother’s health had not been good for over a year and he had taken her word for it when she had vaguely told him that yes, she had been to see her GP, that there was nothing to worry about...that engines in old cars tended to be a little unreliable.

What if, instead of skimming the surface of those assurances, he had chosen to probe deeper? To insist on bringing her to London, where she could have had the best possible medical advice, instead of relying on the uncharted territory of the doctors in deepest Devon?

Would the cancer now attacking her have been halted in its tracks? Would he not have just got off the phone to the consultant having been told that the prognosis was hazy? That they would have to go in to see how far it had spread?

Yes, she was in London now, after complicated arrangements and a great deal of anxiety, but what if she had come to London sooner?

He stood up and paced restlessly through his office, barely glancing at the magnificent piece of art on the wall, which had cost a small fortune. For once in his life, guilt, which had been nibbling at the edges of his conscience for some time, blossomed into a full-scale attack. He strode through to his secretary, told her to hold all his calls and allowed himself the rare and unwelcome inconvenience of giving in to a bout of savage and frustrating introspection.

The only thing his mother had ever wanted for him had been marriage, stability, a good woman.

Yes, she had tolerated the women she had met over the years, on those occasions when she had come up to London to see him, and he had opted to ignore her growing disappointment with the lifestyle he had chosen for himself. His father had died eight years previously, leaving behind a company that had been teetering precariously on the brink of collapse.

Damien had been one hundred per cent committed to running the business he had inherited. Breaking it up, putting it back together in more creative ways. He had integrated his own vastly successful computer firm with his father’s outdated transport company and the marriage had been an outstanding success but it had required considerable skill. When had he had the time to be concerned over lifestyle choices? At the age of twenty-three, a thousand years ago or so it seemed, he had attempted to make one serious lifestyle choice with a woman and that had spectacularly crashed and burned. What was the problem if, from then onwards, his choices had not been to his mother’s liking? Wasn’t time on his side when it came to dealing with that situation?

Now, faced with the possibility that his mother might not have long to live, he was forced to concede that the single-minded ambition and ferocious drive that had taken him to the top, that had safeguarded the essential financial cushion his mother deserved and required, had also placed him in the unpalatable situation of having disappointed her.

And what could he do about it? Nothing.

Damien looked up as his secretary poked her head around the door. With anyone else, he wouldn’t have had to voice his displeasure at being interrupted, not when he had specifically issued orders that he was not to be disturbed. With Martha Hall, the usual ground rules didn’t work. He had inherited her from his father and, at the age of sixty-odd, she was as good as a family member.

‘I realise you told me not to bother you, son...’

Damien stifled a groan. He had long ago given up on telling her that the term of affection was inappropriate. In addition to working for his father, she had spent many a night babysitting him.

‘But you promised that you’d let me know what that consultant chap said about your mother...’ Her face was creased with concern. She radiated anxiety from every pore of her tall, angular body.

‘Not good.’ He tried to soften the tone of his voice but found that he couldn’t. He raked restless fingers through his dark hair and paused to stand in front of her. She would have easily been five ten, but he towered over her, six foot four of pure muscular strength. The fine fabric of his hand-tailored charcoal trousers and the pristine white of his shirt lovingly sheathed the lean, powerful lines of a man who could turn heads from streets away.

‘The cancer might be more widespread than they originally feared. She’s going to have a battery of tests and then surgery to consolidate their findings. After that, they’ll discuss the appropriate treatment.’

Martha whipped out a handkerchief which she had stored in the sleeve of her blouse and dabbed her eyes. ‘Poor Eleanor. She must be scared stiff.’

‘She’s coping.’

‘And what about Dominic?’

The name hung in the air between them, an accusatory reminder of why his mother was so frantic with worry, so upset that she was ill and he, Damien, was still free, single and unattached, still playing the field with a series of beautiful but spectacularly unsuitable airheads, still, in her eyes, ill equipped to handle the responsibility that would one day be his.

‘I shall go down and see him.’

Most people would have taken the hint at the abrupt tone of his voice. Most people would have backed away from pursuing a conversation he patently did not want to pursue. Most people were not Martha Hall.

‘So have you considered what will happen to him should your mother’s condition be worse than expected? I can see from your face that you don’t want to talk about this, honey, but you can’t hide from it either.’

‘I’m not hiding from anything,’ Damien enunciated with great forbearance.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to ponder that, shall I? I’ll pop in and see your mother when I leave work.’

Damien attempted a smile.

‘Oh, and there’s something else.’

‘I can’t think what,’ Damien muttered under his breath as he inclined his head to one side and prayed that there wouldn’t be a further attack on his already overwrought conscience.

‘There’s a Miss Drew downstairs insisting on seeing you. Would you like me to show her up?’

Damien stilled. The little matter of Phillipa Drew was just something else on his plate, but at least this was something he would be able to sort out. Had it not been for the emergency with his mother, it would have been sorted out by now, but...

‘Show her up.’

Martha knew nothing of Phillipa Drew. Why would she? Phillipa Drew worked in the bowels of IT, the place where creativity was at its height and the skills of his highly talented programmers were tested to the limit. As a lowly secretary to the head of the department, he had not been aware of her existence until, a week previously, a series of company infringements had come to light and the trails had all led back to her.

The department head had had the sternest possible warning, meetings had been called, everyone had had to stand up and be counted. Sensitive material could not be stolen, forwarded to competitors... The process of questioning had been rigorous and, eventually, Damien had concluded that the woman had acted without assistance from any other member of staff.

But he hadn’t followed up on the case. The patent on the software had limited the damage but punishment would have to be duly meted out. He had had a preliminary interview with the woman but it had been rushed, just long enough for her to be escorted out of the building with a price on her head. He had more time now.

After a stressful ten days, culminating in the phone call with his mother’s consultant, Damien could think of a no more satisfying way of venting than by doling out just deserts to someone who had stolen from his company and could have cost millions in lost profits.

He returned to his chair and gave his mind over completely to the matter in hand.

Jail, of course. An example would have to be set.

He thought back to his brief interview with the woman, the way she had sobbed, begged and then, when neither appeared to have been working, offered herself to him as a last resort.

His mouth curled in distaste at the recollection. She might have been a five foot ten blonde but he had found the cheap, ugly working of the situation repulsive.

He was in the perfect mood to inform her, in a leisurely and thorough fashion, that the rigours of the British justice system would be waiting for her. He was in the perfect mood to unleash the full force of his frustration and stress on the truly deserving head of a petty criminal who had had the temerity to think that she could steal from him.

He pulled up all the evidence of her ill-conceived attempts at company fraud on his computer and then relaxed back in his chair to wait for her.

* * *

Downstairs, in the posh lobby of the most scarily impressive building she had ever entered, Violet waited for Damien Carver’s secretary to come and fetch her. She was a little surprised that getting in to see the man in the hallowed halls of his own office had been so easy. For a few misguided seconds she nurtured the improbable fantasy that perhaps Damien Carver wasn’t quite the monster Phillipa had made him out to be.

The fantasy didn’t last long. No one ever got to the stratospheric heights of success that this man obviously had by being kind, forgiving and compassionate.

What was she doing here? What was she hoping to achieve? Her sister had stolen information, had been well and truly suckered by a man who had used her to access files he wanted, had been caught and would have to face the long arm of the law.

Violet wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the long arm of the law in this instance would be. She was an art teacher. Espionage, theft and nicking information couldn’t have been further removed from her world. Surely her sister couldn’t have been right when she had wailed that there was the threat of prison?

Violet didn’t know what she would do if her sister wasn’t around. There were just the two of them. At twenty-six, she was four years older than her sister and, whilst she would have been the first to admit that Phillipa hadn’t always been an easy ride, ever since their parents had died in a car crash seven years previously, she loved her to bits and would do anything for her.