The British Bachelors Collection

Intrigued, Drake walked behind his desk and slipped on the tailored black jacket that he’d hung almost thoughtlessly over the back of his chair. It barely registered these days that the cost of his clothing far exceeded most ordinary people’s annual salaries. But then if you wanted the best, you had to pay for the best. He’d come a long way from the boy whose father had dressed him in charity shop finds.

Frowning at the bewitching girl who stood in front of his desk, he asked, ‘Can you tell me what your boss the broker was like?’

‘I’d rather not. At least not right now. Perhaps when I get to know you a bit better?’

His heart slammed against his ribs. ‘Can I take it, then, that you’re planning on us having more than one date?’

‘I’m not planning anything … it’s a policy of mine to always try and live in the moment.’

‘Mine too.’

‘Besides … it’s not just up to me, is it? Who knows? By the end of the evening you might be glad to see the back of me.’

‘Somehow that’s not how I envisage the evening ending.’ Quirking a droll eyebrow, Drake gestured that they should move towards the door. ‘Let’s go to dinner, shall we? I’ve booked us a table at a nice French restaurant I know.’

They had been escorted by an ultra-polite maître d’ to what Layla imagined must be the best table in the house. The ‘nice’ French restaurant Drake had mentioned turned out to be one of the most acclaimed eateries in Europe … let alone London. It had two Michelin stars and was populated tonight by an extremely classy-looking clientele who clearly weren’t short of a penny or two. Their table was situated in a discreet far corner of the room, and the candlelit setting was quite simply beautiful. Everything from the polished silverware to the gleaming candelabrum and the white linen tablecloth that was hung with frightening precision was arranged to exemplify the most exquisite good taste, and the genteel ambience was further emphasised by some softly playing classical music.

Drake touched his hand lightly to her back as Layla’s seat was pulled out for her by the maître d’, and he waited until he saw she was comfortable before seating himself. Was it normal to have felt his touch as strongly as though a powerful electrical current had penetrated her layers of clothing? God knew she’d been jumpy enough at his office, but alone with him like this, in an intimate setting far away from any working environment, she feared she would display her unease and self-consciousness by talking far too much. Back at his office she’d already babbled and said more than she’d meant to say. And what on earth had possessed her to suggest she might like to get to know him better? For a woman who had vowed to steer well clear of men of Drake Ashton’s elite calibre, she was doing abysmally poorly. Now she was sure that the heat he had ignited in her body with his brief touch must easily be displayed on her burning face.

‘I’ve heard about this place—of course I have—but I never thought I’d be so lucky as to get the chance to eat here. Rumour has it that the waiting list for a table is at least a year long. Is that true, do you think?’

Her restless hands nervously folded and unfolded her linen napkin. The magnetic silver-grey eyes in front of her glinted with amusement.

‘I have no idea. I simply had my secretary ring and book me a table.’

Layla didn’t get the chance to comment straight away, because just then a waiter handed them leather-bound menus and a female sommelier appeared to make recommendations for the wine they might like to order. She didn’t miss the fact that the attractive and vivacious redhead obviously knew Drake. The woman was completely professional, but she all but lit up when she saw him, and the banter between them sounded as though it was borne of a long-standing association.

When she’d left them alone again Layla sipped at the glass of water another waiter had poured for her and wondered if the sommelier and Drake had ever enjoyed a far closer relationship. The idea bothered her far more than it had a right to.

‘The reason you have no idea how long the waiting list is for a table,’ she announced jerkily, ‘is obviously because you’re an important man whose name alone gets you an automatic foot in the door.’

‘You sound as if that perturbs you.’

Her handsome date narrowed his gaze and she felt as if she’d just voluntarily put herself under a high-powered microscope that would hunt out every flaw and discrepancy in her character and ruthlessly bring it to light.

‘Why should it bother you that I can get a table in a good restaurant without having to wait for a similar time as most people do?’

Her skin prickling hotly with embarrassment, Layla frowned, feeling not just guilty and foolish but extremely gauche. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest that it bothered me. It was really just an observation. You’ve obviously worked hard to have the privileges you enjoy and I don’t even know why I mentioned it. Forgive me. Put it down to nerves.’

‘So I make you nervous, do I?’

‘Yes, you do a little.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Maybe you mistakenly think I’m a lot more confident than I am? The truth is I’m just a girl from an ordinary suburban home, and I’m not that comfortable in the company of privileged men like yourself.’

She’d hoped her honest admission might alleviate some of the anxiety she felt around Drake, but it didn’t. Instead she was left feeling even more gauche and unsophisticated.

At that very moment the pretty sommelier returned with their wine and proceeded to pour some into Drake’s glass for him to taste and approve. When he indicated with a nod of his head that he did indeed approve, she poured some into Layla’s. This time her companion’s compelling glance didn’t remotely invite the girl to linger longer than was absolutely necessary.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured, his businesslike tone suggesting she should leave. ‘Your health and happiness,’ he toasted, smiling at Layla.

The gesture was a long way from being businesslike. His captivating eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and his lips curved generously, displaying strong white teeth. It was a killer combination and her body tightened helplessly.

‘The same to you,’ she murmured, lightly touching her goblet-shaped wine glass to his.

‘And, by the way, I didn’t get the impression that you were especially confident. My general impression is that you’re rather defensive, and consequently quite feisty because of it. Like a protective lioness wanting to divert attention away from a predator’s interest in her cub.’

‘I wasn’t trying to protect anyone.’

‘Yes, you were.’ Drake’s rich voice lowered meaningfully. ‘You were clearly trying to protect yourself, Layla.’

‘Is that so? Then, tell me, exactly what am I protecting myself from? I’d be very interested to know.’ Inside her chest, Layla’s heartbeat mimicked the disturbing cadence of a chugging steam train.

‘From me.’ As he carefully set down his wine glass, still holding onto the fragile stem with his forefinger and thumb, Drake’s gleaming intense glance all but devoured her.

‘But, saying that, I’m no predator. As far as women are concerned I’ve never found the need.’

His gaze continued to hold her spellbound, and she was helpless to break free from it.

‘I’ve never had to chase a woman in my life. It’s always been the other way round. However …’ Again he paused, as if carefully measuring his words. ‘I’ve always guessed that one day there would be an exception to break the rule.’

Feeling as if pure elemental lightning was scorching through her veins, Layla nervously licked her lips, feverishly trying to find coherent words to answer such an incendiary declaration. ‘Are you—are you saying that you’re pursuing me, Drake?’

His amused, provocative chuckle emanated from deep inside his throat. ‘I hope I won’t have to, Layla. But I rather think that will be up to you.’

Lifting his glass, he drank deeply from wine that the candlelight on the table seemed to turn into a deeply seductive blood-red river …

‘Are you and your guest ready to order, Mr Ashton?’

The waiter’s reappearance was well timed. It saved her from having to make a reply to a comment whose repercussions were still imploding shockingly inside her. She wasn’t naive as far as men’s desires were concerned. Her looks had often invited interested male attention … most of it unwanted. But never before had Layla been in a position where a man—a much admired and well-known man—told her so frankly that he would pursue her if she indicated she wasn’t interested.

Already she’d discovered that it was near impossible not to be interested in Drake. Every moment they spent together she was fighting hard to tamp down the flames of desire his mercurial silver gaze ignited every time his eyes met hers. It was going to be one almighty challenge to resist such an electrifying attraction for long.

At the waiter’s polite enquiry Drake opened the menu that had been languishing on the table in front of him, but before scanning it he glanced pointedly at Layla and said, ‘I think we need a few more minutes, don’t you?’

Not trusting herself to speak right then, she merely nodded her head.

‘We need a little more time,’ he told the waiter, who promptly and deferentially blended back into the general hub of the restaurant. ‘Shall I pour you some more wine?’

His lovely companion had been silent for the past few minutes as they ate their meal, and whenever Drake found himself helplessly studying her she seemed to be lost in a world of her own. Whilst he didn’t particularly mind the lapse in conversation, he was concerned that she might be regretting their date—and that was something he expressly didn’t want her to do. He should never have admitted so frankly that he would indeed pursue her if she indicated indifference to him. But in that unguarded moment lust and desire had got the better of him and his feelings had been hard to contain.

‘No, thanks.’ She declined his offer of more wine. ‘I can’t drink too much tonight. I’ve got a train to catch, and I’ve also got to get up early for work in the morning.’

‘You don’t have to rush to catch a train. My chauffeur will drive you home.’

‘How will you get home if your chauffeur drives me?’

Drake shrugged and took another sip of his wine. ‘He can drop me off on the way. I only live in Mayfair.’

‘I know,’ Layla answered, her pretty mouth curving in yet another ironic little smile. ‘I read it in the local newspaper. Lucky you.’

He hadn’t mentioned that he lived in Mayfair to impress her, but he couldn’t deny that he was peeved that she appeared so singularly unimpressed … dismissive, almost. It made him feel like the lead character in the story The Emperor’s New Clothes—a charlatan and a liar hiding behind a façade of wealth and success. In his mind he was still the poor boy living with a father who beat him and despised him and locked him in his bedroom in the dark when he wanted to exact particularly cruel punishment … His mouth tightened grimly as he fought the tide of agonising memory that rolled through him.

‘If you find it so disagreeable to accept my offer of a ride home in preference to catching a train then I’m not going to argue with you. As soon as we’ve finished eating I’ll pay the bill and we can go. There’s a tube station just round the corner.’

When hot embarrassed colour visibly flooded into her porcelain cheeks Drake firmly schooled himself not to let it remotely disturb him …

CHAPTER FOUR

THEIR date had been an unmitigated disaster.

Layla wasn’t quite sure what she had done to make Drake suddenly turn so cold towards her, but the fact was she’d definitely done something. He’d sat beside her in the car in chilling silence as his chauffeur dropped her off at the tube station. Even when she’d thanked him for the lovely meal and said goodbye he’d barely been able to bring himself to reciprocate. He’d merely murmured, ‘Goodnight, Layla’, and then glanced at her with those glacial grey eyes, as if wondering what on earth had possessed him to invite her out in the first place.

Now, hours after the date, she painfully tried to recall every word they’d spoken at dinner in a bid to discover where she had gone wrong. Several times she found herself revisiting Drake’s comment that he lived in Mayfair, and eventually—regretfully—had to own that her tone might well have been a little mocking. In no way had he been showing off to her, yet Layla had responded to the comment as though he had.

Because of her sour experience in working for her previous boss, she subconsciously believed that all wealthy and powerful men were arrogant and conceited and should be brought down a peg or two. No wonder Drake had decided to have nothing else to do with her. He probably thought she was an ignorant little fool. Though, to be fair, her remark had been an innocently thoughtless one, born out of her still feeling nervous and not just a little overwhelmed by him. No insult had been intended. But now she couldn’t help but believe he would never contact her again.

‘I’m taking an hour off at around eleven this morning for a meeting in my office. Can I leave you to hold the fort?’

Her brother’s voice broke into her morose musing. As if waking from a deep trance, Layla blinked up at him. She’d been arranging some fresh muffins on a shelf in the glass cabinet on the counter when she’d started reflecting on her date with Drake and wondering if she should risk telephoning him to make an apology.

As Marc patiently waited for her to acknowledge his comment she dusted some icing sugar from her hands and forced a smile. ‘Of course you can. We’re fairly quiet this morning, as you can see.’ She glanced across the café at the two middle-aged women seated on the comfy sofa—regulars of theirs, clearly enjoying their lattes and buttered currant buns and looking enviably content. Apart from them an elderly man and a teenage boy transfixed by his mobile phone were the only other customers.

‘The meeting is with Drake Ashton. Did you remember that he was coming today? Only you’ve hardly said a word about your date last night.’

‘Of course.’ Layla’s lips were suddenly numb. ‘It’s Thursday, isn’t it?’

‘Go to the top of the class!’ Grinning, Marc wiped the back of his hand across his brow. As usual his dark hair was slightly awry and uncombed, his black T-shirt crumpled and unironed.

‘I ironed you a pile of clean T-shirts yesterday and left them on your bed,’ she told him, her gaze raking his clothing. ‘How come you’re wearing that one? It looks like you slept in it. Don’t you think you ought to change if you’re having a meeting with Drake?’

‘So it’s Drake now, is it? Clearly you’re on much more informal terms with him since your date, then? I had my doubts when I first saw you this morning—you looked like someone had died. That naturally led me to conclude that things hadn’t gone well … which is why I haven’t quizzed you about it.’

‘Never mind about that.’ Impatiently Layla glanced round at the clock on the wall behind her. ‘He’s going to be here in just under half an hour. You need to change out of that scruffy T-shirt and comb your hair and endeavour to look a bit more presentable. That’s if you want him to think you’re serious about the business?’

‘Of course I’m serious about it!’ Marc scowled. ‘Why do you think I don’t sleep at night? Because I like going round looking like death warmed up?’

‘I don’t doubt your commitment. I know how much you care about making the café a success. I’m just saying that having the opportunity to talk to Drake Ashton is a chance that doesn’t come along every day, so you need to make the most of it. Look … if you leave now you’ll have just about enough time to change. Even if you don’t feel confident, it’ll help you feel miles better if you put on a clean and ironed shirt and comb your hair.’

‘You’re right.’ Sighing, her brother planted a resounding kiss on her cheek. ‘If Ashton arrives before I’m back, make him a nice cup of coffee and give him a bun, will you? Thanks, sis.’

As soon as Marc had left Layla checked her hair and eyeliner in her make-up mirror and tried hard to still the nerves that seized her at the knowledge that Drake was arriving in just a few short minutes for the promised meeting with her brother. Would he even acknowledge her when he saw her? she fretted. He’d been like the proverbial ‘ice man’ when he’d dropped her off at the tube station last night, and he hadn’t made any attempt to ring her and clear the air.

Knowing she would be utterly miserable if she succumbed to her feelings of fear and doubt about how he might behave towards her, she swung round to the digital radio on the shelf behind her and turned it on. As a lively pop tune filled the air she determinedly busied herself making the area round the counter even more pristine and inviting than it was already.

Twenty minutes later, after another worrying lull in custom, the glass door at the entrance opened, bringing with it a strong blast of frosted air. A mellow September it was not. Already it felt more like the onset of winter. But right then Layla was hardly concerned about the unseasonal temperature. Not when the reason for the suddenly open door planted his tall, lithe physique in front of the counter and made her heart race with one of his compelling enigmatic smiles. Wearing a stylish chocolate-brown cashmere coat over a fine dark suit, the handsome architect looked good enough to eat. Her blood heated even before he opened his mouth to speak.

‘Remember me?’

‘Yes, I do. You’re the man who cold-shouldered me at the end of our date last night.’

Even as the words left her lips Layla cursed herself for yet again blurting out the wrong thing. How could she have forgotten so soon that she’d intended to apologise for upsetting him—not greet him with a frosty accusation?

Drake’s handsome brow creased a little, emphasising the two deep furrows there. ‘I’m sorry about what happened … I really am. But I’m beginning to realize, Layla, that you have the propensity to rub me up the wrong way. Anyway, I should have called you straight afterwards and made amends. I wish I had. I certainly didn’t want the evening to end the way it did.’

The regret in his voice was accompanied by a glance filled with such intense longing that Layla could hardly believe it was directed at her. It had the effect of making her limbs suddenly feel as though they’d been injected with a powerful muscle relaxant, and she put her hands out onto the counter to support herself.

‘I sometimes don’t think before I speak,’ she murmured, reddening, ‘and I wish I did. Whatever I said or did that upset you I’m genuinely sorry for it.’

He nodded. ‘Then let’s start again, shall we? I’m going to visit a couple of sites after I see your brother, and I’d like you to come with me. I think you’ll be interested in hearing what’s planned there. I’ll drop you back here at the café afterwards. We’ll be a couple of hours at most.’

‘I’d love to come with you, but I can’t take time off just like that.’

Glancing round at the two remaining customers in the vicinity, Drake’s grey eyes glinted with humour. ‘Because you’re madly busy? Don’t worry—I’ll clear it with your brother when I see him. Is he around?’

‘He’ll be here any minute now. He—he had to dash home for something. Can I get you a coffee while you’re waiting for him?’

‘That would be great. I’ll have a strong Americano.’

‘What about something to eat?’

The question seemed to put him in a trance. His hypnotised gaze suggested he’d suddenly been plunged into a compelling private world of his own—a dimension that utterly and completely absorbed him. The faraway look in his eyes inexplicably made Layla’s heart ache. It was a bit like when his absorption in his technical drawings had put her in mind of a schoolboy concentrating hard on his homework.

She couldn’t help frowning. ‘Drake?’

‘What?’ Raking his fingers through his hair, he gave a rueful smile. ‘I don’t want any food, thanks. I’ve had some breakfast this morning. A coffee will be just fine.’

As if he was discomfited by his zoning out, he turned away, clearly intending to make for a nearby table. Layla stopped him in his tracks.

‘Do you mind if I say something?’

Warily he turned back. ‘Go ahead.’

‘I’m not for one second telling you how to conduct your business, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but Marc is a little fragile at the moment. He needs … well, he needs to hear something good … something that will help give him some hope for the café’s future. I’m not asking you to completely sugar-coat your advice, because obviously he needs to hear the truth, but whatever you advise him … would you—could you please bear that in mind when you talk?’

Again he drove his fingers through his hair. Although his expression was thoughtful, he also seemed a little weary, she thought.

‘There’s no sugar-coating the pill in business, Layla,’ he said, ‘but whatever advice I give to your brother, you can rest assured it will be fair and considerate … helpful too I hope. Was that all?’

With a self-conscious nod she turned her attention back to the task of making his coffee …

It felt so good to have her near again. As he drove the Range-Rover through the winding roads skirting the town Drake stole several covetous glances at his passenger’s arrestingly beautiful profile and now and then couldn’t resist lowering his gaze to the long slender legs encased in snugly fitting black cord jeans. He breathed in her perfume. It could have been life-giving oxygen as far as he was concerned, and he felt almost high on it.

After countless hours of hardly being able to concentrate on anything at all but Layla—long hours made even worse by the sleepless night that inevitably followed such pointed introspection—he was walking on air because she’d agreed to accompany him today. It didn’t matter that it was ostensibly for work, visiting the sites he’d been commissioned to rejuvenate with attractive affordable housing. How he hadn’t caved in and rung her after they’d parted last night he didn’t know. Except that he’d maybe had some idea of briefly punishing her with a show of indifference because he’d been so sure she’d been mocking him about living in Mayfair. He’d convinced himself that her unimpressed attitude suggested that she knew exactly where he came from and wasn’t going to let him forget it. But as soon as he’d set eyes on her again in the café, Drake had known it was himself that he’d punished. Now he was predisposed to be kinder.

‘Warm enough?’ he asked. The question earned him a sunny smile that was akin to the pleasure of eating hot buttered toast in front of a roaring fire—preferably with her.

‘This car has a great heater. The car I share with my brother has a heater that wouldn’t warm up a shoebox, let alone anything bigger. By the way, how did your meeting with him go?’

‘It was fine.’ Drake pursed his lips, amused. He might have known she wouldn’t be able to resist asking him about it. ‘I think I’ve given him some food for thought. It’s now up to him whether he acts on what I suggested or not. Most of all, he’s going to have to learn to be patient. Things take time to change for the better. By the way, we didn’t just talk about the café. You came into the conversation a few times too, Layla. The way he lit up at just the mention of your name told me that he adores you.’

It was impossible to suppress the jealousy that churned in the pit of his stomach when he thought about Layla regarding her brother in the same heartfelt way. Never in his life had he been on the receiving end of such a devoted sentiment.

Her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘I don’t know if it’s true that he adores me, but I admit that we’ve always been quite close. Do you have any brothers or sisters?’