British Bachelors: Rich and Powerful: What His Money Can't Hide / His Temporary Mistress / Trouble on Her Doorstep

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?’

‘No.’ Drake’s hands automatically tightened on the steering wheel. ‘I don’t. I’m an only child, I’m afraid.’

‘That doesn’t have to be a negative. Perhaps your parents decided that they only wanted you? Or maybe the reason they only had you was because they couldn’t have any more children?’

His companion’s innocently voiced assumptions sent a cold, clammy shiver up his spine. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he answered tersely. But he did. Being intimately acquainted with his family’s dysfunctional history, he knew only too well that neither of those scenarios was true. ‘I never asked them.’

‘And there’s no possibility of you asking them now?’

‘No. There isn’t. My mother walked out years ago, when I was just six, and my dad died when I was a teenager.’ It was hard to subdue the bitterness in his tone, and straight away he sensed the embarrassment and discomfort that his comments had inflicted on the woman sitting beside him.

‘I’m sorry, Drake …’

The sigh she emitted sounded genuinely heartfelt.

‘Forgive me for being so tactless. I had no idea about your background.’

‘It all happened a long time ago now, and it’s not exactly something I want to broadcast. I’d be grateful if you didn’t share the information with anyone else. In any case, as you can see …’ Turning his head briefly to observe her, he was instantly perturbed by the concern reflected back at him from her luminous brown eyes. ‘I’m a big boy now, and I get on just fine without my parents being around.’

‘You’re a lot tougher than I am, then.’ Her tone was tinged with sadness and regret. ‘I lost my mum when I was very young too. She contracted pneumonia after a bout of severe flu and never recovered. Then, when I was a teenager, I lost my dad. I still miss both of them more than I can say.’

Startled that her losses mirrored his own family scenario—albeit his mother hadn’t died but simply walked out—Drake was torn between voicing the usual polite words of commiseration and pulling the car over and impelling Layla firmly into his arms. He was aching with an almost unholy need to do just that. The mere idea of having an opportunity to touch her soft skin and silky hair, to feel her mouth tremble beneath his with what he secretly hoped might be an inflammatory need similar to his own, was almost too powerful to ignore.

But, seeing they were nearing the site he’d proposed they visit together, all he did was say thoughtfully, ‘I’m sorry you miss them so badly, but life goes on, doesn’t it? We have to try and make the best of things. When bad things happen you can either wallow in the idea that you’ve been dealt a bad hand or you can be determined to rise above it. Personally speaking, I was never going to stay around here and regard myself as some kind of victim—no matter how difficult or challenging it was to rise above my circumstances.’

He drove into the large denuded area that had already been cleared in preparation for building and pulled up beside one of the several works vans belonging to the contractor he’d hired. A few feet away scaffolding waiting to be erected lay in precisely organised piles on the cold hard ground.

‘We’re here.’ Silencing the engine, he turned to study his passenger. ‘I know the weather’s not great, but I’d still like to show you the site and tell you what we’ve got planned. Are you still up for a look round with me?’

‘Of course.’ Peering out of the windscreen, she let a fond smile touch her lips. ‘There used to be a great playground here when I was a kid. My brother and I sometimes walked all the way from our house to get to it. My dad was inevitably working, so during the school holidays after Mum was gone we were more or less left to our own devices. We used to think it was a bit of an adventure to go to the playground on our own, to tell you the truth. Do you remember it, Drake?’

‘I do.’

His own memories of the playground that had once stood on the site were definitely not as fond as Layla’s, he mused. He too had visited it on his own, but he hadn’t made any friends when he was there. The other kids had probably been warned by their parents to stay away from the boy whose mother had left him and who had a father notorious for being bad-tempered and more often than not drunk.

Bringing his focus firmly back to the present, Drake returned his pretty companion’s smile. ‘By the way, you’ll have to wear a hard hat … Health and Safety demands it, I’m afraid. I’ve got a spare in the boot.’

The word cold didn’t come anywhere near to describing the effect of the slashing raw wind that cut into Layla’s face as soon as she stepped out of the car onto the flattened muddied ground. Shivering hard, and reflecting on the vehemence in Drake’s tone when he’d talked about rising above his circumstances after the devastating events of his childhood, she suddenly understood why his success must mean so much to him. From this rundown suburban no-man’s land to Mayfair was no small achievement. In fact, thinking about the deprivation in the area—both socially and educationally—his accomplishment was nothing less than remarkable. Wrapping her arms round the insubstantial padded jacket she wore with her jeans, she shivered again, fervently wishing she’d had the foresight to wear something much warmer.

‘Let’s walk. Some exercise will help warm you up. Here, you’d better put this on first.’

As he came to stand in front of her she saw the glint of concern that mingled with wry amusement in his mercurial grey eyes and her blood started to pump hard even before she started to walk round the site. She was so disconcerted by the reaction that as she moved forward to take the spare headgear he was holding out she immediately tripped over a stone and almost fell. The only reason she didn’t was because Drake’s hands caught hold of her arms just in time to steady her. In the process he grabbed the hard hat she was carrying and threw it to the ground, along with his own, so that he could properly support her.

During those volatile few seconds time slowed to a terrifying immediacy that ripped away all possibility of thought. Instead Layla was aware only of the acutely erotic heat that poured into the air between them. It was a formidable force that was impossible to ignore.

When her shocked gaze fell onto Drake’s, only to see the candid hunger that was laid bare in his eyes, she knew with a jolt that they were reflecting the same shocking, raw need that she was experiencing. His steel-like grip on her upper arms didn’t lessen as his warm breath hit the icy air with visible little clouds of steam. She yearned to say something … anything to restore the situation to some semblance of recognisable normality before it was too late … before she succumbed to something she might live to regret. But the idea abruptly melted away when in that very same instant he took his hands away from her arms to cup them either side of her jaw. The surprising sensation of a couple of rough-edged calluses and warm smooth skin pressed against her cold face was a sensual revelation.

With a harsh breath that was a precursor to the inevitability of his next action, Drake crushed her mouth savagely beneath his.

The combined taste of his lips and tongue was immediately sexy and addictive. Like a heady smooth cognac that she couldn’t stop herself craving even when she knew drinking it would likely get her into trouble.