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

‘Be that as it may, the Victorians knew how to build houses that stood the test of time and were elegant too, and I have to tell you that I’m one of the town’s residents who petitioned the council. If you’re planning on improving the area why can’t you just invest your money in renovating what’s already here?’

‘Because I’d rather rebuild than renovate, that’s why.’

‘I don’t understand. Why won’t you consider renovating?’

Even though seeing Layla’s obviously distressed glance was akin to being punched hard, and it had shocked him to learn that she had been one of the petitioners who had fought to keep the Victorian terraced houses rather than demolish them, Drake didn’t feel up to explaining why he’d rather raze the old buildings to the ground and build new ones. He was feeling somewhat peeved that Layla should take it upon herself to advise him what to do. When he’d last looked, he was the architect in charge of helping to regenerate the town.

‘I’d better get you back to the café,’ he murmured.

‘Why won’t you answer my question? If you’re planning on pulling down the houses you might at least have the courtesy to explain why.’

Turning to face her, Drake bit back his irritation as best as he could. ‘I can see that you clearly have some romantic ideas about renovating these properties, but it takes a hell of a lot of money to restore old houses and bring them back to their former glory. Sometimes it’s far more economical and easier to build new ones. Don’t forget I’m a businessman as well as an architect, Layla.’

Before she had a chance to reply he gunned the engine and reversed the car rapidly down the street, and she glumly averted her gaze to stare out of the window …

Layla had asserted that she wanted him to let her into his life and to get to know the man behind the successful veneer. It was the single most scary thing that a woman had ever said to him.

Drake put down the tumbler with a double shot of whisky in it and morosely folded his arms.

Even scarier was the growing temptation to flirt with the idea of considering her request. But he was worried that after showing her the street where he’d grown up, and telling her he planned to demolish all the houses there and erect new ones, she’d change her mind about wanting to get to know him at all. She’d hardly taken the news of his plans for the street well. Yet it hadn’t affected the powerful allure she still had for him. Damn it all to hell! Layla Jerome had put a spell on him … either that or he had somehow lost his mind.

The decision to return to the place of his birth to help regenerate the area was seriously backfiring on him. The very last thing he’d expected to happen was that he should end up seriously lusting after a beautiful local girl that worked in a café.

He’d come back to Mayfair after finishing work that evening, but he’d neither eaten nor showered. His mind, body and senses had been too caught up in a tornado of longing and lust to accomplish either of those fundamental things so he had headed out to a hotel bar he knew in a bid to hopefully distract himself. Eating held no appeal when there was so much churning going on in the pit of his stomach, and he hadn’t showered because he didn’t want to wash away the alluring scent of Layla’s body. Her seductive smell was all over him, and if he shut his eyes he could recall the wonderful sensation of her soft velvety skin beneath his fingertips and the incredible taste of her sexy mouth …

A bolt of inflammatory need shot straight to his loins and Drake silently cursed the ill-timed inconvenience of it. Even though she’d firmly told him that she wasn’t interested in a sexual fling that would last only a few days or weeks he was still hoping to get her into bed soon. She’d asserted that she wanted to get to know him, but he knew if he let her she would probably be extremely uneasy with the taciturn, insecure man behind the glamorous and successful reputation—a man who was still too haunted by his past to be anywhere near comfortable with the idea of making a serious commitment to a woman.

Glancing impatiently down at his watch, and seeing that it was much later than he’d thought, he lifted the glass he’d put beside him on the bar and drank down the remaining contents in one hit. Even though Layla had been less than warm towards him when he’d dropped her off at the café, Drake had insisted he would ring her, and if he left it any later he knew he probably wouldn’t get to speak to her at all tonight.

‘Had a bad day?’

He glanced round in surprise at the shapely blonde who lowered herself onto the barstool next to him. She wore a fitted silver-grey suit over a dark red shirt with a revealing neckline, displaying enough décolletage to start a small stampede. Except that the provocative sight left Drake completely cold. There was only one woman he would head up a small stampede for and that was Layla.

‘It wasn’t all bad,’ he drawled laconically, getting to his feet, ‘there were definitely some highlights.’

‘You’re not leaving?’

The pneumatic blonde didn’t try to hide her disappointment. But once on his feet Drake knew emphatically what was next on his personal agenda—and it wasn’t whiling away the evening in a bar making small talk with a woman who was clearly on the lookout for a profitable sexual encounter with someone.

‘I’m afraid I am. Have a nice evening,’ he murmured, the automatic half-smile that touched his lips quickly fading because all he could think about was getting back home and phoning Layla.

‘She’s gone to bed?’

On receiving this astounding information from Layla’s brother Marc, Drake stopped stirring the mug of strong black coffee he’d made and turned round to lean back against the marble-topped counter in the kitchen.

Feeling stunned and aggrieved at the same time, he couldn’t help the irritation that seeped into his reply. ‘What do you mean, she’s gone to bed? It’s barely after ten.’

‘She’s never been able to hack staying up late. She’s a real morning person.’

‘And how is it that you’re answering her mobile? Is she staying with you at the moment?’

‘We share a house. I have the ground floor and Layla the top. Didn’t she tell you that?’

‘No. She didn’t. Anyway, morning person or not, I’d appreciate it if you’d go upstairs and see if she’s still awake. I told her to expect my call,’ he said, mustering as much authority as he was able—because he was still reeling at the notion of her going to bed and apparently not being the slightest bit perturbed that he hadn’t rung earlier. Was it because she was still mad at him for wanting to knock the terraced houses down and build new ones?

‘I can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’ve got strict instructions not to. That’s why she left her phone with me. She said if you rang I was to tell you that she’ll ring you on Monday. I’m really sorry, Mr Ashton, but it’s more than my life’s worth to disturb her. You may not know this yet, but my sister’s got a real temper on her. Trust me—glass can be shattered when she loses it!’

Drake clenched his jaw and curled his palm into an angry fist down by his side. She was going to ring him on Monday? Was she playing some kind of game with him that entailed teaching him a lesson for not agreeing to renovate the Victorian terraced houses? he wondered. Could she even guess at the depth of frustration she’d left him with earlier today? More to the point, did she believe that her request that he let her get to know him had frightened him off? Clearly if it had she certainly wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

‘Okay. Thanks,’ he muttered, finding himself completely at a loss to know what else to say.

Crossly replacing the receiver, he dropped down into a nearby chair. Did she really mean to let an entire weekend go by before she saw him again? He scowled. If he’d had her address and had been anywhere near the vicinity of her home he would have considered battering down her door to make her come and speak to him if he had to … temper or no. He wasn’t about to let a potential display of volatile emotion put him off his goal. Besides which, the mere idea of Layla losing her temper instigated an immediate fantasy of him subduing it with a long, lazy open-mouthed kiss on that sexy mouth of hers.

Having already sampled her exquisite taste, the fantasy was almost too real to be borne. Releasing a hard to contain groan, Drake pushed impatiently to his feet. The hot leisurely shower he’d envisaged was going to have to be replaced by one closer to sub-zero temperatures if his frustration was going to be remotely eased tonight …

Layla released a long sigh of relief when Marc told her the next morning that Drake had rung. She’d gone to bed early because she’d been genuinely tired, but she’d also been irritated with him because he wouldn’t consider renovating the Victorian terrace. It was clear he was also aggravated with her, because she’d asserted that she wanted to get to know him, that she wasn’t just interested in a short-term fling.

The man clearly had issues around allowing a woman to get too close to him and Layla wanted to find out why. She also wanted to know why he wouldn’t consider renovating the Victorian terrace. Somehow she didn’t buy it that it was more profitable to build new residences in its place. Drake might be a businessman as well as an architect, but she didn’t believe that financial consideration was the only reason he wouldn’t look at renovation.

Still, at the end of the day the man was doing far more for the town than anyone had in too many years to mention, and even if she was upset he wouldn’t listen to a small local petition to keep the terraced houses she couldn’t let that taint her feelings towards him … not when she sensed deep down that he was a genuinely good man.

It was while she was clearing away the debris of her breakfast and stacking the dishwasher that a sudden idea took hold. Maybe it was time she played a more proactive part in their association? Perhaps it was time to turn the tables and this time surprise him? She decided that if anything at all was going to come from their association—be it an irresistible and unforgettable fling or a mutual commitment to a much more meaningful relationship—she wanted at least to have joint command of it. Never again would she allow a man’s desires to take precedence over her own wants and needs—or, as in the case of her unscrupulous ex-boss, to convince her that he knew best.

In particularly good spirits that day, Marc agreed to let her have the afternoon off. He even gave her an affectionate hug when she confessed she was going up to London to see Drake.

‘I like him. He’s a very astute businessman,’ he said, smiling. ‘He told me I shouldn’t be in a hurry to throw in the towel and sell the café just because the takings are down. At any rate it isn’t a good time to sell, and I’d only get peanuts for it. He explained that the whole point of regenerating the area was not just to encourage new residents to move here, but to encourage more successful and appealing retail outlets to inhabit the high street and sell their goods. The influx of new customers would help small businesses like the café become more thriving concerns. “Give it a couple of years at least to see if things work out,” he advised. So that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t tell you how much better I feel at having some direction at last. Say thanks again for me when you see him, won’t you?’

The fact that Marc was more than happy at the advice Drake had given him went a long way to firming Layla’s decision to pay him an impromptu visit. In any case, after that smouldering encounter with him yesterday at the building site she knew it was pointless to pretend she wasn’t aching to see him again. And she’d dearly love to find out a bit more about his background and childhood if she could. Sometimes he had a near haunted expression in his eyes—a faraway look that suggested he was tormented by some unspoken grief. Did his painful reflections dwell on memories of a troubled past? she wondered.

When the taxi dropped her off outside the stunning hexagonal building Drake had designed, she almost wished she had a stiff drink at hand to give her some Dutch courage. What if he didn’t welcome this spontaneous visit of hers and was mad at her for turning up unannounced? Should she at least have rung him to let him know she was coming? Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.

Layla softly murmured that thought out loud.

A few minutes later, travelling in the swish modern lift up to Drake’s floor, she stole a glance in the mirrored interior to check her appearance. She’d left her shoulder-length dark hair loose today, and it helped cover the small pink abrasion that Drake had so passionately gifted her with. Carefully pushing aside some silken strands, she let her fingers tenderly examine it. Then, feeling somehow guilty, she let her hair fall back into place to hide it.

In a bid to appear a little more relaxed than she had been when Drake had taken her out to dinner, she’d opted to wear light blue denims and a plain white shirt with a lined fawn-coloured trench-coat for her spontaneous visit. But when her gaze honed in on the softly scarlet bloom that highlighted her cheeks, she stopped focusing on her appearance and looked away with a frown.

It had been her hope to present an image of relaxed composure when she saw him, but now there was no chance of that. Why, oh, why could she never seem to prevent her feelings from showing on her face like some people could? Forget composure. Her big-eyed ‘caught in the headlamps’ expression made her resemble a frightened rabbit rather than a determined young woman intent on taking a potentially volatile situation firmly into her own hands …

‘Do you have an appointment with Mr Ashton?’

Drake’s efficient, intimidating blonde secretary was like a sentry at the gates of Rome, suddenly alerted to an impending invasion. As she stood behind the desk with her arms folded her diamond chip blue eyes sternly raked over Layla’s appearance, as if silently warning her that it was going to take a minor miracle to get past her to see Drake.

‘No, I don’t.’ Swallowing hard, Layla knew her smile was uncertain and strained. ‘I thought—I thought I’d surprise him.’

The sound of Drake’s deep voice suddenly bellowing at someone behind the closed glass door that she knew led into his office made her start. The secretary’s coral painted lips stretched briefly in an ironic smile.

‘Somehow I don’t think my boss is remotely in the mood for surprises, Miss …?’