did you hear that?’ The huge brown eyes that had dazzled him right from the start widened in shocked disbelief.
‘About three months ago … when I put in a bid to buy the street.’
Layla’s even white teeth clamped down against the soft flesh of her plump lower lip and her slender hand pushed shakily through her hair. ‘So you’re the independent party?’
‘Yes … I am.’
‘And you plan to pull down these historic old buildings and replace them with cheap modern “Identi-Kit” houses with about as much character as cardboard egg-boxes?’
Drake would have grinned in amusement if it weren’t for the fact that Layla looked so painfully aggrieved. ‘I hope I have a lot more taste than that,’ he said dryly. ‘And for your information I never build cheap modern houses … no matter where they’re situated. First and foremost, it’s important to me to build housing that residents will be proud to live in, and I always utilise the most skilled craftsmen I can find to build them—as well as using the very best materials.’
‘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.
