by Maggie Cox
Glancing down at his watch, it jolted him to see the time. Damn it all to hell! Why hadn’t he insisted that Layla let him send Jimmy to collect her instead of allowing her to make her own way here? He hadn’t because he’d got the feeling if he had she would have cancelled their date altogether and told him just to forget it …
‘Your visitor has arrived, Mr Ashton.’
The quiet, knowing tone of Monica, his secretary, broke into his unhappy reverie. To his dismay, he knew she’d guessed that the woman he was waiting to see was no run-of-the-mill visitor … that she was in some way special. If he quizzed her she’d call this instinct women’s intuition, and Drake couldn’t for the life of him understand why women had the gift in abundance and men didn’t. At any rate, he intensely disliked people expressing curiosity or interest in his private life—and that included unspoken interest.
Monica’s announcement that Layla had arrived had him turning towards her so fast that the scalding coffee in his polystyrene cup splashed painfully onto his hand. He uttered a furious expletive.
The secretary’s smile was replaced by an immediately concerned frown. ‘You’d better get some cold water on that straight away,’ she advised urgently, stepping towards him to relieve him of the cup.
‘Where have you put her?’ Drake barked, the sting of his scald aiding neither his temper nor his impatience.
‘In your office.’
‘Well, make sure she’s comfortable and tell her I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. I’m going to the bathroom to run some cold water over my hand.’
Staring at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, and not particularly liking what he saw, Drake scrubbed his hand over the five o’clock stubble that darkened his jaw and ignored the throb of his burn with stoic indifference. Knowing he was going out to dinner, he ought to have shaved—but it was too late now. His date would just have to take him as she found him, even though he more closely resembled a dishevelled croupier who’d been up all night rather than a successful and wealthy architect. At least he was wearing one of his hand-tailored suits, with a silk waistcoat over a white open-necked shirt. That should help him pass muster.
Muttering out loud at the agitation that rendered him nowhere near relaxed, he straightened his shirt collar and spun away from the mirror. He refused to put himself through the grinder about anything else tonight. Work was finished for the day and he was going out to dinner with a woman who had rendered him dangerously fascinated the instant his gaze had fallen into hers …
As he made his way back to his office an older colleague attempted to waylay him with a query. Drake was so intent on seeing Layla that he stared at the man as if suddenly confronted by a ghost.
‘Ask me about it tomorrow,’ he muttered distractedly. ‘I’m busy right now.’
‘Sorry if I interrupted something important.’
Looking bemused, his fellow architect exited the glass-partitioned landing and Drake continued on into the executive office suite that was his private domain. Standing outside the semi-open door, he sucked in a steadying breath before making his entry. Just before his gaze alighted on the woman he’d been waiting all day to see his senses picked up the sultry trail of her perfume, and the alluring scent made his blood pound with heat. When his eyes finally rested on the slim dark-haired figure standing by his desk, dressed in a classy cream-coloured wool coat over a black cocktail dress, he could barely hear himself think over the dizzying waves of pleasure that submerged him. His little waitress looked like a million dollars.
‘You made it,’ he said, low-voiced.
‘Yes. Though I don’t know why I came.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I haven’t accepted an invitation to dinner from a man in a very long time, and I’m still not sure why I accepted yours.’
‘Well, I’m glad that you did. You look very beautiful tonight, by the way.’
‘Thanks.’
His compliment had clearly discomfited her, Drake saw.
‘I don’t normally dress like this,’ she dissembled, ‘but I didn’t know where we were going so I—Anyway, are you annoyed that I’m late? The tube was delayed in a tunnel for twenty minutes … I don’t like to think why. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.’
‘There’s no need to apologise. Although I did recommend that my driver pick you up rather than you getting the train, remember?’
‘Recommend? Is that what you did?’ Shaking her head, Layla forgot her previous awkwardness and emitted a throaty chuckle.
Already entranced by her beauty and presence, Drake was all but undone by the sound.
‘As I recall,’ she continued with a wry smile, ‘it sounded more like a royal command. But then I expect you’re used to telling people what to do and having it done?’
He kept quiet, because what she said was perfectly true. Yet he didn’t want her to gain the impression he was insufferably overbearing and demanding and not give him a chance to display some of the less ‘insufferable’ sides to his nature … For the first time ever he was suddenly unsure of his ground with a woman. The percentages that afforded him command of any relationship were usually stacked in his favour—sixty-forty at least …
‘Anyway, I still can’t believe I’m standing here in your office.’ Sighing softly, Layla smoothed her hand down over her hair. ‘I guessed it would be impressive, but even my imagination didn’t stretch as far as a hexagonal glass building that looks like something out of a futuristic sci-fi film. How on earth do you make something like this?’
‘A hexagonal building is definitely harder to construct than a square-cornered one, but apart from its unique exterior it makes for a far more interesting interior to live and work in. I’m all for enhancing domestic and business spaces, and hopefully getting people to enjoy spending time in them. Do you like it?’
‘All this glass …’ She glanced to her right and then to her left, and then up above her at the ceiling and its breathtaking view of the twilit sky. ‘It must be so light in here during the day. I definitely like the idea of that.’
‘That’s why I had the roof made out of glass. Sometimes I work in here at night, and if the moon is full and the stars are out I switch off the lamps for a while because they’re not needed. The illumination from the sky is so bright that it’s like a shroud of magical light blanketing everything.’
His companion’s big brown eyes were so transfixed by what he said that this time it was Drake who was discomfited. He’d never admitted to anyone that he did such a thing before, and certainly not to any of his colleagues. What on earth had possessed him to be so candid?
In a bid to divert Layla from the too personal confession he smiled and said, ‘Want me to give you a tour?’
Her smooth cheeks flushed a little. ‘Maybe some other time … Aren’t we supposed to be going out to dinner?’
‘Are you telling me that you’re hungry?’
‘I am, actually. But the truth is I don’t feel at my best in offices—even one as beautiful as this. My experience of being a personal assistant robbed me of all desire to ever work in one again. The world of “shocks and scares”—as my brother Marc calls it—was like a bear pit, and to work in an atmosphere where there’s such a high level of drama and tension every day is apt to make a person permanently on edge. It’s a lot more peaceful working in the café.’
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?’
‘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.’
