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 …
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