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

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СКАЧАТЬ want that one?’ he asked doubtfully, privately thinking how prim and proper the elegant white garment appeared, even if it was made from the finest French silk crêpe.

      ‘I don’t want you to buy me one at all, if I’m honest.’ Layla sighed, self-consciously brushing her hair back with her hand. ‘I’m quite happy to wear your shirt until I get home.’

      ‘But you’re not going home until tomorrow, remember?’

      ‘Then you can lend me another shirt tomorrow. I’m sure you must own more than one.’

      Her caramel-brown eyes sparkled with a mixture of defiance and merriment, and for a long moment Drake was transfixed by the heated longing that gripped him. It struck him like a thunderbolt right then that he was quite simply crazy about her, and almost couldn’t bear the thought of having her out of his sight. Excepting the mother who had deserted him, he’d never needed anyone that much before. The feeling was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time …

      He levelled his glance. ‘As great as my shirt looks on you, I’d really like to buy something exclusively for you … something pretty and sexy that will make you think of me every time you wear it next to your skin.’

      He was rewarded with the most bewitching and pretty blush.

      ‘You choose something for me then,’ she suggested softly.

      He didn’t miss the slight catch in her voice that told him she’d definitely been aroused by what he’d said. With an undeniable sense of satisfying male pride, and only too happy to oblige, Drake selected a couple of much more delicate specimens, made from what was labelled ‘silk Charmeuse’ and handed them to her.

      ‘They’re far too flimsy,’ she protested, dark eyes widening. ‘They look more like lingerie.’

      ‘Then they’re just what we’re looking for,’ he taunted gently.

      ‘They are?’

      ‘Trust me—you’re going to have the most appreciative audience you can imagine when you wear them.’

      The smooth skin between Layla’s elegant dark brows creased a little. ‘I only need one blouse, Drake, not two.’ Leaning towards him, she lowered her voice to a near whisper. ‘Have you seen the prices on these?’ Turning the labels that were so prettily attached to the garments with slim pink and blue ribbons towards him, she seemed intent on his noting them.

      He didn’t even trouble to spare them a glance. Instead he chuckled, then tenderly cupped her delicate jaw in the palm of his hand. ‘That’s the last thing you need to worry about, angel … And I’m not about to apologise for having money just because it makes you uncomfortable either.’

      Her lips curved in a conciliatory smile. ‘Okay, I’ll go and try them on. Seeing as you’ve picked them out, it would be rude not to. Besides, it’s very hard to refuse you anything when you look at me like that,’ she breathed.

      ‘How am I looking at you? Tell me.’

      ‘Like I’m the gourmet meal you’ve been anticipating enjoying all day.’

      With a provocative grin that sent the blood in Drake’s veins plunging helplessly south, she spun round on her heel and politely asked the assistant to show her to the changing room.

      As Drake returned to the living room and placed the two cups of coffee he’d made down on the carved Regency table positioned in front of the sofa, Layla smiled up at him, commenting, ‘Mmm … just what the doctor ordered after that great spaghetti you rustled up for dinner.’ Curling her hair round her ear, her expression pensive, she added, ‘Come and sit down.’

      ‘I was intending on doing exactly that.’

      ‘We’ve had a wonderful day together, haven’t we?’

      ‘We have indeed.’

      She fell silent for a few moments, then said, ‘Drake?’

      ‘What’s on your mind?’

      ‘Do you think we could have that talk of ours now?’

      Momentarily distracted by the very feminine ivory-silk blouse she now wore in place of his white shirt, noting as he’d done at dinner that the sheer material meant he could see right through it to the pretty lace bra she had on underneath, Drake didn’t immediately register her question. When the words finally sank in his stomach plunged to his boots. Clearly there weren’t going to be any preliminaries to this little discussion of theirs, and it was becoming worryingly clear that he wasn’t going to be able to hide the truth of his past from her any longer.

      His skin prickled hotly, and for one sickeningly uncomfortable moment he felt akin to a cornered animal. Raking his fingers through his hair, he dropped down onto the pinstriped armchair at the other side of the table, resting his forearms on his jeans-clad thighs with a heavy sigh.

      ‘So what do you want to talk about? My favourite music? Or maybe you’d like to hear what my top ten favourite movies are?’ He was hedging for time, using humour as a shield to divert any immediately awkward or difficult questions. But when he saw the concerned frown on Layla’s beautiful face Drake felt oddly guilty for taking such a cowardly tack.

      ‘Whilst I’d love to know what music you like, also what your favourite movies are, right now I’d like you to tell me a bit more about yourself. Then, as I said before … you can ask me things too.’

      Linking his hands, he locked his glance with hers in a deliberately challenging stare. ‘Then why don’t you ask me a direct question and I’ll endeavour to answer it?’

      ‘All right, then.’ She nervously licked her lips and curled her hair round her ear again. ‘I’d like you to tell me a bit about your childhood.’

      ‘What would you like to know, exactly?’

      ‘Was it hard for you, being an only child?’

      ‘Compared to what? Being one of a large brood? How would I know, since that wasn’t my experience?’

      ‘Okay, then, perhaps you’ll tell me instead what it was like for you growing up in the area?’

      It was the question Drake had feared the most, but he resolved himself to answer it because he didn’t want Layla to believe even for a second that he lacked the courage to tell her.

      ‘What was it like? In two words … miserable and lonely.’ Moving his head from side to side, he clasped and unclasped his hands. ‘I had a mother whose mind was always on leaving, and a father who was a bully and a drunk. After she left his bullying moved up to a whole new level. You can’t imagine how creative he could be when it came to devising punishments for me. Consequently I was always dreaming of ways to escape. When my art teacher at school took a serious interest in my ability for drawing and design, and suggested I might try to become an architect, I latched onto the possibility as though it was a lifeline—which indeed it was. From that moment on I didn’t care what my father did to me, because I knew that one day I’d get away … I’d carve a whole new life for myself and escape from both him and our drab little town for good.’

      ‘So how did you do that? Did you get the grades to go to university?’

      ‘Yes. СКАЧАТЬ