The British Bachelors Collection. Kate Hardy

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      ‘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.’

      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 СКАЧАТЬ