Читать книгу British Bachelors: Rich and Powerful: What His Money Can't Hide / His Temporary Mistress / Trouble on Her Doorstep - Кэтти Уильямс, Maggie Cox, Cathy Williams - Страница 11

‘SO WHAT do you think of the planned improvements?’ As he drove them out of the site, Drake stole an interested glance at his passenger and saw that her incandescent brown-eyed gaze was definitely reflective.

‘Ithink it’s terrific what you plan to do,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘Especially the idea of having a communal garden with lots of lovely planting and an adjoining play area for the kids.’

‘You don’t think the kids will pull up the plants?’

‘No, Idon’t. Give people a place to be proud to live in, a place that’s aesthetically beautiful as well as practical, and in my view they’ll do everything they can to take care of it. A lot of the smaller children Iknow love plants and flowers, and if someone shows them how to plant and water them they’ll love them even more.’

‘So the plans have your personal seal of approval, Miss Jerome?’

Layla’s pale cheeks were suddenly flooded with the most becoming shade of pink. ‘You don’t need my approval … but I’m glad you asked my opinion just the same.’

‘There’s one more place I’d like to show you before Itake you back—a place that we’re planning to improve as well. It’s a short, nondescript side-street in one of the more rundown areas.’

‘Okay.’

Drake’s heart was thundering on the drive to the location where he’d been raised as a boy, but he tried to look beyond the now emptied shabby Victorian houses and envisage instead the more modern and attractive buildings he intended to erect in their place.

‘This is the street you were talking about?’ his companion asked, her expression puzzled as she peered through the windscreen.

‘Yes. It’s been empty for a long time now. Do you know someone who used to live here?’ Immediately Drake prayed that she didn’t. He didn’t want her view of him tainted by some gossipmonger’s lurid account of his family.

‘I don’t know anyone that lived here, but I know there are a few locals who are petitioning the council to save the buildings and have them renovated.’

His lips twisted ruefully. ‘I heard about that. As well-meaning as those folks are, I’m afraid the petition has already been discarded.’

‘Why?’

Taken aback by the look of horror on Layla’s face, and a little rattled by it, Drake sighed. ‘Because an independent party has purchased the entire street and has plans to demolish the houses and construct more contemporary residences in their place.’

‘When 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. She didn’t. Anyway, morning person or not, I’d appreciate it if you’d go upstairs and see if she’s still awake. I told her to expect my call,’ he said, mustering as much authority as he was able—because he was still reeling at the notion of her going to bed and apparently not being the slightest bit perturbed that he hadn’t rung earlier. Was it because she was still mad at him for wanting to knock the terraced houses down and build new ones?

‘I can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’ve got strict instructions not to. That’s why she left her phone with me. She said if you rang I was to tell you that she’ll ring you on Monday. I’m really sorry, Mr Ashton, but it’s more than my life’s worth to disturb her. You may not know this yet, but my sister’s got a real temper on her. Trust me—glass can be shattered when she loses it!’

Drake clenched his jaw and curled his palm into an angry fist down by his side. She was going to ring him on Monday? Was she playing some kind of game with him that entailed teaching him a lesson for not agreeing to renovate the Victorian terraced houses? he wondered. Could she even guess at the depth of frustration she’d left him with earlier today? More to the point, did she believe that her request that he let her get to know him had frightened him off? Clearly if it had she certainly wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

‘Okay. Thanks,’ he muttered, finding himself completely at a loss to know what else to say.

Crossly replacing the receiver, he dropped down into a nearby chair. Did she really mean to let an entire weekend go by before she saw him again? He scowled. If he’d had her address and had been anywhere near the vicinity of her home he would have considered battering down her door to make her come and speak to him if he had to … temper or no. He wasn’t about to let a potential display of volatile emotion put him off his goal. Besides which, the mere idea of Layla losing her temper instigated an immediate fantasy of him subduing it with a long, lazy open-mouthed kiss on that sexy mouth of hers.

Having already sampled her exquisite taste, the fantasy was almost too real to be borne. Releasing a hard to contain groan, Drake pushed impatiently to his feet. The hot leisurely shower he’d envisaged was going to have to be replaced by one closer to sub-zero temperatures if his frustration was going to be remotely eased tonight …

Layla released a long sigh of relief when Marc told her the next morning that Drake had rung. She’d gone to bed early because she’d been genuinely tired, but she’d also been irritated with him because he wouldn’t consider renovating the Victorian terrace. It was clear he was also aggravated with her, because she’d asserted that she wanted to get to know him, that she wasn’t just interested in a short-term fling.

The man clearly had issues around allowing a woman to get too close to him and Layla wanted to find out why. She also wanted to know why he wouldn’t consider renovating the Victorian terrace. Somehow she didn’t buy it that it was more profitable to build new residences in its place. Drake might be a businessman as well as an architect, but she didn’t believe that financial consideration was the only reason he wouldn’t look at renovation.

Still, at the end of the day the man was doing far more for the town than anyone had in too many years to mention, and even if she was upset he wouldn’t listen to a small local petition to keep the terraced houses she couldn’t let that taint her feelings towards him … not when she sensed deep down that he was a genuinely good man.

It was while she was clearing away the debris of her breakfast and stacking the dishwasher that a sudden idea took hold. Maybe it was time she played a more proactive part in their association? Perhaps it was time to turn the tables and this time surprise him? She decided that if anything at all was going to come from their association—be it an irresistible and unforgettable fling or a mutual commitment to a much more meaningful relationship—she wanted at least to have joint command of it. Never again would she allow a man’s desires to take precedence over her own wants and needs—or, as in the case of her unscrupulous ex-boss, to convince her that he knew best.

In particularly good spirits that day, Marc agreed to let her have the afternoon off. He even gave her an affectionate hug when she confessed she was going up to London to see Drake.

‘I like him. He’s a very astute businessman,’ he said, smiling. ‘He told me I shouldn’t be in a hurry to throw in the towel and sell the café just because the takings are down. At any rate it isn’t a good time to sell, and I’d only get peanuts for it. He explained that the whole point of regenerating the area was not just to encourage new residents to move here, but to encourage more successful and appealing retail outlets to inhabit the high street and sell their goods. The influx of new customers would help small businesses like the café become more thriving concerns. “Give it a couple of years at least to see if things work out,” he advised. So that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t tell you how much better I feel at having some direction at last. Say thanks again for me when you see him, won’t you?’

The fact that Marc was more than happy at the advice Drake had given him went a long way to firming Layla’s decision to pay him an impromptu visit. In any case, after that smouldering encounter with him yesterday at the building site she knew it was pointless to pretend she wasn’t aching to see him again. And she’d dearly love to find out a bit more about his background and childhood if she could. Sometimes he had a near haunted expression in his eyes—a faraway look that suggested he was tormented by some unspoken grief. Did his painful reflections dwell on memories of a troubled past? she wondered.

When the taxi dropped her off outside the stunning hexagonal building Drake had designed, she almost wished she had a stiff drink at hand to give her some Dutch courage. What if he didn’t welcome this spontaneous visit of hers and was mad at her for turning up unannounced? Should she at least have rung him to let him know she was coming? Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.

Layla softly murmured that thought out loud.

A few minutes later, travelling in the swish modern lift up to Drake’s floor, she stole a glance in the mirrored interior to check her appearance. She’d left her shoulder-length dark hair loose today, and it helped cover the small pink abrasion that Drake had so passionately gifted her with. Carefully pushing aside some silken strands, she let her fingers tenderly examine it. Then, feeling somehow guilty, she let her hair fall back into place to hide it.

In a bid to appear a little more relaxed than she had been when Drake had taken her out to dinner, she’d opted to wear light blue denims and a plain white shirt with a lined fawn-coloured trench-coat for her spontaneous visit. But when her gaze honed in on the softly scarlet bloom that highlighted her cheeks, she stopped focusing on her appearance and looked away with a frown.

It had been her hope to present an image of relaxed composure when she saw him, but now there was no chance of that. Why, oh, why could she never seem to prevent her feelings from showing on her face like some people could? Forget composure. Her big-eyed ‘caught in the headlamps’ expression made her resemble a frightened rabbit rather than a determined young woman intent on taking a potentially volatile situation firmly into her own hands …

‘Do you have an appointment with Mr Ashton?’

Drake’s efficient, intimidating blonde secretary was like a sentry at the gates of Rome, suddenly alerted to an impending invasion. As she stood behind the desk with her arms folded her diamond chip blue eyes sternly raked over Layla’s appearance, as if silently warning her that it was going to take a minor miracle to get past her to see Drake.

‘No, I don’t.’ Swallowing hard, Layla knew her smile was uncertain and strained. ‘I thought—I thought I’d surprise him.’

The sound of Drake’s deep voice suddenly bellowing at someone behind the closed glass door that she knew led into his office made her start. The secretary’s coral painted lips stretched briefly in an ironic smile.

‘Somehow I don’t think my boss is remotely in the mood for surprises, Miss …?’

‘Jerome.’

‘Yes, of course. You were here the other evening, weren’t you? Except he was expecting you then.’

‘Yes. He was. Look, I’ve come a long way to see him today. Can you at least tell him that I’m here?’

‘I know you must be a friend of his, but I’m afraid I can’t. His diary is full for the whole afternoon. Why don’t you leave your phone number? Or you can write a message if you’d prefer? I’ll make sure that he gets it.’

The other woman perfunctorily pushed a lined pad and a pen across the contemporary glass desk that right then seemed to symbolise an insurmountable barrier Layla couldn’t cross. Frozen by indecision, her teeth worrying at her lip, she numbly picked up the pen, then stared down at the writing paper feeling wretched. It had obviously not been one of her better decisions to turn up at Drake’s office unannounced. Perhaps she could find a café somewhere nearby and try to reach him on his mobile?

Just as she leant over the pad to write a message his office door opened and he stepped out. Wearing a sky-blue fitted sweater that hugged his hard-muscled lean frame, and dark blue jeans that highlighted his strong long-boned thighs, he too was dressed much more informally today. But she barely had time to realise much else, because he came to an immediate standstill and stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. His piercing silvery gaze made her insides flutter wildly. Behind him, a well-built man dressed in a grey pinstriped suit, carrying what looked like some rolled-up technical drawings, stole the chance to slip away discreetly before his boss noticed that he was gone.

‘Layla. To what do I owe the honour?’ Drake’s almost languorous drawl was tinged with the faintest mockery.

Lying the pen back down on the pad, Layla quelled the flurry of nerves that seized her and straightened up to face him. ‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ she told him.

‘Well, you’ve certainly accomplished that.’

‘I missed your call last night.’

‘Yes, you did. Still … you’re here now. Do you want some coffee?’

Before Layla had the chance to reply he turned to his secretary and said, ‘Monica? Can you get me and my visitor some coffee, please?’

‘Have you forgotten that you’ve got an appointment with Sir Edwin Dodd in twenty minutes, Mr Ashton?’

‘Ring him and put him off, will you? Tell him something important has come up.’

The efficient Monica couldn’t hide her dismay, or the fact that she was suddenly quite flustered. Layla almost felt sorry for her.

‘This is a longstanding appointment … don’t you remember? He’s probably already on his way, and I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to being put off at the last minute.’

As he folded his arms her boss’s glance was formidably steely. ‘Am I labouring under the misconception that I’m the one in charge round here?’

‘Of course not. I apologise if I was a little too blunt. I’ll ring Sir Edwin straight away and make your apologies. Then I’ll get your coffee.’

‘Thank you.’ He directed his gaze back to Layla, and the faintest enigmatic smile touched Drake’s lips. ‘Why don’t you come into my office?’

Following her into the stunning room, with its panoramic view of rooftops and a gloriously cloudless blue sky, he quietly shut the door behind them. ‘It’s good to see you—if a little unexpected. Let me take your coat and bag.’

As soon as Layla had unbuttoned the fawn trench-coat she sensed Drake move behind her to help remove it from her shoulders. The potent mix of warm virile man, sexy cologne and the electrifying brush of his hands through the layers of her clothing made her feel quite faint with desire. It was extremely difficult to think straight above such a shockingly imperative need.

In contrast, Drake appeared almost to want to taunt her by moving deliberately slowly, his air definitely preoccupied. But after carefully folding her coat over the arm of a nearby chair, and depositing her shoulder-bag and tote on the seat, he finally returned to stand in front of her. Dropping his hands to his lean masculine hips, he released a long drawn-out sigh. ‘Well, well, well … You certainly know how to keep me on my toes, Layla Jerome.’

Fiddling with the ends of her hair, she couldn’t prevent the heat that flooded into her face. ‘I’m sorry. I should have rung you first.’

‘Then your appearance would hardly have been a surprise, would it?’

‘No, it wouldn’t.’

‘Besides … I definitely get the impression that talking on the phone isn’t exactly a favourite occupation of yours.’

Moving nearer, Drake curled his hands round her slim upper arms and slowly but firmly brought her body in closer to his. Layla caught her breath.

‘I wanted to wring your brother’s neck when he wouldn’t go and tell you that I wanted to talk to you,’ he confessed huskily.

‘It wasn’t his fault. I told him not to disturb me.’

‘And why did you do that, I wonder? Was it because you were angry that I was going to have those houses demolished in preference to renovating them?’

‘I don’t deny I was furious about that. I know you left our forgotten little town a long time ago, but there are a lot of things that I still love about it. One of them is the rundown shabby streets with their once beautiful and historic old houses. It makes me terribly sad to think about the hardworking families who once lived in them and experienced all their joys and sorrows there but are now all gone.’

‘Do you know for a fact that they were all hardworking and happy?’ Drake asked, gravel-voiced.

There was something in his tone that made Layla’s stomach drop. ‘No, I don’t. I just—’

‘I grew up in that shabby little street, in one of those once “beautiful and historic old houses”. As I recall, it wasn’t remotely beautiful when I lived in it. Unfortunately I didn’t experience much joy there either … plenty of sorrow, yes. And my father definitely wasn’t hardworking.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t mean to rub salt into any wounds by expressing my opinions, Drake.’

‘Forget about it. Like you said, the ghosts of the past are all gone now. So, tell me, do you usually go to bed so early?’

The humour that replaced the pain in his eyes lifted her heart after the sad confession about his home-life. At least she now knew why he was so determined to demolish those houses.

‘During the week when I work I always go to bed early. I know you wanted to speak to me last night, but do you really think talking on the phone is the best way to get to know someone? I personally prefer to talk to my friends face to face … especially when it comes to discussing something personal.’

Drake’s answering short laugh made all the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

‘So it’s my friend you want to be now, is it?’

Brushing her hair out of the way, he laid his hand over her cheek, gently stroking the pad of his thumb down over her flushed skin, eliciting an explosion of goosebumps.

‘I’ll only agree to be your friend, Layla, if I’m afforded certain … shall we say … privileges?’ he said, smiling.

As enticing as the idea to afford him those privileges was, Layla determinedly held her ground, even though his touch was seriously making her melt. ‘I think that comment sounds very much like an avoidance strategy to me.’

‘You think I’m avoiding something, do you? What am I avoiding?’ With an incorrigible grin he moved his hand to rest it lightly on her shoulder.

‘Answering the question I asked you yesterday—about—about letting me get to know you … giving me the chance to see the real man behind the successful architect.’

Once again she caught her breath as she waited for his reply. His grin faded almost immediately and his grey eyes suddenly acquired a glint of terrifying sadness that made her stomach roll over.

‘That question ensured I barely slept a wink last night,’ he told her gruffly.

‘Why?’ she whispered.

‘Before I answer that, I have a question for you … Why did you give up a presumably well-paid job in London to move back home? What happened with this boss of yours? You said he wasn’t a boyfriend, but I get the feeling something intimate happened between you. Was it an affair that perhaps turned sour?’

Drake’s hands were suddenly fastening round her arms again, and his grip noticeably tightened, making her heart thump. ‘I didn’t have an affair with him. I just—he plied me with drink at an office party and I stupidly succumbed to sleeping with him. It was only the one time, and I hated myself for it straight after.’

Feeling angry that Drake had turned the tables on her, Layla tried to twist free, but he was having none of it and held her fast.

‘My boss was like a lot of men who have wealth and power. He thought it was a golden ticket to having anything he wanted, and no doubt after my refusing his requests for a date for so long it helped boost his ego to get me drunk and finally persuade me into his bed.’ Her face was suffused with embarrassed heat. ‘I despise myself for being so weak, because he was the most unscrupulous and unprincipled man I’ve ever met.’

‘Was that the reason you quit your job?’

Sucking in a steadying breath as the memory of the shameful betrayal that had finally forced her to leave washed over her, she gazed into Drake’s eyes with an unwavering furious stare.

‘No. At least, it wasn’t the main one. In another stupidly weak moment I let him persuade me to invest all my savings in a deal that was a total scam from start to finish. When I lost every penny, he shrugged as if he couldn’t care less and said, “That’s the business we’re in, Layla. It’s all about risk. Sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. You should have known that … silly girl.” He wasn’t wrong there.’ She shook her head bitterly. ‘I was silly … Let me rephrase that. I was utterly and unforgivably stupid. My common sense deserted me. But at the time I invested in his deal I’d long grown tired of the soulless nature of my job and my boss. I was desperate to leave. I wanted to retrain as a youth worker or something along those lines instead … something that could be of use to people. But I knew if I was going to study I’d need money to support myself. That’s why I fell for my boss’s expert sales pitch. I thought that because he’d reached the heights as a broker, and made a lot of money by speculating and taking risks himself, he must know what he was doing. I never thought for one minute that he might take me to the cleaners because I only slept with him once and refused to do so again. It’s amazing what we can convince ourselves of when we’re desperate, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry.’

The comment sounded genuinely compassionate, and Drake’s firm grip on her arms gentled.

‘Not half as sorry as I am. I know one thing for sure. I’ll never make a decision out of desperation again.’

‘You did nothing wrong, Layla. It’s your low-life ex-boss that needs hanging out to dry.’

‘Anyway …’ She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. ‘You live and learn, as my dad always used to say. Are you going to answer my question now, Drake?’

Withdrawing his hands, he pressed his fingers deep against his temples. For the first time since he’d appeared in the outer office she noticed the softly bruised shadows beneath his eyes that denoted his previous night’s lack of sleep.

‘I’ve been giving it some serious thought.’

Not brave enough to prompt him, Layla neither moved nor spoke.

Lifting his strong cut-glass jaw, Drake gave her one of his searing, compelling glances. ‘I want you Layla. I’m sure you know that only too well by now. You’re like a fever in my blood that I can’t recover from. So I’ve decided that I will give you more access than I’ve given to any other woman before and let you get to know me a little. But I want to make it clear that that doesn’t mean there’ll be no holds barred—because it’s quite likely there will be.’ The glitter in his eyes that followed this statement was almost fierce. ‘I don’t share my feelings or my thoughts easily. Maybe that’s a habit I’ll eventually learn to break, but there’ll definitely be boundaries if we become more intimate. Think you can handle that?’

With her heart bumping heavily against her ribs, Layla found herself nodding slowly. ‘Yes, I do. At least, I’m willing to take the risk.’