LITMIR.BIZ

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CHAPTER FIVE

      ‘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

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