What His Money Can't Hide. Maggie Cox

the council sent round to locals?’

      Her relief was palpable. He wanted to ask her about the regeneration of the town, that was all … Nothing more threatening or disturbing than that.

      Lowering herself into the chair opposite him, she folded her hands neatly in her lap. ‘Yes, I did.’

      ‘Good. Would you mind sharing with me what your views are on the question, “What improvements do you think are most needed in the community”?’

      The handsome face before her, with its chiselled jaw and high-sculpted cheekbones, suddenly looked very businesslike and serious. Layla wasn’t fazed. This was a topic that she took seriously too. ‘Aren’t you mainly concerned with designing new housing?’

      ‘I am. But my brief is fairly wide. I’ve been asked to look at not just housing for potential new residents, but also at what other builds might be possible that would benefit the community in general.’

      Curling some hair that had come adrift from her ponytail behind her ear, Layla automatically leaned forward. ‘That’s music to my ears, because in my opinion one of the things that’s most needed in this community is more facilities for the young—by that I mean specifically for teenagers. The reason why a lot of teenagers hang around on street corners with their friends and get into trouble is because there’s nowhere for them to go and socialise. They’re too young to go to the pub and hang out there, and frankly they don’t need another excuse to drink when booze is already sold frighteningly cheaply at supermarkets and already causes havoc. No … What they need is a place specifically for them.

      ‘The local so-called “community” hall prides itself on keeping them away. The people who run it won’t take the time to get to know any of these kids and find out what they’re really like, but they’re very quick to judge and demonise them. A place where they can go and listen to music together, maybe play snooker or pool, would be fantastic. We could ask for volunteers from the community to help run it. That way it would bring young and older people together and would benefit us all.’

      ‘You sound like quite the crusader.’

      ‘I make no apology about that. It’s great that there are so many campaigns to help the elderly, it really is … but the young need help too. Don’t you think?’

      Remembering his own emotionally impoverished and lonely childhood, when he had often yearned for somewhere to go where he could just be himself and forget about his unhappy home-life, Drake undoubtedly agreed. Layla’s impassioned tone as she had voiced her opinions had taken him aback, made him regard her in a whole new light. It had also strengthened his vow to get her phone number. In his world he didn’t often meet people who cared half as much about the welfare of others, and it certainly didn’t hurt that she was beautiful too …

      ‘I agree,’ he commented thoughtfully. ‘I’m going to look over some plots in the next few days for potential new builds, and I’ll definitely bear in mind what you’ve told me. Of course I can make recommendations, but ultimately the decision to establish a youth club or something similar lies with the council. They’re the ones who’ll have to allocate the funds.’

      ‘I know that. But an important man like you …’ Her eyes shone with renewed zeal. ‘A man who grew up in the area himself … perhaps you could bring some of your influence to bear? It would mean such a lot to the kids if you could.’

      They both glanced towards the door as it swung open, heralding the entrance of a frail-looking elderly couple.

      ‘Looks like you’ve got some customers.’ Drake smiled, but his lovely companion was already on her feet and making her way back behind the counter.

      Half an hour later Layla noticed that Drake was folding up the plans into a stylish leather briefcase. She chewed down on her lip as he crossed the room to speak to her. It felt as if every sense she had was on high alert as he neared. The man was seriously imposing, she realised. The shoulders beneath his stylish jacket were athletically broad, and his lean, muscular build and long legs meant that he would look good in whatever he wore—whether it was the dark grey chinos and smart blue shirt he was wearing now, or a scruffy pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Suddenly she seemed to be preternaturally aware of everything about him. He moved as if he owned the space and everything in it. And the amused, knowing glint in his silvery grey eyes made her stomach coil with tension.

      ‘The coffee and food were great—particularly the coffee,’ he commented, setting his briefcase down on the floor.

      ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. My brother, who owns the café, buys the very best grade coffee he can get his hands on, and he took great pride in teaching me how to make it. His aim is always to deliver a good product and good service to his customers.’

      ‘In business that’s one of the best intentions you can have … that and being dedicated to making a profit. I meant to ask you before who owned the place. So it’s your brother? What’s his name?’

      ‘Marc Jerome.’

      Her questioner tunnelled his long, artistic fingers through his hair, unwittingly drawing her attention to his strong, indomitable-looking brow. There were two deeply ingrained furrows there, she saw.

      ‘Have you always worked for him?’ he asked.

      ‘No.’ An unconscious sigh left her lips. ‘Not always.’

      Drake looked bemused. ‘You don’t care to embellish on that?’

      ‘I worked in London for a few years, but I needed a change so I—I came back home.’ Lifting her chin a little, Layla wrestled with her usual reluctance to reveal much more than that.

      ‘What did you do in London?’

      ‘I was a personal assistant to a broker in the City.’

      Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Drake looked even more bemused. ‘This is quite a career change for you, then?’

      ‘Yes, it is. Is there anything else you want to ask me before I get back to work, Mr Ashton?’

      ‘Yes.’ His gaze suddenly became disturbingly intense. ‘There is something else, Layla. I’d like your telephone number.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘So that I can ring you and invite you out for a drink. Will you give it to me?’

      Shock eddied through her like an ice-cold river. She hadn’t missed the gleam of admiration in his eyes when he’d first seen her, but she hadn’t expected him to invite her out or to be quite so quick in asking for her phone number.

      ‘If you’d asked for my brother’s number, so you could talk to him about his views on the area’s regeneration or about his business, then I would have been more than happy to give it to you. But to be honest I’m not in the habit of giving my number to men I hardly know.’

      ‘But you do know who I am. By that I mean I’m not some stranger who’s just walked in off the street. And, whilst I would definitely appreciate having your brother’s number so that I can ask him a few questions, right now it’s yours that I’m far more interested in.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’ Uncomfortably twisting her hands together, she nonetheless made herself meet his intense silvery gaze unflinchingly. ‘My answer is still no. I enjoyed our little chat earlier about what’s needed in the community, and I’m very encouraged by your interest, but—well … let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’ The need to protect herself from another over-confident and arrogant wealthy man like her ex-boss was definitely at the forefront of her mind as she spoke.

      With a sigh, Drake stretched his sculpted lips into a slow, knowing smile ‘Maybe we will and maybe we won’t … leave it at that, I mean.’

      He didn’t sound at all offended. In fact, as he picked up his briefcase, he gave her another enigmatic glance.

      ‘This is hardly the busiest or most populated town in the country. No doubt we’ll