What His Money Can’t Hide Read Free Page B

place where they can go and listen to music together, maybe play snooker or pool, would be fantastic. We could ask for volunteersfrom 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 swungopen, 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