Indiscriminate Attraction. Linda Hudson-Smith
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Название: Indiscriminate Attraction
Автор: Linda Hudson-Smith
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472019561
isbn:
All smiles, Laylah began filling sectional plastic plates with food and handing them out to those in line. Everything was running smoothly, which wasn’t always the case. It could get pretty noisy inside the dining room and many times hot arguments ensued, the majority of them born out of sheer frustration and a low tolerance.
Benjamin was normally great at quieting things down. However, he had failed to restore calm a few times that she could recall with crystal clarity. The police were called in on those rare occasions, but no one had ever been arrested. More than anything, most of the patrons were just happy to have something to eat and a place to lay their heads.
The next guy in line had Laylah doing a double take. His dark hazel eyes were strangely alluring. Although he appeared somewhat disheveled, his clothing was cleaner than most. The slightly shaven appearance he wore actually looked good on him. His dark, curly hair was a bit long, lacking any sort of style, but it wasn’t dirty and straggly. From what she could actually see of his physique, he appeared to be in darn good shape.
Laylah suddenly felt the weirdest sensation right in the pit of her stomach, a totally unfamiliar one. Why’d she suddenly feel like she’d met this guy before?
The moment she realized she was blatantly summing up a homeless guy, she felt so embarrassed. The color of her humiliation was noticeably reflected in her cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said in a deep voice after she handed him a plate of food.
The man’s deep tone had surprised her, turning her on in the process. That she was attracted to his sexy voice also embarrassed her. “You’re welcome.” As the man moved on through the line, her eyes followed him, as if she had no control over them.
“Lady, can I please get served? We don’t have forever here.”
At the intolerant sound of the loud male voice, the color in Laylah’s cheeks deepened. She couldn’t help wondering if he sensed she’d lusted after the man served before him. God forbid, she thought, too embarrassed to make eye contact with the older man as she handed over the plate. Glad that the little shameful ordeal was over, she vowed to keep her mind on serving food versus being of service to some sexy stranger.
Thirty minutes later, as the line began to thin out, Laylah knew they’d already served more meals than they had the previous night. By stacking plates in groups of twenty-five, she was able to keep track of how many patrons were served. Paper cups could be accounted for in the very same manner even though people often used more than one.
With no one else standing in line, Laylah once again retrieved her cleaning tools. Her daily routine was to clean each table once it became empty, rather than cleaning them all at the end of meal service. As soon as the dining room was put back in order, she’d join Benjamin up at the front area of the shelter to assign beds.
Second Chances could accommodate up to thirty-two people a night.
Because Laylah had gotten herself involved in an interesting conversation with Bud Wilkes, one of the shelter’s regulars, she was a tad late getting up front to help out Benjamin. All new patrons had to fill out a personal-information form, which she thought was ridiculously silly, especially since it requested an address and phone number.
If the homeless had addresses and phones, they wouldn’t be seeking out shelters.
There were four guys filling out information forms, including the one Laylah had been somewhat intrigued with. She was very interested in reading what he’d put down, hoping the information might give her a few clues about him. What had led up to the patron becoming homeless? It was one of the most important questions on the form.
Stealing covert glances at the man she was slightly smitten with made Laylah feel awkward, but she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. She had the craziest notion that he had been quite a success story before his downfall into homelessness. She even thought his situation might be an excellent story to write, though she didn’t know any of his circumstances.
As far as Laylah was concerned, every person, homeless or otherwise, had an interesting story to pen. She couldn’t recall all the provocative stories she’d written on people who had once led a normal existence, yet had had a very powerful story to share with others.
As Laylah quickly assessed the situation, her heart broke. There were only three beds left, but the line was still quite long. Unfortunately, it was part of her task to turn the others away. She hated to be the bearer of bad tidings. Saying she was sorry for turning someone away just wasn’t enough, but there was nothing else to tell. The long, sad faces always tore at her heartstrings. In the first few months of volunteering at the shelter she had cried all the way home. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with all her emotions.
While she passed out a list of other shelters, she felt as though someone was staring hard at her. As she turned around, her eyes locked with the ones that had intrigued her earlier. His dark hazel gaze pierced her soul, making her wish she could’ve met him under different circumstances. What was it about this guy that had her heart beating so hard and fast? Why was it so easy for her to imagine him dressed to the nines and looking every bit the corporate raider? Why did he have such sexy, expressive eyes?
Once she handed the newcomer a list, she had a hard time hiding how sorry she felt for turning him away, especially since he had been the very next person in line.
He briefly touched Laylah’s hand as she turned to walk away. Her obvious emotional state had rocked his soul. “This job’s really tough on you, isn’t it?”
Surprised by his question, Laylah lowered her lashes, nodding. “Very hard.”
“You seem to take it personally when turning someone away. I just need you to know I understand. I don’t take it personally.” He eyed her with genuine concern.
“Thank you for that. It means a lot to me. By the way, my name is Laylah,” she said, pointing at her name tag.
“You’re welcome. And I’m Chancellor. Everyone calls me Chance,” he remarked, extending his large, smooth-looking hand to her, his fingernails clean as a whistle.
Chancellor’s grip was firm and warm, causing Laylah to feel as if she were sweating internally. His voice was a real turn-on, but she wished it wasn’t. What she experienced with him was nothing short of insane—and he still seemed so familiar.
Chancellor looked down at the list. “Think I’ll have any luck at one of these other places? It’s getting late.”
The question was a difficult one. She didn’t want to lie to him. The truth was that people lined up at the same time every day at most of the shelters; the chances of him getting a bed this late were nil and none. “I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t.”
A disturbing look suddenly clouded Chancellor’s eyes. “Why do you people pass out this list if you already know the outcome? It then becomes a wild-goose chase.”
“Good question. I’ve asked the same one myself dozens of times. I don’t make the rules. I just volunteer СКАЧАТЬ