A Whole Lot of Love. Justine Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ The two men had required further convincing, although Harry, as always, joked that they just wanted her to call them back so they could listen to her voice again. She’d always laughed, shaking her head at the idea.

      After talking to Ethan Winslow, she wasn’t laughing anymore.

      If she were honest, she would admit that meeting him was what had her on edge. Which was the last thing she needed tonight, when it was up to her to see that things went smoothly. It was unlike her, too; she had long passed the point of letting such things bother her.

      Resolutely, she made her way to the door to join Harry in the greetings. The first few people she knew, and by the time she had greeted them and chatted for a moment, she was back in the groove and relaxing. Gloria Van Alden made her smile; the woman might be sixty-two, but she outshone many of the more practiced young glamour girls with her poise and class. She’d led a fascinating life, traveling around the world until her husband fell prey to the killer they were stalking tonight.

      If I were a man, I’d bid on her in a second just to hear the stories she could tell, Layla thought. In fact, she added to herself with an inward grin, she would like to bid on her anyway, and she would be willing to bet Gloria would understand perfectly. Gloria knew she was fascinating. Sometimes Layla longed for that kind of bone-deep confidence.

      She was still smiling after the woman when she heard Harry’s voice, “Layla? You haven’t met Mr. Winslow yet, have you?”

      She took a quick breath and held it. She knew what was coming. She’d seen it so often before, she was past being hurt by it. If she’d been scarred, deformed or even missing some visible parts, the reaction would have been little different. But she was none of those things. Her sin was much greater; she was, quite simply, a big woman. She’d left single-digit sizes behind at age twelve and had never been back. She’d grown used to comments like “You have such a lovely face” or “Your hair is so gorgeous,” the subtext unmistakably being “You’d be beautiful if you’d just lose some weight.”

      At twenty-three she had determinedly starved herself to the point of passable thinness—and had spent her twenty-fifth birthday in the hospital. On that day she’d had an epiphany of sorts. Just as, at five-ten, she would never be petite, she would never be model-thin, either. She would, she decided as she lay in that hospital bed, with needles in her arm, settle for healthy and fit. It was the best she could manage, and it would have to do.

      And, for the most part, it did. Her doctor was happy, she could keep pace with Harry, who was a long-distance bike rider; could match her marathon-running best friend Stephanie for at least half of her training runs; and above all she felt good.

      Except at times like this.

      Slowly, she turned around.

      He was every bit as attractive as she’d been told. Were it not for the sharp glint of intelligence in his vivid blue eyes, he would be the walking cliché of tall, dark and handsome, she thought ruefully. Dressed in a tux that fit too exquisitely to be rented, he was…he was…

      He was just as sexy as he sounded on the phone.

      He stared at her, and she knew he was realizing she was not.

      She told herself she hadn’t winced, not even inwardly. She’d expected this, after all. She waited to hear the inevitable “You’re Layla?” in a tone of disbelief, waited to see his intent expression turn to one of disappointment. Then would come the awkward pause, which varied in length depending on the mental acuity or grace of the man.

      Ethan Winslow, it seemed, had a lot of both; his look of surprise vanished after a split second, and he held his hand out to her without hesitation.

      “Congratulations, Ms. Laraway.”

      A little startled at his speed, it took her a moment to take the proffered hand. Recovering, she lifted a brow at him. “For getting you here?”

      He smiled. It was breathtaking. “That, too. But I meant, this looks like quite a production.”

      “Oh, it is,” Harry said heartily. “And we couldn’t pull it off without Layla. She’s indispensable.”

      “I’m sure she is. Anybody who could talk me into this…”

      Harry laughed brightly. “She is amazing.” He turned to an attractive brunette in a silvery evening gown, one of the ushers for the evening. “Cheryl will show you to your table. Champagne and some truly decadent desserts are on us, of course.”

      Ethan, seeming to realize he was holding up the line at the doors, nodded, gave Layla another glance that lasted a moment longer than it should have, then let the brunette—who was suddenly looking a lot happier with her job—lead him away. Layla watched him go, her thoughts tumbling.

      Her greetings to the others were somewhat distracted, and she looked forward to the moment when she had to retreat backstage in preparation for the beginning of the evening’s festivities. Once everyone had arrived and she was certain the initial serving was going well, she headed to the back of the room.

      She had a moment to recover her poise and make another check in the mirror. Nothing had changed, except that she was oddly flushed. She knew she would be that way within minutes of being under the stage lights anyway, so she didn’t worry. Nor did she allow herself to think of the cause.

      She made her way out to the podium that sat off to one side, and right on cue the stage lights came on, drawing the crowd’s attention. She swallowed, wishing she could leave this part of it to someone else. It wasn’t that she was shy, but she wasn’t comfortable being the center of attention for a group of hundreds.

      She got through her introduction and the thank-yous on behalf of the Marina del Mar Alzheimer’s Center well enough, she thought, and turned to introducing the emcee for the evening. It was someone new, a comedian from Laughlin, Nevada, whom Harry had found. She’d thought his credits a bit padded, but Harry had chosen him, so she hadn’t questioned his decision.

      Now she was simply glad when he came out and she could again retreat backstage. She had a few things to do: check with the kitchen to be sure things were running smoothly; make sure they’d stocked enough champagne and wine; check on the tracker’s table, where they kept tabs on who bid what for whom; and touch base with the hotel staff, to head off any potential problems. Then she could once more retreat backstage, where everyone knew to find her if there was a problem.

      Everything seemed to be going well, and after a brief chat with the maître d’ they’d been assigned for the evening, she started walking along the side of the ballroom, heading toward the backstage door. She was passing the front tables when she felt an odd tickle at the back of her neck. She paused and looked, but there was no one close by. Then she noticed a turned head at one of the front tables and realized someone was watching her.

      The stage light widened as the first of the auctionees came onto the stage. In the spillover light, she could now see the man whose gaze seemed fastened on her.

      Ethan Winslow.

      Instinctively she pulled back slightly. She couldn’t be sure he could see that she’d noticed, but he must have seen that she’d stopped. She turned quickly and continued on her way, wondering. By the time she was backstage, she’d convinced herself he was regretting that he’d ever agreed to this and wanted to be sure he knew where she was so that he could take it out on her later.

      She didn’t relax until СКАЧАТЬ