Indiscriminate Attraction - Linda Hudson-Smith Mills & Boon Kimani

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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 here.”

      “Why do you do it?”

      Laylah looked perplexed. “Do what?”

      “Volunteer your time in such a cheerless place?”

      The smile Laylah flashed Chancellor was soft and sweet. “I love helping out others. If I can put a simple smile on one person’s face, or just pass on a few kind words to someone, it makes me feel so good inside. I derive a lot of pleasure from this job.”

      “I don’t see how you get pleasure out of working here, unless you enjoy seeing others suffering. If nothing else, I’m sure this nonpaying job is a thankless one.”

      “I can see how you might feel that way.” Laylah shook her head from side to side. “But I’m not looking for gratitude. I simply want to be of service to the people in my community and to others who are in need. I really love people.”

      “Why not volunteer at the Red Cross or at a local hospital? Why here?”

      “Why are you asking all these questions? Why do you care, anyway?”

      “I’m curious to know why a beautiful, vibrant young woman wants to be around so much pain and suffering. There has to be a darn good reason why you do this.”

      “And I’m curious to know why you give a darn one way or the other.”

      The dark look on Laylah’s face told Chancellor he had deeply offended her. That hadn’t been his intent. He had merely wanted to know why she wanted to spend her free time in a godforsaken place like this one. Had someone in her family become homeless? Was she possibly doing this out of some sort of guilt complex? He’d really like to know.

      Knowing she should bring this conversation to an end, Laylah nervously shuffled her feet. “I really have to get back to work now. Wish I could find you a place to stay tonight, but I can’t. Try to get here earlier tomorrow. People start lining up at least two hours before we assign beds. The regulars all know the ropes.”

      “For what? So you can hand me another list and send me packing?” For whatever reason, Chancellor wanted to keep Laylah talking, wanted more time in her company. He also had to wonder if she was truly an angel of mercy. He somehow thought she was. She was certainly as beautiful as what he’d always

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