What was it about this guy that had
her acting so out of character, so
insanely weird?

She wasn’t the kind of person who lied to herself—and she wasn’t about to start now. She was hot for Chancellor, homeless or otherwise. The man made her pulse race and she couldn’t even put a name to what else occurred to her physically. She just knew she felt flushed all over whenever he was around. No one—but no one—had ever made her feel this out of control.

Laylah’s parents, semiretired television news correspondents Jack and Selma Versailles, would think their youngest child had totally lost her mind. Brandon, her entertainment-correspondent brother, would rib her unmercifully if he ever found out about the man she secretly admired. And her uppity, well-to-do sixty-seven and sixty-nine-year-old aunts Cora and Gertrude, both celebrity newspaper columnists, might be stunned to learn that their niece was hopelessly infatuated with a homeless man….

LINDA HUDSON-SMITH

turned to writing as a healing and creative outlet in 2000, after illness forced her to leave a successful marketing and public relations career. Dedicated to inspiring readers to overcome adversity against all odds, she now has twenty published novels to her credit, spanning an array of genres that include romance, contemporary and inspirational/ Christian fiction. Linda has traveled the world as an enthusiastic witness to other cultures and lifestyles, which has helped her craft stories set in a variety of exotic and romantic locations.

For the past seven years, Hudson-Smith has served as the national spokesperson for the Lupus Foundation of America, and has made Lupus awareness one of her top priorities. She travels around the country delivering inspirational messages of hope.

Linda Hudson-Smith was born in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, and raised in Washington, D.C. She furthered her educational goals by attending Duff’s Business Institute in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The mother of two sons, Linda shares a residence with her husband, Rudy, in League City, Texas. To find out more about this extraordinary author go to her Web site, www.lindahudsonsmith.com.

Indiscriminate Attraction
Linda Hudson-Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading Indiscriminate Atrraction from cover to cover. I’m very interested in hearing your comments and thoughts on the romance story featuring Laylah Versailles and Chancellor Kingston, a couple who meet under very unusual circumstances.

If you are interested in receiving a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope with all your correspondence, and mail to: Linda Hudson-Smith, 16516 El Camino Real, Box 174, Houston, TX 77062. Or you can e-mail your comments to LHS4romance@yahoo.com. Please also visit my Web site and sign my guest book at www.lindahudsonsmith.com.

Linda Hudson-Smith

This book is dedicated to all the wonderful

staff members at Dental Etc:

You guys are the very best.

Thanks for all your unyielding support.

Mitchel Mai, D.D.S.

Veronica Morales

Trini Pham

Hope Salcedo

I want to acknowledge each and every one of you for your love, support and dedication. Thanks to all of you who helped to make my first annual Book Club Luncheon a huge success. It was such a pleasure hosting each book-club member.

Kumosa Book Club

Cover2Cover Book Club

Coffee, Tea & Read Book Club

Turning Pages Book Club

One Really Awesome Woman Book Club

Thomasine C. Smith—Palatka, Florida

Mable B. Mosley—Palatka, Florida

Ronald and Sheila Wright

Mitchel Mai, DDS

Ralph Tharp, M.D.

The 3-Gs Grace, Georgia and Geraldine—my Winnsboro connections

Sydney and Gwen Mulkey

Donna Hill—Donna Hill Promotions

Misherald Brown—Donna Hill Promotions

Rosemary Poole

Kristina Smith

Leroy Hamilton—Photos by Hamilton

Mattie Watson—Little Rock AFB Exchange

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

As Laylah looked up at the large clock on the back wall of the L.A. Press newspaper office, where she worked as a top-notch feature-story reporter, her light gray eyes expressed shock. Totally lost in her deadline story, she had also lost track of time and everything else. Since she had less than an hour to get her assignment in, she really had to step it up. This was a very important feature she couldn’t dare to fudge on, not that she ever would. Laylah was a very conscientious reporter.

Ashley Roberson, a seven-year-old child, had been missing for over a week now. Thus far, not one clue had turned up. Byron Gates, the lead detective, had told Laylah he’d rarely worked on a case where there wasn’t at least something to go on. “Nothing about this story makes any sense to me,” he’d said at the end of the interview.

Ashley allegedly had been abducted from her own bedroom in the wee hours of the morning. The timing was just speculation on Renee Matthews’s part, since the single mother hadn’t discovered the child missing until 7:00 a.m., when she’d gone to the child’s bedroom to get her ready for the summer day-care program. Then Renee had dialed 911.

This sad and interesting story had intrigued her from the onset. Laylah always took great pride in her job at L.A. Press—she was known for writing her features in painstaking detail and with loads of passion. Once she was given an assignment, she went right to work on it, lending it her undivided attention until it was in actual print. Numerous awards had already been bestowed upon her for excellence in journalism and for her strong commitment to community service.

Laylah also penned various articles for several nationwide magazines; she positively lived and breathed her craft. The “All Around Town” column she wrote was a favorite to many.

“Laylah,” Joe Angleton called out from across the room, “March needs to see you in his office right away.” Joe chuckled lowly, knowing how their personalities clashed. Sparks flew whenever they were in the same room.

March Riverton was the boss, yet he wasn’t nearly as knowledgeable about running the newspaper office as Laylah. Not only did she know her job inside and out, she was able to execute everyone else’s duties with relative ease, including March’s.

“Ugh!” Laylah had no desire to butt heads with her boss yet again, especially not when she had more important things to take care of. March always seemed to know when she was a bit behind on her assignments, never failing to call her into his office at the most crucial, inopportune times. Most of what he’d call her in for was pure nonsense.

If anyone would ask Laylah why March was so hard on her, she’d be inclined to tell them she believed he had a romantic interest in her. While he was a very attractive man—tall, slim and velvety dark—she wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. In her opinion, no chemistry whatsoever existed between them. His sense of humor was about as dry as a bale of hay—and his cockiness was anything but a turn-on for her.

March had once been employed as a senior editor for a San Francisco–based newspaper. Shortly after he’d landed the heralded position of editor in chief with L.A. Press, he’d made his intentions toward Laylah known. When his initial flirtatious hints had gone totally ignored by her, it seemed to her that he’d made a conscious decision to annoy her instead of continuing to try to charm his way into her heart.

The entire staff thought he was a serious pain in the rear. Well, she thought, there is one exception. Amelia Markham thought March was the cat’s meow, the light in lightning. She was often horrible to Laylah because she also knew March had a romantic jones for Laylah.

The intercom line on Laylah’s desk phone suddenly buzzed, signaling an internal call. “Yes, March.” Intuitively, she had known it was him calling to personally make his demands known. He loved to rub her the wrong way, as often as possible.

“Did Joe not give you my message?” March inquired in a sarcastic tone.

“You know he did. Can you give me a few more minutes to wrap things up?”

“Right now works best for me, Miss Versailles. Step on it.” He had spoken in a tone that wouldn’t have brooked an argument from anyone other than her.

Laylah all but slammed down the receiver. Before closing the software program she was working in, she saved her last entries. Since she hoped to get right back to the job at hand, she didn’t bother to turn off her computer.

She looked youthful and fresh, dressed in white denim jeans and a cute red and white polka-dot sleeveless blouse that fit her slightly curvaceous figure to a T. After getting to her feet, she smoothed her hands down the thighs of her jeans, as if she thought the gesture would press out the slight wrinkles caused by sitting.

As she passed by Joe’s desk, she rolled her eyes to the back of her head to show him just how annoyed she was with March’s untimely disruption. Her co-worker was a great guy, sweet as he could be, and they had a great relationship.

Thirty-seven-year-old Joe stood just shy of six feet tall, possessing one of those hard bodies most men worked doubly hard to achieve. Fair complected, with bourbon-colored eyes, he was a dazzling light that brightened up everyone’s day. He wasn’t without a mischievous streak, but Joe was as harmless as a newborn baby.

As Joe was a very spiritual man, numerous staff members sought him out when they were down on their luck. He was always good for an uplifting word of prayer and also a guiding hand. He was the type of man who’d help anyone in need, the type who never met any strangers.

Without bothering to knock on the door, Laylah entered March’s office. Seeing his feet propped up on the desk only annoyed her more, causing a bit of red to infuse her rich, honey-brown complexion. He is such an arrogant, macho-male animal. Nodding in his direction, Laylah took the chair in front of the large desk.

“Good morning to you, too,” he snapped in a gruff tone. “How are the plans coming for Patricia Blakeley’s retirement dinner?”

No, he didn’t call me in here for that! Laylah seethed inwardly. As mad as she was with March, her expression belied how truly upset she was over his insensitivity toward her situation. She was only behind on her deadline because of all the other assignments he’d piled up on her. Many of them were his own. “Everything to do with the retirement party I turned over to Constance Waller, so you’ll have to ask her.”

“Excuse me? When I give you an assignment, it’s inappropriate for you to delegate it. Therefore, you need to get the information I’m after. STAT.”

As Laylah got to her feet, she held her temper in check. “As you wish, sir.” Knowing March hated it whenever she went formal on him, she celebrated inwardly at the frustrated look on his face.

March snorted. “I expect you to report back to me within the next half hour.”

Tired of constantly going toe-to-toe with March, Laylah had begun to seriously consider the generous job offer she’d recently received from L.A. Press’s top rivaling newspaper, the California Herald. The salary they’d offered her was off the chain. The only major drawback was the commute. She lived only a short distance away from where she currently worked and the California Herald was much farther.

Besides the long commute, Laylah had her eye trained on March’s job. As sure as she was breathing, she didn’t expect him to make it much longer in his current position at L.A. Press. He just didn’t have what it took to run a newspaper this size. There were too many serious complaints about his lack of ability. Several had reached corporate level.

She immediately went to Constance’s office, hoping she had the information March needed so she could get back to work. Since when did a retirement party become more important than a feature story, especially when it involved a missing seven-year-old child? If Laylah dared to ask March that very question, he would declare war on her.

Constance welcomed Laylah into her office with a toothpaste-white smile and a slight nod of her head. “What can I do you for, sweet girl?”

Laylah laughed at the backward way Constance had posed the question. “The retirement party for Patricia. Can you give me an update?”

“I’d be happy to. Have a seat while I get everything together.” Constance opened the file drawer connected to her desk and instantly came up with the correct folder.

Laylah took a moment to peruse the file. Instead of taking it with her, she wrote down all the pertinent information. When she was finished, she looked up at Constance and smiled. “You’re a woman after my own heart. You keep very detailed records.” Laylah got to her feet. “I hate to run, but the boss wants this STAT. It’s his time of the month again.”

Constance laughed. “Either that or he hasn’t been laid in a while.”

“That’s probably more like it,” Laylah said, chuckling softly.

“All he has to do to remedy the situation is take Amelia up on her obvious body language. She’d be only too happy to turn out the brother. The girl is on fire for him.”

“You’re too bad. I’m out.” Laylah wasn’t going to touch that comment.

Laylah set the manila folder on the right-hand corner of March’s desk. “All the information you’re after is inside here, sir,” she said, pointing at the file. She then turned and walked away, gritting her teeth out of sheer frustration.

“Not so fast, young lady,” he said. “I need you to go over with me what’s in this folder. You seem to be in an awful hurry.”

Laylah turned sharply on her heel and looked dead into March’s eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I have very important work to do. All you have to do is open the folder and read what’s inside. You can read, can’t you?”

March’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits, hoping Laylah read the danger sign there. It would serve her well to check her tongue. “I can read, but I’d rather you read it to me.”

Exasperated was an understatement for what Laylah felt. She had two choices: she could stay and read the contents of the file to him or she could go back to her desk and finish her feature story. Selecting the last option would more than likely get her fired.

Taking the least controversial way out, Laylah opted to sit back down, praying for an abundance of patience. Slowly, almost methodically, she picked up the folder and opened it. She then read to March the date, time and location of Patricia Blakeley’s retirement dinner, the projected number of guests who had already RSVP’d, the regrets and the numbers of those who hadn’t responded one way or the other.

The meal choices and prices per person were run down for March, as well as the company information on the DJ and his fees. Last but not least, Laylah gave March the list of gifts suggested for the retiree. “No final decision on a gift has been made.”

“What’s the total projected budget for all this?” March queried Laylah.

After turning the folder around so March could see the top sheet, she pointed at the last set of numbers. “Those are the bottom-line figures.”

March whistled. “That’s a lot of money to spend on someone unworthy. Well, I guess it’s a small price to pay to finally be rid of her. Patricia is a constant thorn in my side. The woman has too much darn mouth. I hope I never hear her speak again.”

Laylah understood all too well why March had made such ignorant statements. Patricia was one of the employees who had made several complaints against him. She made no secret regarding the way she felt about him, telling anyone who’d listen that March was an inadequate administrator, one that should’ve never been hired.

Laylah agreed with Patricia wholeheartedly.

“Now that you have everything you’ve requested, may I please return to work?”

March looked down his wide nose at Laylah. “By all means. Thank you.”

The polite way in which March had last spoken had Laylah wondering if she’d heard him correctly. Even when he tried to be nice he still annoyed her, just as his condescending look had done. “You’re welcome.” Hoping she could get out of March’s office without any further communication with him, Laylah rushed to the exit.

March cleared his throat. “Hope you meet your deadline. Being late won’t look good for your record, especially on your next evaluation.”

If I have my way, you’ll never do another evaluation at this newspaper.

After Laylah returned to her desk, she sat down and began pounding away at the computer keys. Staying focused was a must if she was to meet her deadline. There had been enough disruptions already—and now she had to put her nose to the grindstone.

Less than an hour later, Laylah skidded into the printing area, where she handed over her feature story to Sean Lackland, the senior copy editor.

As Laylah cleaned off the vacant tables inside the shelter, Second Chances, she smiled beautifully at several other volunteers who had just sat down to eat. Her lovely gray eyes dazzled in the same way her effervescent personality did. She was always sweet and polite to everyone who came into the shelter. Folks loved her because she was so genuine. Though small in stature, she had a huge heart overflowing with love.

As a volunteer at the homeless shelter, her second gig, her duties pretty much ran the gamut. If she wasn’t serving meals, she could be found cleaning various areas of the shelter, stocking shelves with food and other items, or passing out new or used clean clothing. From time to time she helped Pastor Ross Grinage with the bookkeeping and any other duties he needed her to perform. She also wrote the shelter’s monthly newsletter. The patrons actually enjoyed reading her writings.

Laylah had very little personal time and she liked it that way. Keeping busy kept her from being too lonely. Since she hadn’t been involved in a serious relationship in quite some time, she was actually fearful of getting into another romantic saga.

Benjamin Irvine, the shelter’s founder and CEO, walked up to Laylah and gave her a warm hug. “How’s my favorite girl?”

She smiled wearily. “A little tired, but still blessed.”

She noticed that Benjamin had just gotten his wavy white hair cut and neatly edged. In her opinion, he was a nice-looking man, a very personable one. Standing around six feet, he towered over Laylah’s frame. The man was sort of an exercise freak, working out six days a week. He was single and was currently looking for the right woman to enhance his life.

“How long will you be working this evening?”

Laylah hunched her shoulders. “As long as I’m needed. Is it my imagination or are the numbers of the homeless increasing? I’ve seen so many new faces this month.”

Benjamin sighed hard. “Unfortunately, this particular population is growing by leaps and bounds. What’s really frightening is that many of the newer ones who’ve wandered in here lately were once high-salaried professionals. It makes me wonder.”

“I know.” Laylah nodded. “Just the other day I talked to a guy who’s an engineer. The company he worked for folded unexpectedly, leaving him without a job. When he could no longer pay his house note, he began living on the streets. People don’t realize we’re all just a paycheck away from homelessness. I try to stay very mindful of that.”

“I know what you mean. Putting a little money aside for emergency situations is something many of us fail to do.” Benjamin scratched his head. “Well, I guess we’d better get back to work. It’s close to the dinner hour and the outside lines for meals and a bed are already forming.”

Benjamin went on his way and Laylah resumed her duties.

Laylah still had a lot to do before the doors were open for meal service and bed assignments. Those seeking shelter were only allowed to stay on one night at a time. The patrons had to line up and then sign up each day. The hardest part of the process for Laylah was when someone was turned away once they ran out of beds. There were referral places they could send folks to, but other agencies had the same procedures in place. No matter how she viewed things, it was still rough emotionally for everyone.

Once Laylah put away the cleaning products, she slipped into the bathroom, where she thoroughly washed and dried off her hands. After changing into a clean smock that covered the upper portion of her body, she headed for the kitchen. Meal service would begin in about five or ten minutes. Once the doors were open, the place could get busy as a beehive until everyone was served and later assigned a bed for the night.

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 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 imagined an angel to look like.

A light suddenly came on in Laylah’s eyes. “Can you please wait a minute, Chance? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Wondering why she wanted him to wait for her, Chancellor looked after her dazedly as she skidded down the hall and quickly disappeared around a corner. His gaze dropped to the floor as he wished he was anywhere but inside a homeless shelter. Upon closing his eyes for a brief word of prayer, he heard heels clicking against the concrete floor. He cut his supplication short and then looked up to await her arrival.

Discreetly, Laylah pressed several neatly folded bills into Chancellor’s hand. “Go get yourself a room. There’s a very nice motel, Sweet Dreams Inn, about three short blocks from here. The place is very clean and well tended to. Tell Mr. Arlie Jones I sent you. My full name is Laylah Versailles. Arlie is a dear friend of mine. He’s good people.”

Chancellor was positively amazed by Laylah’s altruistic spirit. He felt ashamed to take the money, but he figured she’d be offended if he did otherwise. He got the feeling she didn’t make a habit of handing out cash, otherwise she’d probably be broke by now. Out of all the folks who came to the shelter, why had she decided to help him? Knowing full well that he’d pay her back every red cent, he slipped the money in his pocket. This was one kind gesture he’d never forget. It was very special. “Thanks. I’ll be going now.”

“Be safe, Chance. Hope you get here in time tomorrow to score a bed.”

Laylah couldn’t take her eyes off Chancellor’s retreating back. His stride was confident. This man was somebody important. Though she couldn’t explain why she felt that way, she was darn near sure of it. Something devastating must have occurred in his life recently, but what? What had sent him out into the mean streets of Los Angeles to look for a place to lay his weary head? And why was she so darn interested in him?

Laylah couldn’t stop thinking about Chancellor as she fulfilled the last of her duties. Once Laylah gathered her belongings, she gave her cheerful farewells to the night crew and then hurried from the building. Chancellor was still heavy on her mind as she reached her car and got inside.

Chapter 2

Arlie Jones gave Laylah a warm hug and a brilliant smile. “Happy to see you, but what brings you down here so late in the evening?”

“I referred your motel to a homeless guy and I came by to see if he checked in. Unfortunately, I don’t know his surname.” She then provided Arlie with a first name.

Arlie shook his head in the negative. “No one by that name has checked in here this evening. All but two of my rooms are occupied. If you’d like, I’ll try to save one for the guy just in case he shows up.”

Hoping she hadn’t given away her money in vain, Laylah couldn’t hide her bitter disappointment. What if Chancellor was a drinker or drug user? If so, she’d supplied him with enough money to score himself a few highs. “I have to go now, Arlie. I hope Chance shows up before you run out of rooms. I really thought he needed somewhere to stay.”

“He does,” said a slightly familiar voice. “That’s why I’m here.” Chancellor made direct eye contact with Arlie. “If you’re Mr. Arlie Jones, I’m supposed to tell you Laylah Versailles sent me over here to rent a room for the night.” Chancellor moved over to the counter and extended his hand to Arlie. “Am I in luck?”

“You surely are,” Arlie responded with enthusiasm, handing Chancellor a clipboard with a registration form attached to it. “Just fill out this baby and we’ll get you all squared away. All I really need is a name.”

Laylah was embarrassed to no end. It was one thing for her to stop by the motel to check on Chancellor, but it was another matter altogether to get caught red-handed at it. The things she’d already done regarding him were so unusual. He had to think she had lost all her marbles. If he didn’t think so, she certainly did. As well as purely insane, her behavior was also dangerous. She was actually inside the office of a motel to track down a virtual stranger, a homeless one at that.

How sick was that?

Arlie appeared amused as he looked back and forth between Laylah and the disheveled man she had come there to inquire about. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his little friend was infatuated with the man she had earlier referred to as Chance. He thought it was very strange indeed, since she’d also told him the guy was homeless. One thing Arlie was certain of was Laylah’s embarrassment. Her deeply reddened cheeks were a dead giveaway.

Feeling skittish, Laylah backed up toward the front door. “Glad you made it here safely, Chance. I have to go now. I hope you get a good night’s rest. Good night, Arlie.”

Raising his hand in a farewell gesture, Arlie smiled sympathetically at Laylah, wishing he could say something to make her feel better. She looked so down. If nothing else, she should feel really good about helping out others. She was known around the community for trying to make life easier for folks. However, he thought there might be something else going on with her regarding this man. A more personal interest, perhaps.

Laylah hit the car’s remote button to open the door. Just before she got into the driver’s seat, she heard her name drifting softly on the air. Chancellor had called out to her—the last thing she needed right now, especially since she had only made a total fool of herself. She was embarrassed enough already, yet she waited on him to reach her.

Chancellor stopped a few inches away from Laylah, careful not to step into her personal space. “I want to thank you again. Your generosity means a lot to me. If you have any odd jobs you’d like me to do or any errands you need run, please let me know. It’d make me feel better if I can pay you back somehow. I’ll be around for a while.”

“Payback is not necessary. However, if I hear of any decent jobs, I’ll try to let you know.” She laughed softly. “I guess the only way I can do that is when you stop by the shelter. Just remember what I said about getting there early to land a bed.”

“I won’t forget it, Laylah. Take care and drive safely.”

She quickly turned around and called out, asking him to wait a minute. As Chancellor faced her, he smiled beautifully. Laylah’s breath caught at the sight of healthy white teeth and pink gums. Why was his smile so familiar? His good dental hygiene was further evidence that he may have recently gotten down on his luck.

Laylah smiled back. “How are you at gardening? I have some yard work you could do at my place. I haven’t had the opportunity to hire a permanent gardener yet. Interested in the job?”

“Definitely! When do you want me to come by?”

“How’s tomorrow morning? Early, say, around seven?”

“Works for me, Laylah,” he said, sounding nearly out of breath.

Loving the way Chancellor had breathlessly said her name, Laylah wrote her address down on the back of one of the shelter’s business cards. Without further comment, she got into her car and fired the engine, waving to him as she drove off.

Chancellor Kingston was pleased that Laylah had been right about the motel. It was very clean and well tended. The bed was comfortable but nothing to write home about. He often missed his extremely comfortable digs, but this was his lifestyle now. Drifting from pillar to post wasn’t as easy as he had imagined.

Chancellor’s twin brother, Chandler, had made drifting sound glamorous when it was anything but. Tears came to his eyes as he thought about his twin, who he hadn’t seen in a couple of months. He’d give anything to find Chandler. He wouldn’t allow himself to even think that some harm may have come to him. If his brother was still in southern California, he’d locate him. He had to find him. Chandler was all the meaningful family Chancellor had left in the world and he just couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without his very best friend at his side.

The ageless photographs were more than compelling, darn near tangible. The greatest memories of their lives were all through the pages of the photo album he’d pulled out. Tears were hard to hold back. The pain in his heart was searing.

Chancellor and Chandler Kingston had accomplished so much in their thirty years of life. One had rarely been seen without the other. When had so many things changed…and so drastically? If he took the time to do so, Chancellor was sure he could chronicle all the weird changes, since they hadn’t been very subtle ones.

As Chancellor forced his thoughts to a brighter spot, the effervescent Laylah, he couldn’t help smiling. He had never met anyone quite like her. As beautiful as she was, it wasn’t just her outward appearance he was so darn attracted to. This woman had a pure, selfless heart. She didn’t know him from Adam, yet she had had a desire to help him out.

The fact that Laylah hadn’t asked him a lot of personal questions was astounding to him. He wasn’t used to being so readily accepted for who he was. Not in this world or the fictitious world he’d just arrived from. Living as a homeless person was so new to him, as was his meeting with a perfect angel of mercy. Laylah was every bit that.

After he stretched out on the bed, he looked up at the cracking ceiling, wondering how he had gotten from there to here. Where would his journey take him next? How far would he have to travel down this rocky path before he got the answers?

He had no clue about the future, which was unusual for someone who had always had a solid plan for his life. However, he was pretty certain about one thing. Knowing he’d see the lovely Laylah tomorrow helped him close his eyes and relax just enough to give his soul a break from all the terrible sorrow he felt.

Dressed in jade-green silk pajamas trimmed with pink satin piping, Laylah was stretched out across her king-size brass bed watching the ten o’clock news, dismayed that there still hadn’t been any clues or the least bit of news about little Ashley.

It was so disheartening for her to think of that precious little girl somewhere out there in the world desperately wanting to be at home with her loving mommy. Since everyone around the country was also praying for Ashley, she was filled with the hope that she’d soon be found. Prayer worked, lots of it worked even better.

Once the news was over, she surfed through the channels. When she didn’t find anything interesting to view, she turned off the television. Rarely did she go to sleep this early, but her body felt completely worn down after putting in serious hours at both her jobs. She wasn’t complaining. Working long hours kept her from being too lonely and helped to keep her mind off the fact she hadn’t a decent relationship in a long while.

Laylah wanted nothing more than to find Mr. Right and settle down in a nice cozy home, one a bit bigger than her current town house, and then eventually start a family. All the men she’d met over the past year had been totally into self. These guys could’ve cared less about her, let alone about her dreams and future aspirations.

When had guys stopped opening doors for women? Not to mention their refusal to occasionally spring for dinner and a movie. She had met some real pieces of work in the dating world. Some of these modern-day men seemed to be looking for a woman to take care of them and to enhance their lifestyle through monetary and material gifts.

Many of the guys Laylah had gone out with had been kind of disrespectful in general. Pulling out a chair for her to be seated in had rarely occurred. Most of her dates had been blind ones arranged by mutual friends. Never again would she go on a blind date. The last one had turned out to be a date straight from hell.

Maybe it was her, Laylah thought as she pulled the white and deep lavender comforter under her chin. Perhaps she simply didn’t fit the bill as Miss Right.

As the alarm clock crowed annoyingly, right at 6:00 a.m., Laylah moaned and groaned with displeasure. A couple more hours of sleep would work wonders for her fatigued body, but it was an impossible desire. Her schedule was full. Another hour of rest might have been doable had she not invited Chancellor over to tend her tiny yard.

All she had to do was hit the shower since she’d laid out her clothes the night before. Dragging her tail out of bed was done in dramatic fashion. After trudging into the bathroom, she turned the water on full blast and stepped inside the clear glass cubicle. Once she’d thoroughly washed her body, she reached for the thick white towel to dry off.

The doorbell rang at six-thirty, just as Laylah poured a cup of hot coffee. How the visitor had gotten through the gates was her first concern. If it was Chancellor, she realized she hadn’t told him about the security measures. After setting her mug down on the kitchen table, she ran toward the front of the house. A look into the safety window gave her a full view of Chancellor. He appeared to have cleaned up a bit, but his baggy jeans didn’t fit his powerful physique and his jacket wasn’t pressed.

Did she let him inside her private space or what? Laylah then realized she hadn’t thought everything through. Well, for sure, she couldn’t leave him outside. Praying she was doing the right thing, she put on a bright smile before opening up. “Good morning. Gee, you’re more than prompt. You’re about a half hour early.”

Smiling gently, Chancellor nodded. “I’d much rather be early than late.”

“I’m an advocate of promptness myself. Do you drink coffee?”

A look of surprise briefly flashed in Chancellor’s eyes. Her offer had shocked him. “I do, but are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“If I let you in, you’re not going to kill me, are you?” If only she knew how to hold her tongue. While Laylah had always had the nerve to speak her mind, she wished she hadn’t done so in this instance. Even if she had been joking, the comment was inappropriate.

“I’m not a dangerous person. You don’t know that for sure, so maybe I should just get to the gardening. Perhaps you can hand me a cup of java outside the back door.”

Laylah sucked her teeth. “That’s not happening. Come on in. Please.”

Feeling the awkwardness of the moment, Chancellor seemed reluctant to cross the threshold. This entire situation made him nervous despite that he’d never bring any harm to her. Only he knew that for sure. He in fact planned to warn her not to ever do something like this again. If she were to let the wrong type of person into her home, it might prove hazardous to her health. A male neighbor had let him in the walking gate.

Still regretful over her offhand comment, Laylah extended her hand to him. “It’s okay. Really, it is. Please come inside.”

Not wanting to hurt her feelings in any way, Chancellor took her hand for a brief moment. He then came inside. At her suggestion, he followed her back to the kitchen, where she gestured for him to take a seat at the table. Upon noticing where her mug had been placed, he sat on the opposite end.

He liked the feel of her warm, cozy kitchen. It was a cheerful place and was a comfortably accommodating size. Equipped with stainless-steel appliances, everything was shiny and bright. A stainless-steel bowl of sunny lemons and fresh limes served as a centerpiece for the round maple table and accompanying six chairs.

After filling another mug with steaming hot coffee, Laylah carried it to the table and handed it over to Chancellor. She then pulled out a chair and plopped down onto it. “How’d you do at the motel last night?”

“Good. The room was nice and clean. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re welcome. Glad you had a good night. Did you get to talk to Arlie?”

“Just for a minute or two. He seems like a nice guy. He also offered me work.”

“Doing what?”

“A few odd jobs, nothing major. I just happen to be a great handyman.”

“That will certainly work in your favor. How long have you been out there?” She couldn’t bring herself to use the “homeless” word to describe his situation, not to his face. In her opinion, the term itself was fraught with desperation.

“Not long. I’d imagine a minute or two is too long for most folks. Stuff happens.” Because she had been so nice to him, he wanted to share more of his story with her, but he didn’t think the timing was right. He lifted his mug. “You make a great cup of coffee.”

Laylah blushed slightly. “Thanks. Would you like some breakfast?”

“No, thank you. I’d just like to get to work before it gets too hot out there.”

“I know what you mean. If you want to bring your coffee along, we can step out the back door so I can show you what needs to be done around the place.”

Chancellor grabbed his mug. “Mind if I ask for a refill?”

“Not at all. I’d be happy to get it for you.” Laylah took the mug and marched right over to the stove and refilled it. She then again summoned Chancellor to follow her.

The small patch of lawn wasn’t even half the size Chancellor had expected. There were only a few ornery weeds in the flower beds, nothing overwhelming. Living in a town house offered limited space for a yard and such, but he could see that Laylah had made the most of what she had. All her plants and shrubs were evergreen, giving her greenery year-round. The colorful flowers were perennials rather than annuals.

“I can knock out this job in no time. Where do you keep the mower?”

“In the garage.” She pointed at a side door. “I’ll open it for you to get the mower out. All my other gardening tools are hung on the walls inside the garage. They’ll be easy enough to spot. Knock on the back door when you’re finished.”

“How much time do I have?”

“An hour and a half before I have to get off to work. Is that okay?”

“That’s ample time. There’s not that much to do.”

“Let me know when you’re finished.” She turned to go back inside, only to turn back around. “By the way, there’s plenty of bottled water and lots of other cold drinks in the fridge inside the garage. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

Overwhelmed again by Laylah’s generosity, he nodded his understanding. Other than his deceased grandparents and a few folks from their generation, he hadn’t run into too many people as kindhearted as her. In the dog-eat-dog world he had lived in, mostly everyone had looked out for number one, hardly ever caring about the needs of others.

Laylah felt hot all over by the time she finally opened the side door. What was it about this guy that had her acting so out of character, so insanely weird? She wasn’t the kind of person who lied to herself—and she wasn’t about to start now. She was hot for Chancellor, homeless or otherwise. The man made her pulse race and she couldn’t even put a name to what else occurred to her physically. She just knew she felt flushed all over whenever he was around. No one but no one had ever made her feel this out of control.

Laylah’s parents, semiretired television news correspondents Jack and Selma Versailles, would think their youngest child had totally lost her mind. Brandon, her television entertainment correspondent brother, would rib her unmercifully if he ever found out about the man she secretly admired. And her uppity, well-to-do sixty-seven-and sixty-nine-year-old aunts, Cora and Gertrude, might be stunned to learn that their niece was hopelessly infatuated with a homeless man.

“Tell Cora and Ask Gertrude” was the name of the newspaper column her two spinster aunts wrote, which just happened to be a write-in column to seek advice for the lovelorn. She was already entertaining the idea of anonymously writing in with her dilemma just to see what sagacious advice they’d offer her.

How would someone go about presenting a weird situation like this one to their very own family members? What would she say when questions were asked about Chancellor, like what profession was he in and where did he reside—and what were his future aspirations? Laylah knew this was much too serious a situation for her to continue making light of it. She was too smitten.

“Whoa!” Laylah suddenly began to realize she had gotten way ahead of herself…and way ahead of Chancellor, too. Sure she was wildly attracted to him, but was he even remotely interested in her on a romantic level? If so, she hadn’t seen an inkling of such. The man had been nothing but polite and friendly toward her, yet she had been going on and on in her mind about him since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

There was nothing at all in Chancellor’s demeanor to suggest he was hot for her, so she really needed to cool off. The only way she could find out for sure if he was interested in her romantically was to ask him, which was something she wouldn’t dream of doing. She was outspoken, frank and to the point, all right, but she wasn’t nearly as bold in speech and in deed as she’d like to be with men. She had already pushed the envelope by inviting him to her home under the guise of him working for her. She had gotten him there easy enough, but how was she to keep him coming back?

Laylah wailed inwardly as she anxiously peered out at Chancellor through the half-open slats in the plantation shutters covering the half window on the back door.

Slick with sweat, Chancellor’s muscled arms bulged as he easily pushed the mower around the small yard. His jacket had been discarded and thrown over the back of a lounge chair. Laylah couldn’t help wondering what the rest of his anatomy looked like naked. More than that, she had to wonder if she’d ever see him in the buff. No doubt it would be a mind-blowing experience.

Continuing to watch Chancellor’s every move, Laylah’s mind began to take her places she shouldn’t dare let it wander. A moonlight stroll in the nearby park seemed like an ending to a perfect night out on the town; what might occur after the stroll had her libido reacting wildly. Although she could only imagine those strong arms holding her close, she was sure he would treat her to an unforgettably seductive encounter.

The moment Chancellor turned off the lawn mower, Laylah knew she had to get moving. Although she was already dressed for work, she hadn’t done anything but watch and lust after him. The coffeepot needed cleaning and the table had to be wiped off. She didn’t want him to come inside and see that everything was just as it was before he’d gone outdoors. That would be embarrassing.

Laylah rushed around the room as she did her best to put it back in order before Chancellor knocked to say he was finished in the yard. After dumping the coffee grounds, she lifted the removable basket, carried it over to the sink and gave it a good washing. Sponging off the table with an antibacterial spray cleaner was done quickly.

Hoping Chancellor wouldn’t knock before she made it back to the kitchen, Laylah rushed down the hallway and sped into her bedroom, where she rustled through her purse to come up with enough money to pay for his services. She wasn’t sure if she should offer him twenty or thirty dollars for the lawn, but she was sure he could use whatever she paid him. She settled on thirty dollars in the next instant, hoping she wasn’t over-or underdoing it. The man had to eat, and he’d need another night in the motel.

Just as Laylah skidded into the kitchen Chancellor firmly knocked on the back door. Her heart fluttered wildly as she reached for the knob. Calm down. You need to stop making a fool of yourself in front of him. She hated talking to herself, but she had no one else she could trust with her deep secret. At least no one that wouldn’t think she was absolutely stark raving mad. Her best friend, Kelly, would think she had gone daft.

As though she hadn’t already observed his every movement, Laylah stepped outside the house. “You did a great job. I’m very pleased.”

“Thank you. As I said before, there wasn’t much to do. I’m pleased that you’re pleased.” He pointed at a row of hedges. “Those plants seem to have some sort of infestation. Probably mealy bugs. You might want to treat them. You can pick up something at Home Depot to take care of the problem. If you’d like, I could get it for you. I can then treat the plants whenever it’s convenient for you to have me come back.”

Without knowing it, Chancellor had just solved Laylah’s dilemma of finding a way to keep him coming back to her place. She really did want to get to know him better, almost sure that his personal story was a fascinating one. No matter how crazy it seemed, she was simply attracted to him…and she still didn’t know his last name.

Laylah quickly decided that she wasn’t going to try to fight her attraction to him. Nothing may come of it, but she wouldn’t know one way or the other if she didn’t explore the possibilities. “That would be great. Maybe we can go to Home Depot together since I’ll have to pay the bill with a credit card.”

Chancellor shrugged. “Whatever works best for you. I’m at your disposal.”

Thinking Chancellor should be mindful of his loose tongue, Laylah blushed at the very idea of having him at her beck and call. It certainly worked for her. “Thanks for taking care of things. If you’re looking for a job, you can keep this one until you get something permanent. You can do it weekly if you’re interested.” Though she’d been nervous about how to present him with the money, she went ahead and pressed it into his hand.

Chancellor frowned. “I can’t take this from you. You already paid for the motel last night. I did the lawn to try to show you my gratitude for your kindness.”

Laylah wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t expecting repayment for the motel. That was a gift. This money is for the work you did. I won’t have it any other way.”

Suspecting that it would be hard to win an argument with Laylah, Chancellor rapidly decided not to go against the grain. Since she had also sounded pretty adamant about her decision, he’d let it go for now, but he had no intention of sponging off her. She’d definitely get it all back. “Thanks again. You’re too kind.”

“If I were down on my luck, I’d hope that someone would treat me with kindness. Some people in this world just aren’t caring enough. Glad I could help you out.”

“Glad you offered.” He stroked his chin. “Hope you’ll take what I’m about to say in the spirit in which I intend it. Never let a stranger into your home. I’m not a killer or rapist, but I could’ve been both. Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

“Not if it means I can’t let you in when you come back,” she boldly flirted.

Chancellor grinned. “You can make me the exception. You’re safe with me.”

Drats! She wanted to feel anything but safe with him—and in a delicious way. On the other hand, she’d love to find herself snuggled safely into his strong arms. Chancellor looked strong, as if he could make her feel protected in so many wonderful ways.

“I actually believe I’m safe with you. When can we go to Home Depot?”

Chancellor folded his arms against his chest. “When do you want to go?”

“I get off work around three. Is three-fifteen okay with you?”

“Fine.”

“I can pick you up at the shelter. Can you meet me there?”

“Three-fifteen. I’ll be there.”

“How’d you get here today?”

“Bus. By the way, I gained entry through a walking gate, by your neighbor.”

Interesting, she thought. “On my way to work, can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“You can just drop me off wherever you’re going. I can find my way from there.”

“Let me grab my purse. We can go out through the garage.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t give you a chance to wash up. Would you like to do so?”

“I’m fine. I washed my hands off with the garden hose. I’ll clean up later on.”

“I’ll be right back.” Deciding she should tread lightly, she made direct eye contact with him. “By the way, what’s your last name?”

“Kingston,” he responded, smiling, hoping his name didn’t ring a bell for her.

“Chancellor Kingston.” The prestigious name sounded slightly familiar, Laylah thought as she rushed off to the back of the house, where the master bedroom was located. She quickly grabbed her purse off the bed and shot back up to the front.

“Ready?” she asked him, giving him a hundred-watt smile.

“Ready.”

Despite how busy Laylah had been, the day still dragged. She had accomplished quite a lot of work, but she had a lot more to do. The phone calls put through to her desk had been incessant, but she had handled each one with her usual aplomb. The woman was patient beyond belief and was known to have nerves of steel, more so in the face of adversity.

A quick glance at the clock let Laylah know it was time for her to wrap things up if she was to meet Chancellor on time. They’d have to hurry through their shopping at Home Depot so she could get him back to the shelter before the lines began to form. Because she had thought of that scenario before she’d dropped him off earlier, they had changed their meeting time to two o’clock. She had plenty of comp time on the books.

Just as Laylah pushed back her swivel chair from the desk, she caught a glimpse of a figure entering her office door. A slight turn in her seat brought her face-to-face with the formidable-looking March. What now? She had to wonder. As sure as she breathed air, he was there to mess up the end of her day. “You need something?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You weren’t getting ready to leave, were you?”

Laylah knew that he knew, like everyone else in the office knew, that leaving was exactly what she was about to do. Anytime she planned to leave early, she gave as much notice as possible. While she hadn’t told March directly, news always traveled fast in these office suites. “What’s on your mind?” she asked, refusing to respond to his query.

“I have a phone interview I’d like you to conduct. It’s an assignment I planned on handling, but I’ve been called up to attend a special meeting with city council members.”

“What time is the interview scheduled?”

March lifted his hand and looked down at his wristwatch. “In ten minutes.”

How could he possibly prepare her for this assignment in such a short time frame? This was just another of his hateful ploys. “Who am I interviewing and on what topic?”

March handed her a sheet of paper with typing on it. “It’s all right here.”

“Whoopee,” she halfway snarled. “Nice to know you always come prepared.”

“Always prepared,” he said. Without further ado, he turned around and left.

Laylah wished that that was the case. March was the most un-prepared man she’d ever met. Calmly, she gathered up her belongings, along with the typed sheet of paper he had handed her. Humming a soft tune, she left the office and headed toward the exit.

March came running out of his office in time to beat Laylah to the employees’ exit. “Where do you think you’re going? I just gave you an important assignment.”

“I know,” she said blandly, stepping around him, looking down at her watch. “If you hurry, you won’t be late for your special meeting.” Thank God for cell phones.

Laylah planned to conduct her interview by cell phone. She was sure March hadn’t thought about that. If he had, he would’ve found another way to try to sabotage her plans. Since she was well seasoned at this sort of thing, it should be a piece of cake for her. Besides that, she had already interviewed this high school principal several times. Seventy-year-old Clara Holliday had just won another prestigious, newsworthy award.

March would more than likely call her on the carpet on Monday morning, accusing her of belligerence, but getting the assignment done was always the best revenge against an idiot boss. She would be ready for his tired behind, just as she always was. He’d never best her because he simply wasn’t the best.

Chapter 3

All finished with the Holliday interview, which had gone off as smoothly as a summer breeze, Laylah pulled her car up in front of the shelter instead of parking in the lot, her normal routine. She had made it there right on time. Upon spotting Chancellor, she quickly blew the horn, regretting it the moment lots of heads turned her way. She couldn’t help smiling broadly as he made his way over to the car.

Chancellor opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat with ease. He looked over at Laylah and smiled. “How’s your day been?”

As Laylah thought about how it had made her day to best March at his evil deeds, laughter trilled in her throat. “Beautiful! And yours?”

“Pretty darn good, considering. You ready for our little shopping trip?”

“I am. I know people who’d give up a limb or two for the chance to go to Home Depot to shop for plant-pest spray.”

Chancellor roared with laughter from deep inside his belly. “That’s funny.”

“I thought so,” Laylah remarked, trying hard not to sound too flirty.

Wondering if she was trying to be cute or cocky, Chancellor gave her a wry look. He liked her sense of humor, but he didn’t care for artificially overconfident women, hoping she wasn’t anything akin to those types. Too much confidence in folks was hard for him to take, period. He had never been arrogant; he thought of himself as both humble and compassionate. “Do you always toot your own horn like that?”

Laylah seemed baffled. “What do you mean?”

“Your comment after I said you were funny was kind of arrogant.”

The look in Laylah’s eyes was sincerely apologetic. “It wasn’t my intent to come off like that. You’re the first person who has ever called me arrogant.” Well, that’s not quite true, she mused, suddenly recalling March saying that about her a time or two. She really didn’t like being referred to as such. She was very confident but never haughty. She had been pompous with her boss on a few occasions, which she hated to admit.

As Laylah pulled into the parking lot of the Home Depot, she quickly glanced over at Chancellor. “I’m sorry if I offended you in some way.”

“You didn’t. And I’m not insulted. I think I simply read you wrong.”

“I’m happy you’ve changed your mind about me.” She turned off the ignition. “I guess we’d better go inside so I can get you back to the shelter in time.”

“Why do you even care whether I land a bed there or not?”

“I just do. I’d like to see everyone get one. It doesn’t make me happy to know that our country is the greatest superpower in the world, yet it lacks compassion.” Laylah sighed hard. “If you’re wondering if I’ve taken a special interest in you, I have. I’m attracted to you, Chancellor Kingston. I know that may seem ludicrous, but it’s true.”

“Is an attraction to me ludicrous? Or is it ludicrous to be attracted to a homeless man? Which one is it, Miss Versailles?”

Laylah could easily refuse to answer that question, but she thought it might make her seem shallow. She was anything but superficial. “I guess I could say both. There are people out there who would definitely think it’s ludicrous to be romantically attracted to a homeless guy. To be real honest with you, I feel as if I’ve been acting a little insane over my attraction for you. What do you think of it?”

Chancellor grinned. “I think I like having you attracted to me. Despite you not being homeless, the attraction is mutual. The truth is, I think you’re pretty hot. I guess a guy down on his luck shouldn’t even be thinking or saying something like that, huh?”

Laylah blushed fiercely, something she’d done a lot of since meeting Chancellor. “I’m truly flattered. Thanks for the return honesty. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Now that we both know we’re attracted to each other, how do you suggest we handle it?” He was very interested in hearing her response.

Laylah gave a resigned sigh. “Wish I’d asked you that question first.”

They both laughed, seemingly content to leave the question unanswered for now.

Feeling less foolish than she had before her confession, Laylah slipped out from under the steering wheel. That Chancellor was just as attracted to her made her feel much better. How they’d go about establishing any type of relationship was anyone’s guess. This wasn’t an everyday situation. Nor was it an ordinary boy-meets-girl scenario.

Woman meets homeless man and falls head over heels in love. Go figure…That would definitely be one exciting story to write. Laylah laughed inwardly.

Chancellor located the item he needed to treat the plants right away. The formula came in a spray and a powder. When he couldn’t make up his mind which one might work best, Laylah made it up for him by tossing both items into her shopping cart.

As they proceeded to the checkout line, Laylah spotted an eye-catching lighting display. Because she had been looking for a new chandelier for the dining area, she began to look at the various ones for sale. She gave a few oohs and aahs before she came upon the perfect one for her formal dining room. “What do you think of this chandelier?” she asked Chancellor. She didn’t know why, but his opinion mattered.

Stroking his chin, he pursed his lips. “Beautiful. Are you in the market for one?”

“Have been for quite a while.” She chewed on her lower lip, thinking about who she could get to install it for her. A bright smile lit up her eyes as she looked over at Chancellor. “Do your handyman skills include working with lighting fixtures?”

“You’re in luck.” Chancellor winked at her. “They do. I’m very experienced in electrical work. Looks like I’m getting lots of chances to earn my supper.”

That’s not all you’ll get to earn. She quickly chided her devilish wickedness. “When do you think you can hang it?”

He put his forefinger up to his right temple. “I’ll have to check my calendar first.”

“Okay. Just let me know when.”

Surprised that she hadn’t caught his attempt at light sarcasm, Chancellor chuckled. “Whenever you need me to do it is when I can get it done.”

She could surely run away with his statement. She had a lot he could do for her.

Chancellor then thought about the place he had once used for all his lighting needs. “If you can wait a little longer, I’d like to take you to a place specializing in light fixtures. Light Up Your World has every type of lighting you can imagine.”

“Hmm, I think I’ve heard of the company. Pretty swanky place if I recall correctly. I have the weekend off. Are you free to take me sometime tomorrow?”

“I’m free.” Without all these heavy burdens he carried around, Chancellor would one day be as free as a bird. One day soon everything would, hopefully, be resolved.

He couldn’t wait for the topsy-turvy things in his life to return to right side up. He wished Laylah hadn’t revealed her attraction to him, since the timing for him to get personally involved with someone was not the best. If everything was the way it used to be, he’d be happy to sweep her off her feet and carry her off into the sunset. He sensed that she deserved a real live hero to enhance her life, a knight in shining armor.

Right now, Chancellor just couldn’t fulfill Laylah’s romantic needs. There was too much unsavory stuff on his plate. However, once he got his life back on track—and if she was still available—she had better look out. He planned to be hot on her trail.

Laylah thought it was strange that Chancellor had asked to be dropped off a block away from the shelter, but she had obliged him. As she drove the short distance to her destination, she had a chance to briefly think about some of what had transpired between them. Whether she had intended to or not, she had totally changed the nature of their relationship. For better or worse, she didn’t know. She had every intention of finding out.

Only time would tell.

Serving meals to a few dozen patrons had gone off without a hitch. Some evenings at the shelter were much easier than others, but rarely were there any without a single incident. Laylah was so grateful for how smoothly things had run, because she felt extremely tired. A hot bath and a couple of hours of reading would help rejuvenate her. Then she recalled it was Friday night. Open mic was something she loved to indulge in and hardly ever missed attending.

As Laylah was a woman who loved to write poetry, she also enjoyed sharing her creative works with others. Seated in the audience and listening to other poets was also a real blast for her. The majority of the poetry was spoken to music and someone might even hum or trill during the performance.

Bella’s Café was cozy, pretty laid-back—and the rules of the establishment cited no particular dress code. Most everyone wore jeans, sweats and other comfortable attire, as well as casual footgear. It was so easy to meet people at the event. Folks acted as if they were all one big happy family, as if they’d known each other their entire lives.

The very old jukebox was a favorite fixture. Hot wings and French fries, personal-pan pizzas and a few other fast-food items could be ordered. The only alcoholic beverage served was wine, but lemonade, iced tea and water were also available for purchasing.

Laylah looked all around the room until she spotted Chancellor. Wondering if she should ask him if he wanted to go to Bella’s Café with her was at the forefront of her mind. She actually thought he might enjoy it. It might also help him relax.

Then again, Laylah really didn’t know what Chancellor might or might not enjoy. She wanted to find out everything about him, though. Suddenly she was fearful about her chances of really getting to know him. It still bothered her that he’d earlier asked to be let out of the car before reaching their destination. Had he been trying to protect her from rumor and innuendo? That was a possibility. However, it hadn’t been necessary.

She truly didn’t care what people thought of her. Nor did she care what they said about folks she chose to closely associate herself with. It then dawned on her that that might not be the entire truth. All she had done since meeting Chancellor was worry about how she’d present a homeless man to her family, wondering and worrying about what they might think of it and him. Her expression rapidly turned pensive. Perhaps she needed to reassess what she had honestly believed was her position on the matter.

Regardless of how troubled Laylah was by her recent revelations, she still wanted to ask Chancellor about accompanying her or meeting her at the café. She would love to have him tag along. Her desire alone, to have him in her company, was a good enough reason to invite him. There were no rules or laws against becoming friends or even lovers with the homeless. What did she want them to become? Friends? Or possibly lovers?

What was wrong with them becoming both? Laylah smiled gently.

It didn’t take Laylah long to decide what she’d wear to Bella’s Café. A pair of beige jeans and an autumn-orange low-cut top would make a perfect fit for the evening’s festivities. The outfit was as stimulating as the sultry poem she’d picked out to read. “Tonight” was an intimately suggestive poem she’d written out of loneliness.

Thrilled only partly described how she had felt when Chancellor had said he’d love to attend poetry night. However, he’d totally refused her offer to pick him up at the shelter, where he’d been fortunate enough to score a bed. Benjamin had told him if he wanted to do a few odd jobs around there on a regular basis, he could do so. There’d be no monetary payment, but he’d already be in place to get a bed assigned at sign-up time.

She had taken it upon herself to ask Benjamin to use discretion in telling Chancellor about the new and used clothing handed out at the shelter, but only after he had expressed dismay with the attire he’d have to wear to the event. She thought he may as well make good use of all the shelter had to offer. She was sure he needed all the help he could get, so that should make it okay. Laylah didn’t know how things had turned out, since she had left before Benjamin had had a chance to say anything to Chancellor.

If Chancellor showed up at Bella’s Café wearing other duds, then Laylah would know he had been okay with Benjamin’s clothing offer. She knew he’d gotten to her place on the bus. There was a bus that ran right out in front of the café and it ran pretty often. If it had stopped running by the time poetry night was over, she’d just drop him off. That is, if he allowed her to.

Most shelters didn’t permit folks to come and go after they had been assigned a bed, but Second Chances was different than most places. The patrons were grown folks and didn’t need baby-sitters. However, if they didn’t come back there to sleep that same night, they’d be penalized. Someone else could’ve slept in the unused bed. Because of that, the violator of the rule couldn’t sign up for another bed for five consecutive nights.

So far no one had run afoul of the very fair rule; at least as far as Laylah knew.

While Laylah nervously drummed her fingernails on the café table, she kept a vigilant eye on the front entry. She was due to go up onstage and recite her poem in a few minutes, but Chancellor hadn’t showed up yet. He had seemed sincere enough when he’d told her he’d come down to Bella’s later on just to support her.

Maybe Chancellor had been offended if Benjamin had indeed offered him other clothing to wear. He was smart enough to figure out she may’ve had something to do with it. Not wanting to tamper with his dignity, she prayed that it wasn’t the case.

Laylah had really been looking forward to him being there, more than he’d ever know. In the next instant, her name was called out by the emcee. She looked up at the stage and then back at the front entry before she quietly slid out of her seat. Slowly, hiding her bitter disappointment, she began what seemed like a never-ending walk.

Once up onstage, Laylah spoke to the band leader and the emcee, Michael Brady.

Michael stepped up to the microphone and removed it from its stand. “Laylah is hardly a stranger to Bella’s Café. She has delighted us numerous times. Let’s give our lovely sister a warm round of applause. She’s going to excite us with a poem entitled ‘Tonight,’ penned by her own creative hand. Laylah Versailles!”

Smiling, Michael handed Laylah the microphone. He then gave her a warm hug before stepping aside to allow her to take center stage.

Laylah greeted everyone in an enthusiastic manner, smiling sweetly, cheered on by the houseful of poetry buffs. She took one last glance at the front entry and then at the table she’d just vacated. It was still empty, as empty as she now felt inside.

“‘Tonight,’” Laylah breathed softly, looking out at the crowd.

“Tonight I’m going to fulfill your needs and all your wildest fantasies. My darling, just close your beautiful brown eyes, think only of me, while my hot hands work their sensual magic on your entire anatomy.

Tonight it’s every part of your delicious body I fully intend to taste, as the ride to ecstasy is accomplished at a deliciously slow and easy pace. Relax and imagine me all dressed up in the beauty of your nakedness.

Tonight I’m going to make it fantastic for you, so turn up on your side. If the sensations are more than you can bear, just ebb and flow with the tide, as I rub this hot, jasmine-scented oil all over your strong back and thighs.

Tonight as you shudder, tingle and squirm under my expert touch, I hear your body talking softly, telling me that it wants me so very much. It’s also telling me you’ve fallen madly into love, as well as deep into lust.

Tonight a single candle turns the shadows on the wall a magical blue. Can you feel my electrifying fingers running rampant all through you? Though your hands haven’t even touched me yet, I feel the electricity, too.

Tonight when I’m done, I can’t wait for you to return the favor in kind. By your reaction to the butterfly kisses I’m raining down against your spine, I can tell you’re ready to surrender, ready for me to completely blow your mind.

Tonight when it’s over, I’ll be exclusively yours, and you’ll be all mine. My darling, raise your head and take a sip of this sweet, aphrodisiac wine. Better yet, let me pour it all over you to taste it from your dark skin so fine.

Tonight is over and now it’s time for us to fall into a dream-filled sleep.

The evening’s been fulfilling, what’s between us has grown so deep.

For some, tonight may be just another insignificant time of the week.

For us, the burning memories of this delicious night are forever ours to keep.”

Waiting for the thunderous applause to die down, Laylah bowed at the waist numerous times. Just when she thought it was all over, everyone began standing up, continuing to applaud her. This was her very first standing ovation at Bella’s Café.

Unable to believe the avid response, Laylah felt overwhelmed as she stood stock-still. “Thank you for your undivided attention and your kind generosity,” she said into the microphone, though she knew no one could hear her. The loud clapping hadn’t stopped; her emotional response had just begun. Laylah discreetly wiped away her tears.

Seeming to appear out of nowhere, Chancellor was at the very edge of the stage, holding out his hand for Laylah to take. She didn’t know how long he’d been there or how much of her poem he’d heard; she was just beside herself with joy at seeing him. If he could hear her heartbeat, then he already knew it sounded like a runaway freight train. But she didn’t care if he heard it. All she cared about was that he’d kept his word.

There were several men who hadn’t kept their word to Laylah. And it felt darn good to have one man who’d had enough integrity to keep his. He hadn’t said when he’d get there; he’d just said he’d be there to support her. And so he was.

Laylah gently laid her delicate hand inside his. “Glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You were great. Loved the poem.”

So, he had heard her, she thought, happy he’d gotten there in time.

Chancellor gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he led her to the back of the café, where she pointed out the dimly lit table she’d occupied before her performance. Once they were comfortably seated, he pulled out a thin wad of cash and showed it to her. “I got enough work today to be able to buy you a drink. Name your poison.”

Laylah would have ordered a ginger ale, but she somehow felt he might see through her desire to keep the check fees to a minimum. “White wine, please.”

Grinning broadly, Chancellor summoned the waitress.

Tracee, a waitress Laylah knew well, crossed the room to take their order.

“Two white wines, please,” he said to Tracee. “One with a twist of lime.”

“How did you know I like to drink my wine with a slice of citrus?” she asked.

Chancellor shrugged. “I didn’t. I just happen to take mine the same way.”

Laylah threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sure we’ll probably discover we have a lot more in common than taking our wine with lime.”

Chancellor winked at her, smiling suggestively. “I think you might be right.”

Tracee came back with their drink order and quickly took off again.

Laylah was hungry, but she hadn’t ordered any food because she didn’t want Chancellor to feel he had to pay for it. It would do her no good to wish she had eaten dinner before coming to the café. She hardly ever ate before performing. A host of butterflies normally resided in her stomach to keep her somewhat nauseated. Once she got offstage, though, she always immediately ordered a personal-pan pizza.

As though someone had read Laylah’s mind, Tracee showed back up at the table with two personal-pan pizzas and a basket of hot wings. Before Laylah could ask about the food, the waitress pointed out a man seated at the bar. His back was turned to them. “Compliments of that gentleman, Laylah. He said to tell you he thoroughly enjoyed your hot poem. He thinks you’re a great poet. He also said you’re hot, too,” she whispered.

“I guess I’ll have to thank him myself. Thank you for the food delivery, Tracee.”

“You’re welcome, girlfriend. Talk to you later. By the way, the poem was the bomb! Everyone in the house seemed to enjoy it. All the lovers in the house surely did.”

Laylah glowed all over. “Thanks again. Your nice comments are appreciated.”

“You are so welcome.” Without further comment, Tracee rushed off.

Laylah found it interesting that Chancellor hadn’t bothered to turn around to take a look at the man Tracee had pointed out to her. She believed a lot of men would’ve done so in an instant. They may have also felt threatened by a man sending a gift of food to their date, but she didn’t see this as such. It hadn’t seemed to bother Chancellor in the least.

Laylah was intrigued. His attitude was that of a very confident man.

Her attention was drawn to her generous benefactor as he slipped off the bar stool. When he turned around, her jaw dropped. Seeing March wasn’t a very pleasant experience. She had to wonder what he was doing there, since she’d never seen him in the café before tonight. No doubt it would be very interesting around the workplace on Monday. He would see to it. Laylah was certain of that.

March probably would try to keep Laylah from living this down, but he had no idea what she could or couldn’t live with. She wasn’t ashamed of her poetry or any of her other creative writings. She wouldn’t let him make her feel shame. If he thought he could break her down or embarrass her, the brother was in for one rude awakening.

Laylah pushed the basket of wings to the center of the table. “Would you like to help me eat some of the food? I’m sure one of these pizzas was ordered for you.”

“I doubt that. But since I’m a little hungry, I don’t mind helping you out. How often do you come here?” He took a slice of pizza and put it on one of the small plates the waitress had delivered along with the food.

“Practically every Friday night. The only time I don’t come to the poetry session is when I have to put in overtime at the office. This is a great place to hang out.”

“I like it here. It’s not loud and noisy like most clubs. The atmosphere is pretty laid-back. How long have you been writing poetry?”

Laylah rolled her eyes back. “Since I was a teenager, maybe even earlier than that. I love to write. I’m also a journalist. I work as a reporter for the L.A. Press.”

Chancellor hid his displeasure in her profession. He didn’t like reporters. His experiences with them hadn’t been very good ones. Arrogant, pushy, beyond nosy and downright rude was how he saw the majority of them. He had dealt mostly with the dreaded paparazzi, whom he felt were largely responsible for some of his more serious woes. The band of renegades had given his family a lot of grief over the years.

No matter what he personally thought of the unethical journalists he’d once encountered on a regular basis, he vowed not to let his bad feelings about them spill over onto Laylah, not without just cause. Why she was so interested in him had suddenly taken on new meaning. He quickly decided he needed to be wary of her just in case she had ulterior motives. Chancellor wished this kind of damper hadn’t been put on their evening. Perhaps he should make his exit right now, as opposed to much later.

Laylah restlessly flipped through the television cable channels until she came upon Sarafina, starring Whoopi Goldberg. The movie was set against antiapartheid riots. She had seen parts of the film before, but never in its entirety, and decided to watch it.

As much as Laylah wanted to watch the movie to hopefully take her mind off Chancellor, she couldn’t seem to concentrate. She didn’t know why things had suddenly gone wrong for them down at the café, but they had gotten terribly out of whack. He had begun to withdraw into himself right after she’d mentioned what she did for a living.

The communication between her and Chancellor had quickly become stifled and he had suddenly seemed overly guarded. Although he had said he’d help her out with eating the food, he hadn’t touched a bite more of anything once he had consumed the first slice of pizza. Minutes later he had said that he really had to go, adamantly refusing her offer of a ride back to the shelter.

What had transpired at the café had Laylah terribly worried, not to mention downright puzzled. Chancellor’s behavior had been odd and unexplainable. At this point, she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. Just the thought of that happening had her feeling fearful and disheartened. She could get over her attraction to him if she had to, but that’s not at all what she wanted. If nothing else, she wanted his friendship.

She wanted him in her life—and she wanted him to stay there for a very long time. She hoped what had happened was just a freaky instance and that he’d come back around. They’d been so frank when admitting their attraction to each other. Now she just didn’t know what the future held for them.

Just in case he did decide to stick around, Laylah thought it might be in the best interest of their friendship to come up with a list of fun but inexpensive things for her and Chancellor to do together. She loved touring museums and visiting different parks all around the city. She also loved outdoor picnics and long drives outside the metropolis.

Although some entertainment venues had small entry fees, Laylah had loads of free passes she’d been given as gifts to thank her for her various community services. In fact, she had all sorts of freebie tickets to one venue or another. Tickets to sporting events were sent to her frequently. She also had quite a few free-meal coupons she’d acquired in pretty much the same way.

At any rate, Laylah knew she and Chancellor had to take their relationship extremely slow. He was reluctant to get involved with her even though he hadn’t said any such thing. It was just something she had sensed in him early on, more so this evening.

Because he couldn’t afford to pay for elaborate dates, she felt she had to be careful not to make him feel she required that of him in order to be happy. Spending money on her wasn’t something she had ever required of any man. She was very easy to please. Spending quality time and indulging in effective communication with her romantic interest was what she desired most out of her relationships.

Chancellor had been tossing and turning on the cramped cot ever since he’d first lain down. Thinking about what had happened at the café with Laylah still had him on edge. He not only felt sad about running out on her like that, he also felt horribly guilty. Reporters of any kind just made him downright nervous. Their intrusive presence in his life had left a lot to be desired. He couldn’t help wishing she hadn’t mentioned her profession. At any rate, it more than likely would have been mentioned sooner or later.

Chancellor sensed that Laylah desperately wanted to know all about his life, and how he’d gotten where he was, but he had figured out she was probably too polite to ask. Her not asking what she wanted to know about him was what worried him the most.

If Laylah didn’t feel comfortable asking him about his personal and professional life, she just might take it upon herself to snoop around in his private business to find out on her own. That’s what reporters often resorted to in getting their information. He recalled her point-blank inquiry of his surname.

The Kingston name was very well-known in the business world and was also well connected with elite social circles. Chancellor’s grandparents had worn their prestigious name with pride and honor.

To up and disappear on Laylah or continue to stick around was a difficult decision for Chancellor to make. The fact that he was so personally interested in her made it doubly hard on him. He already knew she was different from any other woman he’d ever dated. This woman knew exactly who she was, with her “take me as I am or just leave me alone” attitude. Laylah wasn’t about to change herself to fit into anyone’s mold.

Money and prestige obviously didn’t mean a darn thing to Laylah, not when she could consider getting romantically involved with a homeless man. She had made no bones whatsoever about her wild attraction to him. Her confession had been rather refreshing. Her down-to-earth and unassuming demeanor was a real turn-on for him.

A part of Chancellor wanted to stick around to enjoy the excitement Laylah brought to his life. Another part of him was telling him to hightail it out of Dodge before all hell broke loose. Judging by her actions, he wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew who he was. If she didn’t already know, once Laylah found out about the Kingston family background, it would more than likely be over for them anyway.

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