Lost In A Stallion's Arms. Deborah Fletcher Mello

homes. Although maintenance and upkeep of the building were funded through the city’s budget, there was barely enough money to keep the lights on. Infrequent donations from a few generous benefactors and volunteers helped to offset many of the expenses that would have closed the center’s doors and sent many back into the streets to fend for themselves.

      Luke stood at the bottom of the steps of the facility peering up at the glass doors that beckoned him inside. The old man who’d guided him to the entrance pointed with his left index finger, his right hand clutching a brown paper bag as if it were filled with gold. Luke nodded his gratitude.

      “Thanks,” he said, pressing a crisp twenty-dollar bill into the old man’s wrinkled hand. “I appreciate the help.”

      The old guy threw him a toothless grin. “No problem! Like I told you, this here is the heart of Oak Cliff. If you want to know what this neighborhood needs, sonny boy, you’ll find it here,” the man exclaimed excitedly as he turned an about-face, his newly gotten gains waving between his fingers.

      Luke smiled warmly, watching as the man disappeared out of sight. With one last glance over his shoulder he climbed the short span of stairs, pulled the glass doors open and stepped inside.

      A rush of noise and the pungent scent of lemon disinfectant greeted him at the entrance. A large reception area with a massive counter that spanned the lengths of two walls sat at the room’s center. The floor was a checkerboard of black-and-white linoleum, the covering worn thin from age. The walls were painted a vibrant sunshine-yellow, the bright color gleaming with energy. Select posters of beaming parents and children above messages of encouragement smiled down on them, the décor sparse but warming.

      There were four children—three little girls and a small boy—playing in the center of the floor. The space around them was strewn with plastic blocks and Matchbox cars. A teenage girl sat watching from one of two wooden benches, her gaze moving back and forth between the noise of their childish banter and the paperback book that rested open in her lap.

      The young woman glanced in the direction of the door that had closed loudly behind Luke. She met his curious stare with one of her own, her mouth slowly lifting into a friendly smile. Luke smiled back, lifting his hand in a slight wave. Before he could ask for assistance, the little boy let out a loud scream, calling out to everyone that could hear that there was a strange man in the lobby.

      Chapter 2

      “Mizz Joanne! Mizz Joanne! Some man out here! Come quick, Mizz Joanne!”

      Joanne Lake shook her head from side to side as she heard her name being called again and again, Mrs. Stanton’s baby boy screaming at the top of his lungs. No matter how often they told that child to use his inside voice when he was inside, little Bryson preferred saying everything loudly, and he always had much to say.

      Before she could lift herself from her seat, the boy came storming through the office doors. He barely missed slamming his face into the corner of the desk as he came to an abrupt halt. Joanne winced as he narrowly avoided what could have been a very nasty accident.

      “Some man out here, Mizz Joanne. We don’t know him. He’s strange,” Bryson Stanton sputtered, words spilling out faster than he could catch them.

      Joanne smiled, shaking her head as she admonished him. “Bryson, stop yelling. And what did I tell you about running when you’re inside the building here? You could have hit your head and taken an eye out!”

      “But there’s a man—”

      “I heard you, and I’m coming,” she said as the little boy clasped her fingers in the palm of his small hand and tugged anxiously, trying to pull her to her feet.

      “You got to come now, Mizz Joanne! Quick! He’s a stranger! Stranger danger!” Bryson exclaimed loudly, his outstretched arms waving excitedly to emphasize the urgency.

      Moving from the space of the small office to the outside reception area, Joanne chuckled softly at the child’s exuberance, sensing that things weren’t nearly as pressing as he’d proclaimed.

      And then she saw him, 286 pounds of pure delectable dark chocolate standing six feet tall in navy slacks, a white polo shirt and leather slip-ons. Joanne’s eyes widened with curiosity and obvious interest as her gaze raced from the top of his neatly cropped haircut down to the tips of his very expensive shoes.

      The handsome man was standing in conversation with Bryson’s older sister, Brenda, the sixteen-year-old leering at the stranger as if he were a bowl of ice cream and she were a spoon. As Joanne eyed them, she was only slightly taken aback by the girl’s brazen behavior. Brenda looked as if she were just a hair away from throwing herself into the man’s lap. Joanne and Brenda had had more than their fair share of conversations about the appropriate way for a young woman to behave, and Brenda was clearly intent on doing the opposite of what she had been shown.

      Shaking her head, Joanne cleared her throat, interrupting whatever conversation Miss Brenda imagined herself having with a man as fine as that one. And the dark stranger was surely one fine man.

      “Brenda, would you take the kids back to the recreation room, please. I’ll handle this,” Joanne said firmly.

      “But, Miss Joanne, me and him was just—”

      The stern look Joanne gave the girl cut her words off before she could think to finish her sentence. Brenda rolled her eyes skyward, sucking her teeth in annoyance. Snatching her book from where it rested on the bench, she tossed Luke one last smile. As she turned, gesturing to the little ones who stood watching, she gave Joanne one last glare. Joanne raised her eyebrows in response.

      When Brenda had herded the kids toward the space behind her, Joanne turned her attention to the dark stranger who was staring at her with a wide smile plastered on his chiseled face. “I’m sorry, sir, but unless you’re a resident, the center is actually closed for the evening. Is there something I can do for you?”

      Luke nodded slowly, suddenly at a loss for words. He hadn’t been expecting to see such an exquisite woman come into the room. The stunning female was absolutely beautiful. Her warm smile was engaging, brightening her face with energy. She was a full-figured beauty with a deep copper complexion, a closely cropped hairstyle, and the most luscious, ready-to-be-kissed pout of any woman Luke had ever seen. The look she gave him sparked a wave of emotion that had his cheeks burning with warmth at the perverse thoughts that suddenly coursed through his mind.

      Joanne repeated herself. “Excuse me, but I asked if there was something I can help you with?” she queried, a look of rising concern filling her dark brown eyes. “Sir, are you all right?”

      Luke shook his head quickly from side to side. “Excuse me. I’m sorry. My name is Luke, Luke Stallion, and I was just wondering if I could ask you a few questions. My company is acquiring some of the property in this area as part of the city’s rejuvenation project, and I’m researching how we can best benefit the neighborhood.” Luke finally extended a hand to shake hers. “One of your neighbors thought you might be able to help me.” He flashed her a dimpled smile.

      Joanne’s gaze moved from the man’s face down to his outstretched palm as her own hand was suddenly lost beneath the fingertips that clasped hers tightly. Her gaze moved back to his face, her breath suddenly caught in her chest as the heat of his touch surprised her. She pulled her hand from his, clasping it against her abdomen, as she tried to ignore a distinct rise of discomfort.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stallion. My name is Joanne Lake. I’m just one of the volunteers here. You probably want to talk to the center’s director. His name is Daniel Manchuck, and he’ll be back on Monday. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to answer any questions you may have.”

      “I appreciate that, but I’d also like to know what you think, as well, Ms. Lake. I’m hoping to reach out to everyone in the neighborhood for their input.”

      Joanne raised a curious eyebrow. “That’s interesting, Mr. Stallion. Most corporations couldn’t care less what a community thinks about their business decisions.