Irresistible Desire: An Anthology - Softcover

Perrin, Kayla

4.29

28 ratings by Goodreads

9780373830534: Irresistible Desire: An Anthology

Softcover

ISBN 10: 037383053X ISBN 13: 9780373830534

Publisher: Harlequin Kimani Arabesque, 2006

View all copies of this ISBN edition:

Everlasting Love
Two years ago, a freak accident resulted in the death of Whitney Jordan's stepson, which drove a wedge between her and her new husband, Javar. Now that Whitney is finally ready to end the marriage, after realizing her husband can never forgive or forget, she is stunned to find Javar at her hospital bedside after a reckless driver forced her off the road. But can they forge a new beginning out of the nightmare of the past—especially when the threat to Whitney's life and their marriage still exists?
Sweet Honesty
When it comes to relationships, Samona Gray has had a streak of bad luck—her latest boyfriend is an armed robber. But when she unwittingly becomes implicated in his crimes, Samona finds putting her life back together seems all but impossible. That is until she meets an attractive writer who has moved into the apartment above hers. Derrick Lawson is the most irresistible man Samona has ever met, but she knows that trouble lies beneath those good looks. Her instincts prove right when she discovers he's really an undercover cop. Unbeknownst to her, he is beginning to fall for Samona. But can she trust him with her heart?
Flirting with Danger
Monique Savard's exquisite beauty has made her one of New York's hottest supermodels. What brought her to the city, however, was her quest to solve the mystery of her mother's murder sixteen years ago. Khamil Jordan, a high-profile attorney, is captivated by the beautiful Monique. Intrigued by her indifference to his charms, Khamil discovers the pain beneath her coolness. He vows to help her as she uncovers dangerous secrets, knowing that the only way to capture her heart is by putting her tragic past behind them.

"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.

About the Author:

Kayla Perrin has been writing since the age of thirteen. She is a USA TODAY and Essence bestselling author of dozens of mainstream and romance novels and has been recognized for her talent, including twice winning Romance Writers of America’s Top Ten Favorite Books of the Year Award. She has also won the Career Achievement Award for multicultural romance from RT Book Reviews. Kayla lives with her daughter in Ontario, Canada. Visit her at www.KaylaPerrin.com.

Rain, heavy and menacing, fell in large droplets on the wind-shield of her late model, royal blue Chevrolet Cavalier. Her hands clenched on the steering wheel as she maneuvered the car, Whitney Jordan worried her bottom lip. Filling her lungs to their full capacity—to the point where it hurt—did nothing to calm her frantic nerves. If she had known it was going to rain when she had left her mother's, she would have delayed this trip.

It was always worse when it rained—the images, the memories. During those times, she didn't even have to close her eyes in order for the terrifying memories to surge forth. And they were there now, in the forefront of her mind, as strong and as real as the night it had happened.

She could still see the bright lights coming toward her, feel the blood freeze in her veins as icy fear enveloped her body. She could still hear the horrifying crunch of metal and the ominous crack of the windshield.

But the sound she could never forget was little J.J.'s scream. The shrill, terrified sound. And she could never forget the sight of his twisted, bloodied, motionless body on the ground.

The horrifying sight of J.J.'s body zapped into her mind with such velocity that Whitney's jittery hands caused the car to swerve into the oncoming lane.

Gasping, she righted the car, then inhaled a deep, steadying breath. She held back her tears, tears that always accompanied the memories. Everything for her had changed after the accident, and her life would never be the same. She had come out of the crash with her life, but she had lost everything else that mattered.

And now, she was returning to the place where it had all happened. The place where one tragic event had shattered her entire existence. Perhaps that was why the pain and the memories seemed so much stronger now.

Whitney sucked in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to calm down. She would get through this. She had to. Once she had accomplished her task, she could leave Chicago and get on with her life.

Without Javar. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she thought of Javar and of how she would now be closing the door on their life together forever. It wasn't something she wanted to do, but her husband had given her no choice. Some marriages just couldn't survive the challenges thrown at them. Theirs was one of those marriages.

And after an almost two-year separation, it was time to officially end their marriage and get on with their lives.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Whitney noticed a set of headlights in the distance behind her. Her eyes darted to the road, then back to the rearview mirror. The lights were getting closer as the car gained on her, clearly speeding despite the road conditions. As the car neared her bumper, its driver flicked on the high beams, nearly blinding her. Whitney squinted, trying to lessen the effect of the offending bright lights.

"Okay, okay," she muttered. The car was right on her tail now, doing sixty miles an hour. Mumbling an unladylike oath, Whitney hit her blinker, signaling her intention to enter the right lane. But as she started changing lanes, she noticed that the car behind her was swerving to the right as well.

"Impatient," she grumbled, directing her car back into the left lane to let the restless driver pass her.

But before she could completely cross over the line, she felt and heard the impact of metal against metal as the car behind her crashed into her car. That was all it took to send Whitney's car sliding on the rain-slicked roads straight into the path of oncoming traffic.

Her heart thundering in her chest, Whitney's mind screamed, It's happening again! Panicked, and desperate to avoid a head-on collision, she turned the steering wheel to the right. But it was too sharp a turn, because the car began to spin violently, heading toward the shoulder of the road and the large oak tree that loomed ahead of her.

Shielding her face when she realized there was nothing else she could do, Whitney Jordan screamed as the passenger's side of her car collided with the tree trunk.

The next moment, darkness overcame her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Whitney thought she heard hushed voices and soft sobbing. The sounds were hazy, but were growing clearer each second. She had no idea where she was, only the definite feeling that she shouldn't be here. And despite her mind's haze, she felt sore. The entire left side of her body screamed with pain, and her head felt as though someone had tightened it in a vise.

She had to wake up. Her mind wanted to, even if her limbs felt like lead. Whimpering softly, Whitney shifted in the bed and forced her eyes open as much as she could. A blinding jolt of pain in her head caused her to wince, and she let her eyes flutter shut.

"Whitney? Whitney, honey?"

She felt someone gently squeeze her hand.

"She opened her eyes!" a woman shouted excitedly.

"Cherise, go call the nurse!"

It was her mother, Whitney realized, feeling a sense of comfort. Fighting the pain, she opened her eyes once again. Lord, it hurt. And all she could see was a blur of shapes. Why was she here, lying on this foreign bed? What had happened?

A startling mental image hit her—the body of a little boy—and Whitney's heart instantly went berserk. Cold, numbing fear slithered through her veins, and as panic seized her, she fought to suck in small gulps of air.

It felt as though someone was strangling her, forcing the very life out of her.

She tried to speak, to ask the questions she so desperately needed answered. But she couldn't. She could only gasp and cry as she struggled to fill her lungs.

She heard the voices around her grow frantic, and she sensed that people were trying to help her, but she wasn't sure what they were doing. Her eyes, although open, couldn't focus on anything.

And then, everything started fading. The shapes, the voices. The frantic movements around her grew faint. Even the memories eluded her now.

Sleep was beckoning her, and Whitney closed her eyes, welcoming the painless oblivion.

Javar Jordan squeezed his forehead with a thumb and forefinger as he looked down at the sketches before him. Close, but not quite right. He wanted to secure the bid for a new shopping plaza in Phoenix, and these sketches that one of his senior associates had produced were good, but lacked the creative edge necessary to land the job.

And he wanted to land the job. Thus far, after eleven years in business, his architectural firm was one of the most successful in the Midwest. But he had yet to accomplish his big dream: to be among the ten best architectural firms in the entire United States. It was a dream that, with time, he knew he could make a reality. Already, several large clients across the country contacted him directly, offering him substantial jobs. In the Midwest, he was always on the short list for government contracts, and when it came to private projects, he was always one of the first architects to be approached.

So, while his financial security didn't depend on this bid, he wanted it. Michael Li of the Li Development Corporation was one of the most affluent commercial property developers in the country, and if he could land this bid, his dream would be one step closer to becoming a reality. For service and value, his firm, Jordan & Associates, was second to none, and once Michael Li learned what Javar's company was capable of doing for him, he would no doubt offer the firm more lucrative jobs in the future.

If he hadn't been busy working on the Milwaukee hotel project, Javar would have done the sketches for the Phoenix bid himself. Clearly, he thought wryly, he was going to have to.

Javar rubbed his tired eyes, but found that useless in relieving the grit-like feeling that assaulted them. What he needed was some sleep, but he'd have to settle for a short break. Pushing back his black, Italian-leather swivel chair, Javar stood and strolled to the left side of his floor to ceiling windows, and glanced out toward the west. His office was on the thirtieth floor and offered him a magnificent view of downtown Chicago. On Lake Michigan, he could see several boats sailing on the glistening water. Below, he could see West Madison, the street where his firm was located. Crowds of people swarmed the waterfront and Grant Park, enjoying the Taste of Chicago festival. Attracting millions of people each year, the summer event could only be described as a big, street food party. Because of the festival, and the fact that it was Friday, traffic was already jammed in the downtown core. And it wasn't even noon yet. Not that Javar had to worry about rush hour. If he was lucky, he would get out of the office by midnight when the streets would be quieter. The sketches for the Li bid had to be revised right away.

The shrill ring of the telephone on his large, mahogany desk interrupted Javar's troubled thoughts. Expelling an aggravated breath, he turned and reached for the receiver. "Yes?" he barked.

"Mr. Jordan, I know you asked not to be interrupted, but—"

"That's right, Melody," he told his administrative assistant. The strain of another stressful day was evident in his voice.

"Tell whoever it is to go away."

In her soft-spoken, delicate voice, Melody explained, "Uh...they said it was important. It's someone from your insurance company."

"My insurance company?" Irritation caused Javar's brow to furrow. If this was about his BMW, he didn't have time for it.

"Did he say what this is about?"

"It's a she," Melody corrected. "And no, she didn't say. Only that she needed to talk to you immediately."

Running a hand over his wavy coif, Javar groaned and said, "Put her through."

Three seconds later, a deep female voice asked, "Mr. Jordan?"

"Yes, this is he." Javar's tone was curt. "What's this about?"

"Mr. Jordan, this is Gwynne Creswell. I'm calling about Wednesday's accident. I need to know what garage you had the car towed to, so we can send an adjuster out to examine the damage. I'll also need a copy of the police report, so if you could tell me what district did the investigation..."

Javar rolled his eyes. He was going to have to change insurance companies—soon. This was the second time in the last year they had screwed up his claim. "Ms. Creswell," he began, his voice calmer than his perturbed feelings. "I haven't had any accident. My car was stolen. As for the district that did the investigation, I've already given all that information to Robert Blacklock, my regular broker."

"Mr. Jordan, I realize that you weren't involved in the accident. I'm talking about your wife," Ms. Creswell explained, her tone indicating that she was sure Javar knew what she was talking about but was just feigning ignorance.

For goodness' sake, Javar thought, groaning inwardly. This woman had no idea what she was talking about. And why was she calling him? Was reliable Robert on yet another vacation?

"Ms. Creswell, I have to tell you, I'm not very impressed with Rathburn Insurance at the moment. This is the second time you've screwed up my claims in the past eight months. Not only are my wife and I separated, but she's nowhere near Chicago. She's down South, in Louisiana."

Javar heard Gwynne sigh. "Okay," she stated in a placating tone, "is your wife not Whitney Jordan?"

A silent alarm bell went off in Javar's head, and he lowered himself into his chair. "Yes," he replied, his tone guarded.

"Well," Gwynne continued, "according to the call I got from Avery Rentals, your wife was in a serious accident on Wednesday night, and her rental car was badly damaged."

My wife? Javar's stomach tightened in horror. Impatient, he asked, "What exactly has happened?"

"Surely the police must have contacted you, Mr. Jordan. All I know is that the rental car is supposedly a write-off, and since your wife had your insurance policy transferred to the rental car—"

"My wife has been in an accident?" Icy fear slithered up Javar's spine, causing the short hairs on his nape to stand on end. "According to Avery Rentals, yes."

"Oh my God. Is she all right?"

Clearly flustered, Gwynne said, "I...I don't know. What's going on here, Mr. Jordan?"

Javar didn't have time to answer her. He didn't have time to hang up the receiver. He only had time to grab his gray Armani blazer and rush out of his office.

"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.