Destiny Calls

Persia had barely hung up the phone when it buzzed loudly in her ear again

Wondering why she’d been given another call so close to the end of her shift, she reluctantly answered the line. George should’ve been the last caller of the evening, she thought agitatedly, though she knew she needed to earn as much as possible.

“Hello,” she breathed in her sultriest voice. “What’s on your sweet mind?”

“You,” was the simple, yet strong and commanding, reply. “I finally got up the nerve to call you. I’ve been thinking about you all day. Your commercial is so hot.”

She was used to the shy guys, the ones who preferred that she set the tempo. Despite getting up the nerve to call, this guy sounded pretty sure of himself. But Persia wasn’t the same woman in the commercials the caller was referring to, though her clients at License to Thrill weren’t privy to that information.

Before Persia could manage another thought, the caller spoke again.

“By the way, my name is Luke Lockhart.”

LINDA HUDSON-SMITH

was born in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, and raised in Washington, D.C. She furthered her education at Duff’s Business Institute in Pittsburgh. The mother of two sons, Linda shares a residence with her husband, Rudy, in League City, Texas.

In 2000, after illness forced her to leave a successful marketing and public relations career, Linda turned to writing for healing and as a creative outlet. Dedicated to inspiring readers to overcome adversity against all odds, she has published twenty-four acclaimed novels.

For the past seven years Linda has served as the national spokesperson for the Lupus Foundation of America. She travels around the country delivering inspirational messages of hope. In 2002, her Lupus Awareness campaign was a major part of her book tour to Germany, where she visited numerous military bases. Linda was also recently awarded the key to the city by the mayor of Crestview, Florida, for the contributions she’s made by educating others about Lupus. Linda is an active supporter of the NAACP and the American Cancer Society. She is also a member of Romance Writers of America and the Black Writers Alliance.

To find out more about Linda Hudson-Smith, please visit her Web site at www.lindahudsonsmith.com.

Destiny Calls

ESSENCE BESTSELLING AUTHOR Linda Hudson-Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This novel is dedicated to the loving memory of

BELINDA JO SMITH

Your memory will live on forever

in the hearts of your beloved family

Sunrise: October 11, 1962

Sunset: November 13, 2008

Dear Reader,

I sincerely hope you enjoy reading Destiny Calls. I had so much fun with Dakota Farraday, a dynamic young woman with some closely guarded secrets, and Ethan Robinson, a fascinating English professor who discovers one of these secrets, only to learn much, much more.

I’m very interested in hearing your comments and thoughts on my story. If you would like to receive a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope along with all your comments to: Linda Hudson-Smith, 16516 El Camino Real, Box 174, Houston, TX 77062. Or you can e-mail your comments to [e-mail]. Please visit my Web site and sign my guest book at www.lindahudsonsmith.com.

Linda Hudson-Smith

Contents

Prologue

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

Prologue

“How do you like it?” Persia asked the caller, her tone soft and seductive.

“Slow, wet and hot,” the bass voice responded. “I like to take my time.”

“Interesting. I believe slow and easy is always better. I go for lots of foreplay. That’s what makes me wet. What’s your favorite position?” she asked, trying not to cringe. No matter how many men she talked to, she still had a hard time voicing certain lines.

“Are you always open to what the man wants?”

“Definitely. I’m a girl who likes to please her man, but I have limitations.”

“Everyone is entitled to restrictions. How often do you like to have sex?”

“Whenever the mood hits me. It’s not always possible to follow through, especially at inopportune times.”

“I like the woman on top. What do you prefer?”

“I love the man to be in control, but I don’t have a problem swapping roles.”

“I think I know what you mean,” he responded. “Do you ever resort to self-pleasuring? I love women who are into that. There’s something strong about them.”

Persia stuck her finger down her throat in a mock gesture of gagging herself. Even if she was into it, she wouldn’t share it with him. It was a healthy alternative, but just not for her. She quickly put herself in check. She had to work.

“I know the majority of men are into that, but I’m not sure if all women indulge. You guys start that at a really early age, but I understand it’s healthy.”

“I started at fourteen. My friends told me I was a late bloomer.”

“But why would I ever do that when I’ve got you? I love how you give it to me. I can’t imagine self-pleasuring would make me feel nearly as good as you do right now.”

“You’d be surprised. Maybe you should try it. I can already visualize you in the act.” He groaned with desire.

“Either way, this experience is utterly amazing. Visualize me taking you all the way there. I feel you inside of me,” she said, sounding breathless. “Can you feel how hot I am for you?” Persia knew she had the caller going. His breathing was way past labored.

“You feel hot enough to pop my thermometer. I love it when you get this hot and crazy with desire for me,” he whispered sweetly.

She moaned softly, wantonly. “I love it when you whisper sweet things to me. Just for that, the candy store is open only for you. You can taste both the white and dark chocolates and lots of my other delectable sweets. What’s your tongue’s pleasure?”

At this point, Persia almost always changed gears, revving up her client’s engine, taking hot and heavy to another level, making it hard for him to stay in control. As he cried out her name, she knew he was toppling. Persia screamed out simultaneously.

Persia could always tell what was going on with the client. His low guttural moans were a clear indication. A lot of times it didn’t take very much to get the men off and running. As he continued gasping, Persia cringed inwardly, warding off tears. Never once had she fulfilled one of these calls without crying during or afterward.

He had simply referred to himself as Larry when he’d first come over the line. He’d also said he loved her name. It was exotic and sounded erotic to him. She had an idea this guy would become one of her regulars. He had sounded comfortable with her.

Persia let her mind wander as she waited for his breathing to return to normal.

She’d only taken on this job as a phone-sex operator, referred to as a PSO in adult entertainment industry (AEI) lingo, because it was excellent money, helping her work her way through college. There’d been no way around it. The demands on her salary were major.

The only requirements were that a PSO had to be eighteen and comfortable with scripted scenarios. Working from home required a corded landline phone. The beginning salary started from eight to twenty-five dollars an hour, depending on the time of day a PSO worked.

While online researching AEI Persia learned that fantasy phone sex generated between $750 million and $1 billion in revenues each year. As much as fifty percent of the money was retained by U.S. long-distance carriers.

“What do you do for a living?” Persia finally inquired.

The man sighed hard. “I work in medicine.”

“What do you do in medicine?”

“I’m a physician, family practice.”

This wasn’t so unusual to Persia. She had many professionals calling her. Clients were given a special code number to punch in if they wanted to talk directly to a specific employee. She was rather surprised at the number of professional men who called her repeatedly. Many had asked her out, but it was against company policy. Besides, she refused to take the job home. This gig was taken out of pure necessity.

The job training had been terribly hard for her to get through. The dialogue often caused her to nearly gag. She didn’t use a lot of the terminology from the different scripts, but she managed to get by without getting too graphic. She often thought about quitting, but it wasn’t even an option for her. So much was involved here.

Persia’s work area consisted of a multiline phone, a comfortable leather swivel chair, a semicomfortable cot and a small desk. Soft music was piped in 24/7. Many of the women had said they performed their jobs better when lying down on the twin-sized cot. Other employees preferred to sit on the leather swivel chair or even stretch out on the plush carpeted floor. There was also a television in the room.

If the women felt they needed assistance in their duties, there was plenty of X-rated material for them to view. Adult magazines were also plentiful. Some women worked at home, but Persia had chosen not to connect a phone line into her apartment.

A number of clean, well-stocked bathrooms were available for the employees. There were vending machines in the building, so when the ladies were munchy they could also eat and drink something. If they didn’t want to exit the workplace, a refrigerator was available for those who chose to bring in their meals.

Persia worked four hours in the early evenings, going straight from school to the job, with another stop in between, but she was always home by dark. Only working three days a week allowed her flexibility with her other scheduled activities. Never did she work weekends, but Friday, Saturday and Sunday paid a much higher salary than what weekdays garnered. The call volume was extremely high during the weekends, referred to as prime time.

Because her client had paid for an hour, with half of it spent, the next thirty minutes Persia and Larry got back into some heavy sexual dialogue, but the heavier stuff came from him.

The minute Persia disconnected the line, she stashed her alter ego.

Dakota Faraday ran for the area in the back of the building to punch out from the job paying way more money than she’d ever make in retail or fast food. Until something came along that covered all her expenses, she had to stay put. The desire to earn a degree had her trying desperately to look past how her needs were met. It was possible to land some other kind of job, but Persia already knew it wouldn’t pay as much as she was making at Licensed to Thrill.

Chapter 1

In her bathroom, inside her Carson, California, apartment, decorated in various shades of baby blues and soft whites, Dakota Faraday peered into the looking glass, plucking away at her sable eyebrows. Every now and then she had to stand on her tiptoes to get in closer to the mirror. The lighting was bright enough, but she’d made a mess of her eyebrows a time or two, so she tried being more careful. Tweezing hurt, stung, but she didn’t like waxing because it was even more painful. Shaving could result in razor bumps, so that hair-shaping method didn’t work either.

Satisfied that she’d done a great job with her brows, Dakota reached into the glass shower cubicle and turned on the cold water full blast. People thought she was crazy for taking cold showers, but it was her preference. When taking a bath, she used steaming hot water and lots of bubbles and exotic oils. Baths were for relaxing. Showers were meant to invigorate. If she took a hot shower, she’d feel sleepy right afterward. Who wanted to feel that way when starting their day or going out on the town?

As the first douse of cold water ran over her ginger-brown flesh, she shivered and danced around a bit. Seconds later, she was all into it. Rarely did she stay in the shower longer than ten minutes at a time. Catching a cold was something she didn’t want. Lying in wait for her outside the stall was the thick, white terry-cloth robe she’d slip into right after each bone-chilling experience. The towel warmer kept her fluffy bath sheet heated through and through, creating luxurious sensations against her body.

Dakota stepped out of the cubicle and quickly wrapped her body in the towel, glancing down at the dark granite counter where her watch lay. She was eager to check out the time. She had a hot date tonight and she wanted to be ready when Ethan showed up at her door. They’d been dating only a few weeks, seeing each other a few times a week. The couple was still in the getting-to-know-you stage, but she already thought he was a really great guy, gracious and gentlemanly.

Ethan Robinson was also drop-dead gorgeous, but Dakota hadn’t once gotten the impression he was at all into himself. This fine brother had the darkest, sexiest eyes she’d ever seen, coal-black and piercing. Sometimes she felt like he could see straight through to her soul, although she hoped not.

As Dakota stood in front of the mirror once again, fully dried off now, she began to put on her special evening face. Carefully she applied a lightweight foundation and sealant powder and blush to her near-flawless ginger complexion. Streaked with warm bronze highlights, her silky sable hair hung down to her shoulders in thick waves.

A very light layer of eyeliner and a bit thicker one of mascara was administered next. Her hazel eyes, large and luminous, often gave away her deepest feelings despite her attempts to keep them hidden, especially from men.

Dakota saw a very pretty girl reflected in the mirror, petite in stature, yet well-built. In spite of her short legs, they were full, shapely and smooth as satin, possessing strong, well-defined calves, thanks to her daily twenty-minute workout.

Back in her master bedroom, where the decor was also blue and white, with frilly lace and satin, Dakota sat atop the queen, four-poster bed to lotion her legs and feet. She loved to go hoseless in the summer. Even though it was very early fall, she could still get away with bare legs, which had never felt more freedom. She also wore thigh-high stockings, but only on special dress-up occasions. They were comfortable and sexy.

Dakota got up from the mattress and smoothed back in place the blue and white lace and satin eyelet comforter, which perfectly complemented the white Provençal furniture. She had been extremely lucky in finding the bedroom set at a thrift shop, unable to believe how reasonably priced it had been. The headboard, dresser, chest of drawers and nightstands were in tiptop shape and didn’t have visible marring anywhere. A lovely white desk and hutch completed her bedroom furnishings.

Slipping with ease into her slim off-white A-line skirt, she quickly zipped and buttoned the side closure. While pulling over her head a tangerine silk crepe shell, she was careful not to get makeup on it. She planned to take the matching sweater along on the date, as the nights in Los Angeles could turn pretty chilly, especially in the beach areas. Ethan had mentioned Redondo Beach Pier as the dining venue.

The doorbell rang at the same time she slid her feet into tangerine patent leather pumps. She loved bright, flashy colors, which was evident in her limited but adequate wardrobe. There wasn’t a lot of money in her budget to spend on clothes. Dakota loved to browse the consignment shops in upper-crust neighborhoods. It was like going on a treasure hunt. More often than not, she walked away with some pretty fabulous, excellent quality merchandise—and for very little money.

Grabbing her sweater off the bed, she ran for the door of her two-bedroom apartment. Dakota’s heart rate instantly picked up speed. Ethan. His gentle touch did crazy things to her, producing alien yet pleasurable sensations.

As Dakota reached her compact living room, she looked around to see that everything was in place. The only furniture she owned for the living room was a nice sofa and matching chairs, done in a variety of earth tones. They, too, had come from secondhand establishments she frequented. The coffee and end tables, carved out of mahogany hardwoods, were newer than everything else. She had purchased them with her last income-tax check at a going-out-of-business sale, which meant she hadn’t had to pay an arm and a leg to take ownership. The off-white and creamy beige area rug brightened the entire room. A couple of African-American works of art graced the ecru walls.

The bell pealed again before Dakota got there. She was so nervous. Her palms already felt sweaty. After peering into the small security window, she finally swung back the door wide, pulling off a beautiful, brilliant smile. “Hey, you, come on in.”

Twenty-nine-year-old Ethan Robinson, tall and sexy, stepped inside. Dressed in beige Dockers and a deep lavender silk shirt, open at the collar, he looked delicious. As soon as his dark eyes connected with hers, he bent his head and landed a light kiss on her full mouth. His head was covered with loose golden-brown curls, which complemented his bronze, smooth complexion. He also had a dark mole just above the corner of his mouth, on the right side. She loved how it added to his sex appeal.

Smiling softly, he smoothed back an unruly strand of hair from her oval-shaped face. “I was thinking about you all day.” His smile was broad and electric, nearly causing her knees to buckle. Ethan had straight white teeth and was proud to show them off.

He reached down and took her hand. “Are we ready?”

She nodded. “Got everything I need.”

Removing the key ring from her hand, Ethan secured the apartment door.

As the couple began the short walk to his car, he gently dropped his arm around her shoulders. “There are advantages to living on the first floor of a three-story complex, especially when the elevator doesn’t work. I always get my favorite spot right outside every time I’ve come over.”

“You have been lucky. Tenants are assigned covered parking spots in well-lit areas nearby. I used to park in a visitors’ slot until management caught on. I was reprimanded, of course.”

Ethan placed a light kiss on Dakota’s forehead. Just that slight touch set off a firestorm below his waistline. He fought hard to keep his manhood from responding, but he had been on fire for Dakota from day one. “Let’s get a move on then.”

Getting into the car wasn’t a surefire way for Ethan to keep his visible desire in check, but it might help to hide it. Dakota wasn’t ready for anything more than the few kisses and hugs they’d shared—and he wasn’t the kind of man who’d press her. Any physical connection of the intimate kind had to come by mutual agreement. He found her exciting and refreshing, a far cry from some of the women he’d run into.

Learning that twenty-four-year-old Dakota was studying to become a teacher was a good feeling for him. She had said she’d gotten a late start on her educational goals, but she hadn’t told him the reason. Once she received her B.S. and teaching certification, she planned a career in special education. He had a good friend who was in the same field. There were never enough educators and special-education teachers were badly needed.

Dakota smiled every time she saw the silver convertible. Equipped with a mesh wind protector, the top was already down. She didn’t have to worry about her hair. She had a natural wave pattern and there wasn’t much that could destroy it.

“Your car looks like it was recently washed and waxed, but I can’t recall seeing it any other way. I guess if I had this nice of a ride I’d keep it spotless, too.”

Opening the door for Dakota to get in, Ethan chuckled. “After our first date, I was sure I had bored you to tears by telling you how much I loved my brand-new car. Once I got home, I realized I’d acted like a stupid teenager with his first set of wheels.”

“You did talk about it a lot, but you weren’t boring. Your enthusiasm was contagious and so were you. Cute, too.”

“Cute, huh?” he mocked her, slipping into the driver’s seat. He instantly started the engine and backed out carefully.

Dakota was comfortable on the plush ash-gray leather seat and her mind instantly reverted back to when and where they’d first met. It was one of her fondest memories. She touched his arm gently. “Do you remember our first meeting?”

“I’d never forget it. A few weeks have passed, but it’s still fresh in my mind. The library near your junior college campus happens to be in my Torrance neighborhood.”

“You mean your upper-crust hood, don’t you?”

“That’s how you see it. What do you remember about that day?”

“I was going to the library to pick up a couple of books to complete a research assignment. The fall term had just begun,” Dakota remarked, thinking back on it.

Although Ethan worked as an assistant professor of English at a prestigious Southern California university, he’d gone to the Torrance Library to pick up a book he’d needed right away. Driving all the way back to the campus where he worked would’ve eaten up a lot of time.

Ethan briefly looked over at Dakota and smiled. “We reached for the same book at the same exact time. As our hands connected, we both felt the sizzle.”

Dakota batted her lashes. “Before I could look away, you had me captivated.”

“While you stood there blushing like a new bride on her wedding night, I took the initiative to introduce myself to you. It’s one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.”

He had told Dakota how desperately he had to have the book they’d both gone for.

“If you let me check it out first, I’ll see to it that you know exactly when I plan to return it to the library,’” she teased, citing him verbatim. “‘I’ll need a phone number to do that.’ You were a smooth one, but I also got the impression you were sincere.”

“Don’t you know for sure yet?”

“The jury hasn’t ruled on it, but it seems to me they’re leaning in your favor.”

“I was pleasantly surprised when you forked over your number.”

Dakota grinned. “I did, didn’t I? I was surprised, too.”

Unable to get Dakota out of his mind, Ethan had ended up calling her the same evening. The couple had stayed on the line talking for a solid two-and-a-half hours, resulting in his asking her out on a first date.

Ethan held a Ph.D. in English Literature. Dakota recalled his telling her something about wanting to write a nonfiction book in the near future with a grant he hoped to receive, but he hadn’t gone into much detail. He’d seemed secretive about it. Publish or perish, she figured.

Dakota had been impressed with his credentials, but his job wasn’t what had turned her on. It was something deeper.

Ethan helped Dakota out of the car after parking under the Redondo Beach Pier.

The ocean air was crisp and cool, smelling strongly of sea salt. “We’re dining at Tony’s. Are you familiar with the popular restaurant located in the heart of the pier?”

Dakota nodded. “I hear great ocean views and fiery sunsets make it very romantic, but I’ve never eaten there.”

After Ethan assisted Dakota with the tangerine sweater, she held up his navy single-breasted Pierre Cardin blazer while he slipped into it.

Ethan took Dakota’s hand and began strolling leisurely toward their destination. “We don’t have to be in a hurry.” He looked at his watch. “We have thirty minutes before our reservations. Sunset is about an hour or so away and we definitely don’t want to miss out on the spectacular view.”