Thrill

by Jackie Collins

  When she was naked, he laid her across the outdoor glass table and fucked her quickly, pumping away for only a few minutes before coming.

  The moment it was over he wanted her gone.

  Get rid of her!

  Get her out of here before Lara finds out.

  Lara . . . he thought mournfully I never should’ve let you go. Why did I allow it to happen?

  Kimberly had other ideas. She was determined to experience the afterglow and nothing was going to stop her. Pulling him down on a lounger, she wrapped her long legs around his, trapping him in a tangle of damp, luscious limbs. “That was delicious,” she murmured, as if she had just consumed a dish of pasta and meatballs.

  “Gotta call you a cab,” he mumbled, trying to disentangle himself. “It’s late.”

  “I thought your wife was away,” she said accusingly. “Why can’t I stay?”

  “My stepdaughter . . . she’ll be home any minute.”

  Risky business. What if Summer had walked in on them?

  He finally managed to extract himself from Kimberly’s clinging limbs and staggered to the phone, quickly ordering a cab. Then he gathered her clothes and gave her a little shove in the direction of the guest bathroom.

  When she emerged a few minutes later, she was dressed but not happy. “You didn’t satisfy me,” she complained. “I didn’t come.”

  What was wrong with women today? Wasn’t it enough that she’d put a smile on his face? “Next time,” he promised.

  An awkward wait until he heard the cab drawing up. Then he stuffed a hundred bucks into her hand and escorted her outside.

  “What’s this?” she said, staring disdainfully at the crumpled bills, almost ready to turn the money down.

  “Cab fare,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, and kept the money.

  Just as he was about to deposit her safely in the back of the cab, a limo drew up to the house, and out jumped Summer.

  “Richard!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Is Mom back?”

  “Uh . . . no,” Richard said, completely thrown. “My . . . uh . . . assistant and I were just finishing off some work.”

  “That’s right,” Kimberly said.

  Summer chewed on her thumb. It was quite obvious he was up to something. Did he think she was a total dweeb?

  Jed jumped out of the limo, determined to get introduced. “Mr. Barry . . . sir. I’m a big admirer of your work. You’re one of the stalwarts of the industry.”

  “Thank you,” Richard said stiffly. Did stalwart mean old? Who was this jerk anyway? And why was he bringing Summer home in a limo?

  “Night,” Summer said, skipping inside the house, relieved she didn’t have to fight Jed off.

  Richard shoved Kimberly into the cab and followed Summer into the house, slamming the door behind him.

  “Sleep tight, Richard,” Summer said, standing at the door of her room, looking cute, rumpled and very, very pretty.

  “You too,” he replied, completely unnerved.

  And the sooner Nikki came home, the better it would be for all concerned.

  CHAPTER

  15

  THE PARTY AT LARA’S HOUSE—PUT together at the last moment by a frantic Cassie—was a raging success. Everyone was letting loose and having a good time.

  Lara sat at one of the tables in the garden with Nikki. At the table with them were Miles and his wife, Ginny; a solo Barbara Westerberg; and Kyle Carson, who had flown in a date for the weekend, an anorexic English model, who with her waiflike face and concentration-camp body appeared to be no more than fourteen.

  “If I’d realized you were planning a party,” Nikki said, sipping a margarita, “I’d have brought better clothes.”

  “You always look great,” Lara said, smiling at her friend—a knockout in a short Thierry Mugler red dress.

  “Thanks,” Nikki replied. “And you always know the right thing to say.”

  “Yes, like I’ll do your movie. Right?”

  “Right!” Nikki grinned, thrilled that Lara understood and loved the script.

  “Is Richard okay by himself in L.A.?” Lara asked, remembering that he couldn’t stand being left alone when they were married.

  “He’s got Summer to look after him,” Nikki replied, sipping her frozen margarita. “Crazy, isn’t it? She loves my husband—hates me. How did I become such a failure as a mother?”

  “You’re not a failure,” Lara said, choosing her words carefully. “I told you—she’s going through a phase.”

  “I guess . . .” Nikki answered doubtfully. “Anyway, I thought the two of them could bond even more. Eventually, if we have kids of our own, it’ll be like we’re all one big happy family.”

  “Are you planning on having a baby?” Lara asked, surprised.

  “No,” Nikki said quickly. “Right now I’m planning on making a terrific movie, which, if everything falls into place, you’ll star in. Then maybe I’ll consider having another child. But only if Richard wants to.”

  Ginny Kieffer, Miles’ wife, leaned into their conversation. She was a well-preserved blonde of indeterminate age, with carefully sculptured features—the pride of her plastic surgeon. “Kids!” she muttered dourly, having swallowed several glasses of wine too many. “Hate ’em. Lil’ bastards don’ appreciate anything you do for ’em. All they’re after is your money.”

  “That’s not true, dear,” Miles interjected, surreptitiously moving her wineglass beyond her reach.

  “How would you know?” Ginny said, throwing him a hateful look. “You’re never home.”

  Nikki exchanged glances with Lara. The battling Kieffers were at it again.

  “I wouldn’t mind ’aving a baby,” piped up the anorexic model, who although she looked fourteen was actually twenty-two.

  “Not with me, darling,” Kyle interrupted, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Two bright red spots colored her hollowed cheeks. “I wasn’t asking you to make me pregnant,” the girl said in a strong cockney accent. “Got me a ton of guys in New York who’d faint at the privilege.”

  Nikki decided the girl resembled a pretty, young corpse. Someone should feed her. And soon, before it was too late.

  “One cover on Vogue and they think they own the world,” Ginny mumbled, groping along the table for her wineglass.

  “Lara, I marvel at how quickly you put this party together,” Barbara Westerberg said, twisting a strand of wispy hair around her finger. “It’s darling of you to invite the crew—they’re very appreciative.”

  “It seems silly to always wait for the wrap party at the end of the movie,” Lara said. “I thought it would be fun to do one at the beginning.” She didn’t add that her inspiration was Joey Lorenzo, who so far had not shown up.

  Where was he anyway? And why did it matter?

  Hmm . . . wasn’t she being foolish. After all, he was engaged, and even if he wasn’t, every female on the movie had eyes for him.

  “Such a lovely idea,” Barbara enthused, always especially nice to her stars. “Wish I’d thought of it.”

  “Maybe you can pay for it,” Nikki said, sotto voce.

  Barbara pretended not to hear. “Oh,” she said, jumping up. “There’s Joey. Poor thing—he looks lost. Shall I invite him to join our table?”

  “Who’s Joey?” Nikki asked, chewing on a carrot stick.

  “An actor,” Lara said vaguely, her heart starting to race, which infuriated her because he meant nothing to her.

  “You mean that great-looking guy heading toward us?”

  “That’s him.”

  „“Very fuckable,” Nikki murmured. “Why don’t you lay claim before Barbara wets her panties?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lara said crossly. “He’s engaged.”

  “Engaged means nothing,” Nikki said flippantly. “Marriage is the only condition that counts.”

  Lara picked up her glass of nonalcoholic fruit punch. “Actors don’t interest me,” she said firmly, thinking—in spite of hers
elf—that this one did.

  “Haven’t you ever heard the words ‘location fuck’?” Nikki said mischievously. “It’s a perk of the business. One great fling with a fantastic-looking guy, and at the end of the movie you both go your separate ways. Everyone does it.”

  “Is that what you used to do before you met Richard?”

  Nikki nodded enthusiastically. “You bet your sweet ass.”

  Roxy danced by, clad in a tiger-print jumpsuit. She was clinging tightly to her trucker, rubbing up against him as they rocked and rolled their way past.

  Hmm . . . Lara thought, trying to get her mind off Joey, Yoko’s right—he is a fat one.

  Roxy was followed closely by Yoko with her boyfriend, a well-muscled hunk who looked as if he belonged on the cover of Play girl.

  Right behind them came Trinee, accompanied by her fiancé, a solid tree trunk of a man who favored a kind of crazed Mike Tyson look and towered over the diminutive Trinee.

  Lara waved, happy to see everyone having a good time, forcing her thoughts away from Joey once and for all.

  “Oh boy,” Nikki said, sitting back and observing the passing couples. “There’ll be plenty of fucking on the beach tonight!”

  • •

  Joey circled the edge of the party, winked at Trinee on the dance floor and decided not to go over to the above-the-line table where Lara was sitting. Kyle would probably treat him like shit, and he wasn’t into being humiliated in front of Lara.

  He noticed Barbara Westerberg heading in his direction with a determined look on her face. “Hi, Joey,” she said, greeting him warmly.

  “Barbara,” he replied, knowing he could have her any time he wanted. “Knockout dress—veree sexy.”

  She basked in his compliment. “Thanks, Joey.”

  Trinee had given him the scam on Ms. Westerberg. She had been married to a well-known producer who got her into the business. After a couple of years he ran off with his accountant, leaving Barbara to manage his flourishing production company by herself. She kept working, divorced husband number one and married husband number two, a writer who never worked unless she got him the job. They both slept around.

  Barbara grabbed Joey’s hand and squeezed it. “You look lonely, Joey,” she said, giving him a you-can-fuck-me-if-you-want look. “Couldn’t your fiancée make it?”

  “Uh . . . she was all set to fly in, then somethin’ came up. She’s workin’ a real important case. We were on the phone—that’s why I’m late.”

  The truth was he was late because he’d sat in his room waiting for Madelaine’s call. Sure enough, she’d phoned at nine o’clock, checking up on him. He’d wheezed and coughed over the phone, and as soon as he’d gotten rid of her, he’d left a message with the switchboard he was not to be disturbed, and raced out.

  “What a shame,” Barbara said, not sorry at all.

  “Yeah,” Joey agreed. “Hey—gotta let her do her thing, she’s busy makin’ a name for herself.”

  “I insist you come and sit with us,” Barbara said.

  “Gonna pass,” he said, shaking his head. “Kyle doesn’t like me.”

  “Kyle doesn’t like any man he considers competition.”

  “Me? Competition?” Joey said, laughing derisively. “Me? Who’s got three lousy scenes.”

  “I know,” Barbara agreed. “Try to understand. Kyle’s getting older, losing his hair.” She lowered her voice. “Look what happened to Burt Reynolds. And to add to Kyle’s humiliation, he’s now dating children.”

  “Huh?” Joey said, his eyes straining to watch Lara.

  “The girl he’s with tonight can’t be more than seventeen.”

  “What a loser!”

  Barbara glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “Try not to say that anywhere Kyle can hear you. And Joey, if you repeat any of the remarks I’ve made, I’ll deny them.”

  “You can trust me,” he said, trailing her to what was obviously the A table.

  Lara rose to greet him. “Hi, Joey,” she said graciously. “So glad you made it.”

  He stared at her incredible face. She was a Madonna for the nineties—breathtakingly pure and beautiful. He wanted to ravish her there and then, and yet he realized she was special, not just another conquest. “Thanks for invitin’ me. Looks like a happenin’ party,” he said easily.

  She smiled, lighting up the night. “It is.” Nikki gave her a sharp nudge. “Uh . . . meet my friend Nikki Barry,” she said, getting the hint.

  Joey nodded at the pretty, dark woman, hardly noticing her. As far as he was concerned everyone paled in comparison to Lara.

  “Well, hello,” Nikki said, sitting up straighten.

  Barbara took his arm in a possessive fashion. “Come sit over here, Joey,” she said, pulling him away.

  “Excuse me,” he said politely, as Barbara steered him to the other side of the table.

  “You’re excused,” Lara responded with an amused smile—just to let him know it didn’t bother her that he was in demand.

  “She’s hot for him,” Nikki murmured, watching him go. “And who can blame her?”

  “They’re all hot for him,” Lara replied calmly. “I don’t think he plays around.”

  “That makes a nice change,” Nikki said archly. “A guy who actually doesn’t walk around with a permanent hard-on! Surely you jest?”

  Lara smiled and wished she could stop her heart from pounding uncontrollably. “His fiancée is a lawyer.”

  “Older than him?”

  “How should I know?”

  “How old’s he?”

  “I’ve no idea,” she said coolly, although she did know, of course. He was thirty. He’d told her that yesterday, when she surprised herself by announcing this party. “I told you—I’m not interested.”

  “Oh yes you are,” Nikki said with a knowing wink.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I can tell. As soon as he walked in, you got that itchy-pants look.”

  “Bullshit!” Lara said, swearing—something she almost never did.

  “Oh, bullshit, huh?” said Nikki, thoroughly amused. “Now I know you’re interested.”

  Lara jumped up; sometimes Nikki could be the most annoying person in the world. “You’re such a fucking pain in the ass,” she exploded.

  “Two swear words!” exclaimed Nikki, still laughing. “I do believe you’re in love.”

  Lara took off, wandering around the party, furious at Nikki for making such a big deal out of nothing.

  And why was Barbara Westerberg coming on to Joey anyway? Wasn’t she aware he was engaged?

  Freddie, the focus puller, who had indulged in one vodka too many, grabbed her hand as she passed. “Lara, Lara, Lara,” he said pleadingly. “Dance with me?”

  “Love to,” she responded, on automatic pilot.

  Freddie pulled her onto the dance floor, slippery palms gripping her slim waist. “What a party!” he exclaimed. He had out-of-control fuzzy ginger hair, matching eyebrows and a cheeky, lopsided grin.

  “It’s fun, isn’t it,” she responded.

  “Never thought I’d get the courage to ask you to dance,” he said, bowled over at his own nerve.

  She smiled, having learned over the years how to be friendly but not overly familiar. It worked every time. Nobody dared make a move unless she gave them a green light.

  She glanced over at her table as Freddie whirled her past. Miles and Ginny were bickering as usual. Barbara Westerberg was leaning into Joey, speaking intently. Kyle had struck up a conversation with Nikki, while his date stared blankly into space.

  She decided it was foolish to be mad at Nikki, who, after all, was right—she did find Joey attractive, although she’d never admit it, because that would mean nonstop teasing.

  “Thanks,” she said, deftly spinning out of Freddie’s grasp. “You’re a delightful dancer.”

  “I’ll never wash my hands again,” he said, cheeky grin going full force.

  Later that night, when the
waiters were cleaning up and everyone had gone home, Nikki, contrite, said, “Sorry if I pissed you off.”

  “You didn’t,” Lara responded.

  “It’s just that I hate seeing you by yourself,” Nikki explained. “I’d like nothing better than for you to be with a guy who’ll be as good to you as you’ll be to him.”

  “Listen, Nik,” Lara said, a serious expression on her beautiful face. “I know you mean well, but it’s my problem, not yours. And you know what? It’s not even a problem, because I don’t need a man. I’m very happy by myself. In fact, I’m a lot happier than I was when I was with Richard.”

  “Ouch!” Nikki said.

  “So do me a favor,” Lara continued. “Stop pushing. Joey’s an attractive guy—which every woman on the set will attest to, but I am not interested. So quit teasing me about him.”

  “I get it, boss,” Nikki said, mock saluting.

  “Why are you calling me ‘boss’?” Lara snapped.

  “ ’Cause you’re going to star in my movie. You 7/ be the one with the clout.”

  “No, Nik—learn this now—you’re the producer, which makes you the boss. It has to be that way, otherwise everyone will step all over you.”

  “Got it,” Nikki said.

  Lara surveyed the waiters, still busy clearing up. “I would say the party was a success.”

  “Made you Miss Popular,” Nikki said, reaching for a chocolate and popping it in her mouth. “Oh, did I tell you about Kyle?”

  “What about him?”

  “He invited me back to his hotel.”

  “I thought he was with that skinny model.”

  “Hmm . . . I think our Mister Movie Star had a threesome in mind.” She giggled. “Do I strike you as a swinger?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Don’t start,” Nikki said, tossing a napkin at her.

  “Would you have?” Lara asked curiously. “In your single days?”

  “Let’s just put it this way,” Nikki said. “Why do you think I’m so nervous about Summer? When I was single, I’d have tried anything.”