Thrill! (2 page)

"That last take was magical,"

Richard said, coming to her side and squeezing her hand.

"'Definitely worth waiting for."

Lara frowned; she was her own sternest critic.

"Do you think so?"

she asked, worrying that she could have done better.

"Sweetheart,"

Richard assured her, anticipating her concerns because he knew her so well,

"seventh take perfect. Nothing to improve."

"You're just being kind,"

she said, her frown deepening.

"Not kind - truthful,"

he replied sincerely.

Her disarmingly honest green eyes met his.

"Really?"

she asked.

Richard regarded his exquisite ex-wife and found himself wondering if her painful insecurity had contributed to the demise of their marriage.

Maybe. Although catching the make-up girl giving him head in his trailer had been the final nail in the coffin of his infidelities that was one he hadn't been able to talk himself out of.

For a year after their somewhat public and acrimonious divorce they hadn't spoken. Then Richard met Nikki, and she'd insisted in her usual no-nonsense way that it was crazy they couldn't all be friends. As usual, she was right. The three of them had gotten together for dinner and never regretted it.

Nikki strode over, looking enviably cool in baggy linen pants and a yellow cotton shirt knotted under her breasts, exposing her well-toned midriff. She was in her early thirties, shorter than Lara, with a lithe, worked-out body, cropped dark hair worn with long bangs, direct hazel eyes and an overly ripe mouth. Nobody would guess that she had a fifteen-year-old daughter.

Richard enjoyed the fact that Nikki was smart and sassy, and most of all that she wasn't an actress. After losing Lara he'd considered never getting involved again, because there'd never be another woman who could live up to her. Nikki and her upbeat ways had changed his mind.

"Get me out of this dress!"

Lara implored.

"It's cutting me in half. Worse torture than being married to Richard!"

"Nothing can be worse than that!"

Nikki joked, rolling her expressive eyes.

"Wasn't Lara great in that last take?"

Richard interrupted, putting an arm around his current wife, trailing his fingers up and down her bare skin.

"He's just being kind,"

Lara said with one of her trademark deep sighs.

"I know the feeling,"

Nikki responded crisply.

"That's exactly what he says when he praises my cooking."

Lara widened her eyes.

"Don't tell me you cook for him?"

she exclaimed.

"I never did."

Nikki pulled a face.

"He forces me, you know how persuasive he can be."

"Oh, yes,"

Lara agreed. They laughed conspiratorially.

Richard frowned, pretending to be annoyed.

"It's really irritating that you two are such good friends,"

he said.

"I hate it!"

Truth was he loved having both women in his life.

"No, you don't,"

Nikki retorted, looking at him with the kind of expression a woman gets when she's totally secure of her man.

"You get off on it."

With an amused shake of his head, he walked away. Nikki

10

signalled one of her wardrobe assistants to follow them to Lara's trailer.

"For a grown man, Richard can be such a baby,"

she remarked.

"That's why our marriage didn't work,"

Lara said lightly.

"Two giant egos fighting for the best camera angle!"

"And one of them screwing around like Charlie Sheen on a bad

day."

"You cured him of that?

"I hope so!"

Nikki said forcefully.

"The moment he points his dick in another direction, I'm gone."

"You'd leave him?"

"Immediately,"

Nikki said without hesitation.

"I bet you would,"

Lara said, wishing she had the inner strength her friend possessed.

"Hey, listen,"

Nikki said, wrinkling her freckled nose.

"I'd expect him to dump me if I screwed around, so why shouldn't the same rule apply?"

Lara nodded.

"You're absolutely right."

Why didn't I do it? she thought. Why didn't I tell him to take a hike the first time I suspected he was being unfaithful?

Because you're a pushover.

No. I simply believe in second chances.

And third ones and fourth ones . . . Richard hadn't known when to quit.

They'd met when he'd directed her in her third movie. Although by that time she was a star, she was still impressed at meeting the great Richard Barry - a man with quite a reputation. He moved in on her like a carnivorous snake. She was twenty-four and by Hollywood standards a total innocent. He was forty-six and difficult. Their wedding at her agent's house in Malibu made headline news, with helicopters hovering overhead and paparazzi lurking in the trees. It was a media circus, which pleased neither of them. The divorce had been even worse.

"We're going to Tetou tonight,"

Nikki announced.

"I hear the bouillabaisse is to die for."

Lara shook her head.

"I can't do it. I have lines to learn and sleep to get, otherwise I'll resemble an old hag in the morning."

11 Nikki raised a disbelieving eyebrow. The irritating thing was that Lara acted as if she looked like any other mere mortal, even though she was certainly the most beautiful woman Nikki had ever seen - a woman who never acknowledged her powerful physical beauty.

"You're coming,"

Nikki said determinedly.

"I've already checked - you have a late call tomorrow. It's about time you forgot about this damn movie and had some fun."

"Fun - what's that?"

Lara said innocently.

"Exactly how long is it since you've gotten laid?"

Nikki asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Too long,"

Lara muttered.

"It doesn't have to be a big thing, y'know,"

Nikki offered.

"How about a one-nighter? There's some hot-looking guys on the crew."

"Not my style,"

Lara said softly.

"You gotta have a man's mentality,"

Nikki said, with a knowing wink.

"Fuck and run. I used to - before I married again."

Richard was Nikki's second husband. Her first was Sheldon Weston, whom she'd wed when she was sixteen and he was thirtyeight.

"I was searching for a father figure,"

she often joked.

"And I got stuck with an uptight shrink."

Their daughter, Summer, lived in Chicago with her dad.

"You're different,"

Lara said.

"You can do that and get away with it. I can't. It has to be a committed relationship or I'm not interested."

"Whatever,"

Nikki replied vaguely, not understanding at all.

"But you're definitely coming tonight."

12

^^t^^Jfl JOEY LORENZO burst into Madelaine Francis"

^^^P^Pk^ Madison Avenue office as if he had every right to be there, even though he didn't have an appointment and hadn't seen her in six years.

A harassed secretary chased after him. She was a round-faced girl with ample hips encased in a too-short mini.

"What the hell is going on"

Madelaine began to say. Then her bleak eyes, hidden beneath tinted prescription glasses, recognized Joey, and she quickly waved her secretary away.

"It's all right, Stella,"

she said with a weary sigh.

"I'll handle this."

"But, Miss Francis,"

Stella said, full of piss and outrage,

"he told me to"

she hesitated for a moment, two bright-red blobs colouring her chubby cheeks,

"the F-word off."

"Thank you, Stella,"

Madelaine said, dismissing her.

"You're excused."

Still glaring at Joey, Stella backed out of the well-appointed office, while he threw himself into a leather chair opposite Madelaine's large antique desk, draping his long jean-clad legs over the side of the expensive chair.

"I'm back,"

he said, with an insolent grin.

"So I see,"

said Madelaine, shifting uncomfortably, wondering what wrong deed she'd committed to have Joey Lorenzo reappear in her well-ordered life.

Six years ago they'd been living together - the forty-eight-yearold agent and the twenty-four-yearold actor. An unlikely combination, but for eight months it had worked. Then one night she'd 13 arrived home to find Joey gone, along with seven thousand dollars in cash she'd kept in her safe.

Now she was fifty-four and he was thirty and the bastard was back.

"What do you want?"

she asked, her voice a tight coil of buried anger.

"You're pissed, aren't you?"

Joey said nonchalantly, as if he'd merely popped out for cigarettes and a beer.

"Really pissed."

"Yes, Joey, I am,"

she said, removing her tortoiseshell-framed glasses and staring at him bitterly.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Guess you musta wondered what happened t'me,"

he mumbled.

"Yes, I wondered - about you and about my money."

"Oh yeah, your money,"

he said, groping in the pocket of his weathered leather jacket and producing a packet of hundred-dollar bills neatly tied with a rubber band.

"Here's three thou. I'll get the rest to you in a coupla weeks."

She couldn't believe he was returning her money. Not all of it, but three thousand dollars was a start. She continued staring at him. Six years had done him nothing but favours - he was more handsome than ever. His hair touched the back of his collar, thick and black - too long, but it didn't matter. His body was nicely muscled with a washboard stomach. He had grown into a man, with knowing eyes, full sensual lips and a smile that would melt stronger women than she. She remembered that smile. She also remembered his cock, even though she tried not to. Perfect. Like the rest of him.

Pity he was a thieving sonofabitch.

"What do you want?"

she repeated, keeping her voice on the hard side, knowing time had not been as good to her as it had to him. Her reddish hair was flecked with grey. Lines and wrinkles abounded. And she'd put on fifteen pounds of disgusting fat.

"Here's the thing,"

Joey said, fixing her with his intense eyes, seeing right through her.

"Before I took off, you'd gotten me two movie roles."

"That's right,"

she said coldly.

"Your career was just about to happen. You ran out on that, too."

14

"Somethin"

went down that was outta my control,"

he said restlessly.

She refused to give him the satisfaction of begging for an explanation.

"I don't care, Joey,"

she said, shuffling a stack of papers on her messy desk.

"If you return the rest of my money, we'll leave it at that."

She paused a moment, remembering the first time he'd walked into her office - a cocky kid from the Midwest, with way too much attitude. She'd seen the potential and decided to help him. Eight months of craziness and great sex. Eight months she'd never forget.

"I didn't go to the police,"

she said slowly,

"even though it's what I should've done."

He nodded, face sincere, faint stubble on his chin adding to his look.

"Y'know, Maddy,"

he said.

"I wouldn't've taken your cash unless it was an emergency."

She was silent. How many times could she ask him what he wanted from her now? Obyiously it wasn't money.

He broke the silence, placing his hands on her desk. Long artistic fingers, pianist's ringers. She noticed his nails were manicured - which surprised her, considering Joey had always favoured the macho look.

"I need to get back into the business,"

he said.

"An"

you're the person who can do it for me."

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Here's what I'd like,"

he continued.

"Another movie. Not TV. I'm not into TV. Fuck that ER shit. I gotta be back on the big screen."

Well, nobody ever said he didn't have nerve. But surely he didn't expect her to resurrect a career he'd run out on?

"Joey,"

she said, deliberately pacing her words, watching his face as she spoke,

"you blew your career, such as it was. You had your shot and you ran."

"No fuckin"

way!"

he shouted, banging his fists on her desk.

"Don't you get it? If you did it for me once, you can do it again."

A moment of pure satisfaction.

"I have a reputation to uphold,"

Madelaine said.

"And I am not about to ruin it by sending you up for anything."

"That's bullshit,"

he muttered.

15 "You're unreliable,"

she continued, quite enjoying putting him down.

"And worse than that - you're a thief. No, Joey,"

she continued, shaking her head, Tm afraid I can't recommend you to anyone, so do yourself a big favour and get out."