Dangerous Kiss (3 page)

Occasionally she dated. Not that she enjoyed the dating game - it was always the same dance. Dinner at a hot new restaurant; drinks at a happening new club; the inevitable grope; and then, as soon as they moved in for the kill, she moved on.

Safe and never sorry, Brigette had found it was the only way to go.

'What you and Lina do tonight?' Fredo asked, snapping away.

'Why?' Brigette retorted, changing poses as fast as he clicked his shutter.

' 'Cause I got a cousin—' he began.

'No!' she interrupted firmly.

'From England.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'An English cousin?'

'Carlo's Italian, like me. He work in London.'

'And you promised to fix him up with a couple of hot young models, right?'

'It's not like that, cara.'

'I bet!'

'Carlo is engaged.'

'Even better,' Brigette said, shaking her head vigorously. 'Last fling before the wedding. I think not.'

'So suspicious,' Fredo grumbled. 'I thought we could have nice dinner, the four of us. Just friends.'

'The only thing you're just friends with is your cat,' Brigette said tartly. 'And there's been rumours about that. . .'

Fanny and Masters, listening on the sidelines, shrieked with laughter. They loved seeing Fredo rejected, it was so unusual.

Later, when the photo session was finished and Brigette was on her way out of his studio, Fredo stopped her by the door. 'Please!' he wailed. 'I must impress my cousin. He's what you Americans call a prick.'

'Wonderful!' Brigette said crisply. 'Now you want us to have dinner with a nasty guy. This is getting better every minute.'

'Brigette,' Fredo pleaded, 'for me. It make me look good. One big favour.'

She sighed. Suddenly Fredo the ladykiller appeared needy, and since she was a sucker for anyone in trouble, she immediately felt sorry for him. 'Okay, I'll ask Lina,' she said, sure that Lina had a date with bigger and better, while she had a date with a double cheese pizza and an Absolutely Fabulous marathon on the Comedy channel.

Fredo kissed her hand. He was still so Italian, in spite of having lived in America for many years. 'You are special woman,' he crooned. 'My little American rose.'

'I'm not your anything,' she retorted crisply, and quickly skipped out of the studio.

'Don't!' commanded Lina.

'What?' said Flick Fonda, a married rock star with a penchant for gorgeous black women.

'Don't touch me feet!' Lina warned, rolling away from her latest victim.

'Why?' he asked, crawling across the bed after her. 'You ticklish?'

'No,' she said crossly. 'Me feet are very sensitive - stay away!'

'As long as that's all I gotta stay away from,' Flick said, with a ribald laugh.

Lina tossed back her long straight black hair, inherited from her half Spanish mother, and turned onto her stomach. She had hoped for Superman. What she'd got was an ageing rock star with no technique. She was bored with Flick. He was just another conquest and not that exciting between the sheets.

The trouble with rock stars was that they were sated with women - all they really wanted to do was lie back and get their dicks sucked. Not that she was averse to such activity, but she did expect it to be reciprocal, and rock stars never cared to return the favour.

She stretched languorously. 'Gotta go,' she said.

'Why?' he said, lecherously eyeing her smooth black skin. 'I have all night. My wife thinks I'm in Cleveland.'

'Then she's an idiot,' Lina said, jumping off the bed in his sumptuous hotel suite.

She'd met Flick's wife once at a fashion show. Pamela Fonda was an ex-model who'd given him three kids in a pathetic attempt to keep him home. Trouble was, there was no one who could keep Flick home. The man craved constant action.

He was a Hall of fame rocker with a wandering cock and macho attitude.

'Where you goin'?' Flick whined, not used to women leaving unless he ordered them to.

'Meeting my girlfriend,' Lina said, plucking her skimpy Azzedine Alaia dress off the floor and shimmying her slender body into it.

'Whyn't I take you both to dinner?' Flick suggested, watching her as she dressed.

'Sorry,' Lina said, stepping into her scarlet Diego Delia Valle exceptionally high heels. 'We already got arrangements.'

Flick stretched his sinewy body across the bed. He was naked, very white and quite hairless, apart from a full pubic bush of fuzzy orange. He was also hard again. Quite impressive for an almost-fifty non-stop raver, Lina thought. Shame he didn't know what to do with it.

He caught Lina looking. 'See anything you might wanna hang around for?' he asked, with a self-satisfied smirk.

'Nope,' she said. 'Can't be late for me best friend.' And before he could stop her she beat a hasty retreat.

She stood in the elevator on her way down to the lobby trying to ignore an elderly couple who were blatantly staring at her. The woman began nudging her husband to make sure he recognized the famous supermodel.

Lina was used to the scrutiny; in fact, there were times she got off on it. Tonight wasn't one of them, however. She began staring back at the man, licking her full lips suggestively, poking out her extra long tongue. He blushed a dull red.

Oh, yes, this was slightly different from the life she'd led in England where she'd been a hairdresser's apprentice and treated like crap because she was young and had no money and lived in a one-room dump with her waitress mother, her Jamaican father having taken off shortly after she was born. What a bastard he was. Not that she'd ever met him, although one of these days - if he ever realized she was his daughter - he'd probably come crawling back to bask in the fame and glory.

Fuck him if he did. She didn't need a dad: she'd done very nicely without one.

Everything changed when she was discovered by the aunt of a modelling agent who insisted she go see her niece. Even though Lina was only seventeen at the time, the niece, recognizing enormous potential, had signed her on the spot.

After that it was all go, a dizzying ride to the top with plenty of adventures along the way.

She'd moved to America permanently five years ago, although most of her time was spent travelling the world. From Paris to Milan to the Bahamas, Lina was always in demand, always the centre of attention.

Downstairs she slipped the doorman ten bucks to get her a cab and fished a small cellphone from her oversized Prada purse. 'Brig,' she said, when her friend answered, 'what we doin' tonight? It just so 'appens I'm free.'

Chapter Four

Hanging out in his trailer during a late lunchbreak, Lennie Golden leaned over and grabbed a bottle of beer from his portable fridge, swigging heartily until the bottle was almost empty. Lennie was tall and lanky with dirty-blond hair and ocean-green eyes. He was extremely attractive in an edgy, offhand way, with a dark humour and sometimes acerbic wit. Age agreed with him: at forty-five, women found him more attractive than ever.

Lennie liked being alone in his trailer where he could concentrate on his work, especially as he was writing an original script and was well into it. His laptop was laid out ready for action, so it was annoying that soon it would be time to put on black tie - which he hated - and get his ass in gear. He wasn't into big-time Hollywood events, but since tonight it was Lucky who was being honoured, there was no getting out of it.

Lucky Santangelo Golden, his wife - the most beautiful woman in the world and the smartest. He often thought how fortunate he was to have her, especially a few years ago when he'd spent several soul-destroying months as the victim of a horrible kidnapping plot, trapped and manacled in an underground cave in Sicily.

He'd sat out those interminable months dreaming of his escape and of returning to Lucky and his children. Thank God his prayers had been answered. Now he was safe and settled and things had never been better.

Looking back on his nightmare, it all seemed surreal - as if it had happened to someone else. If it hadn't been for Claudia, the Sicilian girl who'd answered his prayers and helped him escape…

A second assistant hammered on his trailer door, interrupting his thoughts.

'Ready on the set, Mr G.'

'I'll be right there,' he responded, shutting down his laptop, banishing the vision of Claudia with her big, soulful eyes, long tanned legs and smooth skin.

Skin like silk…

He'd never told Lucky what really happened, how he'd managed to secure his escape from the underground prison he'd been trapped in. He'd never told her and he never would. It was the one thing he kept from his wife because he didn't want to hurt her.

Lucky would not believe he'd had no choice. It was his secret, and he planned on keeping it.

He turned off his laptop, left his trailer and headed for the street location nearby, greeting Buddy, his black cinematographer, with a friendly high five on the way.

'Whass up, man?' Buddy said, falling into step beside him. 'No food today?'

'Saving myself for the plastic chicken tonight,' he answered, with a wry grin.

'Yeah!' Buddy said forcefully. 'Bin there!'

They both laughed.

Mary Lou Berkeley was feeling nostalgic. It was a week away from her ninth wedding anniversary and she couldn't help thinking about how she and Steven had first met. Of course, what she should be thinking about was her role in Lennie's movie, especially the upcoming scene. But reminiscing about Steven was irresistible. He was irresistible, and thankfully she still loved him as much as when they'd first gotten together. They were a perfect fit, and they always would be.

Mary Lou was a glowingly pretty curvaceous black woman of thirty-one, with huge brown eyes, shoulder-length black curls and a totally captivating smile.

The day she'd met Steven had been traumatic, to say the least.

She'd been eighteen at the time, a TV star and full of her own importance. It had not been love at first sight. She'd walked into his office at the prestigious New York law firm of Myerson, Laker and Brandon, accompanied by her mother, her manager aunt, and her edgy white boyfriend. Some entourage.

But Steven had been pleasant and reassuring, managing to persuade everyone else to wait outside while she told him her story. And what a sorry story it was.

Rashly she'd allowed her then boyfriend to take nude pictures of her when she was fifteen - nothing hard-core, simply some fun stuff they'd gotten into together while fooling around. Recently, cashing in on her TV fame in a family sitcom, the old boyfriend had sold the offending photos to a skin magazine, they'd been published, and now Mary Lou was determined to sue.

Steven warned her that suing a magazine was not easy: there would be depositions, endless questions and all the pressures of negative publicity. 'I can handle it,' she'd said, full of the confidence of youth. 'I want to see those scummy rats pay for what they've done to me.'

'Okay,' Steven had said. 'If that's what you want, we'll go for it.'

Finally, almost three years later, they'd gone to court. Her appearance went well.

She was poised and articulate and the jury fell in love with her - especially when she smiled. They loved her so much that on the final day they awarded her sixteen million dollars in damages.

Mary Lou was elated and triumphant. So was Steven. They went out to dinner to celebrate, and before long the innocent celebration turned into something more.

One thing about Mary Lou - when she wanted something, she was determined.

And apart from suing the magazine, she had her big brown eyes firmly fixed on Steven - even though he was over twenty years her senior.

Later that night they ended up in bed. It was warm and exciting and it made Steven feel guilty as hell. She was too young. He was too old. As far as he was concerned it was a no-win situation.

'This relationship is not going to work,' he told her sternly.

'Sure,' she answered cheerfully. 'I have a great idea. Let's make it not work together.'

All she had to do was smile and he was lost. A week later she moved into his house.

Mary Lou gave him the personal happiness he'd been lacking for so long. His life had fallen apart for a while when his mother, Carrie, had revealed that she wasn't sure who his father was. Mary Lou helped him to get his head straight, and to stop obsessing about his past and concentrate on his work as a lawyer.

Then came the second magazine incident. The publisher of the magazine Mary Lou had sued published a ten-page spread of extremely explicit photos, claiming they were of Mary Lou. They weren't. They were clever fakes with her face superimposed on a porno star's body. Unfortunately, the magazine hit the stands before anyone could stop it.

When Mary Lou saw the magazine, she was so distraught that she attempted suicide. Fortunately Steven managed to rush her to the hospital in time.

Mary Lou was released a week later and Steven knew for sure that he couldn't live without her. They were married shortly after.

Marriage saved both of them. For Steven it was finding someone who cared about him above all else. And for Mary Lou it was the security and love she'd always craved.

Within a few months she was pregnant, eventually giving birth to a beautiful baby girl they named Carioca Jade. Carioca was now eight. Looks-wise she was the image of her mother. Smarts-wise she wanted to be a lawyer, exactly like Daddy.

Mary Lou was a sensational mother. In spite of a successful career she always managed to put Steven and Carioca first, making them feel like the two most important human beings on the planet.

It had been Steven's idea to move to LA when they'd returned to the States after a two-year stay in England, where he'd studied English law, played golf and generally done nothing except enjoy spending time with his wife and daughter.

'Settling in LA will make it easier for you to get back into the business,' he'd told Mary Lou. Besides, he didn't want to live in New York again, and he had the urge to spend some time with his half-sister, Lucky, and his father, Gino. It had taken him a lifetime to find out that he had a family, and when he did it was a strange, overwhelming feeling. Lucky had accepted him immediately, but it had taken Gino a while to fully realize he had fathered a black son, the result of a long-ago one-night affair with Carrie, Steven's mother.