Double Lucky by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online

so fast she couldn’t stop herself.
    When the gardener arrived in front of her, she lost all sense of reason and found herself incapable of looking him in the eye.
    â€œSeñora?” he questioned. His smell wafted in the air, healthy sweat mixed with garlic.
    â€œUh … you’re new here, aren’t you?” she managed, fanning herself with a magazine. “What’s your name?”
    â€œ Perdone, señora ,” he mumbled, rubbing his thigh with a large work-worn hand. “ No hablar Engleesh. ”
    â€œYou don’t?” she said, startled. Then she thought, Why would he? He’s only a gardener, probably dropped out of school early.
    She studied his lips. They fascinated her, they were so thick and tempting. Then there was the faint stubble on his chin, so manly. And his forearms, strong and muscled.
    â€œName,” she repeated, fanning herself more vigorously. “ Nombre? ”
    â€œLuis,” he muttered in a low voice.
    â€œ Gracias , Luis,” she said, dismissing him with a flick of her hand.
    He turned and walked away, giving her ample time to study his tight ass in faded jeans.
    Abruptly she stood up and headed for the house. If she couldn’t have Luis, perhaps she would settle for the handheld neck massager she’d recently purchased. The small piece of machinery certainly wasn’t Luis, but the results were always a ten.
    *   *   *
    Emmanuelle was a girl who liked to party, but Anthony Bonar soon convinced her that the best parties consisted of two people only—although an occasional other girl introduced into the mix did not seem to bother him. Early on in their relationship he’d threatened to fucking kill her if she ever cheated on him. Those were his exact words, and she was almost convinced that he meant it. Almost, not quite, for Emmanuelle was young and got off on enjoying herself. After all, Anthony was not always around. Early on she’d discovered that he had a wife and another mistress in New York, so she’d decided that if he was getting it elsewhere, why shouldn’t she?
    So far she’d only cheated on him once with a fellow model. Nobody found out. They’d done it in a dressing room halfway through a photo session. Hot, fast sex standing up.
    Anthony never did it standing up. He wanted her flat on her back with her ankles around his neck while he pumped away like a machine. In, out. In, out. No technique whatsoever.
    She’d soon realized that her new boyfriend was not the greatest lover in the world—although he obviously thought he was. Most men did.
    Emmanuelle refused to disillusion him, for she’d met generous men before, but Anthony was in a class by himself and she was partial to luxury goods, especially when they came with a major price tag. This meant that although Anthony Bonar wasn’t her usual type, she played him all the way.
    In spite of the blond curls and fake tits, Emmanuelle had a head for business, and she knew she had Anthony hot enough to buy her almost anything she wanted. The downside was that he put nothing in her name—not the Mercedes, not the lease on the apartment he’d set her up in, not even the jewelry he’d gifted her with. If she ever left him, it all had to come back to him, he informed her. Or else.
    Anthony was big with threats. Emmanuelle didn’t like that, but even so she’d decided to stick it out for the time being until she could figure a way to persuade him to start putting things in her name. After all, if he broke up with her, it wasn’t fair that she would walk away with nothing. And since he was enjoying the many and varied pleasures of her fabulous body, not to mention her extraordinary oral expertise, he should pay, there was no doubt about it.
    Emmanuelle knew she was right.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    â€œBaby!” Venus murmured, wrapping her well-toned arms around Billy Melina’s neck and kissing