The Love Killers by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online

He had no intention of missing Janine Jameson’s party. She was a contemporary of April’s, and equally famous.
    They rode to the party in Nick’s black Mercedes. April wore a pale blue sequin dress. Some of the sequins came off and stuck to his clothes. He picked them off impatiently.
    â€˜Don’t lean on me in that dress,’ he warned. He always liked to look immaculate.
    â€˜You’re so fussy.’ She laughed gaily. ‘But I love you all the same.’
    At the party there were plenty of familiar faces—stars, directors, producers. Nick basked in the company. He loved show business.
    A busty starlet approached him at the bar as he was ordering April a drink. They had made out once or twice, long before he met April.
    â€˜How’s it going, Nicky Ticky?’ the girl asked, thrusting her well-developed bosom toward him. ‘Getting fed up with grandma yet? ’Cos you know, any time you do, I’ll be glad to hear from you.’
    â€˜Hey, babe, what you gonna do when your tits drop?’ he asked with a not-so-cavalier wink. ‘Better stop hustling an’ take yourself a typing course, ’cause it don’t look to me like it’s gonna be too long.’
    â€˜Cocksucker!’ the girl muttered, furious.
    â€˜Excuse me, I have a
lady
waiting,’ Nick said amiably.
    April didn’t carry her liquor well. After two Scotches her speech started to slur, and shortly after that her walk became lopsided and her face went slack. In short, she fell to pieces.
    It irritated Nick. He didn’t drink much himself; in his business it paid to be alert, so he usually stuck to plain club soda. He was always warning April to cut her intake. That’s why he tried to mix her drinks himself, carefully watering them down. But she was onto him and usually grabbed a fresh drink from every passing waiter.
    Janine Jameson’s party was no exception, and April was soon rolling in the aisles. Nick knew from past experience to keep his distance. Drunk, April became belligerent and insulting. A real pain in the ass.
    He was talking to a lady gossip writer when he first saw the girl. She was standing by the bar with a group of people. She was of medium height, with golden-tanned skin and a mane of sun-streaked auburn hair. She had an exquisite body clad in a clinging long white dress, slit high. She was about the most spectacular-looking woman he’d ever seen—and in his time he’d seen a few.
    â€˜Who is
that?’
he couldn’t help asking.
    The lady gossip writer smiled. A crisp, bitchy smile. ‘Better not let April hear the hard-on in your voice,’ she warned. ‘She’s Lara Crichton, one of those poor little rich girls whose picture is always in the fashion magazines.’
    He quickly changed the subject.
    Lara spotted him immediately. After all, she had pictures of him, a short dossier on his life, and she knew all about his relationship with April Crawford.
    After observing him across the room she angled herself at the bar so that when he glanced up she was directly in his line of vision.
    When he first spotted her he did a classic double take.
    First part—easy, but then the initial impact had always been easy for Lara. Ever since she could remember men had noticed her. Even when she was a small girl of seven and had been sent to London she had attracted attention. Very pretty, she’d had no trouble charming the childless couple she was staying with.
    They worshiped her, and although they didn’t have much money, they lavished everything they could on her.
    Lara soon grew used to attention, and as she developed and grew she certainly received more than her fair share.
    At fourteen she left school to study dancing, diction and movement. She entered a charm competition in a magazine and won. The prize was a free modeling course at a reputable school where she was discovered by the best model agent in London, and shortly