Hello, Gorgeous!. MaryJanice Davidson
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“That’s nice,” Dmitri said absently, crossing the room to where she was.
“There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something else I think I would enjoy immensely.”
Then he pulled her to him and kissed her. But “he kissed her” was a little like saying “he dropped the bomb and it went off.” It felt like more, much more. His arms were around her with possessive, almost bruising strength, his mouth was on hers, his tongue parting her lips (which, to be fair, were open in surprise, so it wasn’t exactly difficult), and he was pulling her against him so she was standing on tiptoe. And kissing him back, of course. Why not? It was the chance of a lifetime.
Caitlyn brought her hands up and put them on his broad chest, warm even through his T-shirt. Her tongue touched his and she bit his lower lip lightly, and he made a sound, some sound, and tightened his grip.
“Well?” she gasped, pulling back. “Were you right? Did you enjoy it immensely?”
“I did.”
Also by MaryJanice Davidson
DROP DEAD, GORGEOUS!
THE ROYAL PAIN
REALLY UNUSUAL BAD BOYS
THE ROYAL TREATMENT
UNDERCOVER
And MaryJanice’s stories are featured
in these anthologies:
VALENTINE’S DAY IS KILLING ME
MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY
PERFECT FOR THE BEACH
HELLO, GORGEOUS!
MaryJanice Davidson
KENSINGTON BOOKS
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
This book is not for Scott Gottlieb.
Acknowledgments
Once again, I’m shocked to find out I don’t write these books by myself. Friends and family are mentioned on my acknowledgments page in lieu of royalties.
As always, thanks to my husband, Anthony, for tirelessly reading and listening and reading some more, usually with that dratted purple pen in one hand. He not only reads rough drafts, he comes up with story ideas! I’d better check and see if Minnesota is a community property state….
Thanks also to my sister, Yvonne, for always giving me the straight poop (I will call a girlfriend to hear what I want to hear, but I will call my sister for the truth), and also to Denise and Crystal, who always buy my books and do a credible imitation of liking them as well.
Thanks also to Cathleen, for thinking up Mother-in-law Jeopardy.
Extra-special thanks to the world’s greatest proofreader, Karen Thompson, and all the gang over at Loose-ID Publications (www.loose-id.com), who are nice enough to pretend not to mind when other writing obligations prevent me from writing another story for them.
Finally, thanks to my editor, Kate Duffy, who was not remotely afraid when I told her my plan for a cybernetic sorority girl.
“The person who designed a robot that could act and think as well as your four-year-old would deserve a Nobel Prize. But there is no public recognition for bringing up truly human beings.”
—C. John Sommerville
The Rise and Fall of Childhood
“We can rebuild him. We have the technology.”
—The Six Million Dollar Man
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part Two
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Prologue
Nine days after she died, Caitlyn James woke up in a private hospital in Minnesota.
This was problematic, because her last memory was of passing out in the backseat of a Miami limo.
It was a private hospital room, in itself a miracle in these days of HMOs and accountants making medical decisions. One such accountant was in the room with her. He was leaning over her bed and moving his lips. He had thinning blond hair, rimless glasses, and was wearing an utterly spotless lab coat. No name tag. No hospital name stitched over his pocket. She dubbed him Egghead #1.
She squinted at #1, and as if someone were turning up the volume in her head, he slowly became audible.
“…everything’s all right. You’re in a branch of the O.S.F. in Minneapolis, Minnesota.”
“Minnesota?” she rasped. No hangover, that was something. A miraculous something. She was reasonably certain she and her girlfriends had been mixing Kahlúa and tequila. Or had it been tequila and Baileys? They’d been mixing something with chocolate milk….
She sure felt like she could spit cotton though. Her mouth was as dry as the desert. She reached for the shiny cup beside her bed, but it crumpled in her hand. Dammit! She’d do anything, lay anything,