Bit by the Bug (Matthews Sisters 1)
Bit by the Bug
Michelle M Pillow
Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Other Cheek titles by the author
Note from Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9780753537909
www.randomhouse.co.uk
In real life always practise safe sex.
First published in 2006 by
Cheek
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Copyright © Michelle M Pillow 2006
The right of Michelle M Pillow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Typeset by SetSystems Ltd, Saffron Walden, Essex
Printed and bound by Mackays of Chatham PLC
ISBN 0 352 34084 3
ISBN 978 0 352 34084 9
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Dedication:
To Dena, Loren and a Notebook
To Malinda and the Family Curse
Other Cheek titles by the author:
FIERCE COMPETITION
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
For more information about Michelle M Pillow’s books
please visit www.michellepillow.com
Note from Author
Though the American Museum of Natural History in New York is an actual museum, the DJP Scientific Department of Entomological Research mentioned in this book as part of it is a fictional facility and department. This novel is a complete work of fiction. All characters and events are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
For factual information about the American Museum of Natural History you can visit their website at http://www.amnh.org/.
Bit by the Bug
Kat’s head fell back on her shoulders and she opened her mouth wide, gasping for breath. Her heart beat hard in her chest and she tried to focus on the sound of his voice, trying to place it. ‘Dr Vincent?’
‘Shit!’ Kat screamed, sitting up in bed, breathing hard. Her arms flailed as she felt all around her. The bed was empty. Tossing the blankets off, she practically jumped off the mattress as if burnt by it. It was just a dream – a potent, erotic, sinfully wrong dream. Her heart was still beating hard and her body was tense, no longer feeling the relief of her dream state orgasm. Instead, unfulfilled arousal caused her nipples to ache.
Why in the world was she dreaming of the awkward Dr Vincent?
Chapter One
Vale, Colorado
‘So you’re saying you want me to deflower your son?’
Kat Matthews stared at Mrs Mimi Richmond in disbelief, knowing her tone was dry with sarcasm and unable to help it. How else could she say it, though? The woman wanted to hire her to ‘be’ with her son. It was preposterous. It was the new millennium and yet, here she was, sitting in a posh hotel suite looking at a woman who couldn’t be more serious.
Kat had known Mimi for a total of four days – four very long days she had spent vacationing with her own neurotic mother at the trendy Colorado ski resort. For some reason Beatrice Matthews thought she needed to spend alone time with each one of her daughters on a yearly basis so they could bond. As she had five daughters, she took five vacations each year. If not for Kat’s great desire to photograph the Rocky Mountains for her portfolio, it was a mother-daughter trip she would never have taken.
‘Oh, no, no. Nothing so risqué as all that, I assure you, Katarina.’ Mimi looked at her husband, Vincent, and laughed. It was the sort of laugh that managed to mock those around her even as it amused herself. It was a rich laugh, not boisterous rich, but the kind of rich that came backed by Mr Richmond’s multi-million dollar bank account. ‘Dear, didn’t I tell you she was utterly charming?’
Mr Richmond didn’t answer his wife. He merely nodded from where he paced the hotel suite talking on his cellular phone. Mimi didn’t seem discouraged by her husband’s lack of response. She laughed lightly and waved at him in dismissal before turning back to Kat.
Nothing about this situation made sense. Kat tried to smile, but just one look at her would tell anyone she really didn’t belong with these people. Her long dark blonde hair was piled beneath a black Betty Page style wig. The dark colour was a stark contrast to her paler complexion. Though she knew she was very fashionable and chic in appearance, she couldn’t afford a designer wardrobe except for a few second-hand pieces and those she borrowed from her sister, Zoe. Her faded blue jeans with the hole in the right knee and the oversized black turtleneck sweater with sleeves extended over the backs of her hands just didn’t match the flashier Mimi.
Everything about Mimi Richmond was designer, from her white leather Sergio Rossi heels to her Elie Tahari white stretch twill pants and matching blazer. The older woman positively glittered: her diamond earrings, her diamond tennis bracelet, her diamond brooch and necklaces, and – Kat tried not to laugh at this part – her diamond navel ring. Yes, the fifty-plus year old had her belly button pierced. Though, to be fair, the woman was in wonderful shape.
Mimi’s short red hair complemented her ageless face. It was a face bought and paid for from the best Californian plastic surgeons. She exercised fanatically and looked barely out of her thirties. However, Mimi was self-proclaimed proud of her age and told everyone who would listen how she achieved her timeless good looks. In fact, as far as Kat could tell, the woman didn’t have a filter between her brain and her mouth. She’d talk about almost anything – things others would’ve been ashamed to admit to.
Kat didn’t move. It was clear that though money could buy many things, sanity wasn’t one of them. Whatever had compelled her to come and meet with these people?
Oh yeah, she thought, slightly dejected. Even the voice in her head was sarcastic today. I came because they’re rich. Mom said they wanted to talk about a job and I need the cash. Silly me for not automatically assuming that meant prostitution.
Kat turned to Mr Richmond as he sat down next to his wife, suddenly thankful they weren’t swingers trying to hire her for themselves. Though, it was surprising to see he was off the phone long enough to look at her, let alone join the bizar re conversation. Just as she thought it, he opened his mouth and his cell phone rang. Mimi rolled her eyes making a sound of exasperation as her husband answered the call. As the man talked, Kat absently sang cartoon theme songs in her head to pass the time and to keep herself from jumping off the couch and running away. Tapping her toes, she knew she’d give almost anything for her New York apartment and a pair of pyjama pants right now. Mr Richmond spoke for a few minutes about business before hanging up and turning back to the still silent women.
The Richmonds looked her over in thoughtful contemplation. Kat tried to smile, feeling really awkward by this point, but her cheeks were too stiff to move. The white love seat she sat on was comfortable – so thick she was actually sunk down into its cushy depths. She glanced at the door and determined it would take too long to get out of her seat to make a proper run for it. The cushions held her trapped in their cloudlike padding.
For lack of anything better to do during their indiscreet scrutiny of her person and the awkward silence that accompanied it, Kat glanced around the room. The executive suite was huge. It had to be over a thousand square feet. The white walls and carpet added an elegant, almost untouchably sterile appeal to the place. The dark-brown boardroom table on the far side of the long living area was covered with stacks of papers. A vase of calla lilies had been pushed aside to make room for the mess. The Richmonds were supposedly on vacation, but it looked as if Mr Richmond was spending most of his time conquering the mountains of paperwork on the table, as opposed to the beautiful mountainous ski slopes outdoors.
Swallowing nervously, Kat turned her attention back to the couple. They eyed her expectantly from a matching white couch, as if they expected her to speak. She really had nothing to say to them.
‘We would like for you to date our son,’ said Mr Richmond finally. He was just as eccentric as his wife in his bright silk Italian suits and gold jewellery. His hair was slicked back from his face and he had a little moustache that didn’t touch the top of his lip. He looked more like a stereotypical mafia kingpin than a businessman. All that was missing was the strong Jersey accent.
Ba-da-bing. Forget about it.
Kat tried not to laugh as she found herself staring at his moustache, fairly sure it was slicked with oil just like his black hair. Her fingers itched for the camera she’d left back at her hotel suite. She’d give almost anything to get a close-up of the ridiculous thing with her macro lens. Already she could imagine blowing the photo of it six feet wide and hanging it on the wall.
Realising she was still staring at his facial hair, she again glanced around the hotel suite and tried not to laugh. These people could not be serious. The poor kid must be awkward indeed if his parents had to get him dates. Either that or he was a completely spoiled brat no one wanted. She hadn’t seen him around the hotel, but got the image of a larger than life jerk with his mother’s obnoxious laugh and his father’s phone addiction.
‘Oooh, cocktails!’ Mrs Richmond announced, the sound abnormally loud. The woman waved her hands in excitement and again laughed in her high-pitched tone. A servant dressed in a black and white maid’s uniform leaned over, reaching out with a pewter tray filled with drinks. Kat glanced at her watch. It was ten in the morning.
‘I’ll have one of those,’ Mr Richmond said, his voice booming as loud as his wife’s had, as he reached for the tray. He raised his brow at Kat and she politely shook her head in denial. ‘Suit yourself. More for us.’
The couple laughed. Kat tried to smile, she really did, but it was hard with all the deprecating thoughts running through her head. These people were certifiable. On the plus side, they were so absorbed in themselves they didn’t seem to notice her sarcastic ways.
‘You see, we wouldn’t expect you to . . . how was it you so charmingly put it?’ Mr Richmond looked at his wife for help.
‘Hmm, yes, deflower,’ Mimi said between sips of liquor, only to mutter, ‘Charming.’
‘Yes, deflower, thank you, my darling. We wouldn’t expect you to do anything like that,’ Mr Richmond assured her. ‘That would be crazy.’
‘Ah,’ Kat nodded. Don’t laugh, she told herself. Do not laugh. You’re smirking. Quit smirking. It’s rude to smirk.
‘Dear, I believe our son has probably already been deflowered, don’t you think?’ Mimi tilted her head to the side, actually pondering the question.
‘Oh, I should hope so,’ Mr Richmond agreed. Then, still looking at his wife, he said, ‘Well, if she wanted to sleep with him, I suppose it would be fine. A man is a man after all.’
‘Yes, we’ll leave it up to them,’ said Mimi.
Kat could only watch them in bewilderment. I’m dreaming, she thought. That has to be it. I’m in bed and I’m dreaming and in some morbid way, I don’t want to wake up. I actually want to see where this train wreck is going. No. No wrecks. End it now. Be polite, yet firm. Say no and then run away.
‘Mrs Richmond, Mr Richmond,’ Kat began as diplomatically as possible.
‘Mimi, dear, call me Mimi,’ Mimi said, smiling.
‘Vincent,’ Mr Richmond said.
‘Ah, well, OK. Mimi. Vincent.’ Kat tried to look pleasant even as she felt her face strain. ‘I appreciate the fact you want your son to have dates and all, but hiring me to be his friend maybe isn’t the best way to go about it. Have you ever thought of just having a dinner party and inviting eligible women to attend? Or perhaps a blind date? Work associate’s daughter?’
A stripper from Las Vegas? she added silently.
‘We tried those already,’ Mr Richmond said. ‘It didn’t work out and quite frankly we’ve run out of friends with eligible daughters. The boy is constantly forgetting to come to dinner and when he does he hardly says a word to any of them.’
‘That is not true. He does talk to them sometimes. He just doesn’t talk about anything interesting.’ Mimi shook her head. ‘Bugs. Who talks to a woman about bugs? I can barely get Cathy Herrington to come back for a visit. She is still convinced our house has spiders. We told her he was just talking nonsense and I assured her I had the house sprayed. I even showed her the bill as proof.’
Bugs? Kat took a deep breath, cringing on the inside. ‘He’s not in high school is he? I mean, this isn’t for a prom or anything, is it?’
‘Oh, no, of course not,’ Mimi assured her. She took a sip of her drink mumbling, ‘He’s, um, thimeehraree.’
‘Excuse me?’ Kat leaned forwards. Why was she even listening to this?
‘He’s thirty-three,’ Mr Richmond said, toying with his cufflink.
‘You want to buy your thirty-three-year-old son a girlfriend?’ Kat asked, unable to stop the blunt words of surprise. Biting her tongue had never been a strong suit, though she somehow managed before the sarcastic ‘Does he live in your basement and collect comic books?’ came out.
‘Not buy,’ Mimi said. ‘More like hire.’
‘I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong girl for the job –’ Kat started to stand. Mimi’s look stopped her.
‘But you’re an actress,’ Mimi insisted. ‘Your mother told us you’re an out of work actress. We want you to think of it like a job.’
‘I haven’t acted since high school. It was one play in my freshman year,’ Kat answered. What had her mother been going on about now? Actress? The thought was laughable. The production had been a flop and the drama teacher had cast her as an old Chinese man. There was nothing wrong with the casting per se, except she was a young girl from a French-Swedish background who couldn’t do accents to save her life.
‘Oh, well I’d say that was being out of work,’ Mimi snorted, laughing so hard she jiggled her glass. Liquor sloshed over on her hand. ‘Oh, dear, well.’ She shrugged licking the drops from her skin before taking another drink. Mr Richmond’s chuckle joined hers.
‘I’m not an actress,’ Kat insisted.
‘Oh, touchy,’ Mr Richmond whispered under his breath to his wife. The woman nodded.
‘I’m a photographer,’ Kat said.
‘She told us that as well,’ Mr Richmond nodded, though he hardly looked impressed. She didn’t think he would be. This was a man who only understood business and making money. He’d have no concept of true art.
‘You just keep plucking away.’ Mimi leaned forward and pinched Kat’s cheek, smacking it soundly. ‘You’ll get there someday. In the meantime, I think this is just the perfect way to hone your acting skills.’
‘So, let’s get down to business.’ Mr Richmond fingered his cell phone, flipping it open and shut as he talked. ‘You pretend to be interested in our son. Get him to take you out a few times, maybe bring you over to our house for dinner so we can see him with a woman who isn’t going to slap him and run away.’
‘Sundays are good,’ Mimi interjected. ‘Maybe for brunch. Oh, no, make that dinner. There is always something so elegant about dinners.’
‘Let us see that he’s actually starting to date,’ Mr Richmond continued to explain. ‘Maybe give us a chance to study him in action, see what he’s doing wrong so we can help.’
‘You know,’ Mimi gestured her hand in wide circles, ‘get his feet wet so he’s not so shy around women. You’ll be his practice date.’
‘We’re not going to be young forever,’ Mr Richmond said. ‘And he’ll have to marry someday. The Richmond name must live on. God knows my good-for-nothing nephews will never see to it.’
‘I don’t want grandchildren.’ Mimi turned to him.
‘But, you’d make a perfect grandmother,’ Mr Richmond assured her.
‘Oh, honey, you think so?’ Mimi leaned into him, puckering her lips and making little kissy noises. ‘Well, a granddaughter would be nice, after you get your heir of course. It would be great to have a girl to take shopping with me. Oh, we could wear matching little pink Chanel suits with the black patent leather trim.’