Bit by the Bug (Matthews Sisters 1)
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Authors: Michelle M Pillow
Michelle M Pillow
Other Cheek titles by the author
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Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9780753537909
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
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/
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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?
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 bizarre 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.