Davidson, Mary Janice - Gorgeous 02 - Drop Dead Gorgeous

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Drop Dead,
Gorgeous!
Drop Dead, Gorgeous!
MaryJanice Davidson
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
This book is for Sam, but not Scott. It's also for Jenny, the first woman I ever met who had no idea how
beautiful she was. And for her beautiful sister, Jessica, who knows why…oh, hell, we'll just throw the
whole Lorentz family in there. Frankly, they're all a pretty good-looking bunch.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my agent, Ethan Ellenberg, for helping to make this book happen. I just write ’em. He does
the hard stuff. Really! Given a choice between writing a book and reading a contract, guess which one I’ll
pick every time.
I have read that having a bad agent is worse than no agent at all, but thankfully, I don’t know from bad
agents. I also have no idea, thanks to Ethan, about bad contracts.
I mean, not to go on a whole rant here, but have you seen the font used on some of those publishing
contracts? I get a headache just thinking about it, but not only does he have a gift for contract-ese, he has
a gift for keeping me out of trouble. His enthusiasm, accessibility, and kindness are priceless beyond
rubies.
Thanks also to my husband, a tireless sounding board, and my friend Jessica (another beautiful woman
who does not know her worth), who thinks nothing of keeping her cell phone on her nightstand in case I
want to call at 4:00A.M .
I am blessed.
Finally, special thanks to my editor, Kate Duffy, for also being my sounding board and sending me
cyber-Kleenex this fall. I love this book, but it was a difficult one to write. Kate knew, and if she ever
feared what I was going to produce, she never let on. God bless the inscrutable editor.
“The wrong war, at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and with the wrong enemy.”
—Omar Bradley
“You know what it takes to sit across the table from a man, listen to him talk, look into his eyes…and
then blow his brains all over the wallpaper?
“Nothing.
“And the more of that you have, the easier it is.”
—Andrew Vachss,
Dead and Gone
“Always forgive your enemies…nothing annoys them so much.”
—Oscar Wilde
Author’s Note
This is the second book set in the Gorgeous universe. If you’re standing in the bookstore trying to
decide whether to buy this or not, let me assure you thatDrop Dead, Gorgeous! is a stand-alone book,
and you certainly don’t need to read the first one to figure out what’s going on.
But you don’t have to take my word for it. In fact, you shouldn’t take my word for it. Who am I?
Someone who gets paid to spin yarns for a living…better check to make sure your wallet is still in your
purse. Instead of taking my word for it, you should pick up the first book in this series,Hello, Gorgeous!
Go ahead. Reach for the shelf. The D’s. Davidson. I’m usually in the middle of the shelf. Janet Dailey’s
books are probably to the left, and Jude Deveraux is to the right.
Anyway, reach out, grabHello, Gorgeous! , read it, then read this one. And then you’ll know I was
telling the truth: this book really does stand alone. Although it’s nice to find out how things began, don’t
you think?
You haven’t bought it yet? Well, that’s all right. I can bring you up to speed in just a couple of
paragraphs. And it’s fine if you didn’t want to buy it. Really! I don’t mind. I’m making the mortgage
payments on my hovel, and the kids’ rickets have nearly cleared up. Don’t give it another thought. We’re
all fine.
No go, huh? Well, good for you. Paperbacks are getting more expensive all the time. There’s always the
library. (That sound you heard was my editor’s head blowing up.)
Anyway. This book takes place about two years after the events inHello, Gorgeous! In that fine,
upstanding work of clarity and vision (I’m expecting a call any day from the Pulitzer people), we met
Caitlyn and Dmitri. Caitlyn was a pretty ordinary gal—smarter than she liked to let on, opinionated, a
small-business owner (the hair salon Magnifique), single, loath to work out.
Then there was an accident, and then there was the O.S.I., and then there was The Boss. Caitlyn woke
up in a hospital bed fundamentally changed; she had been infected with nanobytes. (Nanobytes=the
twenty-first century version of bionics.)
The good news: she would not be breathing through tubes for the rest of her life. The bad news: the
government-funded think tank, the O.S.I., expected her to work for them. Save the world on occasion.
Show up at staff meetings. Wear a tacky, government-issued I.D. card. Unending horror.
What with one thing or another, Caitlyn ended up going after the only other person on the planet who
was nanobyte-enhanced: Dmitri Novatur, code named The Wolf. She did this a) to get The Boss off her
back, and b) because O.S.I. personnel were turning up dead, which wreaked havoc on the staff
meetings.
In between catching bad guys, falling in love, running Magnifique, and trying to stay out of The Boss’s
clutches, we met Jenny, her assistant, and Stacy, her best friend. These women kept Caitlyn grounded as
only the best of friends can; a woman who will tell you your butt looks big in peach is priceless beyond
compare.
Caitlyn (saddled with the annoying code name Mirage because, as The Boss explained, no one ever
knew if she was going to show up for work or not) saved the world (multiple times), got the guy (multiple
times), and lived through the horror of her best friend falling for The Boss.
And that’s about where we left off.
P.S. Nanobyte technology in the “real world” appears to be beyond our grasp, at least as far as Dmitri
and Caitlyn are concerned; but there are still disastrous wedding luncheons every day, all over the world.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Prologue
Part One WITHIN
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
Part Two WITHOUT
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
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Part Three WITHAL
Epilogue
Prologue
The Snakepit
1430 hours
“It has to be done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Done now. Right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“This has been on my To-Do list for a while. You know that.”
“Everyone knows that, ma’am.”
“Right. So nobody’s going to think I’m doing it—finally—just because he’s getting married to That
Woman, right?”
“Right, ma’am.”
“Because She has nothing to do with it.”
“Got it in one, ma’am.”
“Okay, then. So. Do it.”
“Ma’am. I’ll see to it myself.”
Part One
WITHIN*
Chapter 1
The Grand Hotel
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Jenny Branch watched as her boss was gently restrained from committing homicide.
“I have to do it now,” Caitlyn James cried. “If I don’t do it now, they’ll—ugh!—do it. Do you know
what thatmeans ?”
“They’ll be husband and wife, pet,” Caitlyn’s husband, Dmitri, replied, catching her small fist and kissing
it.
“Don’t say that. Like they haven’t already been doing it. Because they have! I had to gouge out my
retinas when I accidentally walked into the kitchen at the wrong moment.” Caitlyn seemed unaware that
her husband had picked her up by the elbows and held her effortlessly off the ground as her small feet
swung and kicked. “But that was sex. Nightmarish, disgusting sex. But still. The sex I could tolerate.”
“What a charming liar you are, my love.”
“Well, I was almost getting used to it. A teensy bit used to it. But marriage? Him? Marrying my best
friend? No chance in hell. If I was ever going to kill him, I’ve got to do it now. So put me down already.”
Jenny sighed again, and they both looked. “Sorry,” she covered. “I love weddings.” In fact, she hated
them. Just what every single woman needed: a reminder that she would die alone, until the cats found her.
She was reminded, again, of her favorite movie,When Harry Met Sally , and the lines she thought
applied to her in particular: “Suppose nothing happens to you. Suppose you live out your whole life and
nothing happens. You never meet anybody, you never become anything, and finally you die one of those
New York deaths which nobody notices for two weeks until the smell drifts into the hallway.”
Not that she was from New York; she was a small-town Minnesotan, born and bred.
(Who’s going to want you?)
But the rest of it applied to her.
(You’re not smart enough for college—stick with modeling.)
It’s why she was a dog person.
She shoved her thoughts from unnpleasantries and focused on the wedding, and her friends. Not that
Dmitri was really anyone’s friend—not even Caitlyn’s, she sometimes thought.
But it didn’t seem to matter; Dmitri and Caitlyn were so perfect for each other. And they would have the
most glorious children. And Caitlyn hadn’t even been trying to get married! She had loved being single,
especially after getting free of her parents like that. Jenny suspected that was why she had been drawn to
the tall, sarcastic, sometimes-annoying owner of Mag, the super-salon in St. Paul. They both had
something in common: rotten parents.
Then Dmitri practically falls into Caitlyn’s lap at her new job—or maybe she fell into his, Jenn never got
all the details—and boom! A big, expensive wedding. In Lithuania!
Followed, in an annoyingly short time, by Jessica’s wedding to The Boss.
It just wasn’t fucking fair, and she knew it was petty, but it was in her own head, and she was allowed to
be petty there if nowhere else, right?
“I’d love it if you tried to make me put you down.” Dmitri was breathing that sexy European accent right
into Caitlyn’s ear, and she was liking it plenty, too, the whore, but at least she wasn’t screeching
anymore.
“You guys, I don’t really think—” Jenny peeked through the curtain again. The use of a curtain, rather
than a door, to separate the bridesmaids (to wit: Caitlyn) from the groom (to wit: The Boss) was making
her nervous. “I don’t think Dmitri’s supposed to be back here.”
“AndI don’t think this farce of a wedding is supposed to be taking place—there’s only a million other
nicer things to do in Minneapolis on a gorgeous day like today—but here we all are.”
“It’s pouring rain.”
“So?”
“Caitlyn, do we have to go through this again?” Jenny tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
Caitlyn was, for all her faults, still the boss.
“I guess I’m the only person who sees all the unique horribleness in the situation,” Caitlyn hissed, which
made Dmitri snort briefly with laughter.
A new voice interrupted thefaux fight. “Jimmy, hon, you are totally replaceable. You know that, right?”
Dmitri put down the maid of honor. Jenny turned. The bride was standing on the opposite end of the
sitting room, just closing the far door behind her. The room itself, a plush, brocaded thing with too many
chairs, looked far more dressed than the bride.
“Stop calling me Jimmy,” Caitlyn said, newly distracted.
The bride ignored her. “I’m surprised you two didn’t hear me clomping up the stairs—you got ears like
hounds.”
“We were a little preoccupied,” Dmitri said, trying not to stare at the golden brown tops of Stacy’s
breasts, which were barely held in by the creamy bustier.
“Yeah, and now we’re busy saving your life. Again! Though metaphorically this time.”
“Actually, boss, more figuratively than metaphorically. A metaphor is defined as the substitution of an
idea or an object with another idea or object. For example, ‘the aggressive couple howled at the moon’
would be a metaphor.”
“Jenny, honey, I love you, but we got no time for your spooky smartness. I need help!” Stacy spoke
gently enough, but her voice spiraled up into panic at the end. “The seamstress is late with my dress. My
underwear is at least a size too small. And I just had to break up a fistfight between the caterer and one
of the waiters.”
“Nonsense,” Dmitri, a man like all men in at least one thing, replied. “Your underwear is perfectly sized.
Speaking on behalf of grooms everywhere, you don’t need another stitch. Now go on out there and
swear eternal love to the luckiest man on earth.”
“That’s going to cost you,” Caitlyn muttered.
“Well spoken, my dear. Very well…. to thesecond luckiest man on earth. The important thing is, you’re
dressed.”
His wife elbowed him in the ribs. “I see your point, Stace. But maybe you should look at this as more
like an omen, you know?”
Stacy crossed the room with terrifying speed. Given that she had no enhancement, technological or
otherwise (she didn’t even like to run on the treadmill), it was an impressive move.
She jammed a finger under Caitlyn’s chin (the nail, Jenny noted, was painted bright blue) and said in a
low, terrifying voice, “We’ve been over this. I’m marrying him. Now you can stand up or you can get out
of my way.Don’t make me go through this with you again.”
“Okay,” Caitlyn said with uncharacteristic meekness, but then, who wanted to get a bright blue fingernail
jammed into their eyeball? And on such a shitty day? “Sorry. Don’t, uh, do anything rash.”
“Don’t talk to me about rash, girlfriend. You don’t know from rash.”
“This is true,” Caitlyn admitted and, for a wonder, had no further comment.
“While we’re waiting for the seamstress, maybe we could touch up your hair a little,” Jenny suggested.
Among other things. The bridewas looking a little stressed; Jenn could see the sweat beading her
temples.
“I have to get dressed first. Besides, hon, I’ve got work for all of you,” she added, nodding to Dmitri.
“You need to go down to the kitchens and make sure no more fights break out.”
“Hmmph,” Dmitri said, allowing himself one last lingering look at her cleavage.
The bride ignored him. “The boneheads haven’t frosted my cake yet, God knows why—”
Caitlin raised her hand like a kid in school. After a pause, Stacy said, “Caitlyn?”
“I’ve mentioned that all these things going wrong are an omen, right?”
“Shut up. Why don’t you go down with Dmitri?”
“Why don’t I?”
“And Jenny, I needyou to track down the decorator, or whatever the cake-toppie-thingie-person is
called. You can play with my makeup and hair after that…” she added, pointing to a perfectly beautiful,
slicked-back ponytail with rich brown curls swinging at the back, curls that had been twined with ribbon
the exact color of her missing dress. There were benefits to having friends who worked in a salon.
“Don’t touch your hair,” Caitlyn ordered.
“I’mnot. And the dress will have arrived by the time she gets back.It will. And then the show will go on.
God willing, the show will go on.”
Given their marching orders, they all got to work.
Chapter 2
Jenny found the cake, but no cake decorator. “She had to leave,” a doleful waitress informed her. “She
was getting a migraine.”
“She couldn’t decorate the cake,then leave?”
The waitress, filling silver-rimmed plates with petits fours, didn’t look up. “No way. She tried that once,
but when she gets that way she sees double.”
“But—the cake?”
The waitress, who had finished with the tiny cakes and was now stacking empty glasses on the counter
between them, actually shivered. “Just the thought of it. Curds of meringue everywhere—even the ceiling!
The cake looked like someone punched it, and then had sex with it.”
“So…what? What’s the plan? We can’t serve it to the guests like this.” Jenny eyed the cake, a
four-tiered confection of what appeared to be vanilla sponge. It was neatly put together, and there were
several bowls beside it, all full of perfectly whipped frosting.
“One of the waiters did a jelly roll for his nephew, once. We’re trying to find him.”
Oh, great. Just the perfect touch. Maybe he’ll stick a goddamned pony in the middle. Jenny sighed, and
pushed up her sleeves. Pity. It was a great bridesmaid’s dress, as nice as the one she’d worn for
Caitlyn’s big day. A cream-colored pattern with roses embroidered onto the fabric, puffed sleeves, and a
scooped neckline that made her feel like a milkmaid but which everyone else informed her was charming.
It looked dynamite on Caitlyn, too; but then again, what didn’t?
You’ve got to get hold of this unreasonable, continuous jealousy. You’ve got to.
“Hey, what’s the Russian guy doing wandering around back here?” the waitress whispered. “Is he, like,
a former KGB agent?”
“He’s Lithuanian,” she replied, picking up a bowl of frosting and a spatula, testing it for thickness.
Mmmm…buttercream… “He’s on some mission or another from the bride.”
“I’ve got a mission for him.”
“Yes, too bad he’s married,” Jenny said sweetly, accidentally forking a large clot of frosting onto the
woman’s spotless shoulder. “Oopsie.”
Jenny stepped back from the cake, her back aching like someone had stuck a few spatulas in it, right
between her kidneys. But the thing was done, anyway, even if she was covered in buttercream.
From the increase in hustle around her, she figured the witching hour was near. Or, at least, the time on
the invitations: 2:00 P.M.
The door between the kitchen and one of the small dining rooms swung open.
“She’s back here,” Caitlyn said, and then they all burst into the kitchen and, at the sight of an obviously
tense bride, the entire waitstaff managed to disappear at once, leaving the makings of an omelet bar.
Jenny was left to explain the cake.
“Well,” she began, scraping frosting off her elbow, “the gal who decorates the cakes had to go home.
And they didn’t have a substitute. And there was a migraine involved. So I sort of took it upon myself.”
At the blank stares, she elaborated. “To do it, I mean. They had everything put together and all the
frosting made—I just had to color some of it. I found a whole rainbow of food coloring in the pantry.”
In the continually creepy silence, Jenny rushed ahead. “And I just—just thought—because of the
dresses—and all that talk about your grandma’s garden and how you wished she could be here but she’s
not—obviously she’s not, since she passed away last year—anyway, I thought you might like this.”
“This” was the four-tiered cake, with snow-white frosting smoothed on, and lilacs and tulips piped onto
the tiers from the bottom up, as if they were growing onto the cake. The lilacs were the faintest shade of
lavender, the tulips were dark pink, and the leaves and stems were the shimmery green of a spring forest
on the first really hot day.
She had destroyed her own bouquet (purple tulips, pink and yellow alstroemeria lilies) to create a small
crown of real flowers for the top tier.
They stared at the cake.
They stared at her.
They stared some more.
Nuts,Jenny thought in despair.Fucked up. Why had she believed this would be a good idea?
Stacy started to cry, and moved to attack—no, hug—her, but Jenny held her at arm’s length. “I’m head
to toe frosting,” she pointed out. “You’ll ruin your dress.”
“Like I care?” she said, crying and laughing at the same time. Since she couldn’t hug Jenny, she jumped
up and down. “Oh, Jenn, you genius! You saved my reception!”
“Well.” She coughed modestly, feeling the blood rush up to her eyebrows. She scanned the kitchen
摘要：

DropDead,Gorgeous!DropDead,Gorgeous!MaryJaniceDavidsonKENSINGTONPUBLISHINGCORP.http://www.kensingtonbooks.comThisbookisforSam,butnotScott.It'salsoforJenny,thefirstwomanIevermetwhohadnoideahowbeautifulshewas.Andforherbeautifulsister,Jessica,whoknowswhy…oh,hell,we'lljustthrowthewholeLorentzfamilyinthe...

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