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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,

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