Duets™

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #61

Little wonder veteran Duets author Kristin Gabriel has received two RITA Awards from the Romance Writers of America for her fabulous, funny stories. This month she delivers a delightful duo—the Kane brothers and their adventures on the path to true love. Enjoy!

Duets Vol. #62

Voted Storyteller of the Year twice by Romantic Times, Silhouette writer Carol Finch always “presents her fans with rollicking, wild adventures…and fun from beginning to end.” Making her Duets debut this month is talented newcomer Molly O’Keefe with a fun story about the matchmaking Cook family—and what can happen when there are too many Cooks…!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

Operation Babe-Magnet

Operation Beauty

Kristin Gabriel

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Operation Babe-Magnet

Prologue

Chapter 1

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

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Operation Beauty

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

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Operation Babe-Magnet

Kristin Gabriel

“Say hello to the new, improved you.”

Dexter stared in the mirror at the image of the perfect man. He could hardly believe he was that perfect man.

“Now we just need to teach you how to kiss,” Kylie said.

Dexter’s jaw tightened. “I assure you I know how to kiss.”

Kylie cleared her throat. “Don’t take offense. I’m not criticizing you. It’s just…you’re not what I expected in a gigolo.” She grabbed a copy of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. “According to the tutorial, there are three key components to the perfect kiss—proximity, pressure and pizzazz.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this. Proximity—” Dexter took a step closer to her. “Pressure.” His lips touched hers gently at first and then with increasing firmness. “Pizzazz.” And with a subtle movement she found herself pressed against him, her arms around his neck.

“Kylie, there’s one thing you should know….” Dexter lifted his head and gave her a searing look. “I’m a very fast learner.”

Dear Reader,

Have you ever had the urge to get a complete makeover? What if you didn’t have any choice in the matter? That’s what happens to Dexter Kane when Kylie Timberlake gets her hands on him. New clothes. New hairstyle. New look. But does that make him a new man? That’s for Dexter to decide, once Kylie transforms him from a gigabyte nerd into a bona fide babe-magnet.

Dexter’s brother Sam is forced into a completely different type of makeover—he’s supposed to impersonate a woman! Sam’s not sure he’s up to the job, especially when his sexy new roommate, Lauren McBride, constantly reminds him he’s very much a man.

The Kane brothers were so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy their unusual adventures on the road to true love.

Kristin Gabriel

P.S. I love hearing from readers! You can reach me online at www.KristinGabriel.com or write to me at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68801-5162.

Books by Kristin Gabriel

HARLEQUIN DUETS

7—ANNIE, GET YOUR GROOM

25—THE BACHELOR TRAP

27—BACHELOR BY DESIGN

29—BEAUTY AND THE BACHELOR

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

834—DANGEROUSLY IRRESISTIBLE

For Mary Ann McQuillan—Thanks for always being just a phone call away.

Prologue

“I WANT YOU TO JUMP OUT OF the plane.”

Dexter Kane’s ears popped as the small airplane ascended into the sky. So he was certain he’d misunderstood his grandfather’s last words. “What did you say?”

Amos Kane smiled at his grandson. “I want you to jump, Dexter.”

Dexter glanced at his younger brother, Sam, who was flirting with a woman on his cell phone. An inveterate playboy, nothing could keep Sam away from the ladies, whether he was on the ground or in the air. “Time to hang up now, Sam.”

Sam held up two fingers, signaling for just a little more time.

Dexter turned back to their grandfather. “Did you forget to take your medication this morning?”

Amos shook his head. “I haven’t taken any of that crap for the last month. Made me tired and cranky. But I can see you’re a little confused, so maybe I’d better start from the beginning.”

“Good idea.” Dexter leaned back in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests. He hated flying. Hated the feeling of being out of control. That was one of the reasons he’d planned out his life so meticulously. After growing up with two parents who spent more time on their yacht in the French Riviera than with their sons, Dexter knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life.

For the last twenty-eight years, he had been willing to do anything and everything to inherit the family business conglomerate that his grandfather had started over forty years ago with the success of a simple board game. Dexter had started proving himself when he was fourteen years old, working as the office janitor at the Kane Corporation. From there he’d moved on to the mail room, then on to being a courier. After college, he’d started at an entry-level position in the accounting department, working nights and weekends before slowly and steadily ascending to management level.

Amos had long ago made it clear that the Kane Corporation would be his grandsons’ legacy, since he intended to leave the rest of his estate to charity. He wanted Dexter and Sam to make their way in the world, unlike their father, who had frittered away his trust fund.

Just last week Amos had announced his intentions to retire. Only he hadn’t given any indication of who his successor would be. A fact that had made Dexter more nervous with each passing day.

“We’re going to play Chameleon,” Amos began, referring to the career role-playing board game that had made the Kane Corporation famous.

Sam snapped his cell phone shut and leaned forward. “What did I miss?”

“Grandpa wants us to play Chameleon,” Dexter replied, skipping the part about jumping out of the plane.

“Cool.” Sam looked around the cabin of the Cessna 206. “So are we playing the original version or millennium version?”

“The real-life version,” Amos replied, pulling two small, sealed envelopes out of his coat pocket.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Dexter said, although the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach belied that statement. Chameleon was a board game that allowed players to take on different career roles. The path they chose to follow and the decisions they made along the way led them to either victory or defeat. Dexter and Sam had played it often when they were younger, although a fistfight usually ended the game before a winner was declared. Dexter was a stickler for following the rules, while his younger brother was always looking for a shortcut.

“It’s simple.” Amos placed the envelopes in the center of the table. “You’ll each take on a new job for exactly one month. Each of these envelopes contains a game card listing your new occupation. Whoever can pull it off will win the game. And the company.”

“What if we both pull it off?” Dexter asked, though he knew he had an advantage over his brother. Sam had a commitment problem, whether it was with women or with work. He tended to lose interest fast and move on to something new, although, Dexter did have to admit that Sam had stuck it out at the Kane Corporation for longer than usual. No doubt the freedom he experienced heading the creative team of product development had something to do with it.

“In the event of a tie,” Amos explained, “I will ask each of your employers for a performance review. Whoever scores the highest will be the winner.”

So they not only had to do the job, but do it well. Not a problem, Dexter thought to himself, since he’d been a terminal overachiever since his preschool days.

“Wait a minute, Gramps,” Sam said, his brow furrowed. “Dex and I already have jobs at the company. Why do we have to work somewhere else?”

Amos leaned back in his seat. “The purpose of the game is to prove how important the family business is to you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. You might even enjoy it.”

Dexter didn’t want to work anywhere else. He’d lived and breathed the business for the last decade. Running the Kane Corporation was a natural for him. He didn’t have his brother’s charm or his parents’ social acumen, a fact made painfully clear to him as he was growing up. After a while, Dexter had quit trying to fit in with the crowd and concentrated on his intellectual skills.

Now he was so close to achieving his dream. And certainly more qualified than Sam to take over the business. Hell, his brother would probably institute a four-day workweek and a casual dress code. It wasn’t fair. Sam had always had everything going for him. Looks. Charisma. Women. All Dexter wanted was the company.

But to get it, he had to play a silly game.

Dexter glanced at Sam, all the old feelings bubbling to the surface. They’d been fierce competitors since sharing the same playpen. Dexter had organized their blocks by color while Sam had cajoled their nanny into giving him the extra cookies. They hadn’t changed much since then. Dexter thrived on work, while Sam preferred playtime. But they did have one thing in common—they both wanted the family business. And their grandfather was a firm believer in winner takes all.

“The game will end at midnight exactly one month from today,” Amos continued. “We’ll meet at my office to crown the winner. There are only three rules to follow. First, you cannot tell anyone you’re playing the game or your real occupation. Second, you cannot contact each other during the duration of the game.” He smiled. “And third, you must follow the directions of any game card you receive along the way. So expect a surprise or two in the next few weeks.”

“Well, count me in,” Sam said. “It sounds like a blast.” He held up his envelope. “Can I open it?”

“The sooner you do, the sooner we can start the game,” Amos replied.

Sam ripped the seal and pulled out his game card. “Well, look at this.” He flipped the card around so Dexter could see it.

“Salesman for Midnight Lace?” Dexter read aloud. “You have to sell ladies’ lingerie?”

Sam grinned. “Now that’s what I call a dream job.”

Dexter carefully slit open his envelope, then pulled out his game card. He looked at it, then blinked and read it again. This had to be some kind of joke.

“Well,” Sam asked, leaning over to look at the game card, “what’s your new place of employment?”

Dexter swallowed. “A male escort agency.”

Sam grinned. “You mean my brother is going to become a gigolo?”

Dexter turned to his grandfather, ready to argue for a different occupation. He was the last man qualified for such a job. He wasn’t even sure it was legal.

But the parachutes in Amos’s hands made the objections die on his lips.

“Here you go, boys. Put these on, then you can hit the ground running.”

Sam frowned. “What are those for?”

“To break your fall when you jump out of the plane.” Amos handed a parachute to each of them.

Sam glanced up at Dexter, then back to their grandfather, who was affectionately known as Crazy Amos around the office. And for good reason. “Did you forget to take your medication again?”

Amos waved the question away. “We’ve covered that topic already. I think jumping out of this plane is the perfect way to start the game.”

Dexter glanced out the window. “Where exactly are we?”

“Just outside of Pittsburgh,” Amos replied. “Lots of grassy pastures and flat farmland around so you shouldn’t get hurt when you land.”

“But how are we supposed to find our way back to the city?” Sam asked.

“That’s part of the game.” Amos rubbed his hands together. “This way neither one of you has an unfair advantage. You both start from the same point.”

One of the co-pilots emerged from the cockpit and helped Dexter and Sam strap on their parachutes, giving them a crash course on skydiving at the same time. As Dexter was strapped into the harness and learning new words like altimeter, free fall and static line, he wondered if this was some kind of nightmare brought on by pulling too many all-nighters at the office.

But the next thing he knew, they were standing near the open door of the airplane. The pilot announced over the intercom that they had reached an altitude of thirteen thousand feet and could jump anytime.

“You go ahead, Dexter,” Sam yelled over the roar of the plane. “You’re the oldest.”

Dexter wanted to argue, but his pride prevented him from backing out now. He took a deep breath, then moved toward the door, his fingers fumbling for the rip cord of the reserve parachute. His life flashed briefly before his eyes, filled mostly with images of him hunching over textbooks in the college library on Saturday night and working long hours at a computer terminal. He hadn’t come this far, made this many sacrifices, to give up now.

“Need a push, big brother?” Sam asked with a grin.

Dexter ignored him, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. The moment that he’d been waiting for and working for his entire life.

All he had to do was take the first step.

He leaned forward, his right hand tightly gripping the top of the door frame. For one brief moment, he panicked, realizing he couldn’t recall any memories other than school or work. No special moments. No special woman. But what did it matter now?

Then he jumped.

1

KYLIE TIMBERLAKE HIT the ground hard as an arrow flew over her head and imbedded itself in the towering fir tree behind her. She inhaled the pungent scent of pine needles and heard the menacing growl of the Doberman pinscher chained up on the front porch of the secluded cabin.

“That was just a warning shot,” called a gravelly voice from the open window. “You’re trespassing on private property. Next time I won’t miss.”

She lifted her head far enough to make certain the dog was still tethered. “It’s me, Mr. Hanover. Kylie Timberlake.”

As she lay on the damp ground, she wondered if her family was right. Maybe she was too impulsive. Maybe she wouldn’t even be in this predicament if she’d ever paused long enough to consider all the consequences of her actions.

But it was too late for regrets now. She’d based her reputation and her brother’s livelihood on a promise to make Harry Hanover a household name. She intended to do just that—with or without his cooperation.

“Warn me next time before you sneak up on me like that,” Harry shouted. “I told you I don’t like visitors. So you can go on back to Pittsburgh and leave me alone.”

Kylie gritted her teeth. She hadn’t spent the last two hours driving up narrow, winding mountain roads just to turn around and go back home again.

She took a deep breath. “You know why I’m here.”

“I already told you no on the phone. No way. No how. I’m not doing it.”

“But…”

“Goodbye, Mizz Timberlake.”

Kylie sighed as she stood up, brushing the damp soil and dead leaves off her camel silk suit. She’d ruined her favorite outfit, her flourishing career as a publicist, and her brother’s business all in one fell swoop.

The Doberman growled menacingly at her movement.

“All right, already. I’m leaving.” She turned toward the white Honda Accord she’d left parked on the side of the road. She’d almost reached the driver’s door when she heard Hanover call out to her.

“Wait just a minute, Mizz Timberlake.”

She turned around, his words igniting one last spark of hope inside of her. Then her breath caught in her throat as the Doberman, free of its chain, bounded off the porch and barreled straight toward her.

She backed up against the car as the dog leapt up, planting its huge, muddy front paws against her chest.

To her relief and surprise, the dog didn’t go for her throat. Instead, he tried to asphyxiate her with his fetid doggy breath.

“Take the newspaper clipping,” Hanover called, still invisible behind the cabin window. “I stuck it in Eugene’s collar.”

Eugene? She glanced warily at the slobbering Doberman, then noticed the ragged clipping tucked underneath the thick leather collar.

“Don’t worry,” Hanover said. “He won’t bite.”

Now he tells her. Still leery, she carefully reached out and pulled the clipping free. “Nice doggy.”

Eugene lapped her chin and lower lip with his wet tongue.

“Thanks a lot,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Harry whistled, causing the dog to drop down on all fours and run back to the cabin.

Kylie unfolded the clipping, surprised to see it was some kind of advertisement. Frowning, she turned it over in her hand, then looked toward the cabin. “What is this?”

Hanover emitted a low chuckle from his hiding place. “The answer to all our problems.”

THUNDER RUMBLED IN the sky as Dexter stood in front of his potential new place of employment. The storm had followed him from the country into Pittsburgh, soaking him to the skin. If he was the least bit superstitious, he’d take it as a sign that this fiasco could only lead to disaster. But he didn’t believe in omens. Or in fate. A lucky charm or a palm reading couldn’t replace the value of simple, honest, hard work.

He and Sam had parted ways before they even hit the ground, Dexter landing in a cornfield a couple of miles away from his brother. But he had no doubt Sam had found a ride into Pittsburgh—his brother’s lucky streak was legendary.

Dexter, on the other hand, always seemed to do things the hard way. He’d jogged half the distance to Pittsburgh in the rain before a sympathetic trucker had picked him up and hauled him the rest of the way. After a quick stop by his apartment to change into dry clothes, he’d hurried down to the business address listed on his game card.

Dexter winced up at the bright blue neon sign above the front entrance. This was the company his grandfather had specifically chosen for Dexter to prove himself as the right man to steer the Kane Corporation into the new millennium.

Studs-R-Us.

The plate glass windows were plastered with huge posters of men in all types of attire. One wore a tuxedo. Another was bare-chested, wearing only tight denim jeans and a cowboy hat. But at least he looked better than the guy in the Speedo swimsuit.

He shook his head in disgust, wondering if the owner would be open to some basic marketing suggestions. Dexter reached up to straighten his tie as the idea evolved. Perhaps that was the answer. He could work as a business consultant for Studs-R-Us instead of as a male escort. Give them the advantage of his financial acumen and administrative skills. That would both fulfill his grandfather’s mandate and keep Dexter from thoroughly humiliating himself.

With a new sense of purpose, he squared his shoulders and walked through the front door. A melodic chime announced his entrance and the receptionist looked up at him with a flash of irritation, as if his arrival put a glitch in her busy schedule. She blew on her fingernails, newly polished a burnt orange to match her teased hair. A tiny portable television sat on her desk, tuned to a talk show featuring pregnant mud wrestlers.

She recapped her fingernail polish. “Did you want something?”

“I’d like to apply for a job.”

Her gaze skipped over him. “Here?”

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

She slapped an application in front of him, the words Are You A Stud? were emblazoned in bright red ink across the top. “Fill this out, then leave it in the basket.”

He looked at the wire basket on the corner of her desk, stuffed full with other job applications. His instincts told him they’d been there awhile. Not willing to leave his fate to a receptionist who had her calendar turned to the wrong month, he took a step closer to the desk. “Look, filling out a job application would be a waste of my time and yours. I have…very unique qualifications that I can bring to Studs-R-Us.”

She raised an orange brow. “Kinky stuff?”

“Perhaps I should speak to your boss.”

With an aggrieved glance at the television set, the receptionist got up and tapped on the closed door behind her. Then she disappeared inside.

Dexter could hear the voices of two women, but couldn’t discern their words. No doubt the receptionist was describing Studs-R-Us’s newest applicant. He flinched at the sound of their laughter.

Dexter D. Kane was once again the butt of the joke. He should be used to it by now, considering the numerous taunts he’d endured growing up. The D in his middle name stood for Dependable, following a Kane family tradition of giving each newborn a virtuous name. Both he and Sam had been involved in numerous playground brawls thanks to their unusual middle names.

Strangely enough, the name did seem to fit his personality. Dexter was dependable to a fault, which made him the first person people called when they needed help, whether it was an elderly neighbor with an errand to run or a business associate who wanted him to head a charity drive.

Unfortunately, Dependable wasn’t one of the names he’d been called as a youth. A variety of nicknames had stuck while he was growing up. Noodle nerd. Boy Wonder. And his favorite, Franken-brain. All monikers he probably deserved, since he’d spent more time at the library than the local hangouts.

He was certainly nothing like his brother, Sam, whose easy charm and boyish good looks had made more than one person ask if they were really related. A perennial favorite with the opposite sex, Sam had won more hearts than he could count. Too often Dexter had sparked the interest of a woman, only to find out later that she was just using him to get closer to Sam.

So several years ago he’d decided to forego the social scene and focus on his talents—accounting and acquisitions. Maybe when he finally reached the pinnacle of success in the business world he’d have time to figure out how one actually talked to an attractive woman without breaking into a cold sweat.

“Mistress Helga will see you now.”

He looked up to the see the receptionist back at her desk, a smirk on her young face.

Mistress Helga? Dexter pushed up his glasses, then walked into the office, half expecting to see a gallery of sadistic sex toys. Instead, he entered a light, airy room with a white ceiling fan and a wicker love seat and matching armchairs.

A middle-aged woman sat reading a magazine in one of the chairs, a pair of bifocals propped on her nose. She looked up and smiled at him. “Hello.”

“Mistress Helga?”

She laughed, then stood up and held out one hand. “I see my granddaughter is playing games again. My name is Betty. Betty Brubaker.”

“Dexter Kane,” he said, surprised by the tasteful decor of her office. It was certainly an improvement over the garish display in the entrance. Betty wasn’t what he expected either. A slightly plump woman with ash blond hair pulled back into a neat bun. Thick eyebrows dominated her face, but her green eyes gleamed with intelligence.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kane.” She sat back down in her chair and motioned for him to do the same. “Now, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to apply for a job. Perhaps as a bookkeeper or even an investment consultant. I have considerable experience in corporate management.”

She gave him a maternal smile. “I appreciate the offer, but my son might take offense if I replaced him. He’s worked as my business manager and financial advisor for the last five years.”

He thought about telling her that the front window display and the attitude of her receptionist were probably driving potential business away. But the numerous family photographs covering the walls and every nook and cranny of her office told him the advice might not be well received. Instead, he took a deep breath and said, “I really need a job.”

“I see.” She studied him for a moment, then leaned forward in her chair. “Actually, I do have an opening for a male escort. Did you bring any references?”

“No, this is my first time.” Heat crept up his neck. “Well, not my first time, of course. I do have some experience.” He decided not to elaborate. His romantic encounters had left him physically satisfied, but strangely hollow. Yearning for something more that he couldn’t name or even fully understand.

“Tell me, Mrs. Brubaker…”

“Betty,” she reminded him.

“Betty.” He cleared his throat. “What exactly are the job requirements for this line of work?”

“We are an escort agency, Mr. Kane. Our employees accompany women to a variety of social functions and also serve as companions.”

“Both day and…night?”

She arched a brow. “We’re here to serve our clients at their convenience. Is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat. “Not at all. I just want to be fully prepared.”

“Now that I’ve answered your question, please answer mine.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Why are you really here?”

He blinked. Did she know about the game? Or was this some kind of test to prove to Amos that he intended to follow the rules? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean you don’t look or sound like our usual applicant. In the first place, you’re wearing a tailored three-piece suit. In the second place, I’ve never seen a man blush so much since my honeymoon. So either you’re a lousy lover who is looking for some free experience or you’re a lousy undercover vice cop hoping to make a bust.”

“I’m neither.” Dexter feared he’d lost the game before he’d begun. “But I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interjected. “Studs-R-Us does not sell sexual favors to its clients. I run a clean operation. There are a lot of lonely women out there, Mr. Kane, and it’s my mission to provide them with the company of a respectful, upstanding gentleman. In fact, if I suspect any employee of mine is indulging in a physical relationship with a client, he will be immediately terminated.”

Dexter swallowed his sigh of relief. He was a red-blooded American male, but selling his body wasn’t exactly the way he’d envisioned obtaining the company of his dreams. He gave her a curt nod. “A sound policy.”

“Now, if you’re really interested in the job…”

“I am.”

She opened the file folder on her desk. “I had a job request earlier today that has presented some problems. Since the majority of escort requests are for evening duty, dances and such, most of my employees work elsewhere during the day.”

“I’m available twenty-four hours a day,” Dexter assured her.

Betty glanced down at the open folder. “Actually, that’s exactly what Miss Timberlake requires. A man at her disposal twenty-four hours a day for approximately four weeks.”

“That sounds perfect.”

She arched a brow. “Aren’t you even interested in hearing about the job?”

He shook his head. “I’m completely flexible.”

She looked bemused. “Well, that’s good, because she refused to give me many details. Although she did make it clear that confidentiality was of the utmost importance.”

“My lips are sealed.”

She smiled. “See that you keep it that way. I’ve not yet met Ms. Timberlake but she sounded quite young on the phone. As I said before, any physical relationship with a client results in instant termination.”

“Understood.” He took a deep breath. “Does this mean I have the job?”

She stood up and held out her hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Kane. You are now officially a Stud.”

2

KYLIE TIMBERLAKE sprinted through the door of Studs-R-Us, her heart pounding in anticipation. She’d almost given up finding a way out of this untenable situation. Now it looked as if her biggest problem was about to be solved.

She stopped short when she saw the man standing in the front office. His short, dark hair was slicked back and he wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He was tall and looked as if his gray pinstripe suit concealed finely honed muscles. Her first impression was that she’d run smack dab into a superhero in disguise. But she didn’t need a man who could leap tall buildings in a single bound. She needed a man who had a way with woman. And one who didn’t mind a little deception.

“Excuse me,” she said, still a little breathless from her sprint. “I’m looking for Mrs. Brubaker.”

“She just took the receptionist out to dinner.” The man pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’m filling in until they get back.”

“Oh.” Disappointment spiraled through her. Had she gotten the time wrong? “Do you have any idea when that will be?”

“No, but perhaps I can help you.”

“I’m here for an interview.” Kylie bit her lower lip, telling herself not to panic. She still had a little time to sort it all out.

“Are you Miss Timberlake?”

“Yes,” she said, giving him a quick smile. Her preoccupation was no reason to be rude. “I’m supposed to be meeting one of the studs here. But I must have mixed up the time.”

He glanced at his watch.

“Actually, you’re three minutes late.”

“You mean he already left?”

“No.” The man shifted on his feet. “I’m…the stud.”

She blinked. “You?”

“Yes.” He arched a dark brow. “Is that a problem?”

“No. Not at all.” Her cheeks burned. She’d imagined spending the next few weeks with one of the men in the pinups plastered in the front windows. Slick, polished playboys who didn’t affect her in the least. Not this superhero in the making. The last man she’d suspect of making his living as a gigolo.

On the other hand, superheroes did rescue damsels in distress. And her distress was on the verge of becoming an all-out disaster. She stepped forward and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Kylie.”

“I’m Dexter.” His eyes widened slightly at her firm grip. “Dexter D. Kane.”

She wondered what the D stood for, but couldn’t afford to waste time by asking him. She wouldn’t be referring to him by his middle name anyway. Or his first name, for that matter. “Has Mrs. Brubaker told you anything about me or this job?”

“Only that you require my services for the next four weeks.”

To her mortification, she felt another blush creep up her neck. She hadn’t enjoyed the services of any man—let alone a gigolo—for too long to remember. Not that she was contemplating a relationship with Dexter. No matter what images his words evoked. “That’s true. This is a rather unusual job. And one that requires the utmost secrecy.”

He smiled. “You can count on my discretion, Miss Timberlake. My job depends on it. And I’m depending on this job.”

She barely comprehended his words, too dazzled by the dimple that flashed on his chin when he smiled. It almost made her forget her mission. But the chime of a wall clock brought reality rushing back. She had about fifty phone calls to make within the next few hours.

“I’ll have to give you the condensed version and fill in the details later.” She took a deep breath, hoping she could trust him. “Have you read a book called How To Jump-Start Your Love Life?”

“No,” he said, looking a little confused. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It’s new on the market, but it has the potential to become a bestseller. I’m the publicist for Handy Press, the small press that published it. It’s my responsibility to see that it gets the right amount of media coverage necessary to attract national attention.”

His brows furrowed. “And?”

“And I’ve scheduled an array of book signings, radio interviews and even a couple television spots for the author. We’ll hit twelve cities in just under four weeks. It’s an all out publicity blitz. There’s only one small problem.”

“You need an escort?”

“No. I need someone to play the part of the author, Harry Hanover.” She waited, letting the words sink in. Dexter D. Kane certainly looked intelligent enough to understand all the ramifications.

He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely. You see, Harry suffers from agoraphobia,” she explained, “which is a fear of social situations. It’s impossible for him to appear in public. In fact, his case is so severe that he refuses to leave his home. Unfortunately, I’d already scheduled all the media events before I found that out.”

“So why not just cancel the tour?”

“Because Harry believes there will be negative repercussions on the sale of his book. And frankly, that’s a real possibility. Booksellers can make or break a book. And many of them have already started advertising the upcoming book signings. Broken promises don’t make the best public relations. Not only could Harry’s book suffer if he fails to make his scheduled appearances, but Handy Press could suffer as well.”

“In what way?”

“The company stays afloat by publishing how-to manuals and technical guidebooks. If booksellers retaliate by pulling all the Handy Press books off the shelves, the company could go bankrupt.”

He looked thoughtful. “There has to be some other solution.”

She shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve lain awake nights trying to think of a way out of this mess. I know it seems a little extreme, but this is the only answer.”

“How will Mr. Hanover feel about another man taking on his identity?”

“It was his idea.” She pulled a folded newspaper clipping out of her jeans pocket, smoothing out the wrinkles. It was an advertisement for Studs-R-Us. She handed it to him, their fingers touching. Her skin prickled at the jolt of electricity that shot up her arm. And judging by the way Dexter was staring at her, he’d had the same reaction.

Then he cleared his throat and looked down at the advertisement. “A man for all occasions,” he said, reading the company motto. “I’m not sure this covers impersonating an author.”

“I know it sounds a little unusual,” she replied, glancing at her watch. “But it’s really not all that uncommon in the entertainment world. There are ghost writers who write all those celebrity books. Musicians who do voice-overs on albums. Some authors even send in a phony glamour picture for the back of their book. It’s all about presentation.”

He still looked skeptical. “What happens when people find out I’m not the real Harry Hanover?”

“That won’t happen,” she assured him. “When the book tour is over, Harry is going to disappear. Handy Press will decline any further interviews on his behalf, earning him a reputation as an eccentric recluse. Which is the truth. The press loves that kind of stuff.”

Dexter hated to put a damper on her enthusiasm, but the obstacles to her plan seemed almost insurmountable. “What if someone who knows Harry attends a book signing?”

She smiled. “Not a possibility. Harry’s been shut up in his cabin for the last six years. And before that he lived in the Yukon.”

Dexter couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. Kylie Timberlake was the most vibrant woman he’d ever met. Even if her plan was crazy. “Well, what if someone recognizes me?”

Her smile faded. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Especially when you’ve probably got legions of women in your past.”

His pride prevented him from disabusing her of that ridiculous notion. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

Her face suddenly brightened. “Yes, you can. I think I know a way to make it work. A way to make everyone just wild about Harry.”

“I LOOK RIDICULOUS.” Dexter stood in the living room of Kylie’s apartment, wearing a short fuschia cape protecting his clothes and silver foil wraps in his hair.

“I know, but we’re trying to fix that.” Amy Kwan, Kylie’s roommate, sorted through the clothes hanging on a portable rack.

He never should have let Kylie talk him into this. But something about her made it impossible to say no. Maybe it was her big brown eyes. Or the smile that sparked a warmth deep inside of him. Or the overwhelming urge he had to touch her again.

“You’re a tough case, Dexter,” Amy said, “but I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Amy used to do hair and makeup for the stars of ‘The Young and the Restless,”’ Kylie informed him, studying the day planner on her lap.

“But I needed a break.” Amy selected five outfits and tossed them onto the sofa. “So now I’m doing freelance work. Mostly working on models for fashion shows and photo shoots. But my favorite jobs are makeovers. Enhancing the beauty of soap stars and models is easy. But transforming a loser into a knockout takes real skill.”

“Not that you’re a loser, Dexter,” Kylie hastily assured him.

“Thanks,” he said dryly as the timer on the kitchen stove dinged.

“Time to rinse,” Amy announced. She led Dexter over to the sink, then began removing the foil wraps.

“Exactly what color will my hair be?” he asked as Amy pushed his head under the faucet.

Amy carefully rinsed his hair. “The same color, but we’re hoping to add some fabulous golden highlights.”

“What do you mean, hoping?” Dexter asked.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Kylie called from the living room.

“Well, there was that time we ended up with lime green on Carlo.” Amy laughed. “Remember that, Kylie?”

“Green?” Dexter repeated, starting to feel a little panicky. He’d only done this to make Kylie happy, to see her smile again. Now the absurdity of it hit him full in the gut.

“It was a temporary color,” Kylie assured him. “It only took a month to wash out.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

Amy shut off the tap, then towel-dried Dexter’s hair. By the time he returned to the living room, his hair was standing straight up in golden brown spikes.

“That’s already an improvement,” Amy said, admiring her handiwork. “Now for the clothes.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing if you’re starring in a black-and-white fifties flick. The three-piece suits have got to go.” Amy stepped back and surveyed him from head to toe. “Fuschia isn’t really your color.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Amy tapped her chin. “And I’ve got to admit, it looks like you’ve got a great body under all those clothes. Of course, you’re a gigolo, so I suppose it’s one of the job requirements.”

“I think he prefers the term male escort,” Kylie said, scribbling something in her planner.

“I prefer to wear my own clothes,” he said, as Amy pulled another outfit off the rack.

“You’ve got to trust me,” Amy informed him, holding a pair of skimpy black leather pants up to his waist. “Once we get rid of your old hairstyle, your old clothes and those horrendous glasses, you’re going to be every woman’s fantasy.”

“The glasses?” Kylie looked up. “Don’t you think we should keep them? I think they’re sexy.” Her cheeks grew rosy. “I mean, in a subtle, intellectual sort of way.”

Dexter’s heart warmed at her words, along with another part of his body. He liked the way her hair hung in a profusion of wild, thick curls around her shoulders. His fingers itched to touch it, to feel the slide of that silk against his skin.

“Look, Ky,” Amy replied, as she pushed Dexter into an inflatable chair, then ran a comb through his wet hair. “I know what I’m doing. Women don’t like subtle. They like raw sex appeal.”

Dexter cleared his throat. “I take it my ability to see doesn’t matter when it comes to fashion.”

Amy snorted. “Haven’t you ever heard of contact lenses?” Then she stepped back and looked into his eyes. “Ooh, we could go with colored lenses. Wouldn’t violet be awesome with his coloring?”

“No.” Kylie’s voice was firm. “Dexter’s eyes are perfect just the way they are.”

The telephone rang before Amy could argue with her. Kylie picked up the cordless receiver, then placed her hand over the mouthpiece. “I’m going to take this call in the bedroom. Yell if you need me.”

Amy nodded, then reached for the blow-dryer. “Relax, Dexter,” she said, flipping on the switch. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

He closed his eyes, his tension easing as she finger-styled his hair. Despite his initial reaction when Kylie suggested a makeover, he really didn’t mind all the changes. They were only temporary, after all. Anyway, the fewer people who recognized him as Dexter Kane, the better. In exactly one month, he’d take over the helm of the Kane Corporation and leave this farce behind him. Fulfilling his dream was all that really mattered. Although the thought of spending the next four weeks with Kylie made him drift into a very different sort of dream….

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Amy said, gently shaking his shoulder.

Dexter started in his chair, opening his eyes to see her wrapping the cord around the blow-dryer. His body still throbbed with the erotic images that had danced in his head and he was thankful he still wore the plastic drape to keep the hair dye from staining his clothes. “Are you finished already?”

“With your hair,” Amy replied. “We still need to work on the wardrobe.”

“Can I see it?” he asked, as she spritzed him with hairspray.

“Not until we’re all done. I want you to experience the full effect.”

He looked around the living room. “Where’s Kylie?”

“Still on the phone.” Amy walked over to the clothes rack, once again perusing the choices. “That girl never stops working.”

He leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax. “I’m surprised she told you about the Harry Hanover masquerade. I thought it was supposed to be a big secret.”

“It is, but Kylie was a little nervous about pulling it off and needed someone to talk to about it. She knows she can trust me.”

Dexter wondered if there was anyone in his life he’d trust that much. He loved his brother, but Sam always seemed too laid back to take life’s problems seriously. There was always his grandfather, whom he trusted implicitly. But Dexter had always been so determined to prove he could handle any situation that he’d never allowed his grandfather see any of his fears or insecurities. Besides, the key to being an effective business owner was maintaining complete control at all times.

“How do you feel about silk?” Amy asked, pulling out an orange shirt with long puffy sleeves and draping it over the dressmaker’s dummy standing in the corner.

“I’ll sleep on silk, but I won’t wear it.”

She frowned. “You know, you could be a little more cooperative. Kylie is paying for all of this and she could use a few breaks.”

“She seems fine to me.”

“Of course, she’s fine. Nothing can bring that girl down. And believe me, she has had plenty of reason to start popping anti-depressants.”

“Like what?” he asked, surprised by this revelation. He would have guessed a woman with Kylie’s vivacity had lived a life full of sunshine and roses.

“Well, for one thing, she gave up a great job in Hollywood a year ago so she could come home and take care of her brother.”

“Was he sick?”

Amy nodded. “Hodgkin’s disease. It looks like he’ll make a full recovery, but it was scary there for a while. And now that Kylie’s nursed her little brother back to health she’s determined to do the same for his business. Handy Press has been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy for years. So instead of going back to work for her famous clients, she’s staying in Pittsburgh and working for peanuts until Handy Press is in the black.”

“Famous clients?” Dexter asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’m not supposed to name names, but one of her clients was just chosen as People magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year. And he thinks the world of Kylie.” She dropped her voice a notch. “Both professionally and personally, if you know what I mean.”

He nodded. Dexter didn’t have time to read People magazine but he’d seen enough pictures of Hollywood hotshots to imagine the type of man who had hired Kylie. The kind of man who dazzled all the women. The kind of man who was the complete opposite of Dexter Dependable Kane.

“Actually, Kylie and I met in Hollywood,” Amy continued. “I was doing makeup for a movie of the week and she was on the set to lend moral support to one of her clients. He was her high school sweetheart and she’d followed him to California and helped arrange his big break. He repaid her by breaking her heart. But he kept her on as his publicist.”

“He sounds like a real winner.”

Amy nodded. “She’s better off without him. She’s got good, midwestern integrity along with a wild imagination. That’s one reason she was such a hit with the glitterati. That, combined with her tendency to take risks.”

“Such as?”

“Such as volunteering to be the target when one of her clients performed a knife-throwing exhibition on ‘Circus of the Stars.’ Fortunately, Kylie only needed twelve stitches when it was over. Then there was the time she wagered a month’s salary to get her client a part on a television miniseries.”

“What did she wager?”

“That the guy would make it to work on time every day. She lost the bet, but her client was a big hit on the show.”

“Did he ever reimburse her?”

Amy smiled. “It doesn’t work that way in Hollywood. She’d probably still be there, trying to salvage her heart and her bank account, if her brother hadn’t gotten sick. Kylie would do anything for Evan.”

At least now he knew why his successful portrayal of Harry Hanover was so important to her. “So that’s what this book tour is all about? Saving her brother’s business?”

“That’s right,” Amy replied, studying the clothes on the rack.

He tried to imagine giving up his dream of owning the Kane Corporation. “Sounds like she’s throwing away a great career opportunity for a hopeless cause.”

“Yeah, you tell her that,” Amy said with a laugh. “Tell her not to breathe, too, while you’re at it.”

He shrugged, then removed the plastic drape. “I just believe a person should have a good career strategy. Otherwise you end up drifting though life without any purpose.” Like his parents.

Amy squealed. “I found it!” She pulled an outfit off the rack. “Put it on.”

He stood up, frowning at the clothes she’d selected. “That’s not really me.”

“It will be.” She snatched his glasses off his face, then pushed him toward the bathroom. “Change in there, then come out and show us the new Dexter Kane.”

“Harry Hanover,” he reminded her.

“Whatever.”

Ten minutes later, Dexter stepped out of the bathroom, then walked down the hallway to the living room.

Amy and Kylie sat chatting on the sofa. They both looked up at the same time.

“Oh, boy,” Amy breathed.

Kylie just stared up at him with her mouth open.

Dexter shifted self-consciously on his feet. No doubt he looked ridiculous in this outfit. He’d tried to tell Kylie this makeover wouldn’t work.

“Don’t move,” Amy said, jumping off the sofa and running toward her bedroom.

He looked at Kylie, his heart pounding in his chest. “Well?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

Her brown eyes looked large and luminous as she stared up at him. He wondered if she ever resented the fact that she’d put her life and career on hold.

Amy ran back into the living room, camera in hand. “Okay, I’ve got to have a shot of this for my portfolio.”

The camera flashed, making Dexter blink. “You mean you like this look?”

“Don’t you?” Kylie and Amy said in unison.

He shrugged. “The bathroom mirror was too small for me to get a good luck. Besides, you’ve got my glasses, remember? Everything is a little blurry.”

Amy picked up Dexter’s glasses off the coffee table and handed them to him. He put them on, then Kylie steered him toward the long wall mirror in the dining room.

“Say hello to the new, improved you,” Amy said.

Dexter stared in the mirror. His hair looked completely different. Slightly windblown and carefree, as if he’d just hopped off a motorcycle. The black muscle shirt Amy had picked out was just a tad too small, accentuating the broad build of his shoulders. The snug black denim jeans hung low on his narrow waist and hugged his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

“It’s amazing,” Kylie breathed, staring at Dexter in the mirror.

Amy clapped her hands together. “I knew there was an Adonis underneath all that tweed. Congratulations, girl.” She turned to high-five Kylie. “Your Harry Hanover is a hunk!”

Kylie took a deep breath. “Are you sure this is the look we want? He seems so…different.”

“Exactly,” Amy exclaimed. “He’s perfect.”

Dexter didn’t say anything, because he completely agreed. The man in the mirror was perfect.

He was also the spitting image of his brother, Sam.

3

THE NEXT DAY, DEXTER walked into Riley’s Bar and Grill, a popular restaurant located in downtown Pittsburgh. He saw Kylie waving at him from a corner booth. As he walked toward her, he noticed several women turning to look at him. It had been like that ever since Amy had worked her magic.

He still wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Where are your glasses?” Kylie asked, as he slid into the booth across from her.

“I stopped by a one-hour optical store at the mall and picked up some contact lenses.” He blinked twice. “They take a little getting used to, but at least I can see. What do you think?”

“They’re fine, I guess.” She opened up her menu as the waitress approached their table. “But I liked your glasses better.”

“I’ll have the quarter-pound burger with all the extras,” he ordered, “and a side of fries.” He handed the waitress his menu. She gave him a smile and a saucy wink before turning to Kylie.

Dexter looked down at the green Formica table-top, unaccustomed to such blatant flirting. He could feel a blush burning in his cheeks. It was amazing to him that a simple change of hairstyle and wardrobe could completely alter the way women reacted to him. Especially since he was the same man on the inside that he’d always been.

For the first time he wondered if Kylie was attracted to the new Dexter Kane. She certainly hadn’t treated him any differently since his transformation. If anything, she was more businesslike than before.

“I’ve written up an itinerary,” she announced after the waitress walked off with their order. Opening her brown suede briefcase, she pulled out an array of multicolored file folders. “The tour officially starts tomorrow, but I’ve got a book signing scheduled for this afternoon as a trial run. Hopefully we can work out any kinks before we embark on the real thing.”

“This afternoon?” His stomach flip-flopped. “Where?”

“In New Castle. The manager is expecting us at three o’clock, so we should have plenty of time to get there. I’ll drive.”

Dexter wondered if there was enough time for her to find a new Harry Hanover. He reached up to loosen his tie, then remembered that he wasn’t wearing one. So why did he feel like he was choking?

“Then tomorrow we go on the road” she continued, sliding a yellow file folder across the table. “We’ve got book signings scheduled in Ohio, including the cities of Columbus, Cleveland and Youngstown. Plus a couple of radio and newspaper interviews. Then we’ll circle back into Pennsylvania and hit Altoona, Harrisburg, Allentown and Philadelphia. And I’ll be setting up more appearances during the tour. I’m hoping you’ll be in high demand.”

He opened the folder and looked down at the itinerary. “Looks like we’ll keep busy for the next few weeks.”

“Definitely.” She bent over her briefcase, sorting through more files.

Dexter looked at her, admiring the way her curly brown hair was tamed into a loose French braid, with silky tendrils spilling over her cheeks and forehead. The style accentuated the alluring curve of her neck.

She snapped her briefcase shut, then looked up at him. “I’ve already made reservations at hotels along the route. They’re nothing fancy, but a couple do have pools if you want to pack some swimming trunks.”

He nodded, turning his attention to the detailed schedule in front of him. Kylie was definitely thorough. It looked as if she’d accounted for every possible contingency. The businessman in him was impressed.

The other part of him was impressed by the clingy, hot-pink sweater she was wearing. It had a scooped neckline that drew his gaze to her generous breasts.

“Dexter?”

He blinked and looked up. “What?”

“Do you have any questions about the book tour or the itinerary?”

He sat up and cleared his throat, focusing his attention back where it belonged. “Just one. Who’s paying for all of this?”

Her gaze dropped to her briefcase. “Handy Press is sponsoring the tour.”

“Amy told me that they were pretty strapped financially.” He fluttered the schedule in the air. “An excursion like this can’t come cheap.”

“I’m covering the costs initially,” she explained, stirring her soda with a straw. “Then Handy Press will reimburse me when the profits on How To Jump-Start Your Love Life start rolling in.”

He stared at her. “You’re not serious?”

She picked up her soda. “It’s a perfectly acceptable business practice. So tell me what the D in your middle name stands for?”

“I think you’re trying to change the subject.”

“David?” she guessed. “Dennis? Durwood? Dastardly?”

“You’re close with that last one,” he replied. “The D stands for Dependable.”

She smiled. “Now you’re the one not being serious.”

“It’s the truth. I’m Dexter Dependable Kane. Thanks to some zealot in my family tree who thought all the Kanes should be given a virtuous middle name to live up to.”

“So are you dependable?”

“Through and through,” he replied. “That’s why you should listen to my advice about forking out your own money for this book tour. Most businesses give you an expense account. They don’t expect you to shell out your own money.”

“This is different,” she countered. “I’ve already volunteered to cover all the expenses.” She took a long sip of soda. “Besides, the owner is my brother. I’m sure he’ll repay me as soon as he can.”

Dexter rubbed one hand over his chin, amazed at her naiveté. “He won’t have to pay you a dime if his business declares bankruptcy. You’ll just be one in a long line of creditors.”

She set her briefcase on the floor. “I’m not sure why we’re even having this discussion. If the book is a hit, bankruptcy won’t be an issue.”

“If,” he echoed, leaning forward. “A great big if, in my opinion. If everyone believes I’m Harry Hanover. If the book sells big. If I don’t blow it.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry, Dex. I have faith in you.”

AN HOUR LATER, THEY climbed into Kylie’s car. She unspooled her seat belt and snapped it in place. “Are you ready, Dex?” She switched on the ignition.

He nodded, squinting into the afternoon sun. The glare was giving him a headache. “It’s Dexter.”

“What?”

“You’ve called me Dex several times,” he shouted over the roar of the engine. “I prefer Dexter.”

She shook her head.

“I can’t hear you.” With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, she shot out of the parking space. A horn blasted behind them.

“Oops,” she said, waving behind her. “Sorry.”

Dexter reached out to grip the dashboard. “Maybe I should drive.”

She glanced at him, then back at the road, braking suddenly to make a left turn. Another horn sounded. “I need to get the muffler fixed. But the car should quiet down once we hit the highway.”

“If we make it to the highway,” Dexter muttered to himself. Recklessness seemed to be in her blood, whether it was driving a car or extending credit to an insolvent business. Both could prove dangerous.

The breeze from the open windows fluttered the neckline of her sweater. He looked away, but not before catching a delicious glimpse of her lacy white bra and the luscious curve of her breast.

As he stared out the window, he found himself wondering if she was as unabandoned in bed as she was behind the wheel. Not that he’d ever find out, Dexter sternly reminded himself. The Studs-R-Us no-sex policy put any potential fantasies to rest. He could never put his future at risk for a woman.

Not even a woman as enticing as Kylie.

They turned onto the highway and to Dexter’s surprise the car’s roar did die down just enough to make normal conversation possible.

“I’m going to call you Harry from now on,” Kylie said, edging the car into the passing lane. “That way we won’t get confused.”

He pointed to the digital clock on the dashboard. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to New Castle by three.”

“Sure we will.”

“Only if you drive ten miles over the speed limit.”

“That’s the plan, Harry.”

Dexter didn’t say anything else for the rest of the trip. The woman next to him was obviously delusional. There would be no way they could pull this off. A hundred things could go wrong. Just thinking of all the possibilities was making him dizzy.

Or maybe it was her perfume. A light, airy scent that teased his nostrils. It smelled like summer. In fact, everything about her was bright and fresh and cheerful. She wasn’t flashy or even classically beautiful. But there was something about Kylie, a natural warmth that drew you to her.

Not that he intended to draw any closer. For one thing, this whole charade would probably fall apart before the day was out. Then he’d have to find some way to convince Mrs. Brubaker to keep him on staff.

“We’re here,” she said at last, speeding past the New Castle city limits.

Perspiration broke out on Dexter’s forehead. “Has it occurred to you that I haven’t even read the book I’m supposed to have written?”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry.” She slowed the car as they approached a stoplight, then turned to him. “This is a rehearsal more than anything else. We’ll be lucky if five customers show up. Just smile and sign your name. Harry Hanover, not Dexter Kane.”

He had a premonition of impending disaster. Pulling off this charade couldn’t be as easy as Kylie believed. “But I don’t even know what this Harry Hanover’s signature looks like.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him, turning the corner, then pulling into the parking lot of a store called The Book Attic. The lot was packed with cars, but she finally found an empty space. “The public doesn’t know what it looks like, either. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“But you have met the man?”

“Well, sure. Sort of.” She unhooked the seat belt, then turned and flashed him a smile. “It’s show time!”

KYLIE COULDN’T BELIEVE what she found in the bookstore. Women. A long, sprawling line of women that started at the table stacked with Harry’s book and wound through the fiction section, around the audiotape display case, and into the towering stacks of reference books.

The manager hurried over to them. “Hi, I’m Bob, and I’m so glad you’re finally here. I was afraid I’d have a riot on my hands if Mr. Hanover was a no-show.”

Bob was thin and balding, with a straggly goatee that he kept rubbing between his fingers.

Dexter looked around the store in disbelief. “All these women are here to see Hanover…I mean, me?”

“That’s right,” Bob affirmed.

“I never expected this kind of turn out,” Kylie exclaimed. “It’s wonderful!”

Bob blushed. “This manager gig is only temporary. I actually have a degree in marketing and came up with this fabulous idea….”

He was cut off by the chant of the women in line.

“We want Harry! We want Harry! We want Harry!”

“Looks like you’re in demand,” Bob said as he ushered them to the table at the front of the store.

Dexter leaned toward Kylie. “What exactly is going on here?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied, noting that each woman held a copy of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

Dexter sat down behind the table as the store manager clapped his hands together.

“If I can have your attention please, ladies. Mr. Hanover has arrived.”

A joyous cheer arose from the back of the line, along with several wolf whistles. Kylie could see heads bobbing in the back, craning to get a better look at him. The women in the front of the line were staring at Dexter and whispering excitedly to each other.

Kylie felt a curious mixture of pride and protectiveness.

Bob cleared his throat to get their attention once more. “On behalf of The Book Attic, it is my pleasure to introduce Mr. Harry Hanover, author of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. But Mr. Hanover goes by another name as well.”

Dexter glanced up at her, obviously confused. Kylie held her breath, wondering what the manager had up his sleeve. There was no way he could know the truth.

Bob turned and picked up a large box, setting it on the table beside Dexter. Then he reached inside and pulled out a rhinestone crown. “It is my pleasure to present the King of the Kiss!”

The women cheered as Bob placed the crown on Dexter’s head. Kylie forced a smile, aware that Dexter looked, and no doubt felt, ridiculous. The crown was too large and slid off his temple, hanging haphazardly on his head.

She pulled the bookstore manager aside. “Will you please tell me what’s going on here?”

“It’s a marketing ploy,” he said, his face flushed with excitement. “I’ve inserted a raffle ticket into each copy of the book. The winner gets a fifty-dollar gift certificate and a kiss from Hanover. I coined that King of the Kiss moniker. Don’t you love it?”

That wasn’t exactly the word she wanted to use, but she was too confused at the moment to come up with a more polite term.

“I appreciate you ingenuity,” she said, trying to remain calm. “But it might have helped if you’d given us a little advance notice.”

He shrugged. “I just came up with it this yesterday, shortly after you called to tell me the signing was a go. I had to find some way to get buyers here.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, grudgingly impressed with the number of women crowding the store.

“The local radio disc jockey is a friend of mine and gave it a plug on his show. I also handed out flyers at the grocery stores, then sent one of my clerks to the mall. I really played up the King of the Kiss angle. And I might have alluded to the fact that Hanover could pass for Mel Gibson.” He looked over at Dexter. “If you squint your eyes just right there is sort of a resemblance.”

In her mind, Dexter certainly had as much appeal as Mel Gibson. Maybe not that shining star quality and rogue charm that practically oozed from the movie star, whom she’d met at a number of Hollywood parties. Dexter’s attraction was definitely more subtle. The kind that made you want to peel off his glasses and rumple his perfect hair, and fluster his rock-steady demeanor.

Of course he wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore. A decision she still wasn’t sure she agreed with.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Kylie said at last. “I suppose the important thing is that it brought buyers into the store.”

The manager rubbed his hands together. “Exactly! Now we’ll proceed with the drawing, then Mr. Hanover can start autographing books while I man the cash register.”

“What’s going on?” Dexter asked, while the manager retrieved a big jar stuffed with ticket stubs from behind the counter.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. “Just go with it.”

The manager stood on top of a stepstool, his hand dipped inside the wide-mouth jar. “Now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”

Kylie attempted to straighten the crown on Dexter’s head, wishing she had some bobby pins in her purse.

“And the lucky winner is,” the manager shouted, “number 432855!”

A high-pitched scream indicated that the winning ticket holder was located near the back of the line. After a little jostling, a short, rotund woman with bleached blond hair and dark roots elbowed her way to the front. She wore a gold lamé tunic top over black stretch pants that looked as if they’d been stretched well beyond their capacity.

“That’s me,” she trilled, handing her ticket to the bookstore manager. Then she grabbed Dexter by his shoulders and pulled him toward her. “Plant one on me, King!”

“Wait a minute,” Dexter began, “I’m not sure what’s going on here…”

The woman cut him off by slapping her thick lips over his mouth. She grasped the front of his shirt to tug him closer and he came halfway out of his chair. Strangled gurgles emanated from his throat.

Kylie shifted on her feet, itching to rescue him from this ravenous customer. Then again, the man did work as a gigolo. Surely he was used to dealing with women’s appetites.

At last the woman broke the kiss. Dexter fell back in his chair, the crown slipping off the top of his head and banging onto the table in front of him.

“What, no tongue?” the woman complained. “You’d think for a book that costs fifteen bucks I’d at least get a little tongue.”

“You bit me!” Dexter pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his lower lip.

“It was a love nip,” she huffed. “Straight from page forty-seven in your book.” She turned to face the crowd of women. “Save your money, girls. The King just fell of this throne.”

The manager hurried to her side. “Here is your gift certificate, good for one year at The Book Attic.”

“Well, at least this day isn’t a total waste.” She stuffed the gift certificate into her gold lamé purse.

Kylie’s heart plummeted as she saw the line of women in front of Dexter’s table slowly begin to disperse. Some tried to be subtle about it, turning their attention to the books on the shelves in front of them and surreptitiously laying down their copy of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life before walking away.

Perhaps most of them were only in it for the gift certificate and had never intended to buy the book. But something told her that if the kiss had been a success, the bookstore would have sold out.

To Kylie’s relief, one elderly woman did toddle up to the table and laid a copy of the book down in front of Dexter. He smiled up at the woman, flashing that sexy dimple in his chin. Kylie’s heart warmed. What woman could resist that?

“Your name, please,” he said, picking up a pen off the table.

“Oh, you don’t need to go to the trouble of signing it, young man. I just want to buy it.”

Kylie moved toward the table. “You’ll have to pay for the books at the cash register, ma’am. It’s right over there. But I’m sure Harry would be happy to autograph it for you. There’s no extra charge.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, opening the front cover.

The old lady smiled. “Well, if you insist.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, the pen poised over a crisp, blank page.

“Mrs. Herbert Dalrymple.”

Dexter began writing in a neat, even script. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dalrymple.” He signed the name Harry Hanover with a flourish, then handed it to her. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Oh, I won’t be reading it,” she explained. “My refrigerator has been sitting crooked for over a year and I believe this little book is just the right size to even it out.”

Dexter’s smile faded. “I see.”

Mrs. Dalrymple reached out to gently pat his hand. “If I ever buy a new refrigerator, perhaps I’ll read it then. I’m sure it’s very good.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, as she walked away. Then he looked up at Kylie. “Just go with it? Did you know that woman was planning to kiss me?”

“Not until a few minutes ago. Bob just told me about the raffle. Besides, I assumed that you’ve kissed lots of women in your profession, so you wouldn’t need any advance notice.”

“Thanks,” he said, dabbing at his lower lip. “Thanks a lot.”

“It will be better next time. We’ll be more prepared.”

“How?” he asked, shoving his handkerchief back into his pocket. “It should be obvious by now that I don’t know anything about How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she said, resisting the urge to scrub that woman’s lipstick off his mouth. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

4

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN working for Studs-R-Us?” Kylie asked, handing him a glass of wine.

They hadn’t said a word about the disaster at The Book Attic on the drive back to Pittsburgh. Dexter had wondered if Kylie was rethinking her plan to have him impersonate Harry Hanover, until she invited him up to her apartment to review the next week’s schedule.

“We’re not allowed to reveal any personal information.” He sat sprawled on a blue beanbag chair in her living room, his long legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. Kylie and her roommate had an eclectic array of inflatable furniture and beanbag chairs scattered around the living room. Which only reinforced his belief that Kylie had sunk more money than she wanted to admit into her brother’s floundering business.

She blinked at his terse reply. “Oh.”

“It’s company policy.”

She took a seat on the purple inflatable sofa. “Well, I suppose I can understand that. Although, I have to say that for a gigolo, you’re not quite what I expected.”

He didn’t like her tone.

“What exactly did you expect?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, please don’t take offense, Harry. I’m not criticizing you. I suppose I had a certain stereotype of a gigolo in my mind and you’re…not it.”

Harry. She insisted on calling him that name, even when they were alone together. He didn’t like it. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do the job.”

“But look what happened this afternoon.”

His jaw tightened. “That woman caught me completely off guard. But I can assure you I do know how to kiss, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried,” she assured him with a smile. “I have faith in you, Harry.”

His irritation faded under glow of her smile. He took another sip of wine and told himself to relax. Kylie might be disappointed in his job performance, but at least she was willing to give him another chance.

She set down her wineglass. “I think we should practice kissing. Just so you’re fully prepared if it happens again.”

His pulse picked up a notch as his gaze fell to her lips. They were full and pink. Inviting. And he’d just been issued an invitation. “You’re the boss.”

“Good. Let’s start with a refresher course.” She picked up a copy of Hanover’s book and flipped through the pages. “There are some great pointers in chapter three.”

“Pointers?” Dexter echoed, realizing he must have misunderstood her. “You think I need pointers?”

“I think you should be familiar with Harry’s tutorial on kissing. We want your method to match the book.”

Tutorial? This was ridiculous. He’d been mauled by a strange woman in a bookstore and Kylie was concerned because he hadn’t seduced the woman on the spot. But before he could explain that he’d never had any complaints about his kisses, she began reading aloud from How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.

“The right kiss will make your lady purr like the engine of a Lamborghini,” Kylie looked up at him. “Harry likes to draw a lot parallels between romance and auto mechanics to make it more comprehensible to male readers.”

“Fascinating,” Dexter said dryly.

“There are three key components to remember when striving for the perfect kiss. Proximity, pressure and pizzazz.”

“Should I be taking notes?” he asked, finding this entire conversation ludicrous. He was twenty-eight years old. Did she really believe he that needed remedial lessons in romance?

“That’s not a bad idea,” she replied, then pointed to the end table. “There should be a pencil and notepad in the drawer.”

Well, at least that answered his question. He didn’t move from the beanbag chair. “I think I can keep it all in my head. I just have to remember the three Ps. Proximity, pressure and pizzazz.”

“Very good,” she replied, then turned back to the book and continued reading. “Proximity is the most important of these three vital components. A man should immediately establish the dominant role, invoking the image of both protector and pursuer.”

“Okay, now we’re up to five Ps.” Dexter said, leaning back in the beanbag chair. “Proximity, pressure, pizzazz, protector and pursuer. I take it Hanover is a big fan of alliteration.”

Kylie dropped the book in her lap. “I’m not sure I agree with that bit about the dominant role. And I certainly don’t remember reading anything about it in the first draft. Maybe there was an editing mistake.”

“It sounds fine to me.”

She frowned. “You believe men should play the dominant role in a relationship?”

“That’s not what the book says,” he replied evenly, warming up for a good debate. He’d been a state champion in forensics in high school. “Hanover clearly states that the man should establish the dominant role during the kiss. That he should take on his natural role of pursuer. Since the beginning of time, men have been the hunters, pursuing their prey. A thousand years ago they hunted the water buffalo. Today it’s the woman.”

She arched a brow. “And you don’t find that attitude at all sexist?”

“Hey, you’re the one who hired a gigolo. Don’t you think that’s sexist? You even gave me a makeover so women would find me more appealing.”

“You were appealing before,” she countered, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of pink. “But image is everything in this business, and you looked more like a power broker than the author of a book on romantic relationships.”

“So who do you like better?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine. “The old Dexter Kane or the new Harry Hanover?”

She picked up the book and held it in front of her, making it impossible for him to see her face. “I think we’ve gotten off the subject.”

Dexter opened his mouth, then closed it again. Maybe he didn’t really want to know her answer. “Then let’s move on to the next P. It’s presumptuous, isn’t it?”

“Pressure,” she replied, lowering the book. “Are you sure you don’t want to take notes?”

“Positive.”

“All right, but pay attention.”

Dexter watched her lick her lips and wished he could stop paying attention. Stop watching the way her fingers trickled through her silky nutmeg hair when she tucked it behind her ear. Stop noticing the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. Stop his gaze from falling to the enticing curves outlined by her hot pink sweater. Or even lower, to appreciate the way her black capri pants hugged her long legs.

He reached for his wine, suddenly wishing it was something stronger.

“There are two kinds of pressure,” she read aloud, “that should be applied to achieve a penultimate kiss. The first is bodily pressure. If you’ve achieved the correct proximity, it should simply be a matter of leaning close enough to make physical contact with the length of her body. Like cables clamped on a car battery, you need a good connection to generate electricity.”

Dexter set down his wineglass, suddenly growing very warm. It was possible the sheen of sweat on his brow wasn’t due to the wine. In fact, he knew with a growing certainty that his body was reacting to the sound of Kylie’s soft, throaty voice describing the way to turn a woman on.

She shifted on the inflatable sofa, tucking one leg underneath her and stretching the other long leg in Dexter’s direction. “Second is mouth pressure. This should vary during the length of a kiss. Seduce her into submission. Too much pressure will cause the kiss to stall out. Too little won’t even get her engine started.”

“Exactly what kind of relationship does Hanover have with his car?” Dexter asked, trying to break the tension building up inside of him.

“I know it’s a little heavy on the automobile references,” she replied. “Harry started out writing car repair manuals. But I think one of the great things about this book is that it will appeal to men. There aren’t many romance self-help books out there that relay information in this kind of language.”

“That I definitely believe.”

“Okay, on to the third P,” she said, flipping to the next page. “Pizzazz in a kiss is like racing stripes on your car. That little something extra that really makes it stand out from the crowd. So how do you put pizzazz in a kiss? By using both verbal and nonverbal communication to convey your attraction. Use your body, your hands and your words to ignite the passion between you. Just like you talk to your car, talk to your lady. Make her know how much you care about her. And how good she makes you feel.”

Kylie closed the book. “That’s it.”

“Okay.” He picked up his wineglass and drained it. Then he set it down and took a deep breath. “I’m ready to go for a test drive.”

KYLIE SMILED AS SHE watched Dexter struggle out of the beanbag chair. It obviously wasn’t designed for someone over six feet tall.

She stood up and held out her hand. “Need a lift?”

He looked up at her, the expression in his molten gray eyes sending a shock wave throughout her body. It must be the wine.

Only the wine didn’t explain the strange sensation that enveloped her when his hand closed over hers. Her heart skittered in her chest as she helped him to his feet. She was suddenly aware of how big Dexter Kane was compared to her. At five feet seven inches, she’d never considered herself petite. But she barely reached his chin. His shoulders were so broad they blocked the view of the hallway, though she knew Amy’s door was closed and her roommate fast asleep.

Kylie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Dexter was still gazing at her with those penetrating gray eyes and his hand still held hers. He had strong, broad hands and the shirt they’d picked out for him emphasized his well-honed biceps. The combination made her believe that he could lift her off the floor with the slightest effort. Not that she wanted him to lift her, she told herself firmly. But the image was undeniably thrilling.

“Are you ready?” he asked huskily, their palms growing warm.

“Ready?” she echoed dumbly.

“To practice that kiss.”

She blinked. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

“I’ve got the three Ps memorized. Proximity,” he murmured, moving a step closer to her. “Pressure.” Another step. “Pizzazz.” He stood so close she could barely breathe.

“All right,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

Then she whirled around and raced across the living room. She pulled the dressmaker’s dummy from the corner and rolled it over to him. “This is Gertrude. She’ll be your date for this evening.”

Dexter stared at her. “You want me to kiss a plastic woman?”

“You can start with Gertrude and work your way up from there,” Kylie replied, still trying to regain her equilibrium.

But Dexter didn’t give Gertrude a second glance. He turned to Kylie, slowly advancing on her. “I don’t think so.”

Kylie backed up a step, then another, until her back met the wall. “What are you doing?”

“I’m establishing the dominant role.” He stood directly in front of her, then planted one hand on either side of her shoulders. “Is it working?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

His expression softened. “Are you scared of me?”

She wasn’t certain how to answer that question. Her knees were shaking, but not out of fear. “No.”

“Good.” Then he leaned his head closer to hers and inhaled deeply. “You smell so good. It’s been driving me crazy all day long.”

“I use…raspberries,” she stuttered, then realized she sounded like an idiot. “I mean raspberry-scented body lotion. The soap and shampoo, too.”

His gray eyes darkened. “I like it.”

She licked her lips, then noticed his gaze fall to her mouth. If he was determined to play this out, she wished he would just get it over with.

He took a step closer, his face now so close to hers she could smell the bouquet of the red wine on his breath. Then his lips feathered over one eyebrow and burned a trail down the length of her cheek. She closed her eyes as he kissed the corner of her mouth, then she found herself parting her lips and turning her head toward him.

He didn’t wait for any further encouragement, closing his mouth over hers with a low, guttural moan. Her arms circled around his neck as he deepened the kiss, the silken thrust of his tongue making her pull him closer.

His hands were on her shoulders now, his fingers gently kneading her skin until she thought she would collapse from the exquisite sensation. His lips molded against her own, teasing and tasting and tempting, until he drew a long moan from deep within her throat.

At last he lifted his head and stared into her eyes, his breathing as ragged as her own. “There’s one thing you should know about me, Kylie.”

“What’s that?” she whispered, her lips still tingling.

“I’m a very fast learner.” Then he turned and walked out the door without another word.

5

“YOU WOKE ME UP TO BRAG about a kiss?” Amy Kwan yawned behind her hand, her eyelids drooping.

“I’m not bragging,” Kylie said, pacing back and forth across the living room floor. Dexter had left over an hour ago, but she still couldn’t get that kiss out of her mind. Her heart raced just thinking about it. “I mean it was a stupendous kiss. I have never been kissed like that before in my entire life!”

“I know,” Amy murmured sleepily. “You already told me three times. He made you see stars, yada, yada, yada. So what’s the problem?”

Kylie stopped in front of her roommate, who lay stretched across the inflatable sofa. “The man is a gigolo. A male escort. A professional seducer of women. You don’t see that as a problem?”

Amy’s delicate brows drew together. “But you knew he was a gigolo when you hired him. In fact, that’s the reason you hired him. You wanted the fake Harry Hanover to be able to sweep a woman off her feet, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Kylie exclaimed, flopping down into the beanbag chair. “Of course. I want him to dazzle every woman he meets. But not me!”

Amy sat up. “Kylie, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Letting your heart lead you instead of your head. Or in this case, your hormones. How long has it been since your last date?”

“I’ve been busy,” Kylie hedged.

“Six months?” Amy guessed. “Seven?”

She sighed. “Twelve months and thirteen days.”

“So you agree it is possible that you’re overreacting to that kiss?”

“Anything is possible at two o’clock in the morning.” She rubbed her face with her hands. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am overreacting.”

Amy grinned. “You do have a tendency to leap before you look. Remember Tony?”

Kylie felt a blush crawl up her cheeks. Amy knew all about her years in Hollywood. She’d been as impulsive in her relationships as she had in every other aspect of her life. “That was my fault for getting involved with an actor. They love themselves too much to love anyone else.”

“And Adam.”

“A director. Even worse, when you consider the size of their egos.”

“And now there’s Dexter.”

“Okay, okay,” Kylie conceded, holding up both hands. “You’ve made your point. And I know you’re right. I’ve always been too impulsive. I wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t scheduled a book tour for Harry Hanover without getting his approval first. But Dexter is…different.”

“Just be careful,” Amy admonished. “The man is a gigolo. A professional babe magnet. Kissing is his stock and trade. He probably has this affect on all his women.”

All his women. She needed to remember that she wasn’t his first and certainly wouldn’t be his last. No doubt there was a long line of women Dexter D. Kane had kissed until their toes tingled.

But had it ever meant anything to him?

Kylie nibbled her lower lip. “You know, now that I think about that kiss, he did go strictly by the book, hitting every high point in chapter three. Establishing his dominance. Applying just the right amount of pressure.”

“Chapter three?”

“It’s the kissing tutorial in How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.”

Dexter’s husky words echoed in her mind. You smell so good. It’s been driving me crazy all day long. She closed her eyes, realizing he’d added a dash of pizzazz as well. “I’m an idiot.”

“Now I think you’re definitely overreacting,” Amy said gently.

Kylie shook her head. “Here I am swooning over Dexter’s kiss and he was just playing his part. He’s probably forgotten it already. Especially since he just turned around and walked out the door while I, on the other hand, could barely stand up.”

“Well, you wanted the man to practice kissing, didn’t you?”

“On Gertrude, not me!”

Amy snorted. “Gertrude? Okay, I hate to admit it, but Dexter is starting to grow on me. Any man who would choose a real flesh-and-blood woman over a plastic mannequin can’t be all bad.”

Kylie folded her arms across her chest. “That’s not the point. Dexter needs to remember that I’m the one in charge of this operation. I did hire him, after all, not the other way around. If I want him to kiss a plastic woman, then I think he should do it. There will be several last-minute decisions I have to make on the book tour and I need to be certain he’ll follow through.”

“And what happens if he tries to kiss you again? Can you keep from swooning at his feet?”

“Of course. I simply won’t let it affect me.”

“Uh-huh.” Amy looked skeptical.

“No, really,” Kylie said, firming her resolve. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to make it clear to Dexter that I’m in charge. Which means from now on, he keeps his lips to himself.”

“I WASN’T EXPECTING YOU so soon.” Dexter stood in the doorway of his apartment, a towel wrapped around his waist and his face covered with shaving lotion.

Kylie walked inside, a box of doughnuts in her hands. “I called to tell you I was coming over early.”

He closed the door, then turned to face her. “You called me thirty seconds ago on your cell phone. I didn’t realize you were standing right outside my door.”

Her gaze dropped to his chest, then to the towel hanging low on his hips. “Dexter, we need to talk.”

“Can I get dressed first?”

A pink blush suffused her cheeks. “Please do.”

He walked into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. He wasn’t sure why Kylie had made a beeline for his apartment this morning, but after that kiss last night, he wasn’t exactly in a talking mood. Even after a second icy cold shower, he still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

He tossed the towel onto the bed, then quickly dressed in an outfit that would meet Amy Kwan’s approval. He ran a comb through his wet hair, slicking it back. Then he walked into the adjoining bathroom and finished shaving. The man looking back at him in the mirror had bloodshot eyes caused by staying up half the night doing research on the Internet.

He had finally figured out that the way to succeed at this gigolo gig was to approach it just like he’d approached the other challenges in his life—by learning everything he could about the subject until he mastered it. It had worked with accounting. And business law. So why not with romance?

He’d found myriad Web sites pertaining to romance, along with several chat rooms populated by people who offered some very interesting variations on how to properly seduce a woman. Not that he actually intended to seduce anyone, especially Kylie, but he’d mentally filed the information anyway.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that information was power. So the more he knew about romance, the more successful he’d be at imitating the author of the latest fad book on the subject.

He’d thumbed through How To Jump-Start Your Love Life last night, too, but he intended to give it a much more thorough examination on the car ride from Pittsburgh to Columbus, Ohio, today. Kylie had arranged an interview for him there on an early bird radio show tomorrow morning.

Dexter wiped off the remnants of shaving cream from his jaw with a towel, blinking rapidly to moisten his dry eyes. The optometrist had warned him that he should let his eyes adjust gradually to the contact lenses or risk irritation and possibly infection. He’d obviously worn the new contact lenses for too many hours yesterday.

He reached for his glasses, then changed his mind. Kylie had hired him to portray Harry Hanover, and Harry didn’t wear glasses. At least, that’s the reason he told himself as he unscrewed the contact lens case and placed a lens into each eye. It had nothing to do with the fact that she’d melted in his arms while he was in his Harry Hanover persona. If she wanted Harry, then he’d give her Harry.

By the time he returned to the living room, Kylie had the doughnut box open and half empty.

“Your eyes are red,” she said, licking vanilla glaze off her fingertips.

“They’re fine,” he replied, blinking away the sting. “Now what did you want to talk about?”

“Sit down, Dexter.”

“Harry.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You called me Dexter. I thought you wanted to refer to me as Harry from now on to avoid any confusion while we’re on the book tour.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Can I get you a glass of orange juice?” he asked, moving toward the small, open kitchen. “Or I can make you a cup of coffee?”

“Orange juice will be fine.” She picked up another doughnut out of the box, this one drizzled with chocolate glaze and covered with colorful candy sprinkles.

He poured them each a tumbler full of juice, then sat down across from her at the breakfast bar. It occurred to him that Kylie was the perfect guinea pig to test his newfound knowledge of romance. Not only did she think he was a gigolo and expect him to flirt and flatter, but it was crucial to the success of the book tour.

Taking a sip of his juice, he regarded her over the rim of his glass. According to the information he’d gleaned, small compliments made a woman feel both attractive and special. “I like your ears.”

Kylie stopped chewing and swallowed. “What?”

“They’re just right. Not too big, not too small. And they don’t stick out at all.”

“No one’s ever really mentioned that before.”

He smiled, pleased that he’d been the first. “Your teeth are great, too. Very white.”

She brushed the crumbs off of her fingers. “Thanks.”

“But do you know what my favorite part of you is?”

She stilled, then looked up into his face, her gaze wary. “What?”

“Your laugh,” he hesitated, wondering if he should go on. But something about the way she was looking at him impelled him to keep talking. “It reminds me of my first-grade teacher. Miss Ames. She had a laugh like yours. Light. Infectious. It always made me think of sunshine.”

Her gaze softened. “That is so sweet, Harry. Did you have a crush on her?”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” Dexter found himself reluctant to reveal his single-minded devotion to Miss Ames, even after all these years. Despite the small gifts he’d given her, along with a sappy love poem he’d copied out of a library book, the young teacher had always preferred his brother. Sam had been a perennial teacher’s pet, enchanting all the female teachers from kindergarten through high school.

Miss Ames had just been the first in a long line of the fairer sex who had been more interested in his brother than in him. They liked Sam’s roguish charm and impulsive nature. The exact opposite of Dexter.

But he wasn’t Dexter anymore, he was Harry Hanover. And Harry made women fall at his feet.

Kylie glanced at her watch. “We don’t have much time. Are you packed?”

He hitched his thumb over his shoulder.

“My suitcase is by the door.”

“Good.” Then she hesitated, tucking a stray curl behind her perfectly curved ear. “We need to talk.”

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she realized she had a smudge of chocolate on the corner of her mouth. He was tempted to lean over and lick it off, just to see her reaction. He hadn’t come across such a method while doing his research, so maybe he shouldn’t improvise. Then again, spontaneity had been encouraged. His gaze fell to chocolate on her mouth again and blood pooled low in his body just thinking about it.

“So are we in agreement?”

He blinked, startled out of his fantasy. “About what?”

“That I am completely in charge from here on out. Your boss at Studs-R-Us assured me that her employees were quite adept at following orders.”

He arched a brow. “Exactly what kind of orders do you have in mind?”

Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then back up again. Which made Dexter discover something else he liked about Kylie. She blushed beautifully.

“I’ll tell you when we get to Columbus.”

6

“YOUR ROOM IS RIGHT THROUGH here, Miss Timberlake.” The bellman indicated the door adjoining Dexter’s hotel room. He opened it to set her suitcases inside, then closed it again. “Will there be anything else.”

“No, thank you,” Kylie said, digging in her purse for money to pay the tip. But Dexter beat her to it, pulling some crisp bills out of his billfold and handing them to the bellman.

“That kind of thing is my responsibility,” Kylie informed him once they were alone in the room. “So how much do I owe you?”

“Forget it,” Dexter replied, tossing his suitcase on top of the king-sized bed. “I’m not letting you pay for everything on this trip.”

She arched a brow. “Isn’t that what a gigolo does best?”

“Male escort,” he amended, unzipping the suitcase, then lifting the lid. Inside were three piles of neatly stacked clothing. “I don’t know about other male escorts, but I pay my own way.”

She folded her arms across her chest, deciding this was as good a time as any to make her point. “Remember what I said about following orders?”

He carried a stack of clothing from his suitcase to the dresser and laid it inside the top drawer. “I remember you told me to follow your orders, but I don’t remember agreeing to do so.”

She took a deep breath. “Then maybe I should get another male escort.”

Dexter straightened and looked at her. “You’d really do that?”

She licked her lips, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff. She didn’t have time to find another fake Harry Hanover. Besides, she liked Dexter. The thought of firing him made her stomach go a little queasy. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to make this book tour a success.”

He was across the room in three strides. “So will I.”

Kylie had to tilt her chin to look up at him, and she was struck once again by the sheer presence of the man. Dexter didn’t have to worry about establishing dominance. It radiated from his powerful body.

“I mean it, Kylie,” he continued, his gray eyes dark and earnest. “This job is important to me. I can’t tell you how important.” He stopped for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I’ll even agree to follow your orders. As long as they make sense.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

He smiled, the dimple in his chin once again catching her off guard. “It’s the best I can do. I’ve never been very good at letting anyone boss me around.”

A knock at the door forestalled her reply. She looked up at Dexter. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Yes, but considering how you feel about taking charge, I’m not sure I should answer it.”

“Answer the door, Harry,” she replied, giving her first order. For some reason, her body tensed as she considered the possible identity of the person on the other side of the door. Had he made a date with an old flame? Or an old client? Was Dexter moonlighting to earn some extra cash?

He moved toward the door and opened it. But it wasn’t a woman on the other side. It was a waiter pushing a room service cart. He rolled it inside the room and over to the small table in the corner.

“What’s this?” Kylie asked, as the waiter covered the table with a white linen tablecloth. She watched as he briskly set the table with two plates, silverware and wineglasses, then placed a vase with a single red rose in the center.

“Dinner for two.” Dexter slipped the waiter a generous tip, then turned to her. “I thought we’d probably be too tired to go out to eat after the long car trip, so I took the liberty of ordering something for us. I guess I should have checked with you first.”

“You certainly should have.” She walked over to the table, her stomach growling. “It smells delicious.”

Dexter joined her, removing the silver covers from both plates. “Amy told me you like filet mignon.”

She looked up at him, inordinately pleased that he’d cared enough to ask. “It’s my favorite.”

He nodded. “Good.” Then he pulled out a chair for her. “Shall we?”

Kylie sat down, still a little stunned. Dexter had not only been thoughtful enough to order dinner, but he’d called Amy to find out her favorite food. It made her feel a little tingly inside and…special.

“Wine?” he asked, holding up the carafe of merlot.

“Yes, please,” she replied, handing him her glass. “And I insist on paying for dinner.”

“Too late,” he said, filling her wineglass, then his own. “This is my treat.”

She arched a brow as he took a seat across from her. “I thought you just agreed to follow my orders.”

“True. But I ordered this dinner before our agreement, so it doesn’t count.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to let me win this argument, are you, Harry?”

He smiled. “No. But I will let you make a toast.”

She picked up her wineglass. “To the success of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. May it sell a gazillion copies and make Handy Press a household name.”

“To success,” Dexter said, an enigmatic gleam in his eye. Then he lightly clinked his glass against hers.

Kylie took a sip of the wine, the smooth bouquet telling her it was an expensive label. Then she picked up the white linen napkin and laid it on her lap. “So tell me, Harry, what made you become a gigolo?”

Dexter froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. After a moment, he said, “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged as she dabbed butter onto her baked potato. “I’m just curious. You’re the first male escort I’ve ever met. You have to admit it’s quite an unusual occupation.”

“You can say that again,” he muttered.

“Do you like the work?”

He looked up at her, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “It has its moments.”

She knew he was remembering that kiss last night and she wondered if it had affected him at all. “So how many women have you…worked for.”

He gave her a smile that made her toes curl. “I’m afraid that information is confidential.”

“You mean gigolos don’t ever kiss and tell?”

“Something like that.”

As Kylie ate her dinner, she wondered why Dexter seemed so reluctant to part with any information about himself. She knew nothing about him except that he worked for Studs-R-Us and his first-grade teacher was named Miss Ames.

Did he have any family? Friends? Women he saw outside of work? The last thought sent an uneasy chill through her, even though it was entirely possible. The only reason Dexter was having dinner with her right now was because she was paying him to do so. True, he’d paid for the dinner, but for all she knew he could be using money from an expense account. Mrs. Brubaker had told her Studs-R-Us had a commitment to making certain all their customers were completely satisfied.

“So what made you become a publicist?”

She looked up at him, startled from her thoughts by his question. Then she gave a small shrug. “I like people. And I love being able to bring out the best parts of them. So many people have good qualities that they can’t see for themselves. Like you, for instance.”

“Me?”

“You’re very handsome, Harry.”

He gaze dropped to his plate. “Since my makeover, you mean.”

She shook her head. “No, you were handsome before. But you almost seemed to be hiding it. As if you didn’t want the world to know anything about the man underneath the glasses and the three-piece suit.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “That’s who I really am.”

“Is it?”

He set down his fork. “I learned a long time ago that it doesn’t do any good to pretend to be someone else. You’re not only fooling other people, you’re fooling yourself. The one thing I refuse to be is a fool.”

Kylie could hear a strange undercurrent in his tone, but couldn’t place it. Was it anger? Pain? Or just naked honesty. His words made her more confused than ever. Was there really such a thing as an insecure gigolo?

She picked up her wineglass. “I think you’re forgetting that a lot of women are attracted to the strong, shy, silent type.”

“Are you?” he interjected, his gaze fixed intently on her face.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Admitting that she’d been very drawn to him from the first time she saw him would definitely be crossing the line from professional to personal. And she’d made a vow to herself not to do that anymore. A lesson learned the hard way.

“I’m speaking as a publicist,” she replied at last. “In my experience, women find something inordinately sexy about a man who doesn’t try to flaunt his sexuality.”

He reached for his wineglass. “Or at least they say they do.”

His implied rebuke stung. “And I suppose men are the epitome of honesty when they say they’re looking for a witty, intelligent woman rather than a set of measurements?”

His eyes twinkled. “Can’t we have both?”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You sound just like Adam.”

“Adam?”

“My ex-client. And ex-fiancé.” She reached for her wine, wondering what had induced her to bring him up.

“You were engaged?”

“For a very short time. Adam proposed, but he failed to mention our engagement was merely a publicity stunt.” She took a sip of wine, not quite meeting Dexter’s gaze. Despite the lightness of her tone, she knew he’d be able to see the old pain in her eyes. “Although I learned a valuable lesson. Two, actually. The first one is that romance sells, especially in Hollywood. The press was wild about the story.”

“And the second?”

She put down her wineglass and made herself look at him. “The second was that too many men put themselves and their careers first. Adam loved me in his way, but he loved his image more.”

“Then Adam is an idiot.”

“Agreed,” she said with a smile. “And on that note, I think I’ll say good-night.” She placed her napkin on her empty plate, then pushed her chair away from the table. “We have an early day ahead of us tomorrow.”

He rose quickly to pull her chair out for her. “Thank you for having dinner with me tonight.”

“It was my pleasure,” she replied, wondering why she was blushing.

He escorted her to the door adjoining their rooms. “Good night, Kylie. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Harry.” Then she walked into her hotel room, closing the door firmly behind her.

The first thing she saw were the flowers. Half a dozen bouquets of all kinds of flowers spread throughout the room. Puzzled, she walked over to the closest vase and plucked the note card off the holder.

She smiled as she read the message. “Amy told me you like filet mignon, but Gertrude told me you like flowers. I hope I can make this book tour everything you want it to be. Yours truly, Dexter.”

“IT’S TIME TO ROCK IN THE morning on 1240 KROC,” boomed the radio disc jockey who went by the name of Doogie. “And to get your day started right, we’ve got the sultan of sexuality. The high priest of horniness. The lusty ladykiller. That’s right, boys and girls. Author Harry Hanover is here to tell us about his sizzling hot new book, How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.”

Dexter adjusted his headphones, his gut tied into a knot. Kylie had been thrilled about landing an interview spot on the morning show at KROC, but he didn’t share her excitement. Sending flowers and ordering a romantic dinner for two was one thing. Broadcasting his newfound knowledge about romance to thousands of listeners was quite another.

The young disc jockey turned to Dexter. “Okay, Harry, I don’t need any passion pointers. I’ve got the babes lined up at my bedroom door. But what about those pitiful yokels who can’t even turn on a vibrator, much less a woman.”

Doogie was one of those shock jocks so popular on radio talk shows. He reminded Dexter of the loudmouthed jerks in high school who had made themselves feel good by tearing others down. The same jerks who were responsible for christening him with those stupid nicknames. But Dexter wasn’t Frankenbrain today, he was Harry Hanover, official stud. And it was time for him to step into the role.

Fortunately, he’d read Harry’s book a second time last night. Not only had he memorized the title of each chapter, but he’d practiced incorporating Hanover’s automobile references in response to potential questions.

Dexter leaned toward his microphone. “You can’t rev the engine until you warm up the car, Mr. Doogie. So I suggest any men out there who have their eye on a particular lady try to warm her up with small romantic gestures to show her how much he really cares.”

Doogie waggled his hairy eyebrows. “I know all kinds of gestures to make a woman melt right into my arms, Harry. The Doog-Master has all the right moves. In fact, my friends call me the magician because I can make a woman’s clothes disappear.” He snapped his fingers into the microphone. “Voilà!”

“That’s not exactly what I meant by gestures. Men need to…”

“Answer me this,” Doogie interjected, “how many sexy babes have you scored with since you published this book?”

Dexter glanced at Kylie through the Plexiglas window separating the booth from the control room. Her small white teeth worried her lower lip and she kept glancing at the clock. No doubt hoping as much as he that this so-called interview would end soon.

Doogie followed his gaze. “Speaking of sexy babes, who is that hot number you brought with you today?”

“She is not a hot number,” Dexter replied, irritated by way Doogie was ogling Kylie. “She’s a publicist with Handy Press.”

“Well, she could definitely come in handy around here,” Doogie said with a smirk. “I may have an opening in my babe schedule if she’s interested.”

“Sorry, Doogie,” Dexter said wryly. “She only dates men with class.”

“Ouch,” the disc jockey exclaimed. “The Doogster obviously stepped on some testy toes. So what’s the scoop with you and that spark plug publicist, Harry? And have you revved up her engine yet? Come on, spill. Just between you and me.”

And thousands of his listeners. Dexter leveled his gaze on the disc jockey while his fists curled in his lap. “I guess you’ll need to read my book to find out the answer. Who knows, Doogie, you might even learn something.”

“The Doogster doesn’t need lessons on how to do the horizontal hustle,” he chortled into the microphone. “But for you losers out there who are tired of those blowup dolls, check out Harry Hanover’s new guidebook, How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. It might be a waste of money, but it could fill up another lonely Saturday night. This is 1240 KROC, rockin’ you in the morning.”

Then Doogie flipped a switch and loud music reverberated from the speakers. He turned a dial, then swiveled his chair to face Dexter. “That’s a wrap. Thank you so much for coming in this morning, Mr. Hanover. I’m sure my listeners will enjoy your book.”

Dexter blinked, surprised by the transformation. “You’re welcome.”

Then Doogie nodded toward the control booth. “So is your publicist unattached?”

Despite the fact that Doogie might not really be as bad as his shock jock persona, Dexter wasn’t about to let him anywhere near Kylie. “Sorry, she’s not available.”

Doogie picked up a copy of the book. “Good stuff here. I especially like chapter sixteen.”

“Why Men Can Cry?” Dexter asked in disbelief. “You actually read it?”

Doogie smiled, placing a hand over his heart. “Hey, I’m a sensitive guy. Ask anyone.”

Dexter shook his hand, the urge to punch Doogie in the jaw gradually fading. But he found Kylie wasn’t ready to be so forgiving.

“Can you believe that?” she asked, as they walked out of the radio station. “He ripped you and the book to shreds! We’ll be lucky if anyone in Columbus buys it now.”

“Aren’t you the one who said any publicity is good publicity?”

“He made you sound like a pimp!”

“Not me. Harry.” He slowed and turned toward her. “There is a difference.”

She took a deep breath. “I know that. I just wish the Doogster would have been a little more supportive of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life instead of making it sound like it was just written for losers. Ridiculing the author and the book certainly isn’t going to help sales. I should have complained to the station manager.”

He clasped her arm, pulling her to a stop. Her cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes glowed with angry sparks. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful when she was angry, but Hanover’s book had specifically warned against using tired clichés. So he tried to calm her down instead. “Look, anyone who listens to Doogie’s show expects him to act that way. That’s the reason they tune in. If he had gushed over the book, they never would have believed him. This way they got a few laughs at the same time they got exposed to the information.”

“Exposure is good,” she conceded grudgingly.

“Right. And the next time they’re in a bookstore and see How To Jump-Start Your Love Life, they’ll remember it. More importantly, they’ll probably buy it just to see what Doogie was making such a fuss about.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re pretty smart, Harry, did you know that?”

He thought about his decision to kiss her instead of Gertrude.

“I have my moments.”

Kylie squared her shoulders. “Okay. Doogie set the ball rolling. So now I just need to think of some way for us to take advantage of it.”

7

THREE DAYS LATER, Dexter sat in a Cleveland shopping mall at a table piled high with copies of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. So far he hadn’t sold a single book, although he had given several people directions to the rest room.

Kylie had spent most of the last three days on her cell phone, although she had brought him a chocolate ice cream cone a few minutes ago to relieve his boredom. Dexter licked the top layer of the cone, wishing he could apply the frozen treat to his eyes instead of his mouth. They were dry and itchy, despite the fact that he’d added the lubricating drops the optometrist had given him when he’d purchased the contact lenses.

He glanced at his watch, suppressing a groan when he realized he still had over an hour to go before this interminable book signing came to an end. And twenty-one more days to go until his mission was over. This last week, spending every day with Kylie and dreaming about her every night had been sheer torture.

By the time Kylie reappeared at his table, he’d finished the ice cream cone and had counted all the holes in the ceiling tiles above him.

“How’s it going?” she asked, looking expectantly around the mall.

“I think the people in Cleveland are satisfied with their love life,” Dexter replied. “Is there any way we can ditch this thing early?”

Kylie shook her head. “I have a reporter from the Cleveland Plain Dealer coming down to do a story. She should be here any minute.”

“I’m afraid the story is going to be that the book is a bomb.”

Kylie sat down in the chair next to him. “Actually, I’ve got a different story in mind.”

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