Читать книгу Operation Babe-Magnet - Kristin Gabriel - Страница 14
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ОглавлениеTHE 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.”