OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY

by Kristin Gabriel

  "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 shou
ld 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."