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. "Voila!"
"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."
"Care to clue me in?"
"What if How To Jump-Start Your Love Life was responsible for a real-life romance? Undeniable proof that the book really does work."
"It might help sales, but where do you intend to find this proof?"
She smiled at him. "Right here."
"In the mall?"
"No, I mean right here." She waggled her forefinger between the two of them. "You and me, fella. What do you think?"
His body tightened. "I think it has possibilities."
"I got the idea from our conversation the other night. Remember when I told you about Adam?"
"Your ex-fiancé?"
She nodded. "He announced our engagement as a publicity ploy. And it worked. Our picture was plastered all over the newspapers."
"I thought you were upset about it."
"That's because I didn't know it was a ploy. I thought he really loved me."
"And if you had known?"
She shrugged. "Who knows? I might have gone along with it. I used to do a lot of crazy things."
"It sounds like you still do," Dexter replied, aware of a woman walking purposely toward them.
"I talked to Amy and she thinks it's a great idea."
"That's supposed to make me feel better? She's the same woman who wanted to exfoliate me."
Kylie grasped his hand. "Here comes the reporter. Just follow my lead."
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
She took a deep breath, then looked into his eyes. "Kiss me."
Despite his reservations about her plan, Dexter was happy to oblige. He placed his hands on Kylie's shoulders and pulled her close, not caring if this was just another publicity ploy. He'd been wanting to kiss her again ever since that night in her apartment. To prove to himself that the jolt that had shot through him was just a fluke. A natural reaction to a stressful day.
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