He glanced into the mirror, squinting at the bright halogen light emanating from the ceiling. It was no use. He'd have to wear his sunglasses inside the store. Pulling them out of his pocket, he slid them on his nose, the discomfort reduced substantially now that the glare of light wasn't irritating his eyes.
A soft knock sounded on the door. "Harry, are you all right?"
Kylie's voice carried a note of worry. He hated acting like such a wimp in front of her. Maybe he should have just toughed it out this morning, pretended his eyes were fine. Although she might have started getting suspicious when he started walking into walls.
He moved to the door and opened it. "I'm okay."
She looked up at him. "Your eyes hurt."
"They're fine. Just still a little sensitive to the light. Do you think it will be a problem if I wear these sunglasses during the signing?"
If she said yes, then he'd take off the sunglasses and ignore the pain. Dexter wasn't about to disappoint her. Not after she'd worked so hard to pull this thing off.
"Actually, they make you look rather mysterious," she mused. "Women like mystery. Keep them on."
He nodded, though part of him wondered if she was just saying that out of concern. "Anybody here yet?"
"Several reporters." She couldn't hide the note of excitement in her voice. "That newspaper article obviously generated some buzz. Lucky for us, it's been a slow news week in Cleveland."
He reached out and snagged her by the waist, pulling her closer. "Then I guess we'd better give them something to report."
Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"Generating some buzz," he replied, then captured her mouth with his before she could tell him why this wasn't a good idea.
Dexter wanted to kiss her to distract himself from the pain in his eyes. At least, that's the excuse he told himself. She tasted like honey and cinnamon, a delicious combination that sent every nerve ending in his body into high alert. Her hands came up and curled over his biceps as if to push him away, but instead her fingers flexed on his arms, then pulled him even closer.
Her tongue slid into his mouth, catching him by surprise. Dexter had initiated this kiss, but Kylie had definitely taken control of it. He let her set the pace, aroused by the assertive movements of her tongue and her hands.
Her arms slid around his neck and a soft moan reverberated from deep in her throat. Dexter hoped she wasn't a good actress, because this moment was very real for him. The discomfort in his eyes faded with each second the kiss went on, but he couldn't say the same about the discomfort in certain other portions of his anatomy.
The flash of a camera startled them both and they pulled away from each other. Kylie's cheeks were flushed and her lips deliriously red.
Dexter swallowed once, then twice, before turning to the cameraman and giving him a grin. "Looks like you caught us."
The reporters peppered them with questions about their budding romance as they made their way to the signing table. Dexter was surprised to see a line already forming. This time he hoped it was because of Kylie's publicity stunt rather than another raffle.
Dexter sat down in the chair and picked up a pen, half wishing he and Kylie could have continued that kiss in private. Even if he couldn't let it lead anywhere.
The first customer walked up to him and laid two copies of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life on the table. "I'm buying one for my husband and one for my newly married son." She was a plump, middle-aged woman with bifocals propped on her nose. "I think every man in America should read this book."
Dexter signed both copies, then turned to the next customer, a young woman with books stacked so high in front of her that her face was partially concealed.
"Let me help you," he said, rising half out of his chair and taking the books out of her hands.
"Thanks," she said, after they were safely on the table. "I'm a teacher at South High School and I'm making How To Jump-Start Your Love Life required reading in my Sex Education class."
Kylie moved closer to the table. "Do you mind telling me how you heard about the book?"
The teacher smiled. "One of the boys had his radio tuned to an obnoxious disc jockey on some morning show before class. I demanded he turn it off, but not before I heard what Mr. Hanover said about the right way to treat a woman. Judging by the behavior of some of the kids in my school, I'm convinced they need to learn that love is about a lot more than hormones."
A reporter sidled up the table. "Can I quote you on that? And could you spell your name for me please?"
While the enthused teacher walked off with the reporter, Dexter finished signing her books, then turned to the next customer. An elderly man with a snow-white goatee and thick Coke-bottle glasses stood reading How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.
"How do you do, sir," Dexter said, as Kylie beamed at the growing line of customers. "Would you like me to sign that for you?"
"I would be honored, Mr. Hanover. My name is Cooper. Cecil Cooper." He set the book in front of Dexter. "There's a lady I'm courting at the local seniors center and the tips in this book might just be the ticket to get her to accept my marriage proposal."
"Good luck, Mr. Cooper," Dexter said, handing him back his book.
The old man winked. "I don't need luck. Just some privacy so I can try out some of these wonderful kissing techniques on her."
After he left, Kylie reached over and gave Dexter a hug. "Isn't this wonderful?" she whispered. "Everybody loves this book, young and old. Even teachers!"
Dexter nudged his sunglasses up on his nose. "Maybe you should start planning some of these book signings at school assemblies and seniors centers."
Kylie got a speculative gleam in her eyes. "That's not a bad idea."
Dexter smiled, then turned to the next customer. She was young and on the thin side, with her strawberry-blond hair drawn back into a simple ponytail. She wore a loose-fitting black sweatshirt and matching sweatpants and held How To Jump Start Your Love Life clutched to her chest. Oddly enough, she also wore sunglasses. Perhaps conjunctivitis was more common than he'd realized.
"Can this book really help me?" she asked, her voice so soft he could barely discern her words.
Something in the woman's tone made Dexter hesitate. If he had to define it, he'd call it desperation. "You need help?"
She stepped closer to the table and lowered her voice another notch. "I just want something that tells me how to make my husband love me more. I've tried everything, but he still gets so frustrated with me sometimes…"
Uneasiness stirred in Dexter's gut. "And what does your husband do when he gets frustrated?"
"Sometimes he loses his temper. He's always been very … emotional." She held on to the book like a lifeline. "If I can just figure out some ways not to make him so angry, I think it will help our marriage."
Dexter knew the woman didn't suffer from conjunctivitis. Her condition was much worse. "Has he ever hit you?"
She swallowed convulsively. "No. Hardly ever. And only if I do something to really make him mad. He tries to be patient, but he's under a lot of stress at work."
Dexter could feel Kylie tense beside him. She knew, too, that this woman needed more than the newest fad book on injecting a little romance into your life. He cleared his throat. "Have you ever talked with anyone about your … problem?"
She shook her head. "No. But lately it seems to be getting worse. So when I read about you in the newspaper, I thought your book might be able to help me."
"What's your name?" he asked gently.
"Debbie." She licked her pale lips. "Debbie Gunderson."
"Debbie, I'm going to let you take that book home with you for free," he said, reaching for a promotional bookmark. "But you have to promise to do something for me. Are you a woman who keeps your word?"
"Always," she said without hesitation. "My mother always said people can take everything away from you but your word. It's the most important thing you have."
Dexter wrote a name
and phone number on the bookmark. "I want you to call the woman at this number. Her name is Michelle Parr. She's a lawyer and a friend of mine. I know she'll want to talk to you."
Debbie took the bookmark, but looked uneasy. "Why would she want to talk to me? She doesn't even know me."
"Because she volunteers for a foundation that helps women who have problems like yours. I think she'll help you even more than my book. Just tell her what you've told me today."
Michelle worked on the legal team of the Kane Corporation and she and Dexter had co-chaired a charity drive for battered women shelters. He'd been impressed with her highly successful methods of convincing abused women to leave hopeless, destructive relationships and make new lives for themselves.
"Okay," Debbie said tentatively.
"Promise me," Dexter insisted.
Debbie took a deep breath. "I'll call her. I promise."
After the woman left, Kylie turned to him, tears shining in her brown eyes. "You were perfect."
He nodded, his chest tight. "I hate men that make a woman feel like that. Ashamed. Helpless. It's a sick power trip."
"Is this Michelle you referred her to one of you regular clients?"
"No, she works with me," Dexter replied, then realized Kylie meant a client at Studs-R-Us, not the Kane Corporation. But his answer seemed to satisfy her anyway. No doubt she assumed Studs-R-Us employed female escorts, too.
Dexter looked around the bookstore as the next customer approached the table. "What happened to that reporter?"
Kylie shrugged. "He was just here a minute ago. Maybe he had to meet a deadline."
"Do you think the paper will do another story on us?"
Kylie held up both hands, her fingers crossed. "We can only hope. The teacher angle was a good one. And his photographer got a picture of us kissing. I guess we'll find out when the morning paper hits the stands."
* * *
9
« ^ »
The shrill ring of the telephone woke Dexter out of a sound sleep the next morning. He pulled the pillow over his head as sunlight streamed through the curtains drawn over hotel room window. His eyelids scraped like sandpaper over his sore eyes and a dull headache throbbed just behind his left temple. He and Kylie had stayed up late last night with a bottle of champagne to celebrate the success of the book signing.
The telephone rang again. He reached out from under the pillow and fumbled for the receiver, knocking it off of the cradle. It clanked against the nightstand before he wrapped it in his grip and pulled it under the pillow. "Hello?"
"May I speak to Harry Hanover, please?"
"Who?" he asked, his voice rough. Then it clicked. "Oh, Hanover. Yeah, Harry Hanover. That's me."
"Mr. Hanover, this is Paige Miller from the 'CBS Morning Show'. We'd like to extend an invitation for you to appear on our program tomorrow, via satellite, from our local Ohio affiliate station."
He sat up in bed, wondering if he was still half asleep. Had she really said the "CBS Morning Show"?
"Kylie Timberlake is in charge of scheduling all the media appearances. You really need to talk directly with her."
He heard a frustrated sigh over the line. "Ms. Timberlake's phone has been busy for the last hour. If you could just give us a verbal commitment, we can fax a contract to your hotel in Cleveland. Ms. Timberlake can then negotiate any details she wishes."
"I can't commit to anything without Kylie's approval," he replied, wondering why the woman was pushing.
"Can you at least tell me if you've already agreed to appear on a rival network?"
"I haven't even eaten breakfast yet," he said, squinting at the digital clock next to the bed.
The woman was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you so early, Mr. Hanover. Our station will be happy to send you a complimentary fruit basket for any inconvenience we may have caused you. And I can promise that you will get star treatment if you agree to appear on our show."
He reached for the pencil and notepad next to the telephone. "I'll take your number and have Kylie give you a call."
She tried to push for a definite commitment, but finally gave up and recited her telephone number, along with once again emphasizing the urgency of her request.
Dexter had just hung up the telephone when the adjoining door to his room flew open and Kylie rushed inside.
"Did you see it?" she exclaimed, her pink silk robe billowing around her.
"See what?" he asked, too enamored of the way her hair fell in unruly waves around her head to even comprehend her question. She looked as if she'd just gotten out of bed.
"The newspaper?" She unfolded the morning edition of the Plain Dealer and held it in front of her so he could read the bold headline.
"Love Mechanic Repairs Abusive Relationship." His brow furrowed. "What's that all about?"
"That woman in the bookstore," Kylie replied. "Debbie Gunderson. The reporter must have overheard your conversation. She's referred to as Jane Doe in the article, but he quoted everything you said as well as your advice about calling Michelle Parr. There's another story on her in here, too. She works for some company that started a foundation to help battered woman."
Dexter didn't tell her that company was the Kane Corporation. Soon to belong to him, if he didn't blow it. And he'd never been so tempted to blow it as at this moment. He could glimpse Kylie's nightgown through the opening of her robe. It was a satin pink number that clung to her delectable curves and was cut low enough to reveal the creamy expanse of her cleavage.
She followed his gaze, then pulled her robe together, her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not. You're a beautiful woman, Kylie."
She smiled. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls. Especially since you're a professional gigolo."
"You don't believe me?"
"I believe you're in the business to make women feel good. And I'll give you credit, Harry, you're certainly much better at it than I ever anticipated. But we don't have to pretend anymore."
He got an empty feeling in his gut at the thought of never kissing her again. "Even in front of the cameras?"
She gave a small shrug, not quite meeting his gaze. "I think our focus should be on this new angle. I've had twelve calls already this morning from media outlets interested in interviews and feature stories about you and How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.
"Oh, that reminds me. A woman from the 'CBS Morning Show' called and wants me to appear on their program via satellite. I told her you'd return the call."
Kylie blinked. "'The CBS Morning Show?'"
"That's right." He reached over to the nightstand and handed her the number. "She's a producer. Her name is Paige Miller."
"'The CBS Morning Show,'" she said again, her voice cracking. Then she bent over at the waist, her hands on her knees. "I can't breathe so good."
"Sit down." Dexter reached out and pulled her down onto the edge of the mattress. "Now put your head between your knees."
She did as instructed until her breathing resumed a normal rhythm. Then she sat up and turned to face him, her brown eyes wide and her face pale. "I don't believe it. This is it. This is the big break I've been dreaming about for Handy Press. For Evan. We're talking national exposure here."
He smiled. "So this is a good thing. I was worried there for a minute when you looked as if you were going to faint."
"I've never fainted in my life," she assured him, as color flowed back into her cheeks. "It's just that this is all coming together so fast. We're barely halfway into this book tour and look at everything that's happened already."
He studied her face. "Are you sure this is a good thing?"
Her brows drew together. "What do you mean?"
He hated to put a damper on her jubilation, but his pragmatic side couldn't help but see the possible consequences of national fame. "What if all these reporters start digging deeper into Harry Hanover's life? What if they find out I'm not really Harry Hanover?"
Her smile faded. "Th
at would be a disaster."
"Damn straight. So we need to figure out how to keep that from happening."
"I'll write up a bio," Kylie announced. "And make it available to all the press. I'll call Harry this morning and get all the interesting details about his life. We'll put it all out in the open. Then maybe the media won't be so inclined to go digging for it."
"Just make sure you show it to me first, in case I'm questioned about it."
"Definitely." Then she looked up at him, her eye gleaming. "I don't know how to thank you, Harry." She reached out one hand and laid it on his bare chest. "This is all because of that wonderful advice you gave to that poor woman. All because of you."
His breath hitched at her touch. Suddenly, he was all too aware that he was alone in a hotel room with the woman he'd been dreaming about almost every night since they'd met. She was on his bed, and precariously close to finding herself in his bed.
His gaze fell to her full lips, then to the graceful curve of her neck. His heartbeat kicked up a notch when he saw how her silk robe had fallen open again, revealing the delicate lace adorning the bodice of her nightgown.
He leaned forward and saw her eyes widen and her lips part. If he kissed her now, he couldn't pretend it was to practice the kissing lessons in chapter three of the book. Or for the benefit of the media. Kissing Kylie now could change everything between them. Worse, it could ultimately result in his losing the Kane Corporation.
Did he really want to take that chance?
He pulled back, confusion and desire warring within him. "You'd better go back to your room."
She stood abruptly, pulling her robe more tightly around her. "You're right. I have a lot of calls to make."
He took a slow, deep breath, willing himself not think about the more pleasurable consequence he just denied himself. There was no reason to think Kylie wanted him. She might be attracted to the new and improved Harry, but she didn't even know the real Dexter Kane. The one who wanted to pull her into his arms and make her forget the book tour and the media and any man but him.
OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY Page 8