Nineteen more days to go.
Kylie stopped by the door, the sunlight penetrating through her thin lingerie to give him a perfect view of her silhouette. "Oh, Harry, one more thing."
He swallowed, wondering if she was trying to torture him. "What?"
"I owe you for this. If there's ever anything I can do for you. Anything at all, just ask."
He nodded, biting down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep from telling her exactly what he wanted. When she finally disappeared behind the door, he flopped back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He'd been dreaming about owning the Kane Corporation his entire life. But now he wondered if it could ever come close to making him feel the way Kylie made him feel.
And if it was worth the sacrifice.
The next week passed in a blur for Kylie. Her right ear literally ached from all the time she spent on the telephone. But the rewards definitely made it worth the pain. Harry Hanover was a hit. He appeared on radio and television talk shows both day and night. Newspapers wrote full-length feature articles on him. And bookstores everywhere sold out of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life.
She'd tried to contact her brother yesterday to suggest he do a second print run of the book as soon as possible. According to the local distributors she'd spoken with, the demand was unprecedented for a book from a small press. But Evan hadn't been in the office and so far, hadn't returned any of her telephone calls.
Now on this early Wednesday morning, she stood in the control room of the biggest radio station in Youngstown, Ohio, waiting for Dexter to finish up his latest appearance. It was a call-in show hosted by a female therapist who gushed over both Dexter and the book. So far, the woman had found an excuse to touch him twenty-seven times.
Not that Kylie was counting.
But despite the woman's hands-on approach to her radio show, the incoming calls had been running eight-to-one in support of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. The positive buzz had definitely taken on a life of its own.
Kylie knew she should be happy about it. But the increased publicity had shortened the amount of time she and Dexter spent alone together. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think he'd been avoiding her since that morning in his hotel room when she thought he was going to kiss her. Or had that just been wishful thinking on her part?
She'd been doing too much wishful thinking lately. Wishing Dexter wasn't a gigolo. Wishing they had more time left together. Wishing she could trust her own heart. But she'd been burned too many times in Hollywood by perennial playboys who talked a good line until your back was turned. How could she know for certain that Dexter was any different?
Because you can see his soul in his eyes. The words appeared in her mind almost as if someone had spoken them aloud. And she knew in her heart it was true. Kylie had never had that kind of connection with a man before. She'd tried to deny it at first, but it had only grown stronger in the time they'd spent together on the road. But could she really trust her heart?
All her past mistakes with men jumbled together, forming one big red light. She'd acted on her feelings before and found out the hard way that they were one-sided. So this time she intended to keep her mouth—and her heart—shut until Dexter made the first move.
"We've got time for one more call." The therapist punched a flashing button on the panel. "Welcome to 'Love Lines'. You're on the air with our guest, Harry Hanover."
"Hi, Harry." The voice was low and smoky, obviously that of a woman. "This is Delores."
Dexter reached up to adjust his headset. "It's a pleasure to talk to you, Delores."
"Do you have a question for Mr. Hanover?" the therapist prodded, one eye on the clock.
"I certainly do. I've been a big, big fan of Mr. Hanover's for many years. In fact, I'm wondering if he recognizes my voice."
Kylie saw Dexter's eyes flick toward her. She shrugged her shoulders, hoping he could improvise for the last thirty seconds showing on the program clock.
"I'm so glad you've enjoyed my work," Dexter hedged.
"Oh, I've enjoyed much more than your work, Harry. We share so many wonderful memories."
Kylie glanced at the clock. Ten seconds. She had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"You do sound a little familiar," Dexter improvised.
"That's because I'm not just your fan, Harry," the caller said, her voice sure and smug. "I'm your wife."
* * *
10
« ^ »
"It was just a crazy prank," Kylie said, when they reached Dexter's hotel room. "It has to be."
He slipped the key card into the slot, then opened the door. "Maybe. But she didn't sound crazy. Or unsure of herself."
She held the cell phone up to her ear. "Harry's still not answering his phone."
Dexter swung the door to his hotel room and Kylie walked inside. She stopped so fast that Dexter bumped into her. He reached out to grab her shoulders before she hit the ground.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Harry," she said, her voice a little breathless. "Look."
He followed her gaze to the bulging mailbags surrounding his bed. "What is it?"
"Fan mail." She turned around and grinned up at him. "It's official. You're a hit!"
He stared into her big brown eyes, then unconsciously took a step closer to her. The smile faded from her face and he heard the quick intake of her breath. He was tired of playing the part of Harry Hanover. Tired of pretending that he wasn't attracted to Kylie. Tired of playing the game.
He circled his arms around her and pulled her tightly against his body. A low groan rumbled from his throat as he satisfied the desire that had been building inside of him ever since their last kiss. Her body felt soft and supple against him. Just right.
Kylie's head tilted back and her lips parted, giving him access to her delectable mouth. He leaned down to kiss her, savoring the taste of her. Inhaling the scent of her skin and her hair. His hands molded to her slender waist, barely resisting the impulse to explore uncharted territory.
But when she moaned low in her throat, a sound that was both an invitation and a plea, Dexter couldn't resist anymore. His palms slid over her ribs, then cupped her breasts.
Kylie leaned into him, her fingers flexing on his biceps. Dexter had never felt so hungry for a woman before. So out of control. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her. He broke the kiss, then swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
Her eyes widened as he lowered her to the mattress, then she circled her arms around his neck and pulled him on top of her. Dexter moaned at the sensation of her body beneath his. They fit perfectly.
"Kiss me," she whispered. "Kiss me like you never want to stop."
Dexter complied with her wish, realizing he couldn't stop. For the first time he understood how the power of addiction must feel. His craving for Kylie was insatiable. Nothing else mattered. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her silky eyebrows. His hands never stopped moving over her body, his desire heightened by the soft, sexy sounds she made in the back of her throat.
Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, hastily slipping them out of the buttonholes until it gaped open far enough for her to splay her slender hands over his bare chest.
He tore his shirt off, and for the first time in his life, flung it to the floor. He didn't care about wrinkles. All he cared about was Kylie touching him. Everywhere.
She reached out to kiss him, one palm sliding around the back his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Oh, Harry. I want you so much."
Harry. He froze, his desire fading with the realization that she didn't want Dexter Kane. She wanted Harry. The man she'd created. The man who didn't really exist. How many times had he been attracted to a woman, only to find she wanted another man—his brother—instead?
"What's wrong?" she whispered, her brows furrowed as he held himself stiffly above her.
"Nothing," he bit out. Then he rolled away from her and climbed off the bed.
>
"Harry?"
Dexter didn't reply or even turn around. He just walked straight to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. His body still pulsed with need for Kylie. Bracing his hands on the porcelain sink, he stared into the mirror. He'd almost risked everything for a woman who didn't really want him. She wanted a mirage.
He took a deep breath, realizing how close he'd come to breaking his employer's cardinal rule. Not to mention his own. Years ago, when yet another woman had shown her preference for Sam over him, he'd tried to change his style. Endeavored to be more like his brother. Charming, easy-going, carefree.
And failed miserably.
That's when he'd vowed never to let anyone or anything try to change him again. He was Dexter Dependable Kane. And proud of it. He just wished Kylie could be proud of him, too. Wished she really wanted him instead of the phony Harry Hanover.
A wish that didn't have a chance in hell of coming true.
Kylie lay on the bed for ten minutes before she realized that Dexter wasn't coming back. At first, she thought he'd bolted into the bathroom in search of birth control. But the sound of the shower running had quickly dissuaded her of that notion.
She sat up, more confused than ever. When Dexter had kissed her, all common sense fled. She'd wanted him with a passion she'd never felt before. And he'd wanted her. That was a fact he hadn't been able to hide. And then…
And then he'd simply stopped.
She chewed on her lower lip, wondering if this was some ploy on the part of gigolos that she didn't know about. Leave the client wanting more? Only when Dexter had been kissing her, she hadn't thought of him as a gigolo. He'd simply been a man. Her man. Her Dexter.
Kylie smoothed back her tousled hair, growing angry with herself. Dexter didn't belong to her. He'd been with hordes of women. Most of whom probably had more experience than her. Was that the problem? Had he simply decided she wasn't worth his time?
Her cheeks burned when she remembered the way she'd melted under his touch. The big, dumb, handsome jerk had turned her to mush. Then he'd just left her wanting more. Wanting so much more.
Kylie heard the sound of the shower turn off, then hastily straightened her clothes. She wouldn't let him know how much his desertion bothered her. Dexter wasn't the only one who could play games.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Kylie had straightened her hair and clothing and was calmly seated at the small table by the window, reviewing the fan mail. He wore only a pair of blue jeans, his wet hair slicked back on his head and his bare chest still noticeably damp from his shower. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look away.
Dexter adjusted his glasses. "I didn't realize you'd still be here."
"I wanted to take a look at your fan mail." She reached for an envelope and slit open the seal with more care than necessary. She didn't want to discuss what had just happened between them. Or hear his lame excuses about why he didn't want her.
"Anything good?" he asked, walking over to the table. Fortunately, he seemed just as willing to ignore their short outburst of lust.
"All of them are good," she replied, shuffling through the letters. The scent of his aftershave wafted toward her and her mouth grew dry. He smelled as good as she knew he tasted. A virtual beefcake buffet.
She cleared her throat as she pulled a handful of letters from the pile. "Here. Have a look."
Dexter took a seat across from her at the table, then read the first letter aloud. "I'm so hot for you, Harry. You can rev my engine anytime. Love, Kiki."
"That one included a picture," Kylie said, sorting through the envelopes.
"Where is it?"
"I threw it away. Kiki forgot to put her clothes on for the photo. But you can dig it out of the trash can if you're interested."
"I think I'll pass," he said, picking up another letter.
"My dearest Harry," Dexter began reading aloud. "You're the man of my dreams. I sleep with your book under my pillow and hope someday we can meet in person so you can jump-start my love life." He flipped the letter over in his hand. "She didn't sign it."
"How do we know the writer is a she?" Kylie asked.
Dexter frowned at her. "Very funny."
"Here's another one." She handed him a pink letter from the pile.
"You're the perfect man, Harry. Witty, charming and handsome. Almost too good to be true." He tossed the letter on the table. "I've read enough."
She looked up at him. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong is that Harry Hanover doesn't exist. At least, not this plastic model you've turned me into. These women are looking for an ideal. But no man is perfect. I think we're doing them a disservice by pretending that I'm the perfect man."
She blinked at him. "You're upset."
"Damn right I'm upset. Maybe I should write a book. Maybe the women of the world would be interested to know how some men really think."
"How?" she asked, mesmerized by his intensity. This was a side of Dexter she'd never seen before. One she found oddly appealing.
"Well, take my brother, Sam, for instance. He's everything you want me to pretend to be. Charming. Fun. Romantic. Every woman's dream. Only he's got a very short attention span. I've seen him go out with three different women on the same night. He's always certain the perfect woman is just around the corner. And he's bound and determined to run after her as soon as he kisses his current woman goodnight."
"Not all men are two-timers," she countered, though her own dating experiences proved otherwise. "Are they?"
He shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. Sam isn't a two-timer. He never makes any promises. But the women he attracts read all kinds of things into his words and his actions. They want so badly to believe he's the one, that they don't realize he's already moved on."
"Sounds like he's a real jerk."
"Actually, he's great. Everybody loves him. Including me. And there's not one woman he's dated who wouldn't go out with him again if he asked. Although, Sam makes it a practice never to date the same woman for very long."
"And what about you?"
"Me? Or Harry?"
She wrinkled her brow. "What are you talking about?"
"Forget it."
"No. I want to know."
He sighed. "I just wonder if you really want my opinion, or the opinion you think Harry would have."
"Yours," she said, wondering why he suddenly seemed so sensitive about playing the part of Harry Hanover. It had never bothered him before. "I want yours."
He stared at her for a long moment. "When I find the right woman, she'll be the only woman in my life. Forever."
"Is that why you're a gigolo? Because you're searching for that one, right woman?"
"Not exactly," he hedged, picking up another envelope off the table. He tore it open, then pulled out the letter, signaling their discussion was over.
Kylie stared at him, wondering if she'd ever figure him out. He seemed disgusted with playboys, yet he'd practically made it his profession. But she truly believed him when he said he was looking for one woman. The right woman. And Kylie couldn't help but envy her, whoever she might be.
He frowned as his gaze scanned the letter. Then he looked up at her. "I think we have a problem."
"Your first hate mail?"
"Worse. It's from that woman."
Kylie wrinkled her brow. "What woman?"
"The woman who called the radio show this morning claiming to be Harry Hanover's wife. Delores. She wants to meet us. And she wants us to bring lots of money."
* * *
11
« ^ »
"I think this is a mistake." Dexter sat across from Kylie in the corner booth of a truck stop just outside of Youngstown. Honky-tonk music blared from a jukebox and a ceiling fan whirred noisily above them. They were the only two people sitting in the row of booths in the narrow diner. Truckers filled the stools at the counter, hunched over the blue plate special of spaghetti, garlic bread and lima beans.
Dexter
had ordered a slice of homemade peach pie, but his gut was too tied up in knots to eat it. He had to find some way to convince Kylie that this was a bad idea.
"We've got to at least meet her," she replied, picking up her fork and reaching over to nab a bite of Dexter's pie. "Find out if she's telling the truth."
He scooted the pie plate closer to her. "You're planning to take the word of an extortionist?"
"I'm hoping to prove she's a fraud." Kylie reached out to fork off another bite of pie. "I still can't reach Harry, but I had Evan fax me the man's bio and there's not a wife mentioned anywhere. She has to be lying."
Dexter leaned forward. "I think we should just ignore her."
"Now that would be a big mistake. What if she goes to the newspapers? Can you imagine the publicity?"
"If she's lying, they won't print the story."
She rolled her eyes. "You don't know the media. All they need is a whiff of a scandal about this mysterious Mrs. Hanover to print it. Harry Hanover has become a household name around here. The only thing the press likes better than building someone up is tearing them down."
"And what if it's true?" he challenged. "What if Harry really does have a wife? Do you think we can convince her to keep it a secret?"
Kylie nibbled her lower lip. "It can't be true. I'm sure Harry would have told me. If it is … then I guess we'll both be out of a job."
Dexter's eyes darkened. "That can't happen."
Kylie leaned toward him across the table. "Look, I don't believe this Delores woman is really Harry's wife. But if she is, we need to find out before the press does. Especially after the way we publicized our supposed romance. Finding out that the author of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life is a lying two-timer isn't going to sell many books. In fact, it very well might tank my brother's business."
Dexter's gaze wavered, then fixed over her shoulder. "I think she's here."
OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY Page 9