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.”