Operation Babe-Magnet: Operation Babe-Magnet / Operation Beauty. Kristin Gabriel

room. He opened it to set her suitcases inside, then closed it again. “Will there be anything else.”

      “No, thank you,” Kylie said, digging in her purse for money to pay the tip. But Dexter beat her to it, pulling some crisp bills out of his billfold and handing them to the bellman.

      “That kind of thing is my responsibility,” Kylie informed him once they were alone in the room. “So how much do I owe you?”

      “Forget it,” Dexter replied, tossing his suitcase on top of the king-sized bed. “I’m not letting you pay for everything on this trip.”

      She arched a brow. “Isn’t that what a gigolo does best?”

      “Male escort,” he amended, unzipping the suitcase, then lifting the lid. Inside were three piles of neatly stacked clothing. “I don’t know about other male escorts, but I pay my own way.”

      She folded her arms across her chest, deciding this was as good a time as any to make her point. “Remember what I said about following orders?”

      He carried a stack of clothing from his suitcase to the dresser and laid it inside the top drawer. “I remember you told me to follow your orders, but I don’t remember agreeing to do so.”

      She took a deep breath. “Then maybe I should get another male escort.”

      Dexter straightened and looked at her. “You’d really do that?”

      She licked her lips, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff. She didn’t have time to find another fake Harry Hanover. Besides, she liked Dexter. The thought of firing him made her stomach go a little queasy. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to make this book tour a success.”

      He was across the room in three strides. “So will I.”

      Kylie had to tilt her chin to look up at him, and she was struck once again by the sheer presence of the man. Dexter didn’t have to worry about establishing dominance. It radiated from his powerful body.

      “I mean it, Kylie,” he continued, his gray eyes dark and earnest. “This job is important to me. I can’t tell you how important.” He stopped for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I’ll even agree to follow your orders. As long as they make sense.”

      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