Manhattan Merger. Rebecca Winters

eyes of the older saleswoman behind the counter lit up at his approach. “Mr. Sterling— Good evening! I’m Alice Perry. It’s a real honor to have you in my store.” She extended her hand which he shook.

      “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Perry,” he answered back.

      “What can I do for you?”

      He handed her the novel which would never lie flat again.

      She took one look at it and her gaze lifted to his with excitement. “I knew this was you!” she cried. “Every romance reader who’s come in here lately has been talking about it.”

      Payne groaned. “According to my niece, there are other novels besides this that appear to have my likeness on the cover.”

      “Oh there are!” she blurted. “But this one…”

      So neither Catherine or Nyla had exaggerated anything. The news was going from bad to worse.

      “At this point there isn’t a copy of Manhattan Merger to be had anywhere on the Atlantic seaboard. My phone’s been ringing off the hook with book dealers wanting copies! Those people lucky enough to have purchased it when it first came out are holding on to it for dear life.

      “I kept copies of it and those other books for myself and my daughter who helps me run the shop. Perhaps before you leave you’d be willing to sign them? We’d be so thrilled if you would.”

      “I’d be happy to oblige, if I’d given my permission to appear on their covers.”

      Her smile faded. “I don’t understand.”

      “Neither do I, Ms. Perry. That’s why I’m here, to try and solve this mystery.”

      “You mean they just went ahead and used your picture?”

      “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He had to tamp down hard on his anger. “May I see them please?”

      “I only have four left. They’re locked away in the back room until a book dealer from Connecticut arrives on Friday. He’s a collector and is going to pay me five thousand dollars apiece for them. Give me a moment and I’ll bring them out.”

      “Only five thousand?” Mac said in a teasing whisper as the woman disappeared.

      Ignoring the aside, Payne wandered over to the nearest bookshelf marked Mysteries. It was crammed with titles by various authors and sorted according to the alphabet. He pulled one out, curious to see what kind of cover was on the front.

      The photograph had captured a busy street scene somewhere in London. A quick look at the copyright page gave the name of a British publisher.

      He moved to another section marked Upbeat Romances published in Los Angeles. Their covers were done in cartoon caricatures.

      “Here we are.”

      He reshelved the book and joined the woman who’d laid the four books out on the counter for him. At first glance, he was horrified.

      It was his face all right.

      One of them depicted him as a Norseman with a flowing mane of white-blond hair, hazel eyes, bulging thighs and biceps twice his size. The book was called Roald’s Bride.

      Another showed him as a Castilian prince in royal ceremonial robes with pitch-black hair and eyes entitled, Her Prince of Dreams.

      In the third book, Undercover Love, he was a gray-eyed Royal Canadian Mountie in full red dress uniform wearing a hat that covered his hair.

      The Star Grazer was the last book. It portrayed him as a man from the future with auburn hair and brown eyes.

      On all of the covers he had his arms around a beautiful woman. It appeared the same person had done the artwork.

      “That’s some life you lead,” came another crack from Mac, sotto voce.

      Payne made no response as he looked at the spines. All four were a product of Red Rose Romance Publishers, and had been printed within the last year.

      “How many publishers put out paperback romances besides Red Rose?”

      “Dozens of companies throughout the world, but the ones on my shelves come mainly from the United States, England and Canada. Red Rose produces the most every year by quite a margin.”

      “Have you seen my face on the covers of any romances other than Red Rose?”

      “No.”

      That was the only good news so far. He could hope Red Rose was a mom-and-pop outfit that probably didn’t have a large distribution base. “Do you have your romances sorted by publisher?”

      “Yes.”

      “Will you show me where the romance section is?”

      She laughed. “It’s practically the whole shop except for the mysteries and science fiction here at the front.”

      He tried hard not to reveal his shock. “Why don’t we try the Red Rose section first.”

      “Follow me, Mr. Sterling.”

      She led him a fourth of the way back. “It starts here and goes to the rear of the store.”

      His eyes widened in incredulity. “These are all Red Rose Romances?”

      “Yes. Their company has nine different lines depending on what kind of romance you’re looking for. Of course these are only the English versions. Their books are published in over a hundred languages. Something like that.”

      A hundred! That meant—

      “We keep a few copies in Italian and Russian for the occasional visitor,” she added.

      He wondered how many times Catherine had been in here that her mother didn’t know about. Payne loved his sister Phyllis, but like their mother, she didn’t approve of a lot of things.

      With her high-brow taste in the arts, music and literature, he doubted she’d ever had the curiosity to read a paperback romance. He couldn’t help but wonder if Diane disliked them on principle too.

      Or maybe she’d read a few when she was a teenager and refused to admit to it. He’d like to know.

      In Payne’s mind it would make Diane a more real person if she’d gone against her mother’s wishes the way Catherine had done, and could own up to it…

      “How far do some of these books date back?”

      “Red Rose has been in business at least forty years that I know of.”

      Forty years?

      He studied the voluminous amount of reading material. Evidently someone besides Nyla and Catherine had been gobbling these up by the thousands for at least four decades.

      That was a long time… Too long not to be a reputable company.

      “You’ll find their books listed under the separate headings hanging from the ceiling over each section. There’s something for every taste.”

      “So I see,” Payne muttered.

      A Touch of Romance, A Touch of Passion, A Touch of Espionage, A Touch of History, A Touch of Babies, A Touch of Royalty, A Touch of Sci-Fi/Paranormal, A Touch of Cowboy and A Touch of Humor.

      “You’re welcome to browse as long as you like.”

      “Thank you.”

      Since she’d pulled all the books with his likeness from the shelves, there was no point in sifting through the mountains of romances. The mere thought staggered the imagination.

      However he did take a book from each section to examine the covers. All of them had been done as a painting rather than a photograph. He carried them to the counter.

      “I’m going to buy these nine books. The four you’re keeping I’d like to borrow for twenty-four