Operation Babe-Magnet. Kristin Gabriel

I think you’re definitely overreacting,” Amy said gently.

      Kylie shook her head. “Here I am swooning over Dexter’s kiss and he was just playing his part. He’s probably forgotten it already. Especially since he just turned around and walked out the door while I, on the other hand, could barely stand up.”

      “Well, you wanted the man to practice kissing, didn’t you?”

      “On Gertrude, not me!”

      Amy snorted. “Gertrude? Okay, I hate to admit it, but Dexter is starting to grow on me. Any man who would choose a real flesh-and-blood woman over a plastic mannequin can’t be all bad.”

      Kylie folded her arms across her chest. “That’s not the point. Dexter needs to remember that I’m the one in charge of this operation. I did hire him, after all, not the other way around. If I want him to kiss a plastic woman, then I think he should do it. There will be several last-minute decisions I have to make on the book tour and I need to be certain he’ll follow through.”

      “And what happens if he tries to kiss you again? Can you keep from swooning at his feet?”

      “Of course. I simply won’t let it affect me.”

      “Uh-huh.” Amy looked skeptical.

      “No, really,” Kylie said, firming her resolve. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to make it clear to Dexter that I’m in charge. Which means from now on, he keeps his lips to himself.”

      “I WASN’T EXPECTING YOU so soon.” Dexter stood in the doorway of his apartment, a towel wrapped around his waist and his face covered with shaving lotion.

      Kylie walked inside, a box of doughnuts in her hands. “I called to tell you I was coming over early.”

      He closed the door, then turned to face her. “You called me thirty seconds ago on your cell phone. I didn’t realize you were standing right outside my door.”

      Her gaze dropped to his chest, then to the towel hanging low on his hips. “Dexter, we need to talk.”

      “Can I get dressed first?”

      A pink blush suffused her cheeks. “Please do.”

      He walked into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. He wasn’t sure why Kylie had made a beeline for his apartment this morning, but after that kiss last night, he wasn’t exactly in a talking mood. Even after a second icy cold shower, he still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

      He tossed the towel onto the bed, then quickly dressed in an outfit that would meet Amy Kwan’s approval. He ran a comb through his wet hair, slicking it back. Then he walked into the adjoining bathroom and finished shaving. The man looking back at him in the mirror had bloodshot eyes caused by staying up half the night doing research on the Internet.

      He had finally figured out that the way to succeed at this gigolo gig was to approach it just like he’d approached the other challenges in his life—by learning everything he could about the subject until he mastered it. It had worked with accounting. And business law. So why not with romance?

      He’d found myriad Web sites pertaining to romance, along with several chat rooms populated by people who offered some very interesting variations on how to properly seduce a woman. Not that he actually intended to seduce anyone, especially Kylie, but he’d mentally filed the information anyway.

      Dexter had learned a long time ago that information was power. So the more he knew about romance, the more successful he’d be at imitating the author of the latest fad book on the subject.

      He’d thumbed through How To Jump-Start Your Love Life last night, too, but he intended to give it a much more thorough examination on the car ride from Pittsburgh to Columbus, Ohio, today. Kylie had arranged an interview for him there on an early bird radio show tomorrow morning.

      Dexter wiped off the remnants of shaving cream from his jaw with a towel, blinking rapidly to moisten his dry eyes. The optometrist had warned him that he should let his eyes adjust gradually to the contact lenses or risk irritation and possibly infection. He’d obviously worn the new contact lenses for too many hours yesterday.

      He reached for his glasses, then changed his mind. Kylie had hired him to portray Harry Hanover, and Harry didn’t wear glasses. At least, that’s the reason he told himself as he unscrewed the contact lens case and placed a lens into each eye. It had nothing to do with the fact that she’d melted in his arms while he was in his Harry Hanover persona. If she wanted Harry, then he’d give her Harry.

      By the time he returned to the living room, Kylie had the doughnut box open and half empty.

      “Your eyes are red,” she said, licking vanilla glaze off her fingertips.

      “They’re fine,” he replied, blinking away the sting. “Now what did you want to talk about?”

      “Sit down, Dexter.”

      “Harry.”

      She frowned. “What?”

      “You called me Dexter. I thought you wanted to refer to me as Harry from now on to avoid any confusion while we’re on the book tour.”

      “Oh. Right.”

      “Can I get you a glass of orange juice?” he asked, moving toward the small, open kitchen. “Or I can make you a cup of coffee?”

      “Orange juice will be fine.” She picked up another doughnut out of the box, this one drizzled with chocolate glaze and covered with colorful candy sprinkles.

      He poured them each a tumbler full of juice, then sat down across from her at the breakfast bar. It occurred to him that Kylie was the perfect guinea pig to test his newfound knowledge of romance. Not only did she think he was a gigolo and expect him to flirt and flatter, but it was crucial to the success of the book tour.

      Taking a sip of his juice, he regarded her over the rim of his glass. According to the information he’d gleaned, small compliments made a woman feel both attractive and special. “I like your ears.”

      Kylie stopped chewing and swallowed. “What?”

      “They’re just right. Not too big, not too small. And they don’t stick out at all.”

      “No one’s ever really mentioned that before.”

      He smiled, pleased that he’d been the first. “Your teeth are great, too. Very white.”

      She brushed the crumbs off of her fingers. “Thanks.”

      “But do you know what my favorite part of you is?”

      She stilled, then looked up into his face, her gaze wary. “What?”

      “Your laugh,” he hesitated, wondering if he should go on. But something about the way she was looking at him impelled him to keep talking. “It reminds me of my first-grade teacher. Miss Ames. She had a laugh like yours. Light. Infectious. It always made me think of sunshine.”

      Her gaze softened. “That is so sweet, Harry. Did you have a crush on her?”

      He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” Dexter found himself reluctant to reveal his single-minded devotion to Miss Ames, even after all these years. Despite the small gifts he’d given her, along with a sappy love poem he’d copied out of a library book, the young teacher had always preferred his brother. Sam had been a perennial teacher’s pet, enchanting all the female teachers from kindergarten through high school.

      Miss Ames had just been the first in a long line of the fairer sex who had been more interested in his brother than in him. They liked Sam’s roguish charm and impulsive nature. The exact opposite of Dexter.

      But he wasn’t Dexter anymore, he was Harry Hanover. And Harry made women fall at his feet.

      Kylie glanced at her watch. “We don’t have much time. Are you packed?”

      He hitched his thumb over