Trading Places. Ruth Jean Dale

ever believe this Plain Jane is you.”

      Alice sputtered, searching for words to defend herself that didn’t come. She’d be the first to admit she was no Sharlayne Kenyon but neither was she a Plain Jane.

      “When I get through with her,” Sharlayne said with total confidence, “her own mother will believe she’s me. It’s not that big a deal, Tabby.”

      Tabitha huffed and puffed, muttering “Hopeless” and “Ridiculous” and “Insane.”

      Sharlayne laughed. “No, seriously.” She turned back to Alice, who sat speechless with astonishment. “This will work,” she said. “How tall are you?”

      “F-five-eight.”

      “Me, too. Our bodies are also basically the same. They should be—we do the same workout every day. I’m a bit more buxom—”

      “An understatement,” Alice observed, looking pointedly at Sharlayne’s generous cleavage.

      “That’s why God invented push-up bras, dear.”

      “But—but—you’re blond.”

      “Ever hear of bleach?”

      This suggested she probably wouldn’t be swayed by the fact that Alice’s hair was twelve inches longer. That’s why God invented scissors. “Our eyes aren’t exactly the same color,” she stated as though she’d finally settled upon a valid difference.

      “That’s true. Yours have less gray in them. But nobody will notice that unless they see the two of us together, which they won’t. Blue is close enough.”

      “Okay, then—” Alice began again, grasping for straws. “My nose is shorter.”

      “Again, unless we stand side by side, who’s to know? Besides, makeup will go a long way toward negating that.”

      “Sharlayne.” Tabitha’s tone was agonized. “This is insane. She’d never get away with it.”

      “She will if I put out the word I have laryngitis,” Sharlayne said triumphantly. “If I set her up in the New York apartment, there could be a problem. But we won’t do that. She can move into the new house in Beverly Hills, where nobody’s met me. You’ll be with her, of course. Everyone knows that where I am, you are, too, Tabby.”

      “No!” Tabitha turned on Alice in a fury, as if the situation were her fault. “I should be with you, Sharlayne, wherever you’re going.”

      Sharlayne shook her head. “Impossible. If you’re not with her, nobody will accept that she’s me.” Leaning forward, she squeezed Tabitha’s hand. “You’ll do this for me, dear. I can’t imagine you’d ever let me down.”

      The uncharacteristically mute Linden said into the sudden silence, “I’m beginning to see how this could actually work.”

      Alice turned to him, wide-eyed. “You can?”

      He nodded. “There are certain basic similarities. If no one gets close enough—”

      “Aha!” Alice gazed at everyone triumphantly. “There are always people around you, Sharlayne. How could I keep them away?”

      “You won’t have to. I’m going to hire a bodyguard to run interference for you.”

      “A bodyguard! I couldn’t put up with a bodyguard. Besides, how do you know you can trust him to keep the secret? Something like this could be worth a lot of money to a scandal sheet like the U.S. Eye.”

      “He can’t sell information he doesn’t have. He’ll think he is guarding me, of course. Everybody will. You’ll put on that act you do so well for the help, then lay low until I finish the manuscript and come back. You’ll have the run of the whole house, the pool, the tennis courts—everything. You’ll live in the master suite and be queen of all you survey. It will be the experience of a lifetime.”

      “She’ll never pull it off,” Tabitha reiterated.

      “Damn it!” Alice was getting sick and tired of hearing that. She glared at Tabitha. “If Sharlayne thinks I can—”

      “I know you can,” Sharlayne said quickly. “Do this, Alice. When it’s over, I’ll be very grateful.”

      “You will?”

      “So grateful that I’ll pay off the rest of your grandmother’s medical bills.”

      Alice was stunned. She had no idea Sharlayne was even aware of those bills. “Be careful,” she said a bit uneasily. “You’re talking big bucks.”

      “I’m aware of that. I know your debts to the penny.” She leaned forward, hand outstretched. “Let’s cut to the chase. Is it a deal?”

      Alice looked down at the sleek hand, with its faultless manicured nails, then at her own competent hand, which resembled a paw next to all that perfection. Ever since she’d met this woman, she’d wondered what it would to like to be so beautiful, so famous, so sought after. Now, out of the blue, she had a chance to find out. Even so…

      Tabitha gave a grunt of disbelief. “I’m warning all of you, this is a ridiculous idea. It will never work. Alice won’t be able to carry it off and disaster will—”

      “It’s a deal,” Alice said abruptly, tossing in a hostile glance for her nemesis. “If you think it can work, Sharlayne, I’m willing to give it the old college try.”

      “I knew I could count on you.”

      Sharlayne’s relief was palpable, and a shock to Alice. Somehow she got the feeling that something else was going on here, but what could it possibly be?

      “SHARLAYNE.” Linden took her hand between both of his, forgetting that she was more than an hour late for breakfast. “You’ve never looked lovelier.”

      She smiled and patted his cheek, her touch lingering. “How sweet of you to say so.”

      “Hardly sweet.” He drew her toward the table set up in the sunroom—at 11:00 a.m., to the cook’s horror.

      Sharlayne settled gracefully into the chair he offered. “Did you sleep well?” she inquired, dropping the linen napkin into her lap.

      “Not particularly. I was thinking of your double.”

      “Alice kept you awake?” She reached for the silver coffee carafe and poured for both of them, an almost smile tilting those bewitching lips.

      He would not be put off. “I’m not sure Alice understands what she may be getting into. I’m not sure you understand what we may all be getting into.”

      Sharlayne’s beautiful face remained clear and untroubled. “You worry too much, Linden,” she scolded, simultaneously teasing and enticing. “None of us is getting into anything except a little plot to deceive the media and the busybodies of the world. It’s a little game, that’s all.”

      “Be that as it may.” He offered her the basket of fresh croissants, now grown cold. “With your permission, I’ll arrange for the bodyguard right after breakfast. When do you want to leave for your hideaway?”

      She considered. “Next Friday,” she finally decided. “That should give me time to remake Alice and get her set up in the new house.”

      “All right. I’ll handle the arrangements.”

      “No one is to know I’m not really being guarded,” she said quickly. “You understand that? Not the bodyguard, not the agency—just you and me, Alice and Tabitha.”

      “I understand.” But he didn’t like it. “I only hope you understand what you’re doing.”

      “Trust me, darling.”

      When that dazzling smile fell upon him, what else could he do?

      SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Linden dialed