Trading Places. Ruth Jean Dale

talk about the rest of it.”

      His dark brows rose. “What rest of it?”

      “How we’re going to…relate to each other.”

      “You lost me,” he said. “You’re my employer. I’m here to do the job you hired me for—protect you.”

      “That’s all well and good, but I don’t want anyone to know I’ve hired a bodyguard. That would be like inviting every crackpot in town to take a shot at getting through my security.”

      “Okay. Then we won’t tell anyone.”

      “Exactly. But sooner or later someone will wonder who the handsome man living in my house might be.” She gave him her best come-hither look, which obviously wasn’t all that good, judging by his lack of response.

      If he noticed the compliment, he failed to let on. “Okay, tell ’em I’m your cousin. I don’t care.”

      “Really, Jed. Do you think anyone would believe that?”

      “Why wouldn’t they?”

      “Because I’m Sharlayne Kenyon, silly.” She drained her glass. “If someone asks, you’re my new boyfriend. Since I’m between close personal friends at the moment, they’ll believe that. Can we use your real name?”

      “Sure. Why not? But I don’t think the boyfriend story will fly.”

      “It’s the only story that will fly. With it we can spend every minute together and no one will think anything about it. You see? It’s the only way.”

      “I see you think it’s the only way. I’m not so sure.”

      She patted his strong jaw. “Lighten up, Jed. This will be a walk in the park for a man in your line of business. I wouldn’t want to think you’ll find it too difficult to pretend to have…feelings for me.”

      “I never lighten up on the job,” he said. “Your safety is my only concern.”

      Was that a challenge?

      ALICE MADE IT all the way into Sharlayne’s master suite and collapsed on the chaise longue before succumbing to a bad case of shakes. “I’m dying!” she gasped. “That’s the scariest thing I ever did. I kept waiting for him to stand up and shout, ‘Imposter!’”

      Sharlayne and Tabitha regarded her with varying degrees of sympathy: none from Tabitha and very little from Sharlayne.

      “Brace up,” Sharlayne said. “He bought it, didn’t he?”

      “Apparently, although he did give me a start or two.” Alice pulled herself together sufficiently to stare at her employer.

      “My God.” She gaped. “Is that a wig?”

      Sharlayne touched the nondescript brown head covering and frowned. Her face was free of makeup and she wore sensible shoes and a dress that actually fit like a dress, not a banana peel. “Awful, huh?”

      “Not really. In fact, you look a lot like me.”

      “I guess that’s the point.” Sharlayne turned her laser gaze on Tabitha. “What do you think? Did she do all right?”

      Tabitha’s lip curled. “She barely got by. If she’d been trying to fool anyone who actually knew you—”

      “That won’t happen,” Sharlayne cut in impatiently. “Now, both of you listen. Wilbert’s waiting for me at the service entrance. If you have any questions, this is the time to speak up.”

      Alice asked quickly, “Where will you be?”

      “That’s strictly top secret.”

      “But what if I have to get in touch with you?” Alice felt a touch of panic at the prospect of being completely stranded and on her own.

      “Tabitha will always know where to find me. She’ll also handle all the credit cards. Anything you want, up to but not including a mink coat, go to her.”

      That didn’t sit well. Not that Alice had a hankering for a mink coat; she just didn’t have a hankering to go begging to Tabitha. “I don’t like it,” she said unhappily.

      Tabitha said with malice aforethought, “Too bad. That’s the way we’ve worked it out.”

      “Easy.” Sharlayne gave her senior assistant a warning glance. “Try to get along, will you? We want Alice to enjoy this experience, after all.”

      “She’s already enjoying it too much.” Tabitha’s gaze was malevolent. “Flirting with that bodyguard—”

      “Great!” Sharlayne looked delighted. “That’s exactly what I want her to do—act just like me.” She smiled at Alice. “Relax, honey. You did just fine or Tabitha wouldn’t be so annoyed.”

      “This time,” Alice conceded. “But when I run into someone who already knows you—and I inevitably will—all the artful makeovers in the world…all the designer clothing and glittering jewels and fabulous surroundings…won’t get me through. I have to admit, I figured this could be fun—”

      “Not to mention profitable.”

      “That’s true.”

      “Well, stop worrying about it,” Sharlayne said as if her mind had already turned around in another direction. “Do the best you can. Any time you can gain for me will help. I’m going to finish that book if it kills me.”

      “Okay,” Alice said, “but this seems even crazier now that we’re into it.”

      “Alice, listen to me.” Sharlayne leaned down to peer into eyes nearly identical to her own. “People see what they expect to see, not what’s actually there. If they expect to see Sharlayne Kenyon, they will.”

      “But what if—”

      “Alice, you’re whimpering.” Sharlayne straightened, her manner stern. “Let me remind you what’s at stake here—a brilliant tome detailing my brilliant life, and a debt-free future for you. Isn’t that worth a little stress and strain?”

      “I suppose, but what if I’m found out? What if—”

      “Hush and listen to me. You’re also getting a chance to live a fantasy most women would kill for. A mansion, a good-looking man at your beck and call, servants, a good-looking man, designer clothes, a good-looking man—”

      “Okay, I catch your drift. A good-looking man.” Alice, who had never in her life been free of money worries or had any male, good-looking or otherwise, at her beck and call, was putty in Sharlayne’s hands. But one question still remained. “Why do I even need a bodyguard, good-looking or otherwise?”

      “You don’t,” Sharlayne said calmly. “Let me explain this one more time. He’s just around to keep people away, so they won’t get wise to the switch.” She glanced around the bedroom, clearly impatient. “Now, I really have to get out of here. Last chance for questions.”

      Her words reminded Alice of the part of the wedding ceremony where the minister asks if anyone present knows why this couple should not be joined together. This was definitely a now-or-never moment.

      She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

      Sharlayne said, “Good. In that case—ta-ta, ladies. Tabitha, keep me posted. Alice, enjoy yourself.” With a final conspiratorial wink, she was gone.

      Alice turned to Tabitha, who was staring at the door through which her boss had disappeared. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “Nobody with a grain of sense or an eye in his head would ever accept you as Sharlayne Kenyon.”

      “You better be wrong,” Alice said, “because if you’re right, we’re both up the proverbial creek without a paddle.”

      This time, she didn’t flinch before Tabitha’s glare. She was, after all,