Operation Babe-Magnet: Operation Babe-Magnet / Operation Beauty

“Mistress Helga?”

She laughed, then stood up and held out one hand. “I see my granddaughter is playing games again. My name is Betty. Betty Brubaker.”

“Dexter Kane,” he said, surprised by the tasteful decor of her office. It was certainly an improvement over the garish display in the entrance. Betty wasn’t what he expected either. A slightly plump woman with ash blond hair pulled back into a neat bun. Thick eyebrows dominated her face, but her green eyes gleamed with intelligence.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kane.” She sat back down in her chair and motioned for him to do the same. “Now, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to apply for a job. Perhaps as a bookkeeper or even an investment consultant. I have considerable experience in corporate management.”

She gave him a maternal smile. “I appreciate the offer, but my son might take offense if I replaced him. He’s worked as my business manager and financial advisor for the last five years.”

He thought about telling her that the front window display and the attitude of her receptionist were probably driving potential business away. But the numerous family photographs covering the walls and every nook and cranny of her office told him the advice might not be well received. Instead, he took a deep breath and said, “I really need a job.”

“I see.” She studied him for a moment, then leaned forward in her chair. “Actually, I do have an opening for a male escort. Did you bring any references?”

“No, this is my first time.” Heat crept up his neck. “Well, not my first time, of course. I do have some experience.” He decided not to elaborate. His romantic encounters had left him physically satisfied, but strangely hollow. Yearning for something more that he couldn’t name or even fully understand.

“Tell me, Mrs. Brubaker…”

“Betty,” she reminded him.

“Betty.” He cleared his throat. “What exactly are the job requirements for this line of work?”

“We are an escort agency, Mr. Kane. Our employees accompany women to a variety of social functions and also serve as companions.”

“Both day and…night?”

She arched a brow. “We’re here to serve our clients at their convenience. Is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat. “Not at all. I just want to be fully prepared.”

“Now that I’ve answered your question, please answer mine.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Why are you really here?”

He blinked. Did she know about the game? Or was this some kind of test to prove to Amos that he intended to follow the rules? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean you don’t look or sound like our usual applicant. In the first place, you’re wearing a tailored three-piece suit. In the second place, I’ve never seen a man blush so much since my honeymoon. So either you’re a lousy lover who is looking for some free experience or you’re a lousy undercover vice cop hoping to make a bust.”

“I’m neither.” Dexter feared he’d lost the game before he’d begun. “But I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interjected. “Studs-R-Us does not sell sexual favors to its clients. I run a clean operation. There are a lot of lonely women out there, Mr. Kane, and it’s my mission to provide them with the company of a respectful, upstanding gentleman. In fact, if I suspect any employee of mine is indulging in a physical relationship with a client, he will be immediately terminated.”

Dexter swallowed his sigh of relief. He was a red-blooded American male, but selling his body wasn’t exactly the way he’d envisioned obtaining the company of his dreams. He gave her a curt nod. “A sound policy.”

“Now, if you’re really interested in the job…”

“I am.”

She opened the file folder on her desk. “I had a job request earlier today that has presented some problems. Since the majority of escort requests are for evening duty, dances and such, most of my employees work elsewhere during the day.”

“I’m available twenty-four hours a day,” Dexter assured her.

Betty glanced down at the open folder. “Actually, that’s exactly what Miss Timberlake requires. A man at her disposal twenty-four hours a day for approximately four weeks.”

“That sounds perfect.”

She arched a brow. “Aren’t you even interested in hearing about the job?”

He shook his head. “I’m completely flexible.”

She looked bemused. “Well, that’s good, because she refused to give me many details. Although she did make it clear that confidentiality was of the utmost importance.”

“My lips are sealed.”

She smiled. “See that you keep it that way. I’ve not yet met Ms. Timberlake but she sounded quite young on the phone. As I said before, any physical relationship with a client results in instant termination.”

“Understood.” He took a deep breath. “Does this mean I have the job?”

She stood up and held out her hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Kane. You are now officially a Stud.”

2

KYLIE TIMBERLAKE sprinted through the door of Studs-R-Us, her heart pounding in anticipation. She’d almost given up finding a way out of this untenable situation. Now it looked as if her biggest problem was about to be solved.

She stopped short when she saw the man standing in the front office. His short, dark hair was slicked back and he wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He was tall and looked as if his gray pinstripe suit concealed finely honed muscles. Her first impression was that she’d run smack dab into a superhero in disguise. But she didn’t need a man who could leap tall buildings in a single bound. She needed a man who had a way with woman. And one who didn’t mind a little deception.

“Excuse me,” she said, still a little breathless from her sprint. “I’m looking for Mrs. Brubaker.”

“She just took the receptionist out to dinner.” The man pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’m filling in until they get back.”

“Oh.” Disappointment spiraled through her. Had she gotten the time wrong? “Do you have any idea when that will be?”

“No, but perhaps I can help you.”

“I’m here for an interview.” Kylie bit her lower lip, telling herself not to panic. She still had a little time to sort it all out.

“Are you Miss Timberlake?”

“Yes,” she said, giving him a quick smile. Her preoccupation was no reason to be rude. “I’m supposed to be meeting one of the studs here. But I must have mixed up the time.”

He glanced at his watch.

“Actually, you’re three minutes late.”

“You mean he already left?”

“No.” The man shifted on his feet. “I’m…the stud.”

She blinked. “You?”

“Yes.” He arched a dark brow. “Is that a problem?”

“No. Not at all.” Her cheeks burned. She’d imagined spending the next few weeks with one of the men in the pinups plastered in the front windows. Slick, polished playboys who didn’t affect her in the least. Not this superhero in the making. The last man she’d suspect of making his living as a gigolo.

On the other hand, superheroes did rescue damsels in distress. And her distress was on the verge of becoming an all-out disaster. She stepped forward and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Kylie.”

“I’m Dexter.” His eyes widened slightly at her firm grip. “Dexter D. Kane.”

She wondered what the D stood for, but couldn’t afford to waste time by asking him. She wouldn’t be referring to him by his middle name anyway. Or his first name, for that matter. “Has Mrs. Brubaker told you anything about me or this job?”

“Only that you require my services for the next four weeks.”

To her mortification, she felt another blush creep up her neck. She hadn’t enjoyed the services of any man—let alone a gigolo—for too long to remember. Not that she was contemplating a relationship with Dexter. No matter what images his words evoked. “That’s true. This is a rather unusual job. And one that requires the utmost secrecy.”

He smiled. “You can count on my discretion, Miss Timberlake. My job depends on it. And I’m depending on this job.”

She barely comprehended his words, too dazzled by the dimple that flashed on his chin when he smiled. It almost made her forget her mission. But the chime of a wall clock brought reality rushing back. She had about fifty phone calls to make within the next few hours.

“I’ll have to give you the condensed version and fill in the details later.” She took a deep breath, hoping she could trust him. “Have you read a book called How To Jump-Start Your Love Life?”

“No,” he said, looking a little confused. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It’s new on the market, but it has the potential to become a bestseller. I’m the publicist for Handy Press, the small press that published it. It’s my responsibility to see that it gets the right amount of media coverage necessary to attract national attention.”

His brows furrowed. “And?”

“And I’ve scheduled an array of book signings, radio interviews and even a couple television spots for the author. We’ll hit twelve cities in just under four weeks. It’s an all out publicity blitz. There’s only one small problem.”

“You need an escort?”

“No. I need someone to play the part of the author, Harry Hanover.” She waited, letting the words sink in. Dexter D. Kane certainly looked intelligent enough to understand all the ramifications.

He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely. You see, Harry suffers from agoraphobia,” she explained, “which is a fear of social situations. It’s impossible for him to appear in public. In fact, his case is so severe that he refuses to leave his home. Unfortunately, I’d already scheduled all the media events before I found that out.”

“So why not just cancel the tour?”

“Because Harry believes there will be negative repercussions on the sale of his book. And frankly, that’s a real possibility. Booksellers can make or break a book. And many of them have already started advertising the upcoming book signings. Broken promises don’t make the best public relations. Not only could Harry’s book suffer if he fails to make his scheduled appearances, but Handy Press could suffer as well.”

“In what way?”

“The company stays afloat by publishing how-to manuals and technical guidebooks. If booksellers retaliate by pulling all the Handy Press books off the shelves, the company could go bankrupt.”

He looked thoughtful. “There has to be some other solution.”

She shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve lain awake nights trying to think of a way out of this mess. I know it seems a little extreme, but this is the only answer.”

“How will Mr. Hanover feel about another man taking on his identity?”

“It was his idea.” She pulled a folded newspaper clipping out of her jeans pocket, smoothing out the wrinkles. It was an advertisement for Studs-R-Us. She handed it to him, their fingers touching. Her skin prickled at the jolt of electricity that shot up her arm. And judging by the way Dexter was staring at her, he’d had the same reaction.

Then he cleared his throat and looked down at the advertisement. “A man for all occasions,” he said, reading the company motto. “I’m not sure this covers impersonating an author.”

“I know it sounds a little unusual,” she replied, glancing at her watch. “But it’s really not all that uncommon in the entertainment world. There are ghost writers who write all those celebrity books. Musicians who do voice-overs on albums. Some authors even send in a phony glamour picture for the back of their book. It’s all about presentation.”

He still looked skeptical. “What happens when people find out I’m not the real Harry Hanover?”

“That won’t happen,” she assured him. “When the book tour is over, Harry is going to disappear. Handy Press will decline any further interviews on his behalf, earning him a reputation as an eccentric recluse. Which is the truth. The press loves that kind of stuff.”

Dexter hated to put a damper on her enthusiasm, but the obstacles to her plan seemed almost insurmountable. “What if someone who knows Harry attends a book signing?”

She smiled. “Not a possibility. Harry’s been shut up in his cabin for the last six years. And before that he lived in the Yukon.”

Dexter couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. Kylie Timberlake was the most vibrant woman he’d ever met. Even if her plan was crazy. “Well, what if someone recognizes me?”

Her smile faded. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Especially when you’ve probably got legions of women in your past.”

His pride prevented him from disabusing her of that ridiculous notion. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

Her face suddenly brightened. “Yes, you can. I think I know a way to make it work. A way to make everyone just wild about Harry.”

“I LOOK RIDICULOUS.” Dexter stood in the living room of Kylie’s apartment, wearing a short fuschia cape protecting his clothes and silver foil wraps in his hair.

“I know, but we’re trying to fix that.” Amy Kwan, Kylie’s roommate, sorted through the clothes hanging on a portable rack.

He never should have let Kylie talk him into this. But something about her made it impossible to say no. Maybe it was her big brown eyes. Or the smile that sparked a warmth deep inside of him. Or the overwhelming urge he had to touch her again.

“You’re a tough case, Dexter,” Amy said, “but I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Amy used to do hair and makeup for the stars of ‘The Young and the Restless,”’ Kylie informed him, studying the day planner on her lap.

“But I needed a break.” Amy selected five outfits and tossed them onto the sofa. “So now I’m doing freelance work. Mostly working on models for fashion shows and photo shoots. But my favorite jobs are makeovers. Enhancing the beauty of soap stars and models is easy. But transforming a loser into a knockout takes real skill.”

“Not that you’re a loser, Dexter,” Kylie hastily assured him.

“Thanks,” he said dryly as the timer on the kitchen stove dinged.

“Time to rinse,” Amy announced. She led Dexter over to the sink, then began removing the foil wraps.

“Exactly what color will my hair be?” he asked as Amy pushed his head under the faucet.

Amy carefully rinsed his hair. “The same color, but we’re hoping to add some fabulous golden highlights.”

“What do you mean, hoping?” Dexter asked.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Kylie called from the living room.

“Well, there was that time we ended up with lime green on Carlo.” Amy laughed. “Remember that, Kylie?”

“Green?” Dexter repeated, starting to feel a little panicky. He’d only done this to make Kylie happy, to see her smile again. Now the absurdity of it hit him full in the gut.

“It was a temporary color,” Kylie assured him. “It only took a month to wash out.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

Amy shut off the tap, then towel-dried Dexter’s hair. By the time he returned to the living room, his hair was standing straight up in golden brown spikes.

“That’s already an improvement,” Amy said, admiring her handiwork. “Now for the clothes.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing if you’re starring in a black-and-white fifties flick. The three-piece suits have got to go.” Amy stepped back and surveyed him from head to toe. “Fuschia isn’t really your color.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Amy tapped her chin. “And I’ve got to admit, it looks like you’ve got a great body under all those clothes. Of course, you’re a gigolo, so I suppose it’s one of the job requirements.”

“I think he prefers the term male escort,” Kylie said, scribbling something in her planner.

“I prefer to wear my own clothes,” he said, as Amy pulled another outfit off the rack.

“You’ve got to trust me,” Amy informed him, holding a pair of skimpy black leather pants up to his waist. “Once we get rid of your old hairstyle, your old clothes and those horrendous glasses, you’re going to be every woman’s fantasy.”

“The glasses?” Kylie looked up. “Don’t you think we should keep them? I think they’re sexy.” Her cheeks grew rosy. “I mean, in a subtle, intellectual sort of way.”

Dexter’s heart warmed at her words, along with another part of his body. He liked the way her hair hung in a profusion of wild, thick curls around her shoulders. His fingers itched to touch it, to feel the slide of that silk against his skin.

“Look, Ky,” Amy replied, as she pushed Dexter into an inflatable chair, then ran a comb through his wet hair. “I know what I’m doing. Women don’t like subtle. They like raw sex appeal.”

Dexter cleared his throat. “I take it my ability to see doesn’t matter when it comes to fashion.”

Amy snorted. “Haven’t you ever heard of contact lenses?” Then she stepped back and looked into his eyes. “Ooh, we could go with colored lenses. Wouldn’t violet be awesome with his coloring?”

“No.” Kylie’s voice was firm. “Dexter’s eyes are perfect just the way they are.”

The telephone rang before Amy could argue with her. Kylie picked up the cordless receiver, then placed her hand over the mouthpiece. “I’m going to take this call in the bedroom. Yell if you need me.”

Amy nodded, then reached for the blow-dryer. “Relax, Dexter,” she said, flipping on the switch. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

He closed his eyes, his tension easing as she finger-styled his hair. Despite his initial reaction when Kylie suggested a makeover, he really didn’t mind all the changes. They were only temporary, after all. Anyway, the fewer people who recognized him as Dexter Kane, the better. In exactly one month, he’d take over the helm of the Kane Corporation and leave this farce behind him. Fulfilling his dream was all that really mattered. Although the thought of spending the next four weeks with Kylie made him drift into a very different sort of dream….

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Amy said, gently shaking his shoulder.

Dexter started in his chair, opening his eyes to see her wrapping the cord around the blow-dryer. His body still throbbed with the erotic images that had danced in his head and he was thankful he still wore the plastic drape to keep the hair dye from staining his clothes. “Are you finished already?”

“With your hair,” Amy replied. “We still need to work on the wardrobe.”

“Can I see it?” he asked, as she spritzed him with hairspray.

“Not until we’re all done. I want you to experience the full effect.”

He looked around the living room. “Where’s Kylie?”

“Still on the phone.” Amy walked over to the clothes rack, once again perusing the choices. “That girl never stops working.”

He leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax. “I’m surprised she told you about the Harry Hanover masquerade. I thought it was supposed to be a big secret.”

“It is, but Kylie was a little nervous about pulling it off and needed someone to talk to about it. She knows she can trust me.”

Dexter wondered if there was anyone in his life he’d trust that much. He loved his brother, but Sam always seemed too laid back to take life’s problems seriously. There was always his grandfather, whom he trusted implicitly. But Dexter had always been so determined to prove he could handle any situation that he’d never allowed his grandfather see any of his fears or insecurities. Besides, the key to being an effective business owner was maintaining complete control at all times.

“How do you feel about silk?” Amy asked, pulling out an orange shirt with long puffy sleeves and draping it over the dressmaker’s dummy standing in the corner.

“I’ll sleep on silk, but I won’t wear it.”

She frowned. “You know, you could be a little more cooperative. Kylie is paying for all of this and she could use a few breaks.”

“She seems fine to me.”

“Of course, she’s fine. Nothing can bring that girl down. And believe me, she has had plenty of reason to start popping anti-depressants.”

“Like what?” he asked, surprised by this revelation. He would have guessed a woman with Kylie’s vivacity had lived a life full of sunshine and roses.

“Well, for one thing, she gave up a great job in Hollywood a year ago so she could come home and take care of her brother.”

“Was he sick?”

Amy nodded. “Hodgkin’s disease. It looks like he’ll make a full recovery, but it was scary there for a while. And now that Kylie’s nursed her little brother back to health she’s determined to do the same for his business. Handy Press has been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy for years. So instead of going back to work for her famous clients, she’s staying in Pittsburgh and working for peanuts until Handy Press is in the black.”

“Famous clients?” Dexter asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’m not supposed to name names, but one of her clients was just chosen as People magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year. And he thinks the world of Kylie.” She dropped her voice a notch. “Both professionally and personally, if you know what I mean.”

He nodded. Dexter didn’t have time to read People magazine but he’d seen enough pictures of Hollywood hotshots to imagine the type of man who had hired Kylie. The kind of man who dazzled all the women. The kind of man who was the complete opposite of Dexter Dependable Kane.

“Actually, Kylie and I met in Hollywood,” Amy continued. “I was doing makeup for a movie of the week and she was on the set to lend moral support to one of her clients. He was her high school sweetheart and she’d followed him to California and helped arrange his big break. He repaid her by breaking her heart. But he kept her on as his publicist.”

“He sounds like a real winner.”

Amy nodded. “She’s better off without him. She’s got good, midwestern integrity along with a wild imagination. That’s one reason she was such a hit with the glitterati. That, combined with her tendency to take risks.”

“Such as?”

“Such as volunteering to be the target when one of her clients performed a knife-throwing exhibition on ‘Circus of the Stars.’ Fortunately, Kylie only needed twelve stitches when it was over. Then there was the time she wagered a month’s salary to get her client a part on a television miniseries.”

“What did she wager?”

“That the guy would make it to work on time every day. She lost the bet, but her client was a big hit on the show.”

“Did he ever reimburse her?”

Amy smiled. “It doesn’t work that way in Hollywood. She’d probably still be there, trying to salvage her heart and her bank account, if her brother hadn’t gotten sick. Kylie would do anything for Evan.”

At least now he knew why his successful portrayal of Harry Hanover was so important to her. “So that’s what this book tour is all about? Saving her brother’s business?”

“That’s right,” Amy replied, studying the clothes on the rack.

He tried to imagine giving up his dream of owning the Kane Corporation. “Sounds like she’s throwing away a great career opportunity for a hopeless cause.”

“Yeah, you tell her that,” Amy said with a laugh. “Tell her not to breathe, too, while you’re at it.”

He shrugged, then removed the plastic drape. “I just believe a person should have a good career strategy. Otherwise you end up drifting though life without any purpose.” Like his parents.

Amy squealed. “I found it!” She pulled an outfit off the rack. “Put it on.”

He stood up, frowning at the clothes she’d selected. “That’s not really me.”

“It will be.” She snatched his glasses off his face, then pushed him toward the bathroom. “Change in there, then come out and show us the new Dexter Kane.”

“Harry Hanover,” he reminded her.

“Whatever.”

Ten minutes later, Dexter stepped out of the bathroom, then walked down the hallway to the living room.

Amy and Kylie sat chatting on the sofa. They both looked up at the same time.

“Oh, boy,” Amy breathed.

Kylie just stared up at him with her mouth open.

Dexter shifted self-consciously on his feet. No doubt he looked ridiculous in this outfit. He’d tried to tell Kylie this makeover wouldn’t work.