Destiny's Last Bachelor?. Christyne Butler

going to show up before he even got his hands on her.

      He bowed slightly. “Your wish is my command, Miss Lennox.”

      Pursing her lips together, she eyed him in silence. He was sure she was going to say something else, but instead she went back to her prone position.

      Dean rubbed his hands together, eyeing the perfection of her porcelain skin. His trained gaze picked up on the tension in her neck and her shoulders. The woman did look as if she could use a good rubdown. It would serve her right if he peeled that towel right to the edge of the swell of her nicely shaped backside so he’d have plenty of room to touch all her interesting spots.

      Flexing his fingers, he reached out—

      The clicking of the Major’s cane against the glass door announced his arrival only seconds before his booming voice filled the air. “Sorry to be late to the ball game, son. The kitchen sink went FUBAR on me and the damn wrench broke— Oh, excuse me, ma’am.”

      This time Priscilla jumped, lifting herself up on her elbows as she snapped them to her sides.

      Dean laid a hand against the plush terry material in the center of her back, holding her in place. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, keeping his voice low.

      Her head whipped around. She glared at him. “What—what is going on?”

      “Have I interrupted something?” Elwin Gates asked. “I didn’t mean to walk in unannounced.”

      “No worries, sir,” Dean answered. “Just a slight mix-up.”

      Keeping his back to the old man, Dean reached for the terry robe draped over a nearby chair. The Major usually donned it after their session, but Dean had a feeling Miss Lennox needed it more at this very minute.

      “Why don’t you rise slowly, facing the other way, and slip into this?” Dean continued to speak in quiet tones, holding up the robe for her. “And then maybe you’ll let me explain?”

      Her eyes narrowed, but she rotated away from him, grabbing at the towel and tucking the ends in place again as she rose up on one hip. He laid the robe across her shoulders and waited as she slipped her arms inside. The terry material pooled as she sat upright, then flowed around her thighs when she slipped off the far side of the table.

      Dean turned around and found the Major standing in the doorway, a grin on his wrinkled face. He offered the old man a quick wink. “Are you all set, Miss Lennox?”

      “Y-yes, thank you.”

      He looked back over one shoulder, watching as she stepped around the table, head held high as if she were wearing a ball gown instead of an oversize robe.

      Dean made the introductions. “This is one of your guests, Priscilla Lennox. I’m afraid she mistook this room for the one used for spa services provided here at the inn. Miss Lennox, this is Major General Elwin Gates, United States Marine Corps, Retired, and proprietor of the Painted Lady. He’s here for his physical-therapy session.”

      “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” She stepped forward, offered a bright smile and held out her hand. “I do apologize for my error and for taking over your private session.”

      “Apologies aren’t necessary, miss.” Elwin returned her handshake. “And you can call me Major. Everyone does. Now, I’m going to see where my wife disappeared to so we can get you to the right place.”

      “Oh, you don’t have to leave on my account. I’ll just gather my clothes and let you two gentlemen get to your session.”

      She backed up a few steps and walked right into Dean. He grabbed her waist to steady her, but she whirled around, the sweet politeness replaced with a contemptuous look that had him holding up both hands in mock surrender.

      “Hey, I tried to tell you.”

      “You didn’t try very hard,” she retorted, her voice low.

      “You don’t have to whisper. Major’s gone to find out where your massage is supposed to be taking place.”

      “That’s fine, but I’m leaving, as well.”

      She tried to sidestep around him, but Dean latched on to her arm. “Hold on. You’re not going anywhere yet.”

      “Oh, I’m not?” Her eyes turned icy, but the toss of her head and the squaring of her shoulders told him a little spitfire lay inside this cool beauty. Dean liked that.

      “Look, we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Twice.” He eased his hold, his fingers gently massaging the inside of her elbow through the material. “Let me make it up to you. Have you eaten? We could grab something after our respective appointments.”

      “I’m not—”

      A low rumbling interrupted her. She slapped her free hand over her stomach.

      He grinned.

      Women like Priscilla Lennox—classy, wealthy, high society—were way out of his league. A lesson he’d learned the hard way a few years back before he’d moved out west to Destiny from his home in Sea Point, New Jersey.

      Heck, he’d bet her car cost more than what he’d spent on his couple of acres of land north of town and the log home he’d had built there last year. But he’d been spending too much time alone lately and it didn’t hurt to hit one for the fences every now and then. And Daisy actually seemed to like her.

      “You were saying?”

      She lifted her chin. “I’m not hungry.”

      “You sure I can’t tempt you with the best burgers this side of the Rockies? The Blue Creek Saloon has great food, cold beer, and on Friday nights there’s usually a band playing kick-ass country music. It’s not as fancy as what you’re probably used to, but I think you’d enjoy it.”

      The icy veneer in her eyes spread to her entire body. She pulled free of his hold. “As interesting as that sounds, Mr. Zippenella, I plan to stay in tonight.”

      He liked the sound of his name on her lips, and she even pronounced it correctly. She was also turning him down.

      He watched her walk toward the chair where her clothes lay neatly folded. “Another night, perhaps.”

      She took the pile in her arms and then headed for the door. “I’m aware Destiny is a small town, but I don’t see any reason for us to run into each other again.”

      Hmm, what was that old proverb his nonni always used to say? May you be wise enough to know when to give up the fight. Of course, the words sounded prettier in her native Italian, and it’d been advice he and his brothers had rarely followed. “How long do you plan to be in town?”

      “I don’t really know.” She paused in the doorway. “It really depends on the man I came here to see.”

      A man. And just like that his attempt at a home run fizzled as the third strike whizzed by him. She was in town because of a man.

      Chapter Three

      “Your place is truly spectacular, Bobby.” Priscilla sat at one end of an outdoor sectional sofa, which, along with a pair of matching chairs, defined the entertainment area of an oversize back deck that ran the length of the massive log home. Set in a lush forest on the side of a mountain, the house had taken Priscilla’s breath away when she’d first pulled into the circular drive. “Both inside and out. The pictures in the magazines don’t do it justice.”

      “Thank you.” The former race-car champion set about fixing drinks behind the bar while his wife, Leeann, set a tray of cheese, crackers and fruit on the glass coffee table. “I’ve dreamed of living in a log house since I was kid, so when I finally had the money to do it right—”

      “He went a bit overboard.” Leeann cut off her husband with a smile as she curled up in the opposite corner of the sofa. “As usual.”

      “Lee