Destiny's Last Bachelor? (5 page)

The two women headed across the deck toward the double glass doors that led inside. Snack, or Snake—damn, he was sure he was going to screw that up a few more times and probably out loud—and Daisy were right on their heels.

Dean gave a short whistle that made not only the dogs but Priscilla hesitate, but only Daisy stopped and looked back while the rest continued on their way.

“Hey, you stay out here with me,” he said. “Like always.”

Daisy only offered him a grin and then disappeared through the open doors before Leeann slid it closed again.

“Will wonders never cease?” Bobby’s voice came from close by.

“Tell me about it. Man’s faithful companion has deserted me.”

“No, I’m talking about the auction.” His friend retrieved the steaks from behind the bar. “For a minute there I thought you might actually say no.”

Dean walked to the oversize stainless-steel grill, lifted the lid and pressed a button. Presto. Fire. “Yeah, right. Then your wife really would have my hide. I was down for the count as soon as Priscilla asked if I was a bachelor.”

“You say that word like it’s a bad thing.”

“I never thought so until today.”

Bobby shot him a grin as he joined him. “At least this way you’ll end your dating drought. Even if the lady does have to fork over cold, hard cash.”

“Very funny.”

“And you know, you might have to add a clause on the auction form that states Daisy won’t be anywhere around when the actual date happens.”

“Boy, you’re a regular comedian today, aren’t you? Besides, the auction’s not for another month.” Dean took another draw from his beer. “You really think I’m going to wait that long?”

“If today was an example of your charming ways with the ladies, I’m not surprised at your empty social calendar,” Bobby shot back. “What was with the verbal sparring between you and Priscilla?”

Dean sighed, not quite sure how to answer that without telling his friend the whole story. Did it matter? Would it change anything?

“I mean for someone you’ve only met twice,” Bobby continued as he placed the meat on the heated grill, “you seem to really be—”

“Three times.”

Bobby paused, the last steak held in midair. “Huh?”

Knowing this would probably lead to his buddy sharing about his own past with Priscilla—something he had no interest in hearing—Dean quickly rattled off what had really happened down at the river and his second run-in with her at the inn. By the time he got to the mix-up over massage appointments and the fact he’d walked in on her wearing nothing but an oversize bath towel, Bobby was grinning.

“Hmm, I bet that was a nice view.” Bobby caught his stare. “What? I’m married, not dead. I can appreciate a pretty lady.”

“Yeah, I even caught sight of her tattoo, a yellow rosebud right over her heart,” Dean said. “Is that her only one or does she have others in more interesting locations?”

This time Bobby’s glare was incredulous. “How in the hell would I know?”

Dean realized right away he’d been wrong. Bobby and Priscilla had never been involved, at least not intimately. Not that she wasn’t his type. Bobby had surrounded himself with supermodels, actresses and high-society dames during his racing career. Long before the man returned home and found love again with his high-school sweetheart.

“When she told me she was in town to meet a man, I figured—” Dean was feeling stupider by the minute. “And today you said she was an old friend—”

“Yeah,
friend.
An acquaintance, really. Our paths crossed a lot at charity events over the years.” Bobby went back to tending the steaks. “My company still supports some of her foundation’s causes, but that’s it.”

“Foundation?”

“She told you she was a philanthropist.”

“I thought that was a fancy way of saying she writes a lot of checks.”

“She could do that, too, I suppose. Her family owns the International Lennox Hotel chain, but as long as I’ve known her she’s been working for her family’s foundation.”

Okay, so she was on the level with her charity work, but something was still off. Dean finished off the last of his beer before tossing the empty bottle in the trash. “Yeah, well, either way, she’s too rich for my blood.”

“Says the man whose last serious girlfriend was a gold digger from the Big Apple who threw him over for a heart surgeon.”

A plastic surgeon, but what did it matter? “That was three years ago. I’m over it. And her.”

“Yeah, so over her that you haven’t had a steady relationship since.”

“That’s because of Daisy, and who are you anyway? My mother?” Dean grabbed the extra-long fork and stabbed at the closest slab of raw meat. “For your information, I already asked Pricilla out. Last night. She turned me down.”

“No wonder she seemed less than thrilled about working with you for the next month.” Bobby shrugged. “Well, look at it this way. You won’t have to worry about her bidding on you.”

Dean kept his mouth shut as he flipped over the steaks. The thing of it was he wouldn’t mind if she did.

Chapter Five

H
e’d laughed at her idea.

Here in the quiet hush of Sunday morning services with only the pastor’s soothing voice filling the air, Priscilla could still hear the husky, masculine sound of Dean Zippenella’s amusement ringing in her ears.

Then again, why wouldn’t he—both he and Bobby, in fact—laugh? She’d had the same reaction when her sister had come up with a similar idea six months ago, though Priscilla liked to think she’d been a bit more restrained in her refusal to entertain such a notion for a foundation-sponsored event.

Of course, Jacqueline’s plan had been to auction off rich and famous bachelors, the crème de la crème from the worlds of entertainment, sports and high tech. And that the starting bid for each of these choice specimens would be five thousand dollars each.

Priscilla couldn’t imagine the bids at Destiny’s bachelor auction, much less the total profits for the evening, coming anywhere close to that amount.

Bobby and Leeann had made it clear yesterday that making money was secondary to having an event that the whole town could participate in. While Bobby hadn’t been on board right away, Leeann’s excitement had been genuine and infectious. So much so that Priscilla had found herself agreeing to stay in this slice of Norman Rockwell’s America for the next month to help pull it all together.

The last thing she’d admit was that she’d never done an event like this before. But how different could this type of auction be from any other? Of course, the first order of business was to get something—or more precisely, a few someones—for the ladies to bid on.

That was where Dean Zippenella came in.

Leeann had felt the need to apologize for the man’s behavior once they were alone in her spacious kitchen, but Priscilla had insisted that none was needed. She’d then gone on to declare her certainty that she and Dean would be able to work together for the good of the auction.

She hoped.

Dinner conversation had been centered on the auction and the camp, with Leeann and Bobby doing most of the talking, while Dean joined in from time to time, in between sneaking bits of his steak to his dog. He also attempted, unsuccessfully, to get Snake to take one of his offerings. The look on his face when her pup turned up his nose at the meat had Priscilla hiding a giggle behind her napkin.

Really, when was the last time she had giggled?

Dean had picked up on it, but the gleam in his eyes told her he was even more determined to get Snake to accept his gift. Which the dog never did, leaving the small cut of steak lying on the deck until Dean finally allowed Daisy to steal the morsel.

After that, the discussion had turned to her work with her family’s foundation, but soon the sound of Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Great Balls of Fire” had filled the air, cutting her off. Dean had reached for his cell phone while pushing back from the table, only half-finished with his meal, to answer.

Bobby had explained the ringtone meant the call was from the firehouse and as a volunteer firefighter Dean was most likely being called in for duty. When Dean ended the call, he had confirmed Bobby’s explanation before thanking his friends for dinner. His gaze had barely strayed in her direction as he said goodbye, which was so different than earlier when he’d stood close and looked intently at her, promising to be...helpful.

Confused, she’d brushed away the feeling as he and Daisy disappeared into the woods to return to the camp, where he’d left his truck.

It’d been after six by the time she got back to the inn, and she’d kept busy the rest of the evening doing extensive research on bachelor-auction fund-raisers. Just to be safe, she’d downloaded her folder for the fine-arts auction held two years ago in Malibu and set about replacing words like
painting
and
sculpture
with
eligible bachelor.

And she found herself thinking about Dean Zippenella. A lot.

She’d also come across Destiny’s website last night, and the history of the town’s founding back in the late 1800s was fascinating. Who would’ve guessed the Painted Lady Inn had once been a brothel? But it was the page devoted to town services, specifically the fire department, that had drawn her attention. One page featured photographs of training exercises and an annual competition of sorts against other fire departments and included images of the men and women in the department. There’d been one of Dean, smiling wide despite a soaking-wet T-shirt plastered to his body and baggy fireman pants, complete with red suspenders that hung loose at his hips. She’d stared at the picture for a long time before copying it to her bachelor-auction file, telling herself it was purely for research, but when she found herself wondering if Dean would be at the camp today for the tour, she quickly closed the file and concentrated instead on writing up her notes about the personal sponsorships for the camp, certain that her fund-raising idea was a sound one.

The pastor’s sermon ended and the congregation rose, Priscilla with them, realizing she’d missed most of what the man had said thanks to her daydreaming and shared a quick smile with Minnie Gates, who sat next to her. She’d planned to attend services this morning alone, slipping quietly into the back of the church, but when Minnie and Major Gates had offered to walk with her during breakfast at the inn, she couldn’t find a way to gracefully refuse.

When the choir began to sing and chatter filled the church, Priscilla guessed the services were over.

“Would you like to come back with us?” Minnie leaned back into the pew, her husband already standing in the aisle talking with someone as the choir finished singing.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll stay here for a moment longer.” Priscilla hadn’t spotted Bobby or Leeann yet, but she figured it would be easier to find them in the parking lot after the crowd thinned. “But I appreciate you letting me tag along with you and the Major.”

“Of course, dear. Now, don’t you leave without making a wish, seeing as how this is your first time in our little church.”

She promised, though she’d never heard of the tradition before. She waited until the church was almost empty, offering smiles to those who met her gaze, before she closed her eyes, pulled in a deep breath and slowly released it.

A wish, huh? Should she ask for no one in town to recognize her from her recent bout with the tabloids during her stay? How about a phone call from her father where he was more concerned about her feelings over this mess with her sister than with the gossip Jacqueline’s actions created?

Hmm, too complicated. Yes, something easier. World peace, perhaps? Or maybe she should ask for something totally unexpected like—

She felt more than heard someone slide into the pew next to her. Looking up, she was surprised to find Dean sitting there. “What are you doing here?”

“The same as you, I’d guess.” He kept his voice low, gaze forward, as he folded his hands together in his lap. “Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission, I always say.”

Blaming the sudden warmth flooding her veins on the warm July day and not on the way a freshly shaved Dean looked this morning was easier said than done. He was dressed in a starched white shirt, sleeves rolled back along his forearms, and khakis with a sharply pressed crease down the center of each pant leg. She caught a quick whiff of the man’s spicy cologne and had to catch her breath.

She stopped taking inventory long enough to realize they were the only two people left inside the simple country church. “I wasn’t doing either.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with a simple prayer or two,” Dean said, still not looking at her. “They say He answers every one.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Sure.” This time he looked at her and she read exhaustion in his dark eyes. “But sometimes the answer is no.”

His reply startled her and then she remembered why he’d left so suddenly yesterday. “How did it go with your—with the call you got? I hope everything turned out okay.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to be surprised. She could see he hadn’t expected her to say that. He blinked and then looked down at his hands. “Not good. There was a two-car crash out on the highway heading toward Laramie. We were called in to handle the resulting brush fire. It took most of the night, but we managed to get it out before too much damage was done to the surrounding acreage.”

A deep breath expanded his chest before he slowly released it. He gazed forward again and continued, “Can’t say the same for the people. The driver of the car who caused the crash didn’t make it. Four teenagers in the other car are in the hospital.”

His words tugged at her heart. “Oh, my. Do you know any of them?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Neither car was from Destiny.”

Silence filled the air and Priscilla struggled with what to say next, which was so unlike her. She’d always been able to talk to anyone in any given situation. What was it about this man that made her so...uncertain? “Maybe you should have skipped church this morning and slept in instead.”

He turned to her with one raised eyebrow. “It’s just that you look so tired,” she added.

“I am tired. You ready to get out of here?”

Priscilla nodded, assuming Bobby and Leeann would be waiting outside for her.

“Besides, my
nonni
always knows when I skip out on Sunday services,” Dean said, getting to his feet and moving into the aisle. “Don’t ask me how, since she’s firmly entrenched on the Jersey Shore, but she’ll text me with a pointed question just the same.”

She was impressed his grandmother knew what texting was. Her father had barely figured out his smartphone, but then again, he had a secretary available practically twenty-four hours a day.

Priscilla stood, one hand casually brushing her skirt back into place as she held her clutch purse in the other. She caught Dean’s gaze trailing over her from her head to her feet, where it lingered. This morning, she’d chosen a chocolate-brown silk jacquard dress and matching heels, complete with saucy bows on the toes, hoping she wouldn’t be too overdressed. Judging from the number of people wearing jeans and simple cotton sundresses—and Dean’s apparent fascination with her shoes—she had been.

“I do plan to take your advice,” she said, heading for the exit with Dean right beside her as they walked out into the sunshine, “and change my outfit, including my shoes, before visiting the camp today.”

“Good to know, seeing as how I’ve been elected as your tour guide.”

His words caused Priscilla to stumble, one foot catching in the concrete grooves at the top of the stairs. She teetered a moment, grabbing for the nearby handrail, but it was Dean’s hand, warm and solid at the small of her back, that steadied her.

“Whoa, careful there,” he said. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” As fine as she could be with the weight of his hand just inches above her backside creating zingers that careened inside of her body. “What did you just say?”

“Bobby called. It seems Leeann’s caught some bug. She’s been throwing up since before dawn, so they can’t make it today.”

“Oh, th-that’s terrible.” Priscilla started down the church steps, conscious of Dean’s touch, which remained in place as his footsteps matched hers. “I hope Leeann is feeling better soon, but you don’t have to show me the camp.”

“What’s the matter, princess? Tired of my company already?”

Priscilla opened her mouth to respond, but the few people still standing around turned to look at them with open interest before calling out hellos to Dean. He waved and returned the greetings, but never let go of her even when they reached the sidewalk. In fact, he moved even closer as a group of people headed their way. She should’ve felt crowded, usually preferring to maintain her personal space, but instead his actions came across as protective and gentlemanly.

In fact, Priscilla wasn’t bothered at all. She liked it.

“Hey, where’d you go? Falling asleep on me?”

Priscilla blinked, Dean’s voice cutting off her thoughts. She turned to him. Out here in the bright sun, his exhaustion was ever more pronounced. “You’re the one who needs sleep, remember? We can do the tour another day.”

He slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. “I told Bobby I’d do this.”

“Did you also tell him what time you got to bed this morning?”

He sighed. “Are you always so argumentative?”

“Are you always so stubborn?”

Before he could reply, they were surrounded by a half-dozen people, including the pastor. Dean turned on the charm and introduced her to everyone. Priscilla again read the curiosity in their gazes, especially when he explained that she was here to coordinate a fund-raiser for the summer camp. When pressed for details, Dean would only smile and say that an announcement would be coming soon, probably at Wednesday night bingo.

“You’re a physical therapist who volunteers at a summer camp and the local fire department,
and
you host a weekly bingo night?” Priscilla asked once they were alone again and making their way to the parking lot. “Is there anything you don’t do?”

“I don’t sleep much.” He stopped and looked around. “I don’t see your car. You walked here from the inn?”

Priscilla nodded.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride back so you can change.” Dean pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “We can go to the camp together.”

It only took one look at his oversize pickup truck for her to realize there was no way she could climb into or out of his vehicle and keep her dignity intact. But before she could point that out to him, he’d opened the passenger door and easily lifted her into the seat.

Speechless, Priscilla hurried to right her skirt, noticing how his shaded gaze seemed momentarily glued to her bared legs. Then he stepped back, closed the door and got in behind the wheel. Silence stretched between them and Priscilla was once again at a loss for words to fill the void. Minutes later they pulled into the parking lot at the inn. Dean backed into a shady spot and shut off the engine.

“Hold on.” He slid out from behind the wheel and headed around the front of his truck.

Priscilla released the seat belt and opened the door, planning to slip out and land on her feet before he got to her. “I think I can manage.”