Destiny's Last Bachelor? Read Online Free PDF Page A

guess I’m that appointment.”
    His left eyebrow shot up. “Excuse me?”
    She had no idea why he looked so surprised. But they might as well just make the best of it. In a much-practiced move, Priscilla stretched out on the table and turned over on her stomach, all the while keeping the towel securely in place.
    Resting her suddenly pounding forehead on her folded hands, she closed her eyes and said, “Just get started, please.”
    * * *
    Dean had to admit he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on this beautiful creature, but not like this. Obviously, Priscilla Lennox thought he was here to provide a massage, a service contracted by the inn, but she must’ve gotten her rooms mixed up.
    This area was reserved for his weekly appointments with the retired marine who owned the inn. The old man hated hospitals so much he refused to come to the veterans’ clinic where Dean worked for his physical-therapy sessions. Considering the hell the still-spry veteran had gone through as a prisoner of war in Vietnam, Dean believed he’d more than earned the right to feel any damn way he pleased.
    So every Friday afternoon Dean—being former military himself—ended his work week here at the inn, in a less clinical setup.
    He’d noticed the familiar red convertible when he’d arrived at the inn and hoped for the chance to run into the pretty blonde again and make a second and better impression this time. But not this way. “Ah, look, I think I should explain about the massage—”
    “No, you look. No more explanations. No more apologies.” She propped herself on her elbows, glaring at him over one shoulder, the move causing a single blond curl to fall across her blue eyes. Very beautiful blue eyes. “I’ve had a really long day, after what has been a terrible—a terribly exhausting week. Getting knocked on my butt into a riverbed earlier didn’t help.”
    Dean kept his boots planted firmly tableside, forcing his gaze to remain on her face when he caught sight of the edges of her towel slowly giving way. He’d noticed the yellow rosebud tattoo just above the towel’s edge a moment ago, but now her jerky movements were leaving even more of her curves on display.
    “All I want is for you to work out the kinks,” she continued, her tone clipped, “and if you could manage to do that in silence, that would be preferable.”
    Well, if Miss High Society got that pretty little nose any higher in the air, she might just topple backward off the table.
    Dean glanced at his watch. It wasn’t like the Major to be running late. He was sure the old man was 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