Destiny's Last Bachelor?

by Christyne Butler

  Chapter Fourteen

  The mansion gleamed with candlelight as an orchestra played softly in the background. The crème de la crème of Beverly Hills were there, talking and dancing, the gentlemen clad in tuxedos and the ladies in long gowns. Priscilla’s was a floor-length pink chiffon, the strapless bodice setting off her diamond jewelry to perfection, but she felt pale and lifeless, wishing she was back in her jeans, running around Camp Diamond with the kids.

  With Dean.

  She’d been home for three days and had yet to speak with her father, who was traveling again, but she and Jacqueline had talked on the phone a few times. Priscilla had been surprised to find Elizabeth, her father’s secretary, waiting for her and Snake at the Beverly Hills house when she arrived on Tuesday morning with the news that her sister had voluntarily entered a treatment facility in New Mexico.

  The news had been a shock, despite the alcohol she’d smelled on her sister’s breath the night of the auction. Priscilla was still coming to terms with all that her sister had done in the past month or so, but she was glad Jacqueline was finally getting the professional help she needed.

  “Here, sugar, you look as if you need this.” Lisa joined her at the far end of the crowded ballroom, two champagne glasses in her hands. “Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?”

  Priscilla smiled as she took the glass, even though she wasn’t in the mood to drink. “Seeing that I am wearing one of your designs, you have to say that.”

  Lisa clicked the edge of her glass to Priscilla’s and then raised it to her lips. “I don’t know why you just don’t call him.”

  Her friend’s simple statement cut straight to her heart, but Priscilla pretended not to hear her as she looked out over the crowd, not really seeing any of them. No, what she saw were the people in a small ranching town who’d welcomed her into their lives with such friendliness, the amazing kids at the camp, the man she’d come to care for more deeply in a way she’d never felt before...

  “It’s no use.” Priscilla looked down at the thousands of tiny bubbles shimmering in her champagne flute. “I already told you, he’s made up his mind that Destiny and I, not to mention him and I, are as natural a fit as...well, as...”

  “As a cowboy in Beverly Hills?”

  At the familiar low tones, Priscilla looked up, her fingers tightening around the glass, that same burst of warmth springing to life deep inside her that always happened at the sight of the man making his way toward her.

  Dean looked amazing in a black tuxedo and a dark Stetson, causing many in the ballroom to turn and watch him as he walked the few steps to her side. He kept his gaze locked on her. When he finally stood before her, she realized she was alone with him, her friend having mysteriously disappeared. He offered her a smile that was one part sexy and the rest charmingly nervous.

  Stunned by his sudden appearance, Priscilla said the first thing that came to her mind. “I thought you didn’t own a cowboy hat.”

  His smile was now the irresistible one she’d grown accustomed to during their time together in Destiny. “I wanted to make sure I stood out in your crowd.”

  Oh, he did that in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine.

  “Is there someplace where we can speak privately?”

  His question was almost the same one, word for word, that she’d asked him a week ago after the auction. Uncertainty filled his eyes as she remained silent, but then Priscilla nodded and pointed toward the gardens visible through the wide-open French doors all along one side of the room.

  “After you.” He motioned for her to step in front of him. Priscilla did, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment when she felt the heat of his touch at her back as she walked out onto the enormous patio.

  Pausing to leave her glass behind on the ornately carved stone wall that separated the patio from the well-manicured green lawn, she chose a private path hidden among defined boxwood hedges and flowering bushes dressed up for tonight’s festivities with row after row of twinkling lights.

  She finally stopped near a stone bench and turned to find Dean had removed his hat. “Not used to wearing that?” she asked.

  “It was making it hard to see you and I’ve missed seeing you.” His voice was low as his gaze roamed over her. “You are so beautiful, and if you don’t mind me asking...”

  His voice trailed off. She had no idea what he was going to say next.

  “What kind of shoes are you wearing?”

  Priscilla laughed, his silly question making her feel all bubbly inside, no champagne required. She lifted up the hem of her dress and pointed to her toes, showing off the high-heeled sandals that were nothing more than a few straps of light pink material decorated with rhinestones.

  “Hmm, very nice, but I think I like you better in those work boots you wore at the camp.”

  His words set off a flutter in her heart. “So do I, actually. These beauties aren’t as comfortable as they used to be.”

  A brightness filled Dean’s eyes as he grinned and tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Me? I’ve never felt more out of place in my life.”

  “Well, you look amazing.”

  His smile softened. “Thanks.”

  “What are you doing here?” she finally asked. The small talk was driving her crazy and she was unable to hold back her curiosity any longer. “How did you know where to find me tonight?”

  “Through Bobby and a few of his friends, one of them being your assistant, who is a big racing fan. I arrived in Los Angeles this morning and spent the rest of the day being buffed and shined and stuffed into this monkey suit, but it was all worth it because I needed to see you again. To talk to you.”

  Priscilla opened her mouth to speak, but Dean stopped her by gently pressing his finger to her lips.

  “To tell you how sorry I am...for everything.” He dropped his hand and placed his Stetson on the bench before turning back to her. “You must’ve seen that magazine I left in your room. Please believe me, I didn’t say those things. Well, I didn’t say them the way they reported it. You were great with the kids at the camp, and the ideas you came up with made it a better place for them. Not to mention how you got the whole town behind your auction.”

  Priscilla blinked hard. The tears were back again, but this time they were happy ones.

  “And I was a complete jerk about your sister, too. I should’ve been more understanding. I’d do anything—okay, just about anything—for my brothers and sisters.”

  Priscilla reached out and took his hand, loving how his fingers instinctively laced with hers. “No, you were right. I was only trying to cover up a situation instead of facing it head-on. I don’t know if you even care, but Jacqueline is getting help, professional help, and I’m so hoping that it works for her.”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Of course I care.”

  “And I should’ve known better about that article. Lord knows I’ve had enough experience with the tabloids, but the timing of it all...”

  Dean took a step closer and brought one hand to her cheek. “I know all about timing. When I woke up Tuesday morning and found out you had left town, I wanted to hop on the first plane that would get me here to you.”

  Priscilla swallowed against the hope that caused a lump to form in her throat. “Why?”

  “You haven’t guessed? I don’t want to lose you.” He lowered his brow until his forehead rested against hers, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “I need you in my life, Priscilla. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I want to find a way to make this work, to make us work, even if it means my staying here.... If you feel the same way about me, that is.”

  Dean’s words thrilled her and that tiny flutter expanded into a joyous elation. “What if I don’t want to stay here?” she asked, trying to hold ba
ck her happiness and wishing he would ask her to return home with him.

  He straightened, and his brows dipped in confusion. “What about your job? I want you in Destiny full-time, as does Daisy, but if you need to be—”

  “I need to be where you are!” Priscilla flew at him, loving how Dean enveloped her in his strong arms, the world melting away as he lifted her so her high heels weren’t even touching the ground. “Beverly Hills doesn’t feel like home anymore, not like being in Destiny.”

  His handsome face broke into a dazzling smile. “Are you sure that’s what you want, princess?”

  “I want you, Dean Zippenella. I love you and if Destiny is your home, it’s going to be my—and Snake’s—home, too.”

  He slowly lowered his mouth to hers and she met him halfway in a kiss that spoke of the passion and promise of a shared future, in a small town where fate had brought them together.

  * * * * *

  If you liked Dean and Priscilla’s story,

  Don’t miss any of

  USA TODAY bestselling author

  Christyne Butler’s

  WELCOME TO DESTINY series.

  THE COWBOY’S SECOND CHANCE

  THE SHERIFF’S SECRET WIFE

  A DADDY FOR JACOBY

  WELCOME HOME, BOBBY WINSLOW

  HAVING ADAM’S BABY

  FLIRTING WITH DESTINY

  Available from Harlequin Special Edition.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE SINGLE DAD'S SECOND CHANCE by Brenda Harlen.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Special Edition story.

  You know that romance is for life. Harlequin Special Edition stories show that every chapter in a relationship has its challenges and delights and that love can be renewed with each turn of the page.

  Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Special Edition every month!

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Chapter One

  Rachel Ellis hated Valentine’s Day.

  Not that she’d ever admit as much to any of the customers who had formed an almost-steady stream of traffic through the door of Buds & Blooms since about 11:00 a.m., but she had expressed the sentiment—more than a few times already today—to her best friend and business partner, Holly Kendrick.

  “Can you tell me,” Rachel asked, when she went to the back during a rare quiet moment in the shop, “why so many men seem surprised to realize it’s Valentine’s Day when it falls on February 14 every single year?”

  “Because they’re men,” Holly said simply.

  “And is that why they also wait until the absolute last minute to buy flowers for their wives or girlfriends?”

  “Yep.”

  “Next year we should offer discounts for advance orders.” They had taken some, but those represented a small percentage of the sales already processed that day.

  “It won’t matter,” Holly told her.

  Rachel knew her friend was probably right. She sank down into a chair by the worktable. “I’m just going to take ten minutes to rest my feet before the next rush.”

  She only managed about half of that before the bell rang, indicating another customer had entered the shop.

  Trish, a local college student who helped out part-time, showed up at two o’clock so that Holly could go home to get ready for her date with Shane—her on-again, off-again boyfriend of the past two years. Rachel, who had no plans, would stay until closing time at six o’clock.

  It was quarter to the hour now, and there were only a couple of customers left in the shop. Her cheeks hurt from the smile she’d kept firmly plastered on her face as she boxed or wrapped order after order throughout the afternoon, and she was looking forward to the day being over.

  But when Andrew Garrett walked through the door, just a few minutes before closing time, she didn’t have to force the smile. He was a regular if not frequent customer, coming into Buds & Blooms three times a year without fail—Valentine’s Day, August 10 and November 22. She didn’t really know him. In fact, she only knew his name because it was on the credit card that he used to pay for his purchases. But for some inexplicable reason, her heart always beat just a little bit faster when he was around.

  Or maybe it wasn’t so inexplicable. After all, the man was a certified hunk. He stood about six-three with broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and moss-green eyes looked out beneath straight brows. His jaw was cleanly shaven, his mouth was deliciously shaped, and when he’d smiled at her the first day he came into the shop, her knees had actually gone weak.

  Then she’d dropped her gaze and noticed the well-worn gold band that circled the third finger of his left hand. She should have expected as much—the only time gorgeous single men ever walked through the door of Buds & Blooms was Mother’s Day.

  February 14 had fallen on a Sunday that year, and he’d been one of the first customers through the door. He’d wanted a dozen white roses, and she’d laid the creamy white flowers out on top of a fan of ferns, added some baby’s breath, then wrapped the arrangement in silver paper and clear cellophane and tied it together with white raffia. Even after three years, she remembered those details, and she wondered if that was evidence of the customer service she prided herself on or proof that she was pathetically infatuated with a handsome—and married—stranger.

  “A dozen white roses?” she asked.

  He smiled, and her heart did a funny little turn in her chest. “Good memory.”

  She went to the back to retrieve the flowers, then added the accent foliage and wrapped the arrangement. “Can I get you anything else today?”

  He shook his head. “No, that’s all.”

  She rang up the purchase and reached for the credit card he held out to her. Their fingers touched—briefly—in the transfer, but she felt a jolt at the unexpected contact.

  Married, she reminded herself sternly.

  And even if he wasn’t, she’d made too many mistakes where the male gender was concerned to want to risk another one.

  She processed the transaction and returned his card along with a receipt and his flowers.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  She kept the smile on her face until he’d walked out the door, then flipped the lock and wondered, Why are the good ones always taken?

  * * *

  As a single woman, Rachel really did hate Valentine’s Day. But as a business owner counting the receipts, she had to love it. They’d sold more flowers in just ten hours today than they would in the rest of the month, and while Trish cleaned up the work counters in the back, Rachel restocked the display cases at the front of the store and made notes on what she would have to add to her orders this week.

  “Do you want to go somewhere to grab a bite?” she asked Trish. Because of the thick gloves she wore in deference to the frigid temperature, she fumbled a little with the key as she locked up.

  “Oh, um, that sounds great, but—”

  “But you’ve got a date,” Rachel guessed.

  Her employee nodded.

  “You should have said something—I could have finished up by myself.”

  “Doug had to work until eight tonight, anyway.”

  “Doug? The advertising guy?”

  “Marketing,” Trish clarified.

  “I thought you dumped him.”

  “I did.” She shrugged. “And then I missed him.”

  Rache
l didn’t know Doug, aside from what Trish had told her, so she bit her tongue. She wasn’t so far past twenty that she didn’t remember how it felt to be young and in love—or at least want to believe that she was. It had taken her a while, but she’d finally realized that being lonely in a relationship was worse than being alone.

  She hadn’t given up on the idea of finding someone to share her life with, but she’d stopped looking for her elusive soul mate around every corner.

  “But I’ll be in at seven tomorrow to help with the deliveries,” Trish said now.

  “I can handle the deliveries—if you can be here by ten, that’s soon enough.”

  “Really?” The young woman looked as if Rachel had given her the moon instead of just three extra hours.

  “Really,” she confirmed.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Rachel couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance. “Have a good time tonight.”

  “We will,” Trish assured her.

  Rachel waited until her employee got into her car and waved as she drove off. Because she lived only a couple of blocks from the shop, she walked to and from work. And usually she enjoyed the walk, but tonight, she was tired and hungry and just wanted to be home so she could snuggle on the couch with a bowl of popcorn to watch Criminal Minds.

  Except that the way her stomach was growling, she knew popcorn was not going to suffice. When she got home, she exchanged her skirt and blouse for a favorite pair of jeans and a winter-white V-neck sweater, then slipped her feet into low-heeled boots and shrugged back into her coat. She burrowed her chin deeper into the collar when she stepped outside again and tried to ignore the cold as she headed toward Valentino’s. Thankfully, the restaurant offered takeout because, even if she wanted to sit down and eat, she knew there was no way she’d get a table tonight.

  Pulling open the door, she was immediately greeted by the mouthwatering scents of tomato, garlic and basil. Her stomach growled again. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. “Rachel, hi. Just let me put this order in to the kitchen and I’ll tell Gemma that you’re here.”