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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