“Eve Windsong?” asked a tall, dark, and handsome man with silver hair at his temples. He looked fit and wore dark blue well-filled tight pants, a blue baseball cap, and a light blue dress shirt open at the collar that revealed a hint of dark tufts of hair.

Eve nodded. “Yes. How can I help you?”

A glint appeared within the depths of his dark slate eyes as his gaze traveled up and down the length of her. “You ready to hookup?” He strode forward, heading to room one. “All set for me? I like to get things in order before I begin. Mind if I go in first?”

Eve’s face flooded with heat, and she raised an eyebrow. She choked out a response, trying to dismiss unbidden hot images of riding crops, silken ropes, and blindfolds. What the hell am I thinking? “Excuse me?”

“Hold on a second. Damned if you don’t look like one of the Weathers Girls.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“Long story,” she muttered.

The silver fox whipped out his phone, swiped left a few times, found what he was after, and asked, “This Route Two? Gatlinburg? Sugarlands Lodge?”

Eve nodded.

“Eve?”

In a no-nonsense tone, she said, “We’ve already established that.”

A cocky grin crossed his firm, kissable lips. “I believe you are expecting me?”

Surprise shot through her body. “Hardly.”

He looked up confidently. “You said Eve Windsong, right? Our hookup date is today.”

“I don’t know what planet you’re from, but I most certainly did not request a hookup.”

He checked his tablet again. “I’m your man, and we have a date—”

“Really? Do you have any idea how often I’ve heard that line the past several weeks?” She swallowed her disdain. God help me, I pray I didn’t just pant. I feel like a bitch in heat. I hope I don’t look as hot to trot as I feel right now.

He looked at her with the question still in his gaze. “No, but I’m at your service. Ready, willing, and able. When you are, of course. Don’t want to get ahead of myself or anything. I can wait. No hurry.” He winked. “I just have to get a few things.” He looked around as if whatever he needed had disappeared. “Oh, yeah, that’s right, I remember now.” He snapped his fingers. “I got this. Hang on a second. I’m a tad bit rusty at this game.”

Eve straightened and took a deep breath. If it was possible, her skin flushed even deeper. Here we go again. At least he admits this is a game. Better to stop this farce right in its tracks. “Look, I’m working. It’s clear I obviously need to change my profile. There’s been a mistake.”

It was his turn to look confused and at a loss. “Huh?” He shrugged. “Whatever. I’m new at this part of the operation. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Appears I forgot my tools.”

You’re a tool, all right. We agree on that much. Eve sighed. I swear I’m so gonna shoot Sunny Days on sight next time I see my half-sister’s skinny little ass. At least this guy is gorgeous. But still another potential date to ditch. What the hell! No coffee? No how-do-you-dos? Just I’m ready—how’d he put that? —willing and able. Who says that?

As quickly as those fine fingers had snapped, she was alone. She picked up a brochure nearby and fanned herself. The man was hot. That much was certain.

A series of gawdawful encounters flashed through Eve’s mind at lightning speed. Labeled as dates, those flashbacks had been her fate ever since Sunny posted her dating profile on MountainMatch.com.

Drat! I meant to cancel that post for good. Just been too busy learning this new job, and Sunny has been scarce lately. I haven’t had the chance to review what she actually posted on that stupid, silly dating website. Note to self—have Dawn send my laptop. How’d I even manage to forget that? And why did I ever listen to that scatterbrain Sunny, whose post has sent half a dozen losers my way?

Eve quickly recalled some of the doozies she’d dealt with recently. A picture of a man rose in her mind’s eye—at least twenty years older than the photo he had posted.

Jack Small, lifting his tie spotted with food that missed his mouth, said, “This here’s my lucky tie. Every time I wear it, I get lucky. How ’bout after coffee, we get lucky at the Parkway Motel up Route 321?”

I’d barely even sat down to sip my carryout coffee when I spit it out in disbelief. My coffee joined the other stains on his lucky tie. I exited stage left, saying over my shoulder, “It’s clear we’re not a match.”

He blasted me with hateful posts until MountainMatch.com shut down his diatribe.

Instantly, she recalled another potential date, one who’d regaled her with a litany of non-stop complaints on why all women were sluts with Daddy issues and his exes were the worst of the lot. That time she excused herself to go to the restroom and left through KT’s Koffee Haus kitchen’s back door. That guy actually made the aging biker dude that showed up one Friday afternoon look good in comparison.

Sunny breezed in with Hot-Stuff-On-A-Stick-Guy trailing her, now sporting a toolkit and utility belt. “What? Eve, why are you looking at me like that?”

The twinkle in Sunny’s wide innocent-looking baby blues told Eve her hunches were right. Sunny might have something to do with this.