Gripped (Prescott #2) Page 2

  I hated being here, hated that it was expected of me. My name might be Beverly Grace Whitfield, daughter of the well-to-do Dr. and Mrs. Benjamin Edward Whitfield III, but I’d never been fond of the recognition that came with my name, and I never would be. I was just a simple, practical twenty-six-year-old woman who wasn’t into an upscale lifestyle.

  Picking up a Waterford champagne flute from a passing waiter, I noticed the new manicure my mother had insisted on as I raised the glass to my lips. It looked nice, I had to admit, but I’d rather have spent the money on something more worthwhile. The bubbly slid down my throat and I stifled a grimace, wishing I were having a bourbon or beer, but unfortunately, plebeian drinks like those weren’t being served tonight. Even if they were, my mother, Evelyn, would chastise me for enjoying one in public.

  “Couldn’t you wear the dress I sent over?”

  Speak of the devil.

  My mother frowned at my attire, pursing her lips in that expression of disapproval I’d come to know very well. “Honestly, Beverly, I think you’re trying to put me in an early grave.”

  My mother attended debutante school when she was young and had wanted me to do it as well, but I chose to volunteer my time rather than spend it learning how to balance a book on my head to improve my posture. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my mom and knew she wanted the best for me, but our outlook on life couldn’t be more different.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said as I gave her a quick hug. “The dress you sent over was lovely, but made me look like I belonged on a princess float in the damn Disney parade.”

  “Beverly Whitfield, please don’t be crass. Most women would be thrilled to wear a designer gown.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, but I told you I didn’t want you to waste your money. You know I didn’t want to be here tonight, but here I am.”

  “Yes, and thank you, darling. Now, go have fun with your friends. You’ll be moving soon, and you may not see them for a while.”

  Her kisses hit the air around my cheeks before she glided away from me. As I watched her go, all I could do was let out a sigh.

  Friends? Who was she kidding? I always tried to avoid these people like the plague. I never came to the club, hadn’t played golf in a few years. Pretense just wasn’t my style, and I wasn’t going to suffer through the life of a country club woman just to fit in. Around here, it was all about prestige and what being a member meant. My mother embraced the culture and wanted the same for me. The difference was, I never believed spending four hours or longer playing a sport was a good use of my time.

  Glances slid my way as I headed to table number twenty-three. Apparently wearing a vintage strapless, form-fitting black gown with a thigh-high slit wasn’t the norm. Pairing it with red stilettos and a red clutch made me feel better, but did push those disapproving eyebrows to rise a little higher. I knew this, but the invitation did say “black tie” and I was wearing black, so that should cover it.

  As I strolled around my table to scan the place cards of my tablemates, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I was surprised no one else was there yet, or maybe they were and they were trying to change tables.

  Just my luck I’d be with people I tried to avoid, which should make for a long evening. I’d alienated myself long ago from the other club members when I decided to work with underprivileged children. During my free time, I volunteered at the local homeless shelter, conducting exercise classes and cooking healthy meals.

  All the names on the place cards were so pretentious, including mine. I’d wanted to change my name to something else when I was old enough, but when my mother told me that would put her in the hospital, I decided not to. Why set myself up for a lifelong guilt trip?

  Wondering who was sitting next to me, I picked up the card and read the silver-embossed name. Dane Prescott. I frowned, unable to recall who that was. At that thought, my nostrils were filled with a delicious aroma as a tuxedo-clad waiter slipped past me carrying a silver tray of appetizers.

  The organza-covered chair made my bare shoulder blades itch as they rested against it. I set aside my clutch and tapped my fingers on the crisp linen tablecloth as I sat and waited for more guests to arrive for the club’s annual season kickoff bash. The only good thing that came from it, in my opinion, was raising money for charity.

  A waitress carrying a tray of champagne walked toward me, and when I smiled, she handed me a fresh glass of bubbly. At the sight of my two tablemates approaching, I realized I should have asked for the entire tray.

  Angelica and Margaret’s gowns rivaled those worn on the red carpet at the Academy Awards. Their perfectly coiffed heads bobbed as they walked, similar to how they did when they were cheerleaders. But instead of swaying ponytails like in high school, their hair was twisted so tightly, the corners of their eyes looked as if they could touch their ears.

  When they reached the table, they looked at me and then at each other as their painted-on brows lowered over their fake eyelashes.

  “Honestly, I can’t believe we’re at this table.” Angelica huffed and picked up her place card, studying it as if the name were magically going to change. Forced to concede that she was in the correct place, she gracefully sat down, as did Margaret.

  We looked pretty ridiculous since there was a chair between each of us. Seriously, the whole boy-girl-boy-girl seating protocol was juvenile. Who created this seating chart? A matchmaker? My mother?

  “You look familiar,” Margaret said, looking quizzically at me. “Do I know you? Are you a member or a guest?”

  Angelica responded before I could in a condescending tone. “Maggie, please. Surely you remember Heavy Bevy.”

  Margaret studied me and then her jaw dropped. “No way. Beverly? You look so . . . different.” Then she smiled as if she appreciated the fact that I’d worked my ass off in the gym to be this thin. She had always been the nicer of the two.

  “Hello, Margaret, and thanks. You look just as I remember.” When she smiled at me, I turned my attention to her friend. “And you, Angelica, you are exactly the same.” A snobby bitch.

  Angelica was about to say something when two men joined the table. God, I didn’t need this tonight. I felt as if I were at a high school class reunion.

  “Ladies, you all look lovely tonight,” Vance said with a wink in Angelica’s direction.

  After she had stopped blushing, batting her eyelashes, and flipping her hair, she flashed her teeth at him, obviously veneers. Matthew joined the table and smirked at Margaret.

  Great. I’ll be left talking with the mystery man next to me. If he ever shows.

  “Sorry for being rude,” Matthew said as he reached over to shake my hand. “I’m Matthew Underhill.”

  Was he kidding? The guy sat in front of me in homeroom all through high school. Granted, that was several years ago, but still.

  “Beverly.” I smiled and shook his hand, hoping he’d feel like an ass.

  “Good to meet you.”

  My senses were on overload and I needed air. As I stood and walked away from the table, I heard a combined gasp. When I glanced back toward the table, Angelica and Margaret’s mouths hung open and the men were wearing identical smiles. Apparently, they’d noticed the back of my dress, or lack thereof. I smirked and strolled away.

  My father stopped me as I headed for the doors leading to the patio.

  “Sweetheart, you look beautiful.” He kissed my cheek. Once he caught the expression on my face, he glanced over my shoulder at the table I’d just left. “Everything okay over there?”

  “Yes. I just wasn’t feeling that well, so I thought I’d go out for some air.” I drew my lips into a tight smile, doing my best to look happy.

  Dad’s eyebrows drew together in a concerned frown. “Would you like me to go with you?”

  “No, but thank you. I just need room to breathe.”

  The sigh he let out made my heart sink. My father knew me better than anyone, and I was sure he realized I’d rather not be here.

&nb
sp; “Okay, sweetheart, if you’re sure.”

  “I am. I’ll be fine. Save me a dance, okay?”

  “Anything for my girl.” Dad gave me a smile that made his eyes sparkle, one of the many things I loved about him.

  I gave him a quick hug and headed for the door. I was almost there when caught sight of the most beautiful brown eyes I’d ever seen. They were so hypnotic, I slowed my steps as I locked gazes with the incredibly handsome man they belonged to.

  Regaining my composure, I blinked a few times and slowly continued out of the clubhouse. If I needed air before, my lungs were crying for more now. The rest of my body screamed at me to introduce myself, but I didn’t listen.

  The door led to a patio overlooking the ninth green, which was surrounded by water. When I was younger, it was one of my favorite holes. My swing was smooth and steady, and my dad would call me his “island girl” since I generally landed my drive on the kidney-shaped green rather than in the pond it sat in.

  I loved my dad and spending time with him was one of my favorite things to do. Since he was the chief of surgery at the hospital he worked at, he was rarely home, so even though I didn’t necessarily like the game of golf, I used to play to spend time with him.

  I sat on the cool wrought-iron bench and let the gentle breeze calm me, perfect for a late May evening. Closing my eyes, I listened to the birds and the soothing sounds of the small fountains that moved the water. This part of suburban living was what I missed. Living in the city, I generally heard sirens and horns blaring. Not very calming, but once you got used to it, it was all just white noise.

  The clicking of the sprinklers startled me and my eyes sprang open. Not knowing how long I’d been sitting there, I decided to make my way back into the clubhouse. But before I did, I ran into my old friend, Andi, and her boyfriend, Bentley. As we were chatting, the gorgeous brown-eyed mystery man stepped out onto the patio. Andi and I appreciated his good looks for a moment, and then he was gone.

  With one last intake of fresh air, I grasped the brass handle and pulled the door open. The emcee was speaking as I slipped inside the ballroom, and all eyes were on him and not me slinking my way to my table of doom. I glanced at the floor every so often to ensure I had a clear path as I weaved my way past the round tables filled with guests.

  When I arrived at my table, my tablemates were all talking amongst themselves and paying no attention to the emcee. Obviously, they had no interest in what the benefit dinner was about.

  The chair next to mine was still vacant. I supposed this Dane guy had changed his mind and decided to forgo the event. Smart man. Andi was only a few tables away, so that made me feel a little more comfortable. I would give anything for her to take the empty seat next to me.

  “So, Bevy, what have you been doing with yourself . . . besides losing weight?” Angelica smirked as she took a sip of her champagne.

  God, I hate her.

  “Oh my God! You’re Heavy Bevy? No way!” Vance said loudly.

  My insides twisted and my fists clenched as a few people at the neighboring table glanced our way. Mean kids never change or grow up. Knowing that, I didn’t bother responding to Vance; he was an ass and didn’t deserve any form of acknowledgment.

  “Well, I think you look beautiful.” Margaret beamed at me and raised her glass to me.

  Just as I was about to thank her, a low voice came from behind me.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Glancing back, I took in the sight of the good-looking man I’d seen only moments before. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and my nipples followed suit. I lowered my head as his suit jacket brushed against my arm when he seated himself next to me.

  Chancing a glimpse at him, I found him staring at me, his brown eyes warm with curiosity. All my saliva vanished, leaving my mouth feeling as if it were filled with cotton balls.

  “Hi. I haven’t had the pleasure.” He extended his hand. “Dane Prescott.”

  Praying I could speak, I placed my hand in his. “Beverly Whitfield.”

  His thumb slipped between mine and my forefinger as he twisted and raised my hand to his lips to softly kiss the back of it. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and prayed it was Angelica or Margaret and not me.

  I gently shook my head to regain some form of composure. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  His lips quirked into a sly grin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  My oh my, this man knew the power he possessed over women—that I was sure of. Sex practically rolled off of him in waves.

  Slowly, I pulled back my hand and resisted the urge to lick my lips. This man was stunning, and not like your typical country club snob. Yes, he was wearing a tux, every bit as nice as the other men in the room, but he made it appear more casual. That fact alone made me appreciate his looks more than I already had.

  “So, Dane, how’s the club treating you?”

  Matthew had a look of awe in his eyes that struck me as odd. And who was this Dane guy? Living in the city for the last few years, I hadn’t been to the club for a while, but I knew he never went to school with us.

  “It’s been good, thank you.” Dane turned slightly in his chair and looked at me. “I’ve never seen you here. Are you a new member?”

  My lips parted as I was about to answer his question, but Angelica interjected again.

  “She’s not important.” She lifted a hand in a dismissive wave in my direction. Pinning Dane with a flirty look, she said, “So, are we still on for this Wednesday?”

  I couldn’t help but grin and shake my head. Apparently some things never changed, especially Angelica.

  A crease formed between Dane’s brows as he said, “I’ll have to check the book.”

  Book? What, like he has a little black book?

  “Beverly?” He placed his hand on the back of my chair and leaned in closer. “So, are you new to the club?”

  “No, I just haven’t been around lately. Are you?” I reached for my water goblet to try to recapture some moisture in my mouth, as well as my composure.

  Lowering his voice, he said, “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

  Realizing he never answered my question, I frowned at him in total confusion. “Thank you, I guess.”

  Before anyone could say anything else, the club’s president, Mr. Herrington, stepped up to the lectern and tapped the microphone. The room fell silent as people turned in their chairs to give him their attention.

  “Guests, I want to thank you for being here to kick off our annual bash.”

  Everyone applauded, so I followed suit.

  “As you know, the proceeds from the silent auction being held in Bogey’s Hall will be donated to charity. Please open your hearts and checkbooks.” After a few worn-out golf jokes that evoked forced chuckles from the audience, he closed his speech. “Winners will be announced later this evening. Thank you, and enjoy your night.”

  After more polite applause, the waitstaff brought our meals around. I let out a little sigh of relief at the distraction. The sound of flatware tapping the plates and soft murmurs of nearby conversations were all that could be heard.

  I glanced at Angelica, who was picking at her salad. When the waiter placed a steak in front of her, I thought she was going to have a cow. Okay, poor choice of words, but apparently she’d gone vegetarian since the last time I’d seen her.

  After waving the plate away with disgust and giving the waiter a dressing-down, she scoffed to us, “Honestly, you’d think they’d know me by now—”

  Cutting off her diatribe smoothly, Dane caught my eye. “Beverly, tell me about yourself.”

  His voice was so low and intimate, the heat of it could melt the ice sculptures in the room. As it was, I was sure I was going to turn into a puddle.

  Once I’d finished chewing and hurried to swallow the bite in my mouth, I said, “I’m a math teacher in District Twelve.”

  Margaret gasped. “Oh my God, you could get killed there.”

&nbs
p; I frowned and bit my tongue. Her comment wasn’t something I hadn’t heard before, but it still bothered me just the same.

  Dane shifted and looked at me with a sincere concern that seemed out of place for someone who didn’t even know me. “Is it dangerous?”

  I ran my linen napkin across my lips before placing it back on my lap. “I suppose it could be, but all children deserve a chance, and I can hold my own. Plus, I’ll be moving soon.”

  He nodded and gave me a genuine smile, so mesmerizing that my heart might have skipped a beat.

  Angelica looked up from the back of the spoon she was using as a mirror while she reapplied her lipstick. “I’d bring a bodyguard if it were me, and with you not having all your weight, you may need help.”

  Clenching my teeth, I gave her a tight smile. “Thank you for the advice and your concern, but I’ll be fine.” I didn’t mention I kept pepper spray in my purse and a whistle on my key chain.

  The band started to play as the dishes were cleared by the waitstaff.

  Matthew leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “So, Dane, I hear you’re making your way through all the hot female golfers around here.”

  I gave Dane a sidelong glance. A muscle in his jaw ticked as his lips peeled back into a cold smile, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took a sip of his water and his eyes met mine.

  Blood rose in my cheeks at the realization I was totally busted gawking at him. It was no surprise that Dane would be popular—the man was gorgeous—whereas Vance and Matthew were just dickheads. I hoped Dane wasn’t.

  Dane stood and offered me his hand. “Dance?”

  I placed my hand in his, hoping I wasn’t trembling. As I stood up, his eyes practically undressed me in appreciation. Grinning, he linked his fingers with mine as if I were his date for this event.

  Take that, Mom. Glad I chose my own dress tonight.

  There were only a few couples on the floor when he steered us to the center, on display for everyone. His right hand settled on the small of my back as he drew me closer. We’d only been swaying for a handful of seconds when the music stopped.