Gripped (Prescott #2)

by Joanne Schwehm

  Warm, humid air surrounded me, making me sweat a little as I strode across the dewy lawn. It was a bit of a walk, but I could use the exercise. Not going to the gym every day like I had in the city was going to wreak havoc on my body. The club had a gym, so I supposed I could work out there since I needed to be there for my golf lessons. Just the thought of having to take a lesson grated on my nerves.

  I stepped onto the flagstone walkway and through the oversized front door leading into my parents’ home. They loved playing golf on Sundays, so I knew they’d be gone. Making myself at home, I slipped into the bathroom to change into my bathing suit, then grabbed an apple from the fridge and headed out to the patio. The hum of the pool motor was oddly relaxing as I got comfortable on the cushioned chaise lounge.

  Just as I took a huge bite of my apple, my phone rang. I grabbed it out of my bag and saw it was Dane. My mouth was full, but I attempted to answer anyway.

  “Hewoe?”

  “Beverly?”

  His voice was even sexier than I remembered, and I sounded as if I had a mouthful of marbles. I chewed and swallowed quickly, and wiped the apple juice off my chin with a towel.

  “Yes, it’s me. Hi, Dane.”

  “Hey there. Are you okay? You sounded like you were underwater.”

  “No, I just put something in my mouth and didn’t have time to swallow before I answered the phone.” My eyes immediately closed at the innuendo that just flew unbidden from my mouth.

  “Hmm . . . a woman that likes to take her time and swallow. Good to know.”

  Dane let out a laugh that made my insides vibrate. Meanwhile, I was mentally cursing my stupidity as embarrassment burned my cheeks. I opened my mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say.

  “Beverly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Honestly, I was just kidding around.”

  “Okay.”

  Good retort, Beverly. Frustrated, I dropped my head into my hand.

  He cleared his throat. “I just called to say good morning and to make sure you slept well.”

  “Good morning. And yes, I slept very well, thank you.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’d ask if you dreamed about me, but I think I’d be pushing my luck.”

  I smiled, leaning back to bask in the morning sun. “I wouldn’t tell you if I had.”

  “That’s a shame. So, what are you doing?”

  “I’m hanging out by my parents’ pool. They’ll be gone for most of the day. Would you like to come over?”

  What am I doing? Face-palm again! At this rate, I’d have a red handprint glowing on my forehead.

  “I’m playing golf this afternoon,” he said.

  “Oh . . . golf.”

  “Uh-oh. You sound like you hate my favorite sport. Do you play?”

  My heart dropped a little, especially since I had a golf lesson soon, whether I wanted it or not. “I used to. There aren’t many courses near my old apartment, and I doubt I’d play if there were.”

  Seriously, golf definitely was a four-letter word in my book. All my life, I’d taken second place to that damn sport. My parents were never around because of it.

  I needed to end this call. There was no reason to get upset that Dane and I didn’t have a mutual love for the sport; it wasn’t as if I were involved with him.

  Getting in his bed, though? Tempting, but not gonna happen.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said, sounding distracted. “My first appointment is here, so I need to go.”

  “Okay, ’bye.”

  After I hung up the phone, I wondered what type of appointment he had, then pushed the thought away and shrugged. I glanced at my apple and took another bite, knowing I would never think of swallowing the same way again.

  The sun warmed my skin as I grabbed a book to read. There was nothing better than getting lost in someone else’s life, and in this case it was a duchess who was being seduced by a duke. My imagination took me back in time, and I was suddenly a royal in a castle.

  Yes, I’d fibbed to Dane about my reading preferences, but every woman needed their secrets. God forbid he might think I wanted a fairy-tale romance; he’d run for the hills. And for some reason, I wanted him running toward me, not away from me.

  I’d just dozed off when my phone rang. My heartbeat picked up at the thought of Dane, but it was my mother.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. I wanted to let you know you have a lesson on Tuesday the twenty-first at two o’clock with the pro at the club. I know that’s a few weeks away, but it gives you time to tie up loose ends here, plus we can spend some time together before you start. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  She sounded practically giddy, while all I felt was dread. I rolled my eyes, trying to force a little enthusiasm into my tone.

  “I can’t wait.”

  Ever since I was little, my parents had forced their love of golf on me. It wasn’t that I hated the game itself, but when I wanted to go to the movies or just hang out, my parents weren’t around.

  Once when I was fourteen, I’d been asked to go to a birthday party at a classmate’s house, and was so excited because I was hardly ever invited. It was all the other kids talked about, and for them to invite me was surreal. Sadly, I couldn’t go because my dad was working, my mom was meeting ladies at the club, and I didn’t have a ride. I knew if I begged my mom, she probably would have driven me, but I didn’t want to do that. I loved her, but knew where her priorities were.

  “Honey, you’ll be leaving soon,” she said, interrupting my thoughts, “and you’ll have a fun week with the pro here. Your father says he’s the best and he won’t be here long. He’s not from around here, and he’s going on tour.” Her voice practically trilled, and by the time she spoke the last word, it might have risen an octave or two.

  At least one of us is excited.

  “Thank you. Are you and Daddy coming home soon? I’m at your house by the pool.”

  I set my book down, which had been lying on my chest, and sat up to press a finger to my arm. The white fingerprint that ghosted on the pink hue on my skin was an indication I’d been outside a bit too long.

  “We’re going to grab a bite to eat,” she said. “Would you like to join us?”

  “No, thank you. I need to take a shower and I’m tired. I think the sun got to me.” I yawned then, realizing it wasn’t a lie. All I wanted was to go inside and curl up in my bed.

  “Okay, have a great night, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  We hung up, and after I’d gathered my things, I headed back to the guesthouse and straight into the bedroom. It was only three in the afternoon, but I was drained. I tossed my things on the floor, pulled off my bathing suit, and once I’d slipped on an oversized T-shirt, I crawled into bed.

  Images of Dane in a tux flooded my head. As exhaustion pulled me under, I knew I’d dream of a certain dark-haired man. Smiling, I couldn’t wait to fall asleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  ~ Dane ~

  Usually when I was at the course, I thought of one thing and one thing only—my golf game. But after talking with Beverly today, my thoughts centered on a leggy, raven-haired woman lying by a pool. All I could picture was her shapely body in a string bikini. That and the thought that one day, I’d have her.

  There was something different about Beverly. She had a look in her eyes, a low-key simmering like warm coals waiting to ignite. All she needed was a spark, and I was happy to provide it.

  My mind raced with what I wanted to do to her. I thought about those long legs wrapped around my waist, her full lips pressed against mine as I drove into her over and over again.

  Yes, that was what I wanted. Now I just needed to convince her that she wanted it too.

  CHAPTER 6

  June

  ~ Beverly ~

  Thoughts of Dane filled my head as I pulled into the parking lot and stared at the clubhouse. I hadn’t seen him since the kickoff event last month, but we’d sent each other flirty texts every few days s
ince then. He’d been away for most of the past weeks, playing in tournaments—Atlanta, Myrtle Beach, and the Outer Banks—and had spent some time with his family.

  Although the Royale Country Club wasn’t exactly my favorite place, I couldn’t deny it was beautiful. Large oak trees dotted the property carpeted with deep green grass, and colorful flowers lined the many pathways. I couldn’t help but stop to admire the gorgeous scenery.

  But taking a golf lesson, here or anywhere else, was the last thing I wanted to do before I moved away. After all, there was no point in doing it when I knew I wouldn’t be golfing anytime soon. As it was, I had to dust off my clubs to use them today. But my parents had tried to do a good thing by buying these lessons for me . . . and since I’m a good daughter, here I am.

  My mother had bought a cute golf outfit for me to wear, but since I’d already complied with taking lessons, wearing clothes that looked like pink cotton candy exploded all over them was where I drew the line. Instead, I opted for my black golf skirt, pale blue golf shirt, and my hair in a ponytail pulled through the back of my Titleist cap. As I laced up my black-and-white golf shoes, a pro shop employee came to my car and took my golf bag for me. Just because I didn’t care for the sport didn’t mean I couldn’t at least look good.

  Here we go.

  When I walked into the pro shop, a young man greeted me.

  “Hello, Miss Whitfield. Are you ready for your lesson?”

  I looked at the nametag pinned to the gray shirt all the employees wore. “Hi, Michael. Are you my instructor?” He was quite young, and if this guy was going on tour soon, then he must be an amazing golfer. He looked as if he was no more than twenty years old.

  Michael chuckled and shook his head. “I wish, but I’m not a pro. Your instructor is waiting for you on the range, and I have a cart waiting for you to drive over. Mr. P is already there.”

  “Thank you, Michael.”

  My clubs were already strapped to the cart he pointed to, so I hopped onto the seat and drove it across the lot to the range. As I drove up, I scanned the range, seeing who might be there. A few ladies were on the practice tees, swinging away, and an older man was putting on the green adjacent to the tee area.

  And then I saw him, Dane, dressed in a gray shirt just like the one Michael was wearing. I might have stopped breathing when I realized my instructor, Mr. P., was Mr. Prescott. Dane Prescott.

  He was standing on the practice tee, observing a petite redhead who looked as if she’d never swung a club before. After she swung awkwardly, topping the ball and sending it just a few yards, he stepped behind her and whispered something in her ear before he placed his hands on her hips and rocked them from side to side. Once she was free of his grip and he moved out of the way, she bent over to place another ball, then swung and completely missed it.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, but then Dane resumed his position behind the woman.

  Red tipped her head back and rested it on Dane’s chest before letting out a giggle. That’s when I saw her face—she was beautiful, and the two of them looked very familiar with each other. Something stirred inside me, something ugly and unfamiliar, and I slammed the cart’s brake, bringing it to an abrupt halt.

  After taking a few deep breaths to regain my composure, I took my bag off the back of the cart and trudged toward my instructor, my steps dragging as if I were headed to the electric chair.

  It was as if Dane sensed me, because he turned around the moment my foot hit the grass. The smile that had enthralled me that night and sent a lightning bolt between my legs was just as powerful.

  He walked away from Red without a second glance and made his way toward me, smiling all the way. “Beverly, it’s good to see you.”

  Then it dawned on me—did he know he’d be seeing me today? I hadn’t had a text from him in the last couple of days.

  “Hello, Dane.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Looks like I have you all to myself for an hour.”

  Dane Prescott’s charisma might be overwhelming, but I wanted this over with.

  “Shall we start?” I said coldly.

  CHAPTER 7

  ~ Dane ~

  When I first saw Beverly’s name on my schedule this morning, my lips had curled into a smile. I knew she’d won lessons, but didn’t know they were with me. My thoughts had immediately placed her in short golf shorts, a tight-fitting shirt, and a cute visor.

  But when she pulled up in the golf cart, I realized my imagination didn’t do her justice and my eyes drank her in. Beverly was a beautiful woman. I should know since I’d known a lot of them, but none of them held a candle to her.

  I did my best to stifle a laugh at her annoyed look. She didn’t want to be here, that was evident by the way she slammed the brakes on the cart, making the tires squeal. Either that or she was a shitty driver. Either way, it didn’t matter. I had her undivided attention for an hour, and I’d use every one of those sixty minutes to have fun with her. We’d been sending each other flirty texts for the past month, and it was great to finally be able to enjoy her in the flesh, so to speak.

  And if I have my way, I’ll be enjoying a lot of her flesh.

  Beverly unstrapped her golf bag from the cart and lifted it off. After she had slung the strap over her shoulder, she made her way toward me.

  I was wrong about her attire, and gladly so. Her conservative golf outfit showed off her sexy curves and toned legs. The baseball cap threaded through with that perky ponytail just made her even sexier. All I could think of was wrapping that silky black ponytail around my fist and . . .

  With her arms crossed in front of her, Beverly avoiding my eyes, fixing her gaze on the closely clipped green grass in front of us. “Fine, let’s start. I have things to do.”

  What the hell has her temper up today? She wasn’t pissed off the last time we talked.

  Ignoring her bad mood, I selected a club from her bag and then raked my eyes up and down her body. “You need to stretch.”

  “I don’t need to stretch; I’m fine. Let’s just do this.”

  The annoyance in her tone didn’t go unnoticed. She glanced at Hannah, the woman I was just coaching, and it occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t annoyance narrowing Beverly’s eyes, but jealousy.

  The thought made me want to chuckle. There was nothing to be jealous of. Hannah had taken a lesson from me last week, and although she flirted like nobody’s business, she was just eighteen. That was a bit too young, even for me.

  “Suit yourself,” I told Beverly, “but stretching in golf is like foreplay before sex. You can’t just thrust right into it and not expect a bit of pain. If you’re relaxed and ready to go, it will be much more enjoyable. Trust me . . . I’m an expert.”

  “At which one?” One of her brows arched. “Sex or golf?”

  “Hopefully, you’ll find out that answer on your own. For now, let’s start with golf.”

  After giving her a flirtatious wink and receiving a roll of her eyes in return, I was happy to see her reluctantly take a few practice swings with her 6-iron. I had to admit, she had a great natural flow to her swing. She teed up the ball and hit it straight as a pin about 140 yards.

  “Not bad, but you need to follow through with your hips. Keep your front foot planted and finish your swing.”

  Beverly lowered her brows and practically snarled at me. “Look, I don’t intend to play golf. I enjoy it every now and then, but I don’t need the lessons. And not because I’m a great golfer, because clearly I’m not, but because it’s a waste of your time and mine. So let’s just finish this lesson, and I’ll tell the pro shop to give the other lessons I won away.”

  She turned away and mumbled something under her breath. I wasn’t sure what it was, but when she shook her head from side to side, I assumed it wasn’t pleasant.

  This wasn’t going to work . . . we needed to get a few things straight. I stepped up behind her and placed my hands just below her waist. As I leaned closer, I got a whiff of her sweet jasmine scent, a
nd the other golfers who were lined up next to us on the practice tee faded away.

  Her hips shifted away but my hands remained in place. Then Beverly abruptly turned her head, and her nose nearly bumped mine. Our lips were so close, they almost touched. I should have moved, should have stepped back, but I didn’t. We stood there in a standoff, gazing into each other’s eyes, until she finally pulled back and rolled her shoulders, shifting her position in an attempt to create space between us.

  The sound of a lawn mower in the distance brought me back to the here and now. It was clear Beverly wanted to be anywhere but here—she certainly didn’t mince words when describing her dislike of golf.

  “Would you mind?” She glanced down to her hips.

  When I reluctantly dropped my hands, she faced me.

  “Beverly, if you don’t want to be here, you can leave. But I happen to live for this sport.”

  Although I wanted to get on her good side again, I found my own temper rising. Did she think this was my plan? To be an instructor rather than on tour? That was bad enough, but dismissing my sport? That I couldn’t handle.

  “I don’t want to teach golf any more than you want to learn it,” I said, my tone curt, and her head tilted to the side. “If you’d like to leave, I’ll understand.”

  Even though she didn’t want to be here, I wanted her to be—why, I didn’t know. It wasn’t as if I lacked for female company.

  Beverly’s face tightened into a grimace of a smile. “Great! I have things to do, and since I’ll be moving soon, screwing around playing golf isn’t on my agenda.” As she heard her own words, her face reddened and her tone softened. “No offense.”

  I was done with this. All I could do was look at her for a few beats.