“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.”