Crazy Love (14 page)

“Annabelle?” he murmured, concern plastered all over his handsome face. I closed my eyes and yanked away from his grasp on instinct. The last thing I wanted was to be touched. He pulled back from me, but I couldn’t look at him yet. I stared at my plate, fighting through the urge to vomit. After what seemed like forever, I tossed my wad of napkins onto my barely-touched, ketchup covered plate.

“It’s all good,” I croaked out the words and then looked up at him from under my lashes. He narrowed his eyes at me, a mixture of disbelief and concern battling on his face. “Really. We’re cool.”

“This must be Annie.” Sam’s handsome friend had materialized at the perfect moment to save me from having to explain myself. “I thought I’d introduce myself since it looks like Sam doesn’t plan to. I’m Randall.”

“Randall.” I took the hand he offered me and shook it. Then I made the connection and felt a coy smile overtake my lips. “Sam’s trainer. The one who kicked his ass.”

Sam slumped back in his seat with an irritated groan as Randall threw back his head and laughed. “One and the same.”

“Well then, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you. I would have
loved
to see that.” I took a sip of my Coke and winked at Sam who slanted his eyes sideways at me, but failed to suppress a smirk.

“Come by any Monday, Wednesday, or Friday at four. His ass has a standing date with my mat.” Randall handed me his card. He looked me over like he’d heard all about me and was deciding if I lived up to the hype. By his expression, I was guessing the jury was still out.

“Good to know,” I replied and looked over his shoulder out of the window. Jayse had a beige pump out of the box and was gesturing to it like one of the bathing suit models on
The Price is Right
. The murmurs of the other customers were escalating to a dull roar, and I feared that if I didn’t join him outside, he’d get us banned from B&D’s.

“If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have to go.”

As I headed for the door, I heard Randall blurt, “You weren’t exaggerating about her hotness.”

“Shut up, Randall.” I heard Sam snap and I tingled all the way to my toes.

Black tie. Just thinking about those two little words exhausts me. A man’s preparatory ritual for these occasions is typically eclipsed by that of a woman’s, but ladies, I can assure you, it’s laborious. Pros like me, however, have it down to a science. As with all things, it helps to have the right tools for the job. A well-fitted, well-tailored tux can be surprisingly comfortable, especially if you’re used to wearing one and know how to move in it. And I was and I did. Like most of the men I grew up around, several tuxedos hang in my closet and that night I leaned on the doorframe, staring blankly at them.

First I had a choice to make: midnight blue or black. Usually, I just closed my eyes and yanked one out of the closet, but tonight, that simply wouldn’t do. Tonight while Cosmo played Queen Hostess Supreme to Savannah’s upper echelon, I planned to get laid. Even with daily trips to the gym, I couldn’t seem to blow off enough steam to suppress my taxed libido. It had been far too long since I’d gotten some, and I needed to look my best for tonight’s meat market of debutantes Mama so graciously assembled for me. I feared that if I waited much longer to find a playmate, I’d fall prey (like my brother before me) to my gold-digging realtor, the cougarlicious Marybeth Dutton.

As if it had a mind of its own, my hand shot out and pulled the black tux from the closet. If memory served, the black one had a slightly higher success rate for “sealing the deal.” I performed my pre-ball ritual: showering, exfoliating, shaving, silk shirt, suspenders, cuff links, money clip. An hour after I began, I hopped in the Mercedes and leisurely maneuvered the turns of Washington Square.

As I headed toward the river, my mind drifted in the unwelcome direction of Annabelle. We’d had a moment at B&D’s; that was
not
just my imagination. She had looked at me with the same heat, the same emotional entanglement, the same conflicted frustration that I felt for her. How anyone who looked like her could seem so uncomfortable in her own skin was beyond me, but this was a blatant truth about her. For a fraction of a second after my apology, I’d thought things might have shifted between us. That maybe, like in my wild dreams, she might tell Trip she couldn’t see him anymore. That she wanted to see me instead. But her extreme reaction when I touched her—like I’d scalded her with a brand – made me realize that I’d been deluding myself.

She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t me. I knew from experience that this familiar sting would fester if I let it. So I’d spent the week bracing myself for a glamorous night of watching her dance in my brother’s arms.

Christ.

I was already sexually frustrated enough without that mental picture. With any luck, Cosmo would have all the debs lined up at the entrance awaiting my arrival, like the madam of a Nevada whorehouse. Then I could just grab the first one who caught my eye and drag her upstairs to the nearest bed.

Being a traditionalist, Mama had selected the Marriot Riverfront for her charity ball. I had to hand it to her: Cosmo really knew her stuff. In a few weeks the hotel would host the Christmas Cotillion, and tonight’s charity gala was sure to help build the anticipation and rile everyone up for the season. This wasn’t accidental. There were no coincidences in Imogene Moore Beaumont’s world. The sky wouldn’t shed a drop of rain during a garden party unless she allowed it.

After tossing my keys to the valet, I plastered on a game-show-host smile and made my way to the lobby. I came to an abrupt stop, and the smile vanished at the sight of the atrium. Mama had truly outdone herself. I’d been to many functions at the Marriot, and I’d never seen it look better.

Stars shone through the glass ceiling mirroring the sparkling white lights and gauzy silver table cloths below. White flowers and candle light garnished every surface, and champagne fountains framed the large stage at the far side of the space. Jeremy Davis and the Fabulous Equinox Orchestra had already claimed the stage and were in full swing, entertaining enthusiastic throngs of socialites. I veered left and made for the relative sanctuary of the bar, cautiously scanning the crowd for a familiar face. The first person I made eye contact with just happened to be Violet.

It’d been at least six month since I’d last seen her, and she looked better than ever. Her pale skin and fair hair glowed in the candlelight, and her low cut gown was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. She’d already spotted me and was moving purposefully in my direction.

“Sam Beaumont, as I live and breathe…” Her eyebrow twitched just slightly and I broke into a genuine smile. Vi was an incorrigible flirt and she’d never stopped, even after she married my brother. That accent of hers sounded affected and dramatically sweet, but I knew she genuinely liked me, no matter how messy things had been with Trip. I still harbored some guilt for introducing her to him, but I had no more control over their love affair than a sailor has over a mid-Atlantic swell.

She’d never given me reason to think she blamed me. Violet and I had established our own relationship in the years following Daddy’s suicide and its disastrous fall out. Like two passengers who’d bailed on a sinking ship, we’d survived a terrible experience together and would somehow be forever bonded by it. Violet stepped forward and made the motion of kissing me on both cheeks. She would never have actually kissed me at a social event like this; she’d been brought up right. Messing up her perfectly glossed lips would be unthinkable. “I heard you were back in town. Why am I
just now
laying eyes on you?”

“Lookin’ good, Vi. That haircut suits you,” I responded to her rhetorical question.

“Well, I don’t have time to screw around with long hair now that Maisie has the ability to run into the street and climb out of windows.” Her dry response made me realize just how much I’d missed her and that I was still mourning her loss. I’d always thought divorce had to be worse than death. One still has to see the ex…or at least know they’re still out there wandering around in the world.

“How are things?” My face was neutral, but she paused long enough for me understand this was more than a casual question.

“Marvelous.” She winked at me coquettishly as I watched her wash the lie down with a chaser of champagne. “God, I’m glad you’re here. I can finally relax now that a real human being has arrived. Oh! Guess what? I’m leaving Macy’s.”

“What the hell? I thought you loved it there.” Her career as a buyer was the one thing she still had left from her “picket fence” plans for the future.

“Of course I do. But I’m leaving them for Sak’s Fifth Avenue!” Her excitement was infectious and remembering the dreams of the freshman girl I’d once had a crush on, I grinned.

“That’s wonderful. I’m really happy for you.” I replied, and as I basked in the contact high from her achievement, my mind wandered back to Annabelle’s pointed question in the studio weeks before.

Didn’t you ever have a dream?

Though I’d tried to thrust both her and her words from my mind, her questions clung to me like a spider web. After a couple of days of trying to brush her away, I actually stopped to consider the validity of her query. And I
remembered
.

Memories soon led to an idea, and that idea bloomed and sprouted into a mission. In a matter of hours, I realized how I could put my plan into action. I’d found a way to give back to the world and occupy my time with something meaningful and productive. But I had needed a sounding board – someone who knew me and was grounded. So I called Randall and we met for lunch to discuss my idea. As fate would have it, Annabelle had been sitting fifteen feet away when I dropped my plan on him.

I’m pretty sure he was stunned speechless at first. Not that I didn’t have a good idea (he knows I have at least a half a brain), but at how passionate I was about it. When he’d recovered from his initial shock, he said he was thrilled with my suggestion, and he’d agreed to help me out. Psyched to finally have a focus, I wanted to keep the entire thing under wraps until I was ready to surprise my family with it.

“Of course, it’s the Sak’s in Charleston. You
have
heard my other news, haven’t you?” Violet pulled me out of myself and back to the real world.

“About your engagement? Yeah, Trip told me.” Her reaction when I spoke his name was fleeting and might have been missed by anyone but me.

“Congrats.”

“Ah, thanks, Sam.” She leaned in to give me a real hug and whispered in my ear. “You know, you’re the only one in that family of yours that was ever worth a damn.”

I felt an unwelcome lump in my throat at her kind words, though I knew she was lying to herself. “That fiancé of yours is one lucky man.”

“I want you to meet him! He’s here somewhere.” She linked arms with me and gently tugged me into the crowd. Cringing inwardly, I felt like a man walking to the gallows. Meeting this amorphous character was about to usher in the end of an era for me. We simultaneously plucked flutes of champagne from a passing tray, and Violet giggled playfully. I nodded to a few familiar faces as we weaved our way through clusters of haute couture. I could smell her lavender perfume, the same she always wore, and I closed my eyes as the scent propelled me down memory lane. A steady stream of gossip flowed from Violet’s shimmering lips, and I was struck by the realization that this could have been any one of dozens of parties we’d been to since we’d met. Same people, same stories, same music, same caterers. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself the illusion that Daddy hadn’t blown his brains out and Trip hadn’t destroyed his own life. But when Violet released me from her grip and walked into the arms of a dark-haired stranger, all pretending came to a halt, and my homespun illusion dissipated.

“Dash, I have someone I want you to meet,” I heard Violet say as I exchanged uncomfortable nods with the collective group of men gathered around her date. I recognized only one of them, and it was Hank Fredrickson. An old classmate of mine, Hank was a racist tool to whom I’d given two black eyes in the ninth grade. He’d been the class bully since elementary school, but when a boy half your size pummels you in front of the entire student body, your street cred takes a serious blow. Formerly a classic muscle-head, Hank had really let himself go. If this dude was an example of who Vi’s fiancé hung with, I figured it was unlikely we’d become yachting buddies.

Joy to the world.

Violet pulled away from her fiancé, and I tried not to gawk. He looked like a movie star – one who would be cast as a gladiator or possibly a Greek God. He smiled at me with polite curiosity. “Sam, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Dashul Stein. Dash, this is Sam Beaumont.”

As expected, his smile evaporated at my surname. His eyes widened slightly, and then he blinked rapidly. “Beaumont?”

“Yep. Ex-brother in law. Nice to meet you anyhow,” I quipped, offering my hand. Dashul took it in a very business-appropriate manner. His jaw tightened, and he pressed his lips into a thin, pale line. The entire mood of the group shifted, and the tension was palpable. I silently wondered what I’d done to piss Violet off enough to put me in this predicament. Her smile faltered, but she looked perplexed. She was usually pretty socially savvy, so I wondered if she was tipsy.