Chapter Four
The ringing bell above her studio door at precisely nine o’clock was the first indication things were about to get weird.
Pushing away from her desk, she emerged from her studio space to find a slick-looking suit-wearing guy striding toward her, a pleasant smile on his face.
“Hey, Sheridan, great to meet you. I’m Harvey Price, publicist for the San Jose Hawks.” Mr. Slick stuck his hand out toward her, startling her by knowing her name. “Jared told me all about you.”
She shook Harvey’s hand, her tired brain trying to process what he just said. “Nice to meet you. Um, so Jared told you about me?”
“He sure did. All good things, of course.”
The bell rang again and in walked the man in question.
Riveted to the very spot she stood, she drank Jared in, shock coursing through her at having him here. She couldn’t believe he’d shown. And why did he bring the publicist?
Jared approached her, wearing low-slung jeans and a navy blue polo shirt that had a small Hawks emblem embroidered on it. His hair was still damp, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and he looked a little tired but still gorgeous. Whereas she was sure she looked like absolute ass. “Hey, Sheridan.”
“Hi.” Did he hate her for ditching him? She’d felt sorta rude for doing it but, God, she had to make her escape. She’d probably still be naked, in that bed, wrapped around him if she hadn’t.
“Got somewhere we can talk a little more privately?” Harvey flashed a suspicious smile and she wondered what he was up to. Had Jared brought the publicist for damage control purposes? God, had someone found out about last night’s steamy encounter?
“We could go to my desk. I’ll grab some chairs.” She nodded toward her studio in the back of the building. “Follow me.” Nerves clanged in her belly as the two men fell into step behind her. She could literally feel Jared’s presence. Overwhelming. Intoxicating.
“You’re probably wondering why we’re here,” Harvey said the moment both men sat across from her. He grinned, his teeth brilliantly white. “I must confess, I’ve done some research this morning and I like you, Sheridan Harper. I like you a lot. And I know all about your situation.”
She frowned. “My situation?”
“Business has been a little slow lately, right? And you’re sitting on this amazing piece of property directly on Ocean Avenue.” He glanced around, taking in the tiny studio space. “I’m sure you’re offered all sorts of money for this spot on a weekly basis.”
More like daily. Everyone wanted to put in an offer on her studio, but she refused them all. “It’s not for sale,” she mumbled.
“Oh, I understand. Sentimental value and all that.” Harvey waved his hand. He probably didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. “What if we made you an offer you couldn’t turn down? One that would ensure you could keep your quaint little studio and grow your business. Plus, you’d get an inordinate amount of publicity, which could really put your work as an artist on the map. Everyone would know who you are, Sheridan. And I mean everyone in this entire country, possibly even the world.”
Her heart rate picking up, she glanced in Jared’s direction, seeing a stoic, noncommittal expression on his face. An eerie vibe slithered down her spine and she wondered what the heck was up. “What are you talking about?” she asked Harvey.
Leaning toward her, his dark eyes met hers, his expression serious. “I’ll tell you, but you have to sign a non-disclosure form first.”
“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Jared muttered, shaking his head.
She looked from one man to the other, and watched as Harvey pulled a folded piece of paper from within his jacket and handed it to her, accompanied by a slender silver pen. “Sign it and I’ll tell you everything.”
Sheridan unfolded the crisp, cream-colored piece of paper, glancing over the brief paragraph that basically stated Jared Quinn would sue the pants off of her if she so much as breathed a word of what they were about to discuss. Which only intrigued her more.
Curiosity had always killed the cat. She
had
to know what this was about. Without hesitation she clicked the pen and signed the blank line with a flourish.
Harvey schooled his expression, seriousness emanating from him in palpable waves. “Jared needs your help, Sheridan. His image is in tatters, and the new owner of the San Jose Hawks is most displeased with the entire team and what they seem to represent.”
Oh. Everyone knew Charlie Monroe was tough on the football team he’d purchased not even a year ago. The Monroe family had lived in the area for generations and was highly regarded among the Pebble Beach society. He was an entrepreneur, and had made even more billions with the family money by investing it in real estate and some of the best restaurants in the area. It had been shocking, Monroe’s latest investment being a football team. A Super Bowl-winning team, of course, for nothing less would do for Monroe.
But now that he was the owner, Monroe was desperately trying to clean up the football team’s image so it matched more closely to the rich folks who lived near him. “I don’t understand what that has to do with me,” she said slowly. How could
she
upgrade Jared’s image? She didn’t come from a well-known family. Heck, she was an only child of a single mama who still struggled to make a buck.
“I don’t know if you heard about his recent…scandal.” Harvey rested his arms on the edge of the table, his expression completely neutral. “An ex-teammate’s wife was photographed sitting on Jared’s lap while at a nightclub in San Francisco. She claimed they engaged in sexual activity that night.”
Ah.
Now
she remembered.
“Nothing happened.” This came from Jared, his rumbling, angry voice washing over her, setting her skin all tingly. “But they blasted the damn pictures all over the web, television. It didn’t help Wallace’s wife couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Sources claim I broke up their marriage.”
Sheridan’s jaw dropped open. Wow. Did he? Was he having an affair with the wife, and then the husband—and former teammate—found out? Ouch. That was ugly.
God, and she’d had sex with him. What if he was a world-class cheater?
“I
wasn’t
involved with her,” Jared said, seriousness reflected in his gaze. “I was at a club, she came and talked to me. Sat on my lap for a bit before I realized who she was and pushed her away. She took off laughing.”
Sheridan blinked, unsure of what to say. She wanted to believe him. Knew he had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man, but she’d never heard him referred to as a married-ladies’ man.
A homewrecker.
“What with the scandal, Jared’s on the verge of losing his endorsements,” Harvey continued. “We need to clean up his image fast. That’s where you come in.”
“Um, I’m not sure how I could help with that.” She shrugged, reaching for the bottle of water she always kept on her desk, bringing it close to her lips to take a swallow.
“Well, you could marry him. That would help tremendously.”
…
Harvey smiled serenely while Sheridan choked on her water.
Jared felt sorry for the woman. Based on her reaction, she hadn’t expected that suggestion now, had she? Neither had he, when they made it to him immediately after the Craig and Tabitha Wallace scandal had broken.
“A new image,”
they’d said. No more revolving door of women, no more hanging out at nightclubs and bars—the easy going, sex-me-up quarterback needed to disappear, though that man had been disappearing for a while. “
You need a wife,”
Harvey had said. His agent Gwen had agreed. At the very least, he should have a steady girlfriend on his arm that looked at him adoringly and made him seem like a soft and sweet guy.
But a wife would be preferable, since he’d allegedly broken up a marriage, the both of them had said, their heads bobbing in agreement. It would show he respected the institution of marriage, make everyone forget he was a supposed adulterer. That meeting had happened a week ago and sent him reeling. A freaking fake wife? Who did that sort of shit? Yeah, he’d heard the Hollywood rumors but never did he think they’d ask him to do something so drastic.
So when Harvey called him first thing that morning, disturbing the most amazing dream of Sheridan riding him for all he was worth, the look of pleasure on her pretty face driving him crazy, he’d growled into the phone. Figured the woman he’d been dreaming of was still asleep in bed with him.
She hadn’t been. At first, he’d gotten pissed. Then he became intrigued. Why’d she run? They never ran. They always stuck around and wanted more than he could give.
Harvey’s confirmation that Sheridan Harper was the perfect candidate for his potential wife had Jared reluctantly agreeing to it. He didn’t want to leave the Hawks. No way could he leave the area. He’d grown up in Monterey, had played his entire life here with the exception of his college years. The San Jose Hawks was the closest NFL team to his hometown. He’d do anything to stay. And there they sat. Trying to convince her.
“You—you must be kidding,” she sputtered once she found her voice. Her cheeks were red, her golden gaze narrowed. She shook her head, her low ponytail causing her hair to tease against the elegant length of her neck.
Jared couldn’t blame her. The entire thing was preposterous. This was what his life had turned into. A freaking circus sideshow, and he’d become the main event. Ridiculous.
“You really want a pretend marriage?” she asked as she grabbed her bottle of water and drained it.
“They’re ready to push me out the door if I so much as step into a nightclub, let alone if any more tabloid articles are written about me.” It had been a major risk, taking Sheridan to the motel last night. He still wondered what the hell had possessed him.
Wait.
She
had possessed him. Still did.
“Charlie Monroe doesn’t want to lose his star quarterback, but he has no problem kicking Jared to the curb if he doesn’t straighten up and fly right. Especially with the Golden Boy nipping at his heels,” Harvey explained with a sneer. “He needs your help to keep him here in Monterey.”
Great. Now Harvey mentioned Flynn Foley, the Hawks’ second-string quarterback. Everyone loved Flynn. Hell, Jared loved Flynn, when he wasn’t hating him for being such a damn good player. He’d started at Arizona State, was an Arizona native, and at every home game he played last season, the sun had shone bright and clear the entire time, a rarity in Monterey Bay. Hence, Flynn’s nickname of Golden Boy.
Jared envied him with everything he had.
Sheridan turned to him. “You’ll marry someone to improve your image, no questions asked?”
He shrugged. “I’m not a big believer in the institution of marriage.” That wasn’t a lie. His mother had bailed when he was a toddler and never looked back. His poor father had been left to shoulder the responsibility of a young and overly active boy who alternately filled him with pride and drove him crazy.
“Clearly,” she retorted, anger written all over her face.
“Don’t get mad. Listen to what Harvey has to say,” Jared said.
“What, already telling me what to do? I’m not even your wife yet,” she supplied, a sassy smile curling her lush lips. “Let me save you from having to explain yourself further.” She leveled them both with a stare that meant business. “I’m not interested. Nothing you can say will convince me.”
“Really?” Harvey’s brows rose. He seemed to love a challenge.
“Really.” She glanced at Jared. “Find some other sucker. Now if you could both go.” Sheridan crossed her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts.
“I wish you’d consider it,” he said, keeping his voice calm. Even.
She glared, a sigh escaping her when she realized her plan wasn’t going to work. “Fine, you won’t leave? I will.” Before they could say a word she was gone, escaping the studio with a quickness that Jared couldn’t help but be impressed with.
Damn, the woman lit a spark within him he couldn’t begin to explain.
“Go after her. Work some of that Mighty Quinn charm you supposedly have with the ladies.” Harvey’s dark eyes looked ready to shoot daggers. “You want her,
you
convince her.”
Without a word, Jared stood and went after her, increasing his pace when he realized Sheridan had already left the gallery, the bell still ringing above her door. By the time he caught up with her, she was already a few blocks away, striding down the sidewalk with determined steps, her long ponytail flying behind her and her jeans clinging to her shapely ass.
Yeah. It might not be so bad, being married to Sheridan Harper. He’d have her in his bed again in no time and they could have the perfect temporary affair…
He reached out, hooked her arm with his fingers, and she whirled on him, her expression a mixture of fear and fury. But the moment her gaze met his, she looked ready to punch him.
“Whatever you’re trying to sell, I’m not buying,” she said. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to agree to a fake marriage with you.” She stepped closer to him, pressed her hand against his chest, and gave a little shove. The physical contact was a sharp reminder of what they’d shared the previous night and his cock reacted.
He slipped his hand around her upper arm and pulled her in closer, her body colliding fully with his. She came willingly, all those pretty, lush curves nestled close, making him sweat. He wound his arm around her slender waist, unable to resist, ignoring the voice in his head, which was asking what the hell he was doing.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sheridan whispered, glancing around as if afraid someone might see them.
He wondered if she could hear that same voice. “I’m trying to talk to you.”
“I already told you, I’m not interested. And I’m not one of your teammates, Jared. You can’t tackle me and hold me down.”
She certainly acted interested, all snug against him. “You want me to let you go, I’ll let you go.” Though the idea of tackling and pinning her beneath him held infinite appeal. “Besides, I don’t tackle players. I’m the freaking quarterback.”
She rolled her eyes, full of sass. Sexy as hell. Pressing her free hand to his chest, she started to shove him away, but then her fingers curled in the front of his shirt instead. As if she wanted to keep him. “Harvey Price is an asshole.”