Her future fake husband.
“Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.” Jared glanced around, his eyes wide as he took everything in.
Had he noticed much last time he was here, especially her private workspace? Talk about a messy jumble of stuff. Paint, brushes, and blank canvases, bits of paper and glitter, and photos she’d recently ripped out of magazines she’d wanted to save for inspiration. At least it was what she considered “controlled chaos,” and she knew where everything was.
“I don’t mind.” She clasped her hands in front of her, thankful she’d closed her laptop. If he’d caught her Googling him, she would’ve been mortified.
He walked the perimeter of her gallery, his head tilted back, taking in the paintings that hung on the wall, covering almost every available bit of space. “How long have you been here again?”
“A little over a year.” She still couldn’t believe she’d confessed to him this gallery had once been her grandma’s.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I liked it when I was here last.” He turned his head to study her, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers, making her nervous. “It’s very bright.”
“Which I’m sure is not your usual style,” she said wryly. Her work appealed mostly to women and children. He didn’t need to make nice just because they were going to be married.
Oh, God. Her heart dropped into her toes all over again at the thought.
“You changed.”
“What? Oh.” She glanced down at herself. Since she couldn’t wear her only good black pantsuit in the studio for fear of ruining it, she’d changed into a pair of old, paint-splattered jeans and an oversized navy blue sweater the moment she arrived. She always kept extra clothes around for moments just like that. “I’m leading a class later this afternoon.”
“Really. For whom?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Still clad in the suit that he wore earlier at the lawyer’s office, though he’d shed the jacket, loosened the tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Revealing muscular forearms covered with golden hair, arms that were the most talented the NFL had to offer.
The realization left her weak in the knees. She knew what it felt like to be held in those arms.
“It’s an after-school class. I do a few of them each month.” They were a lot of fun. The kids were always enthusiastic to learn, easy to teach, and so creative. They painted with abandon and without fear.
“Huh. Well.” He paused, appearing a little unsure of how to proceed next. An unusual look for him, she was sure. “Now that we got the legalities out of the way, I need to know a few things.”
Instant worry made her stomach tumble and she stood straighter, hoping like crazy she looked calm, cool, and serene. “What do you need to know?”
Jared surprising her by coming to her studio was bad enough. That he asked her such a loaded question while looking utterly gorgeous set her on edge. His mere presence filled the room, overwhelming her, and she took a step back, needing the space.
As if he sensed her need and didn’t give a crap, he took a step forward, obliterating everything she saw, everything that surrounded them, until all she could see. Was. Jared.
“First, do you have any skeletons in your closet?”
She arched a brow. “Shouldn’t you have asked that prior to our signing the agreement?”
“I figured Harvey found out everything he could about you, including all the bad stuff. But maybe you have something to confess.”
“Nothing too major. Besides our motel room incident.” God, why did she go there? Was she an idiot? And he made her wary, standing so close. The memory of their night together came rushing back, filling her with the need to taste those sensual lips again. They were incredibly soft, incredibly warm, and the rasp of his tongue against hers…
“I’m going to be your husband, after all.” His assured tone sent her insides tumbling and she breathed deeply. Tried her best for complete composure.
“True.” She tapped her index finger against her pursed lips, noticing that his rather avid gaze remained locked on the movement of her finger. Interesting. She dropped her hand. “Well, I do have that one boyfriend I’d rather not admit to dating.”
“Really.”
She nodded. “He was my only regret.”
“Why? Did he break your heart?” The thunderous expression on his face secretly thrilled her.
Sheridan wanted to giggle but held it in. “He tried to. Just as I was starting to fall for him, he left me for my friend Heather.”
Jared’s entire body went rigid. “Who is this asshole?”
“His name was Rooster.” She could barely keep a straight face.
His expression was nothing short of incredulous. “Are you serious?”
She nodded, warming up to the story. After all, it was true. “I met him the summer after I graduated high school. We dated for a few months and then, when Heather left for Berkeley, he followed her. I think they eventually got married.”
“And his name was Rooster.”
“Yes. Well, I guess it was a nickname. I never heard him called anything else.”
“Why the hell did they call him Rooster?”
“No one knows.” She shrugged, frowning.
“I want to call bullshit but…”
“I’m telling the truth. Trust me, Rooster is real. And I’m pretty sure he lives in Berkeley with Heather.”
“Figures,” Jared muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t look like the sort of girl who would go out with a guy named Rooster.”
“We all have our mistakes, right?” She smiled. Well, that was fun. She hadn’t thought of Rooster in years—he was that forgettable, with the exception of his name. “So what was the other thing you wanted to know?”
“If we’re compatible. I mean, I know I’m no Rooster but…” He stood directly in front of her, his shoulders so broad he blocked out most of the light shining from the small lamp that sat on her desk. “It’s kind of important, since we’ll be husband and wife.”
“Trust me, it’s a good thing you’re nothing like Rooster.” She nodded once, swallowed past the lump in her throat. Husband and wife. That had quite the ring to it. “I took drama in high school. I used to be a fairly good actress.”
He smiled at that admission, the sight of it sending a zing to all her feminine parts. It wouldn’t be a hardship pretending to be this man’s wife. Nope, not at all. “If it appears we’re not attracted to each other, they’ll know.”
“Who’ll know?” She frowned.
“The media. The fans. The game analysts who’ll turn their attention to our body language just because they need something to talk about.” The smile faded, replaced with an expression that bordered on serious. “We have to ensure there’s chemistry between us when we’re out in public.”
“Oh. Right.” Chemistry? She already knew they had it in spades. She felt it right now. Arcing and spinning between them, her body drawn to his as if he were a magnet and she was steel. “I’m not too worried about that,” she admitted, her voice incredulous. Like he didn’t know they had it going on.
The smile that curled his lips made her heart flutter. “So you’re attracted to me.”
Sheridan refused to answer, but he really hadn’t asked it like a question anyway. Pretty much every woman in the United States who had a pulse was attracted to him. And then there was that night they shared… “I think we know there’s plenty of chemistry between us. We proved it already, right?”
“I’m definitely attracted to you.” Parting his lips, he tilted his head, his assessing gaze drinking her in. Making her squirm. “You have pretty eyes.”
“Um, thanks,” she said, wondering at his assessment.
“Good bone structure, full lips.” He analyzed her and she grew uncomfortable with every second that passed. His gaze was so intense as he drank her in it almost felt like he was physically touching her. “I like your hair, though I prefer when you wear it down.” Reaching o
ut, he plucked the clip from the back of her head, causing her hair to fall past her shoulders in a riotous mess.
“It looks terrible,” she said, smoothing her hand over it.
“It’s sexy. Looks like you just tumbled out of bed.” His eyes roved down the length of her. “You also have a sweet body.” His voice had gone deep, as if he remembered exactly what her body looked like.
Her cheeks heated. Did the man have sex permanently on the brain or what? They were venturing into dangerous territory and she needed it to stop.
“Thanks.” She paused. “I think.”
He smiled. “I sound like an ass. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine. Glad to know you at least find me somewhat attractive.” She wanted to roll her eyes but held it back. This game they were playing was dangerous. She would lose—and would probably enjoy every minute of it.
“Oh, you’re more than somewhat attractive.” Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger brushing the top of her ear. She wanted to melt at his simple touch. She was in so much trouble. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
His scent reached her, clean and masculine, and she breathed deep, inhaling him. Oh, she could get drunk on his intoxicating smell alone. “The usual. Working.”
He smiled. “Wanna get married?”
…
Asking Sheridan so casually had been worth the shocked expression on her face alone. She recovered quickly, Jared could give her that. And he liked that she’d changed clothes, appearing much more natural in her workspace with the paint-covered jeans that fit her like a second skin, and the oversized sweater that threatened to slide off one shoulder at any given moment.
He’d like to be there when that happened, more than ready to catch a glimpse of silken skin.
That’s about all he’d catch a glimpse of, considering the clause that both lawyers had agreed would be added to the contract, declaring no sexual contact or their marriage was considered void.
He hated that fucking clause. Yet he’d signed the agreement anyway.
“Tomorrow?” she finally asked, her voice a little squeaky.
He tossed the hairclip he’d been clutching in his hand high into the air, catching it with ease. “It’s the only day my schedule allows.”
“Um, what about my schedule? I work too, you know.”
“Don’t you have someone who works for you? Can cover for a few hours?” He threw the clip into the air again, smiled when he watched her track it with her gaze. Catching it, he handed it to her and she took it, setting it on the counter nearby.
“No.” She shook her head, all that gorgeous golden brown hair sliding against her shoulders. If he had his way, she’d never wear it up again. “I could never afford it.”
“You certainly can now.”
She rested her hands on her hips, her irritation clear. He felt like an ass. “Not like I could hire someone and have them cover for me part time tomorrow. There’s not enough time.”
“Yeah, and you’ll be gone all day anyway.”
“All day?” She frowned. “How long does it take to get married?”
“We have to disappear. Act like we’re on a quick honeymoon.”
“Oh.” She looked confused. “Where are we going?”
“I have it all planned out.” He let his gaze wander over her form, taking her in, hoping like hell he got her size right. The dress he and his agent picked out would be delivered to the studio later this afternoon. But what if she didn’t like it?
Now that everything was official, he’d found himself somewhat on board for the bogus marriage. He liked her. But what made it worse? He couldn’t touch her, not like he wanted to. And he really freaking wanted to.
So he’d have to keep his hands to himself. But going celibate for a year sounded like a special kind of hell, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to get around it.
“What should I pack?”
“I have that pretty much all planned out, too.” At her alarmed look, he shook his head. “Don’t freak out; I hired movers. They’ll box up all your stuff and bring it to my place. Or if you prefer, we can put most of it in storage until the year is up.”
“And where’s your place?”
“I have a house on Seventeen-Mile Drive, closer to Pebble Beach.”
She nodded slowly. “Of course you do.”
What did she mean by that? “Look, it’s pointless for you to keep that little apartment in Seaside.” Once they split, she’d have enough money to buy a decent house. Anything better than that hovel she lived in.
“I have a lease—” she started but he shook his head.
“Leases are made to be broken. Hell, I’ll pay it off. Don’t worry. Not like you’re going back there when this is all said and done, right?”
“No. I guess not.” She looked a little dazed. Everything was moving at such a rapid pace, he knew he felt a little shell shocked as well. “So do I need to bring anything tomorrow? For the uh…ceremony?”
“No, just yourself.” He reached inside his pocket, pulling out the small, pale blue box he’d picked up just before he came to her studio. “And this.”
The gasp that escaped Sheridan rang in his ears as he handed it over and settled it in her trembling grasp. “What is this?”
“Open it and see.” He nodded toward her and she cracked open the box, a little cry of surprise falling from her lips.
Wide eyes met his, her mouth hanging open for a brief moment before she snapped her teeth shut. “I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can. It’s yours.” He’d had his agent Gwen pick it up for him at the local Tiffany’s up the street. Heaven forbid he walk in there and buy an engagement ring. It would probably make the national news by evening. Plus, he trusted Gwen to find something special.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her gaze locked on the open box. She smoothed her index finger across the surface of the five-carat center stone, tracing the pave diamonds that surrounded it. “Is this an Asscher cut?”
“How’d you know?” He was impressed. Not that he’d known beforehand—Gwen had to school him on rings when she helped him with the quick Internet research. He’d wanted something big, beautiful, and expensive. He trusted Gwen’s taste. She’d been his agent for years. And the ring had put him down more than one hundred thousand dollars, which meant Gwen had fucking expensive taste. Not that he could tell Sheridan how much the ring cost. She’d probably never wear it if she knew.
“My grandma loved jewelry, especially diamond rings.” The fond smile curving Sheridan’s mouth snatched the breath from his lungs. When she smiled like that, he could easily forget all his troubles. “She married five times. Finally confessed she did it all for the diamond rings they each gave her.”
Jared laughed. “Really?”
“No, not really. My grandma said she was like Elizabeth Taylor. I guess Elizabeth was once quoted saying she was in love with falling in love. My grandma said that described her to a T.” Sheridan pulled the ring from the box and slipped it onto the proper finger. Holding her hand out, she splayed her fingers, admiring the glint of the sparkling ring. “She would’ve loved this one especially,” she said with a sigh.
There didn’t need to be any sentimental attachment to that moment. It was a business transaction, pure and simple. He gave her a ring, he told her they were getting married tomorrow, end of story.
So why did it feel so damn personal, giving the ring to Sheridan, hearing her talk about her grandma? He fought the urge to go to her, draw her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. They could make this work.
There was nothing romantic about it—in fact, it was the complete opposite of romantic.
“I’m glad you like the ring,” he finally said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at your apartment. Say around ten?”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“Everything’s arranged. Just…be ready.”
“
You’re not giving me many details.” She frowned. “This is all so mysterious.”
Jared couldn’t admit he kept the details from her on purpose. What if she slipped? What if she accidentally told someone they were getting married and where and next thing he knew, they had an entire fleet of paparazzi waiting for them to emerge from the courthouse?
He couldn’t risk it. If she revealed even a hint of what they were about to do tomorrow, they were done for. He flat-out couldn’t trust her.
“It’s nothing crazy, I promise. I have practice for the next two days after we’re married. Our first preseason game is this Sunday.”
“Oh. Home or away?”
“Home.” He studied her. “Have you ever been to a Hawks game before?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been to any professional games before.”
“Well, if you want to go, you’re more than welcome to. In fact, I’m sure Harvey would encourage it. Good PR and all.”
She rolled her eyes. Damn, he appreciated that little hint of sass. “Could I bring a friend? Maybe a couple?”
“However many tickets you need, you’ll get. You’re the wife of the quarterback, baby. You can have whatever you want.” He grinned when she blushed. Shit, she needed to get used to it. This was gonna be her life, at least temporarily. He wasn’t some regular guy who worked a nine-to-five job and mowed the lawn on the weekend.
The Mighty Jared Quinn was a fucking superstar. His star might be a little tarnished, but she was just the right amount of shine to make him bright again.
He hoped.
Chapter Six
Jared Quinn’s house was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It could’ve come straight from the pages of a magazine, which perhaps it had. Seemed every move the man made was documented for the world to see. A spread he’d done for GQ was slated to come out within the next few days. She’d seen the teaser pics on the Internet.
She might’ve created Google alerts to keep her posted. Considering he was her husband now, she had every right to know.
Game for Marriage Page 6
