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“Ah, our newest member of the team.” Charlie Monroe enveloped Sheridan in his arms, giving her a quick squeeze before he released her. The scent of very expensive cologne clung to her, overpowering her senses, and she tried her best to smile fondly as he beamed at her as if she were the second coming. “Sheridan Quinn, it is a delight to finally meet you.”
Sheridan Quinn. Would she ever become used to that? She had just a year to do so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Monroe.”
He waved a hand, the diamond pinkie ring he wore flashing in the light. “Call me Charlie. We’re practically family, my dear. And this is Margaret.”
Sheridan went through the motions, making pleasantries with Charlie’s wife, who was a lovely woman, reeking of wealth and entitlement but not in a rude way. More matter-of-fact, as if she were used to this sort of treatment and lifestyle—which she was.
And Sheridan so wasn’t. Completely out of her element, she tried her best not to gape at the blatant display of beautiful women and gorgeous, gigantic, football-playing men and their opulent displays of wealth. The restaurant was small, intimate, warmly decorated and headed by an acclaimed chef. There wasn’t a table to be had, every single one occupied, the place filled to overflowing, but somehow she found herself at a table that had been reserved specifically for her, Jared, and a handful of others.
She could get used to that sort of treatment, though she shouldn’t. It was temporary. To become accustomed to this lifestyle would only leave her filled with disappointment when it was over.
“Want something to drink?” her sexy, attentive husband asked moments after they sat down. His chair was so close to hers he sat sideways, his legs spread wide, her chair nestled between them. They looked every inch the intimate, newly wedded couple.
“Just water,” she answered, almost afraid to meet his gaze. Her mind was still blown by that kiss and the things he’d said to her afterward. Like how he wanted her to look like he tried to fuck her in the limo. She was achingly aware of his proximity, the scent of him, his warmth. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle up close and beg him to kiss her again.
“Nothing stronger, huh?” He flashed her one of those mind-blowing grins, reaching out to push a tendril of hair away from her cheek. “Might do you some good to loosen up.”
“Last time I did that, we ended up in a motel room,” she replied, pressing her lips together when he traced the curve of her cheek with his index finger, her skin tingling everywhere he touched. Glancing around quickly, she lowered her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Touching my pretty new wife.” That cocky smile remained, the heat in his gaze intriguing. He looked like he really wanted her, which couldn’t be true. Shouldn’t be true, since he knew the terms just like she did. “Have a cocktail, Sheridan. I think it’ll do you some good.”
She sighed. “Fine. You’d better not take advantage of me.”
The devilish grin grew. “I can’t. There’s a clause.”
Right. Because of her. “Shh. What if someone heard that?”
“Heard what?”
Sheridan glanced up to find Willow standing beside their table, a shrewd look in her eyes. Swallowing hard, Sheridan parted her lips, ready to defend her remark when Jared cut in.
“I was trying to convince her to leave early so we could have some honeymoon fun.” He stood, holding out his hand to Willow. “It’s good to see you again, Willow.”
“Good to see you too.” She shook his hand somewhat reluctantly, her gaze locked on Sheridan. “Congratulations on stealing away my best friend and marrying her.”
The charming mask never slipped as he released Willow’s hand, though the quick glance he shot in Sheridan’s direction spoke volumes. “You don’t approve?”
“Not when a marriage happens so fast it makes my head spin,” Willow said sweetly.
He had no answer for that and Sheridan almost felt sorry for him. “I’ll go get our drinks,” he said to her before chancing a look at Willow. “Want me to get you something?”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said warily, squeezing Sheridan’s bare shoulder before he walked away.
Willow watched him go, as if waiting until he was out of earshot before she pounced. “He’s gorgeous.”
“I know.” Sheridan couldn’t stifle the giggle that escaped.
“And I like the way he looks at you.”
Sheridan leaned back. “How does he look at me?”
“Like he wants to eat you up.” Willow smiled wickedly. “Slowly.”
A flush crept into her cheeks. Hell, she wished. How delicious it had been, having Jared’s attention focused completely on her in the motel room. One night wasn’t enough. But it would have to be. “You’re being wildly inappropriate.”
“I’m always wildly inappropriate. It’s part of my charm,” Willow said breezily. “I hope you’re happy with him.”
