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“I will be. I just
know it,” Sheridan lied, clearing her throat. “Did you come with anyone tonight?”
“Just my dad.” Willow shrugged. “He was asking about you, how you’re doing with Jared. I told him I’d find out the scoop.”
Concern flooded her. The very last thing Sheridan wanted was her lawyer talking with his daughter—her best friend—about her fake marriage. It made her head hurt just thinking about it.
“There’s no scoop. Just tell your dad I’m…very happy.” There. That was neutral enough. “Maybe I should go say hi.”
“Stay where you’re at. The minute you vacate your spot, someone will snag it.” Willow stood. “Maybe I’ll find my own sexy football player. I hope he’s here tonight.”
“Who?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Nick Hamilton. Tight end, Jared’s right hand man. They’re a total team within the team.”
“Oh, right.” Jared had talked about Nick that night at the bar. But since then she and Jared had rarely talked beyond contract agreements, wedding ceremonies, and where to put her stuff when she moved in. Theirs was a marriage not based on much, if anything.
Willow made a face. “He’s sort of an ass though, so maybe I’ll give him the cold shoulder tonight. That usually sends men into a frenzy. He’ll probably end up chasing me. See ya later.”
Sheridan watched her friend leave, wondering at her mood. She seemed sort of dark tonight. Angry. A little frustrated. It was like the Hawks team had breezed in and swept the both of them under their spell.
“Excuse me, are you Sheridan Quinn?”
Glancing up, she found a woman towering over her, impressive in her tight black cocktail dress and extremely high black heels. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a tight, sleek ponytail and her makeup was utter perfection. “I’m Sheridan.”
“Hmm.” The woman folded her arms in front of her, the look of disgust on her face blatantly evident. “Interesting how quickly he married you when we went on a date not even a month ago.”
Sheridan’s mouth dropped open. The audacity of the woman. “And you are?”
“Hope. Make sure you let him know I said hi and that I miss those quick hands of his.” The woman smiled, her expression smug. “Good luck keeping him interested, honey. I hope when you get a divorce, you take him to the cleaners.”
Sheridan shook her head, unable to say a word when the woman sauntered away, her dress so short if she made one wrong move, she’d show off everything she had. What a bitch—and Jared had slept with a woman like that? Was she his usual preference? Overly made-up, big-mouthed floozies?
The evening was only getting started and already it had proven far too drama-filled for her blood.
…
Jared wove his way through the crowd, a fruity, sweet cocktail clutched in one hand for Sheridan, a beer in his other. He stopped and talked with an endless array of people. Jim Walsh, the head coach. Nick Hamilton, his best friend. Freaking Flynn Foley, who gave him a hug and told him how excited he was to see him play on Sunday.
That had put Jared in a sour mood. The goody-goody second stringer made him want to choke someone. And not because the kid was a pain in his ass, but because he was just so damn nice.
Then he spotted her, his golden ray of sunshine sitting at the table alone, a perturbed expression on her face. He’d taken forever, so she probably wasn’t thrilled she’d sat there alone for who knew how long. Her friend Willow made him damn uncomfortable and he’d been relieved to make his escape from her. She saw and knew everything, and her dad was freaking Walter Cavanaugh. If anyone figured out their situation, it would be her.
“Sorry I took so long.” He sat next to Sheridan, handing her the drink. She took it gratefully, sipping from the glass, those pretty lips pursed around the edge driving him momentarily wild with lust.
The no-sex clause was making him insane, and they were hardly a week into the marriage. This was what he’d turned into: a quivering mass of flesh aroused by a woman’s lips pressed against a glass.
“It’s okay,” she said coolly. “Hope said hello.”
Jared frowned. “Who?”
Sheridan rolled her eyes. “Hope? Some woman you were going out with not even a month ago, direct quote from the whore’s—pardon me, I mean the horse’s mouth?”
Ah, there it was again. Little Miss Sassy. “She make you mad or what?”
Sheridan shrugged, drawing his attention to her shoulders. Smooth, glittery skin, all that soft hair shifting and brushing against her flesh, the elegant arch of her neck, the exposed collarbone; all of it was enough to send his body into full tilt alert, his cock twitching with awareness. “She said she missed your quick hands.”
“I never went out with a woman named Hope.” Unable to resist, he traced her right shoulder with his index finger, pleased when he saw the subtle shiver move through her. “Be prepared, wife. All the psycho girls I never went out with will come out of the woodwork and claim I fucked them all.”
