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It felt like he’d been set up; he’d actually wondered more than once if he had. Craig always had a hate-on for him. When Craig had been traded to another team, Jared certainly hadn’t shed a tear. He’d practically cheered and danced in the locker room, truth be told.
He still didn’t understand the media massacre, their instant and now incessant fixation on him. Who the hell had he pissed off so thoroughly?
Everyone.
“Listen, we need to get this handled and quick. They’re breathing down our necks.” Harvey followed him, persistent as ever, until they both stopped in a mostly abandoned corner of the cavernous room. “I’ll accompany you and the artist and we’ll go to a small, quiet bar. Somewhere discreet. We’ll feel her out, see if she might be interested, and if it’s a go, I’ll set up an appointment with the lawyers.”
Lawyers. Shady bastards, every one of them. “You are not coming with us tonight. And do you really think she’ll be interested, Harvey? Give me a break. No woman would agree to something like what you’re suggesting.” Jared crossed his arms in front of him. What sane woman would? It was the craziest shit he’d ever heard.
Harvey waved his phone in Jared’s face. “I did a little Google research while you were chatting her up. She’s broke as a joke and in desperate need for some free advertising for her business before she loses it all.”
Snagging Harvey’s phone, Jared glanced at the screen and read the article, which was more of a compilation of happenings in and around Carmel from a local blog. It included a mention of Sheridan’s tiny studio in downtown Carmel, and provided rampant speculation that it might be up for sale by the end of the month.
Jared frowned. Well, that sucked. He wondered if she really was in bad financial shape. He could sympathize—it hadn’t been that long ago when he and his dad lived in a crappy apartment and struggled to pay for necessities, let alone luxuries. Thank God his dad had always viewed football—and all the expenses that came with it—as a necessity.
“I don’t want to discuss this her
e.” He thrust the phone back into Harvey’s hand. Crowds of people swarmed inside the building and plenty of curious glances were sent in his direction. That Harvey wanted to talk in public was risky as hell.
If anyone got wind of what the new owner of the Hawks wanted him to do—what Jared’s entire publicity and management team wanted him to do—he’d look like the laughingstock of the entire NFL.
The look on Harvey’s face said it all. “Quit playing games, Jared. Any woman under the age of thirty would kill for this chance. And I think Sheridan Harper is an excellent candidate to become your new wife.”
Chapter Two
Sheridan walked into the bar, her gaze sweeping the rundown interior, on the lookout for Jared. Her cell clutched in her hand, she searched the darkened room, standing a little on tiptoe trying to see everything. Not too smart, considering her hot pink stiletto heels.
She nearly fell flat on her face, much to the amusement of the bartender, who watched the entire scene go down. Jerk.
“Looking for someone?” he asked, the unmistakable humor lacing his voice. She shook her head in answer. If she told him the truth, he’d think she was off her rocker.
Which she probably was, because really, who would believe a famous NFL quarterback would want to meet her for a drink in this dump?
Clutching the wall, she slipped her right shoe on more firmly, ignoring the ache in her toes. She could ride this out. After all, they were the hottest shoes she owned.
Her phone rang and she answered it quickly, knowing exactly who it was. “I can’t find him.”
“Huh. Well, isn’t that disappointing.” Willow sighed, sounding irritated. “I was just going to tell you the rumors I heard about him, too.”
Sheridan settled at the bar, whispering she wanted a glass of water when the jerk bartender approached. “You can’t say that. Now you have to tell me.”
“Well.” Willow paused for great effect. Considering her father was an entertainment lawyer and handled many a celebrity as a client, she knew all the good rumors. “From what I understand, Jared Quinn is hung like a horse.”
Sheridan grimaced. “Really?”
“Like, his dick is the size of a twenty-two-ounce Pepsi bottle.” Willow said it with all the authority of one who saw those sorts of things on a daily basis. She could be a bit loosey-goosey with guys, but it was all in good fun. Plus, Willow was so gorgeous, men flocked to her like bees to honey.
“Who in the world is giving you this information? Wait a minute, don’t bother telling me.” Sheridan glanced around, lowering her voice so no one would hear her. “Listen, I can appreciate a big dick same as any other girl, but when you compare him to a Pepsi bottle, I gotta call foul.”
Willow laughed. “I trust my source, so be prepared if you get a chance with him.”
Wait a minute…,“Don’t tell me you’re your own source.”
Her friend’s laughter grew louder. “Hell, no! I would tell you if I banged Jared Quinn. I just…know someone who’s seen him naked.” She sounded rather mysterious.
Relief swept through Sheridan. If her friend had been involved with him, even a one-night stand, she would’ve walked away right then. Trading men among friends was not the way to go. “Something that huge must hurt, you know.”
“You’re telling me if that hunk of a man Jared Quinn stripped naked and had a twenty-two-ouncer waving in front of you, you’d bail?”
