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 Harp
er 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.