“Oh, yeah.” His deep voice was full of seductive appreciation. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had a shoe fetish.
“I definitely want you to paint something for me.” No asking, just telling. And she really didn’t mind.
“I can do that,” she said breezily.
“Soon.” He smiled, easing the demand. “If that’s not a problem.”
He was impatient. And very charming. It was a most lethal combination. “Why don’t you call me tomorrow and make an appointment?”
“How about I come by and see you tomorrow? I’m free for the next few days before we begin practice.” When she frowned, he went on. “First pre-season game is scheduled next week.”
Oh. Her friends would just die if they saw her talking to Jared Quinn, if they knew she was going to have him come to her studio.
Her mind raced. Did she have any commitments tomorrow? It was a Saturday. A ladies’ night out class was scheduled but not ‘til the evening. Oh, and she had a private lesson in the afternoon. “That should work, though morning is best for me.”
“Good. Morning works for me, too.” He didn’t look necessarily relieved or worried she might tell him no. Had he ever heard the word “no” before? He was probably a man used to getting his way. “I should probably let you get back to your live painting.”
She glanced at the canvas. It wasn’t quite finished and there was still a lot to do before the night was over. “You’re right. I need to get back to work.” She offered him a smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you, too. I’ll see you tomorrow. Is nine okay?”
“Sure, I’ll be at my studio. The address is on the card.”
“Got it. Great.” Flashing that devastating smile yet again, Jared left. She watched him go, her gaze lingering on his very fine backside. Not that she normally checked out men’s butts, but this one was particularly fine.
Everything about him was.
Shaking herself from the dream-like fog he’d put her under, she grabbed her brush and scanned the room, taking in each detail, trying to decide what to capture next. Her cell phone buzzed against her hip. She pulled it out of her skirt pocket to check the text message from Willow.
Were you just talking to star QB Jared Quinn??!!
Shaking her head, her fingers flew over the keyboard in reply.
Yep. He wants to buy a painting. An original work.
Less than a minute later came Willow’s response:
OMG that’s fantastic! Better share the deets later
Sheridan glanced up to see Willow giving her the thumbs-up from her booth down the aisle, which she returned with a subtle gesture. Willow ran a unique catering company, providing cotton candy and a few other sweet treats for birthday parties and small events. It was just starting to take off, her large variety of cotton candy flavors the biggest hit, especially among the younger set and at weddings.
Hence Willow’s appearance at A Taste of Monterey. With the various local vendors showcasing their stuff, Willow had jumped at the opportunity to grow her clientele.
Sheridan had been working her way around the event from the moment she arrived and her feet were killing her, especially in her ridiculous high heels. Scheduling a full day of classes on top of the event had been poor planning on her part.
She’d kill for a glass of wine and a foot massage. Could probably get both, considering the variety of businesses here. Didn’t seem people were too restricted by the “taste” aspect of the yearly event.
Enough daydreaming. Standing straight, she grabbed her paintbrush, taking in everything in front of her. The doors would close in little over an hour, and the crowd was starting to thin. She caught sight of Jared Quinn not too far down the line of booths, and he wasn’t alone.
It appeared he’d brought another teammate with him, if his sheer size was any indication. They were both huge, built like…well, football players. And of course, they were both terribly handsome.
The other one couldn’t hold a candle to Jared in her eyes, though. He really was gorgeous. Like, out of her league gorgeous.
The people of Monterey County were pretty blasé when it came to celebrities, since there were so many who came to the area. Quite a few lived there as well, occupying the large, sprawling, beachside estates on 17-Mile Drive, or the quaint cottages with exquisite ocean views in Carmel-by-the-Sea. So no one really paid the Hawks players any mind, only an occasional glance in their direction here and there.
Deciding to include them in her painting, Sheridan got to work, knitting her eyebrows as she went into full concentration mode, chewing on her lower lip. Her hand dashed across the canvas, the brush stroking the thick paint onto the blank space a satisfying sound.
Follow your bliss, her grandmother had always told her. Sheridan was lucky she loved her job so much. Painting was her life. She was consumed with her business, working hard to help it grow, and determined to become a huge success despite her mother’s doubts over her non-practical profession. Sheridan knew her mother thought she lived in a dream world, and would’ve preferred Sheridan sell the studio in such a lucrative neighborhood. That way, they’d make an enormous pot of money and they’d never have to worry again.