2 - Author, Author

Okay, Audra believes you all need a little more this first week so that you have something to sink your teeth into.  This is NOT my idea.  You know I don't believe in extra posts (I can't even type that with a straight face), but I respect my partner's judgment.  Enjoy the extra post... ;o)

Holy Mary, Mother of God.  This is not happening.

Sheridan nearly swallowed her tongue when she turned to find Jon standing behind her. 

That part of her life was never supposed to intersect with her ‘real’ life.  It was an aberration.  A tawdry vacation fling that was destined to remain a fond memory.

It certainly wasn’t supposed to be fucking standing in front of her with wicked promises threatening to spill out of that smug little smirk.

She locked her knees to keep them from buckling.

Denial, Sheridan.  Pretend you’ve never met him.  Surely to God he’s got enough class not to mention leaving bite marks all over you as souvenir of your Jamaican vacation.

A fierce shiver took hold of her spine and she irritably willed the accompanying nausea away.  She was going to have to open her mouth and speak before Suzanne and Karl started wondering what in the world was wrong with her.

“Hello, Mr. Bon Jovi,” she finally forced through stiff lips.  “What a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. King.” 

The tension between her shoulder blades eased just a bit.  He was going to play along.  She still wanted to take that ‘I’ve seen and tasted every part of your body’ smirk and slap it off his face, though.

“Karl tells me you’d like to write my biography.”

The cocky grin may as well have been non-existent for all it meant to her after that little bombshell.  She turned on Karl, speaking through her gritted, barracuda-esque smile.

“You told him what?”

Great.  Now the guy was going to think she’d been plotting ways to hook back up with him since Jamaica, when that had been the furthest thing from her mind. 

Karl did have the good grace to look embarrassed, and was saved from his wife’s wrath by the buzzing of her cell phone.  “Pardon me for a moment,” Suzanne excused herself with a withering glare at her ‘better’ half.

“Well, I didn’t exactly say that, Jon.  I said I had an author that I thought would be perfect to write your biography.”  He chuckled a bit nervously, clearly realizing his plan wasn’t all that brilliant.  “Sheri didn’t really know the details of the project I wanted to line up for her.”

“So Sheri…”  Jon seemed to have trouble with the shortened version of her name.  “… didn’t know I was going to be here tonight?”

Dammit all to hell!  Jon does think I’ve been involved in some type of groupie espionage.  I’m clearing up that misconception right now.

“No.  I didn’t,” she interjected smoothly, her ingrained corporate skills finally rousing from the stupor his presence had induced.  “I thought being here tonight was my way of supporting Karl’s new project.  I had no idea there was an alternate agenda.”

Jon’s eyes sparked with adulterousness, calling an army of goose bumps to attention on her forearms.  “Maybe it was just Karma.”

“Karma might be a bitch, but right now it feels an awful lot like she’s my bitch.”  Sheridan heard it as plainly as if he’d spoken the words four seconds ago, instead of four months.  Her neck had to be a ridiculous shade of red by now. 

“Karl,” Suzanne beckoned plaintively, the phone still tucked against her ear.  “We have a problem.  Could you come here, please?”

Jon barely waited for Karl to join his wife before stepping close enough to Sheridan for her to feel the heat of his body.  “You look good… Sheri.” 

Her eyelids involuntarily fell shut in defense against his thumb discreetly scraping against the wildly fluttering pulse in her wrist.  Staunchly ignoring the nipples that had pebbled at the light touch, she coaxed heavy eyelids open and pushed out a breathy, “Sheridan.  Suzy and Karl are the only ones who call me Sheri.  And my family.”

He didn’t care about her nickname.

“You feel it, don’t you, baby?  The chemistry is still there.”  His words were a mere whisper against her cheek.  Nobody could possibly hear him, but Sheridan jerked as though he’d asked the question over a public address system. 

“Sheri, honey…”  Suzanne and Karl rejoined them, and her voice was soft with apology.  “My sitter just called.  Madison is sick with an ear infection and crying for Mommy, so I have to get back to her.  I know we were going to give you a ride home, and Karl still will, but do you want to stay for the whole party without me here?”

Jon leaned on his left foot, placing enough distance between them that no one would suspect he’d been sensually stroking her wrist only second before.  Sheridan couldn’t catch her breath, but she could always develop a sudden case of asthma to explain that.

God, yes, get me out of here.

“No, Suze.  I’d rather leave now with you.”

Suzanne frowned delicately.  “I’m going to have to make a stop.  The pharmacy is closed, so her pediatrician told me to go to the ER to get some antibiotics.  He supposed to call and let them know I’m coming, but it may take a while.  I hate for you to sit and wait.”

She’d do anything to get out of here and away from Mr. Pheromone.  The casual brush of his leg against her  long taffeta skirt, had the material brushing against her bottom.  She stiffened and rushed to assure her friend, “Oh, sweetie, that’s absolutely –“

“I’ll take her home,” Jon offered with a benign smile before she could assure Suzanne she would wait days, if necessary, just to get out of here.  Jon held up his coat.  “I was getting ready to go anyway, and I’ve got a car tonight.”

Damn him.

The irony of cursing a man’s chivalry was not lost on her, but she couldn’t let these two worlds collide.  She was a professional woman, not a groupie-on-call.  No matter how much his touch was making her hormones go haywire.

“Yeah.  Jon lives right here in SoHo,” Karl jumped on the bandwagon, giving his musician friend a friendly tap on the arm.  “Sheri lives in Tribeca.  Not too far out of your way, is it, buddy?”

The man’s smile was blindingly beautiful.  “No, not at all.”

Suzanne – dear, sweet Suzanne – wasn’t so easily swayed.  Sheridan’s face must have betrayed her horror and desperation, because Suzy’s brow puckered with concern.  “Is this okay with you, Sheri?  Karl’s known Jon for years.  I’m sure you’ll be safe with him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Of course you’ll be safe!  Jon’s a helluva good guy!”

Gee, Karl, thanks.  Now if I refuse, I think your friend is a serial killer?

“Really,” Jon lifted his free hand to gently touch her elbow.  It was a completely impersonal gesture that felt excruciatingly intimate, even with the thin fabric that separated their skin.  “It’s no trouble.”

Sheridan was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Get in the back of a chauffeured car for the short drive to her condo – alone, with Jon Bon-freaking-Jovi – or look like an ungrateful bitch.

Somehow she unclenched her jaw enough to produce a believable smile of gratitude.  “If you truly don’t mind, then I would appreciate the lift, Mr. Bongiovi.”

Triumph lit the spectacular blue eyes, but his reply was an easy, “It’s Jon, and I truly don’t mind.”

Lovely.

“Then I’ll just go fetch my coat.  Suzy, do you want me to get yours, too?”

“No, I’ll come too.” 

They were only feet away when Suzanne quietly asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?  I realize you don’t know Jon, but he’s a pretty respectable guy from what I understand.”

Oh, I know him.  I even know him.

“Suzy, it will be fine.  You get Madi’s medicine and go to her.”  She gave her friend a conspiratorial grin as they shrugged into their coats.  “If I have to, I’ll jump out of the car and walk home.  It’s not that far.”

Suzanne laughed, as Sheridan had known she would.  That had happened to one or the other of them on at least one date during college.  After a while it had become part of their criteria in choosing new guys.   Any first date that required a trip on the freeway was a no-go.  They couldn’t very well jump at sixty miles an hour.

Offering her friend a reassuring hug, Sheridan requested, “Give Madi a hug for me, okay?  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

After that, there was a brief push through the throng of party-goers in order to get back to Jon.  He was standing alone, Karl having drifted off to speak to one or the other of his guests. 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” he murmured, situating the black wool coat atop his black t-shirt and gesturing for her to lead the way.  “You looked like a scared deer there for a minute.”

“Why would I be afraid of you?”

They snaked through the long room, and curved around the bar before they were able to reach the staircase tucked into the far corner.  Sheridan’s foot stuttered on the first step and Jon steadied her with a firm hand.    

Before releasing her arm, he bent close to speak in her ear. “Not of me.  Of yourself.”

Sheridan blinked unseeingly, feeling much like that deer he’d referenced a moment ago.  She wasn’t afraid of herself.  She was afraid of…  It didn’t matter what she was afraid of.  He was wrong.  That’s all that mattered.

Climbing the steps without another word, she was about to make the turn to that would take them into the main part of the club when strong fingers twined into hers.  “I asked the driver to meet us at the side door.”

It wasn’t her intention to be a bitch, but it didn’t stop her from snatching her hand away as though she’d been burned.  Her hasty action earned her a knowingly arched eyebrow as he held open the heavy glass door for her.  Awaiting them at the curb was a black SUV, whose door Jon also held like a gentleman.

While trying to be aloof and regal, Sheridan's heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk, sending her stumbling.  Two strong arms kept her more or less upright, but she found her cheek pressed against a masculine, wool-covered chest.  Before she could stop herself, she inhaled and found that she was lost in his scent for a moment.  Familiar, yet not, it conjured images of hot sex and had her skin crawling with anticipatory desire.

God, he smells so good.  

Offering a polite nod of thanks, she disengaged herself and stepped up into the vehicle, giving Jon her address when he asked for it with a knowing smile.  That smile meant he knew exactly where her mind had gone.  He knew she was still attracted to him - in a big way.

Jon relayed the address to the driver and gracefully slid onto the dark leather seat beside her.  When the door slammed shut, he let loose with a little growl from the back of his throat.

“Sheridan…”  He rasped, pulling her close.

There was no time to do anything except gasp with surprise, and he took immediate advantage by sliding his tongue in her open mouth.

Her gasp lowered to a growl that matched his as he assaulted her taste buds, and the ingrained memory of his flavor flooded her mind.   Jon tasted every bit as good as he had that night in Jamaica – hot , spicy man seasoned with the sweet/tart taste of wine.  

“Jon…”  His name was no more than a whimper when his hand ruthlessly plundered its way beneath her skirt.  That whimper blossomed into lingering mewl when he landed upon the strip of bare thigh just above the fine silk of her stocking.  She couldn’t keep her wayward fingers from fisting into his hair.

“Christ,” he growled against her throat as his fingers snaked higher.  “I thought I dreamed how hot you were.  How hot you made me.”

The gutturally groaned observation was the dash of cold water Sheridan so desperately needed.

She wrenched herself away, palms resting against his chest to ensure a safe distance.  There was a driver in the front seat, for God’s sake.  Making out like a teenager in the backseat would be indisputably unacceptable even if she had any intention of taking this further.  This was going no further, and therefore made their behavior a total abomination 

“No.  Stop.”  She kept her voice soft, but made certain to convey the sincerity. 

Jon allowed her to pull away, but his hand was still firmly entrenched beneath her dress, and that damn thumb of his was wreaking havoc with the soft skin of her inner thigh.  Headlights passing in the darkened streets streamed across his lust-filled eyes.   “Why?  You want me.  You know you do.”

“That isn’t the point.  Our one night was never supposed to go beyond being a fond memory.”  Sheridan grasped his wrist and gently, but deliberately, dislodged his hand from her thigh.  She wasn’t this woman.

“Not until Karma intervened.”

Her hormones were screaming that she was the queen of all fools.  Battery operated boyfriends and self-pleasure-vation couldn’t hold a candle to the sex she’d had with Jon.   It was likely that nothing ever would, but that was just too bad. 

The vehicle rolled to a stop and Sheridan immediately reached for the door handle.  A car passed, its tires humming on the wet pavement, and Sheridan looked back over her shoulder.  It would be so much easier if he weren’t so damn handsome.  “You gave me one unforgettable night.  Let’s keep it that way.”

She silently slid from the backseat, slamming the door on his protest.  High heels tapping on the asphalt, Sheridan strode purposefully around the Escalade to the front door of her building.   She pretended not to hear him call after her, and scuttled into the safe, familiar haven of her lobby, greeting the doorman as she passed.