Accidentally Married on Purpose (23 page)

Tyler made her tummy flip and her skin prick, but he also made her laugh. He danced in the rain and taught her how to play guitar. They had fun. Just sitting on the sofa with him made her feel safe and warm and happy, and watching him with Elvis filled her with joy. Sure, they had passion in spades, and the way he made her feel was incredible.

But again, that wasn’t
love.
At least not the sort that existed outside of fiction. It wasn’t sustainable in real life.

Was it?

Beneath Sherry’s palm, her heart lurched, and she shoved away from the door. Ugh, why couldn’t she have just kept her dang trap shut?

Sliding over to the sink, she turned the spigot, needing a shot of cold reality. As tepid water flowed over her hands, she lifted her eyes to the beveled mirror. A neat, ordered row of Post-it notes floated before her vision.

Sugar,
Do you know, I’ve laughed more since I met you than ever before?
You
always
make me smile.
How do you do it?
Tyler
That nugget was from last week. Pressure mounted behind her eyes as Sherry shifted her gaze, this time landing on a note from a few days prior.

Sweet lips,
You look way too good today.
For the sake of our rules, please go change…
Just kidding. See you tonight.
Tyler
On and on they went. Twenty-eight days’ worth of notes, each filled with flirtation and friendship, and a strong dose of desire. But that’s all it ever was. Staring at them now, a stupid tear leaking past her lashes, Sherry felt ridiculous.

These notes didn’t mean anything. Not to
him.
They were just Tyler being Tyler. The soft look he’d sometimes get when he thought she wasn’t looking? It was probably just dust in his eyes. It wasn’t affection. Or, if it was, it wasn’t enough. She’d read too much into everything. Let herself believe and get her hopes up. Whatever was causing the erratic pulse in her chest—affection, love, or simply a huge, honking crush—it was all on her end. For Tyler, this had only ever been a job. Another role to play, a masquerade.

And she’d fallen for the game.

What a lovesick dope.

She’d waltzed into his room tonight, sure as shit, willing to put her heart on the line and give her marriage a real shot. And he wasn’t even interested. That speech he’d given on stage about being changed really
had
been for the press. And she’d lapped it up right along with them.

At least with Ben, and every other cheater she’d ever dated, she’d had her anger to strengthen her. Heartache was bearable when you knew you were better off without them. But Tyler hadn’t cheated. He’d been faithful to her and home every night, without ever getting anything in return. He was kind, smart, talented, and genuinely
good
. An amazing man who simply didn’t want her.

She almost rather he
had
cheated.

Sherry hung her head as heartache washed over her anew. She hugged it, wallowed in it, let it saturate her pores. This was what she always did. Fell for men who didn’t love her back. It was her thing.
Lord
, it was her thing. Shaking her head in self-loathing, she gripped the basin in front of her and opened her eyes.

There were two ways she could play this one going forward. She could end it now. Go and stay at Cane’s for the next two days, say to hell with the parade and the fancy ball, and hide out until Tyler left Magnolia Springs.
Or
she could savor the short time she had left with him. Go to the parade, play the role of doting wife, and wear a dress designed to make him swallow his tongue. Then, after the last photo snapped and the champagne was gone, she could take Tyler back to the suite the parade organization had gotten him…and seduce her husband.

Yeah, she’d be breaking a rule, but dammit, they were
her
rules. She wouldn’t beg Tyler to stay or push for more when he clearly wanted out. But she could take one night for herself, a memory to cling to when he eventually left her.

A night, this time, she fully intended to remember.

Chapter Sixteen

“You seriously haven’t heard it yet?”

Sherry met her sister’s gaze in the mirror and shook her head. “Not the biggest country fan, remember?”

Colby pulled a face. “Uh, yeah, but this is your
husband
we’re talking about, and the freaking song is about you.” She sighed and sat on the bed, a mock scowl on her face. “Both of you hussies have songs written about you. Where’s
my
damn song?”

Angelle laughed as she held another set of earrings against the red dress on the hanger. She’d yet to find the perfect pair for Sherry to wow the crowd. What her bestie didn’t know was that she was
also
trying to wow Tyler. At least enough to bed him.

“My song will never be on international airwaves, though,” Angie tossed back. “Or inspiring a bazillion hits on YouTube.”

Sherry purposefully kept her eyes averted. She wasn’t in the mood to force another smile. Nope, she
hadn’t
heard Blue’s latest single, and she had no wish to change that. Not until after he was long gone at least. If the song really was about her like everyone was claiming, listening would only make today harder. She was barely holding it together as it was.

Besides, she might have a song…but she didn’t have the
guy
.

Colby, of course, was still in the dark about Sherry’s marriage. Angelle believed everything was now hunky-dory. Well, things were neither hunky, nor dory, and quite honestly, she was
this close
to an ugly cry—but losing it wasn’t a luxury she could afford. Sherry Robicheaux-Blue was a fighter, and when she made up her mind, she gave it everything she had. Right now, that meant keeping her cool, donning her best bra, and looking hotter than hell.

Tonight, she was claiming her man.

The decision made even more sense in the light of day. By the time Colby and Angelle had arrived to help her prep, she’d had the eye of the tiger…and Katy Perry playing on repeat. For twenty-nine
long
days, she and Tyler had been good. They’d courted, held hands, and shared a scant handful of steamalicious kisses for show. He’d never once tried to push her no-sex-rule—and she’d been too chicken to act. But that ended now.

“Lord, I wish I had your skin tone.”

Sherry blinked her newly applied fake eyelashes and released her death grip on the lipstick.

Angelle smiled warmly as she leaned in to inspect Sherry’s makeup. “Gorgeous. When the world sees pictures of you in the morning, they’re gonna forget all about that famous husband of yours. They’ll be asking,
Hey, who’s the dude with that hottie?
”

Sherry snorted. “Right.” Out of her many concerns—and boy, did she have a ton—fan reaction wasn’t a blip on the radar anymore. Strangely enough, the media and all that other nonsense had become white noise.

“I’m serious,” Angie pushed on. “Tyler’s gonna take one look at you in the stands and abandon his kingly duties.” She waggled her auburn eyebrows mischievously. “I hear the suites at the Roosevelt are romantic.”

From the closet, Colby added, “And have thick walls.”

Shocked, Sherry glanced back where her sister was selecting the perfect pair of heels. Colby shrugged, but a playful smile twitched her lips. “What? You look like a screamer.”

Other than the night in Vegas, which didn’t count since Sherry couldn’t remember much, she didn’t know the last time she’d
screamed.
But she was positive Tyler could inspire her. Heck, if he accepted her offer, who knew what noises would be coming out of her mouth? Animalistic mating calls, high-pitched squeals, or curses that’d make a sailor blush…at this point, anything was possible.

With a final check of her makeup and hair, Sherry tugged the knot of her robe. Time to get her night of seduction underway. Releasing a slow exhale, she walked to the garment bag hung outside the closet door. Each step closer made her plan more real, more concrete, and sweat pricked her skin. Before she left for the parade, she’d need another swipe of her deodorant.

Why am I so nervous?

Now was the time for bravery, not stupid cowardice! There was nothing left to fear. She was already butt-crazy in love with Tyler (that ship had sailed), and he was most definitely leaving tomorrow. His bags were packed, ticket bought, late-night show appearances booked. Whether she slept with her husband tonight was irrelevant. Saying good-bye would tear her apart regardless.

Steeling her spine, her last bit of resolve solidified. Sherry unbelted her robe and let it fall to the floor with a gentle
whoosh
. Shaky fingers lifted the plastic covering the gown, and she slid the straps from the hanger.

…

People in suits and fancy ball gowns hobnobbed on either side of her in the viewing stands, a weird and striking contrast with the casually dressed crowd packed like sardines below. Sherry hadn’t been to a downtown parade in years (she preferred the smaller, family-friendly ones on the north shore), but this was definitely the way to do it. Access to a private bathroom, plenty of refreshments on hand, and enough legroom that her new shoes wouldn’t get trampled. Now, if only she could turn off her brain, she’d be set.

Horses trotted down the blocked-off street and costumed riders tossed trinkets to the crowd. Sherry blew on her hands to warm them. She hadn’t factored in the weather when planning her wardrobe, but oh well. At least the bluish tint to her skin went with the dress. And she looked
hot
. No less than five men had hit on her since she arrived in the Quarter, enough to give her a boost of confidence for the night. But then, reeling men in had never been her issue. Keeping them was another story.

The drumbeat from a local high school’s marching band thrummed heavy in her stomach. As the dancers shimmied, stomped, and did their thing, her body kept time with the music, her gaze seeking Tyler’s distant outline. The king’s float was next.

A Krewe of Erato program was wedged underneath her arm, but Sherry didn’t need it. She’d had the parade order memorized for hours, having zipped to the website upon finding today’s sticky note on the bathroom mirror.

Sherry,
You deserve the life you’ve always dreamed of.
Never settle for less.
But for at least one more night, you’re mine.
Tyler
No pet names this time. Direct, simple, and if she had to guess, a shade apologetic. That first part was Tyler’s way of letting her down gently, easing the sting of his embarrassing rejection the night before. But she didn’t need apologies. Didn’t want pity, either. She wanted what she’d set out to experience, a fairy tale, and in lieu of stepping into the pages of her very own story, she’d settle for chasing a manufactured one.

Besides, everyone knew a good romance needed a hot sex scene. And fortunately for her, the second part of his note was much more promising.

The king’s float turned off Canal, and as Sherry’s anticipation escalated, so did the bob of her head. Butterflies flew loop-de-loops in her belly and the ache in her chest bloomed…but there was no fighting her smile at Tyler standing tall and proud atop a gaudy green, purple, and gold papier-mâché display.

The float was comprised of every recognizable Mardi Gras emblem she’d ever seen, and the centerpiece structure was a huge carnival mask. Tyler’s throne sat just below that, but she doubted his butt had touched the seat once. He was clearly having a ball—wiggling his hips, waving to the crowd, tossing goodies their way. And looking damn fine doing it all.

Strands of multi-colored beads were his only nod to the holiday. Otherwise, he was dressed in all black. A button-down with sleeves rolled up and a snug pair of jeans. Sherry knew he’d change into a tux for the ball, but she liked him like this. Rugged, real, and sinful. The crowd on Tchoupitoulas screamed his name, and Tyler laughed as he chucked beads and doubloons at their heads.

Mardi Gras was kind of sadistic.

Since she never once looked away from his face, she knew the exact moment that he saw her. She
was
hard to miss in the front row, clutching the guardrail and staring unabashedly, but she’d prefer to think he was simply as attuned to her as she was to him. His gaze held hers for a long moment, then he stooped and said something to one of his assistants. The float crept forward until it slowed to a stop in front of the stands, and Tyler walked toward the edge.

The camera from WWL-Channel 4 swung her way as her husband leaned forward. A sizable gap remained between them. Close enough to touch, but not quite close enough for him to kiss her…though the way his smoldering eyes lingered on Sherry’s skin, it felt as if he had.

A young man popped up beside him, the same assistant he’d spoken with before. He handed over a bundle and said, “Here’s the special throw.”

Tyler accepted it, and then turned to Sherry with a grin. “You know, this is called a
throw
because I’m supposed to toss it at you.” After testing the weight in his hand, he leaned back on his heel and took in her dress again. “But seeing as how I’ve got plans for you tonight, I’d hate to hurt you.”

Sherry’s eyes widened. It appeared as though Tyler had been sampling the punch. A shocked laugh escaped her lips as she scanned the crowd. The television crew was on the other end of the stand, and the street noise was deafening. No one, other than the few people on either side of her, could hear their banter. Even if they did, they were married anyway. The flirtation worked in their favor.