His Secretary's Surprise Fiancé

Two

Adelaide reeled back on her high heels.

Dempsey had just publicly declared an engagement. To her.

The man who was so cautious about every aspect of his personal life. The man who trusted her never to betray him even though he’d betrayed her in a million little ways over the years. How could he?

In her ear, Adelaide heard Carole squeal a congratulations. A few other members of the press who knew her—women, mostly, who were still vastly outnumbered in the football community—turned around to acknowledge her. Or maybe just study her to see what renowned bachelor Dempsey Reynaud would find appealing in the very average and wholly unknown Adelaide Thibodeaux.

Of course, the answer was obvious. She had no appeal other than the fact that Dempsey didn’t want her to leave the team. And he was a man who always got his way.

She’d naively thought she could just turn her back on her job as his assistant and start a company that would rely upon good relations with the Hurricanes and the league in general for securing merchandising rights down the road. Something she couldn’t afford to jeopardize if she wanted her company to be a success.

If she stood up and challenged him, she’d lose team support instantly. She didn’t dare contradict him. At least not publicly. And no question, Dempsey absolutely knew that, as well.

Realization settled in her gut as smoothly and firmly as a sideline pass falling into a wide receiver’s hands. She’d been outflanked and outmaneuvered by the smartest play caller in the game.

Her brand-new fiancé.

She needed time to think and regroup before she faced him and blurted out something she would regret. Adelaide darted out of the press conference just as a reporter began quizzing Dempsey about the quarterback’s thumb. She didn’t know what else to do. She lacked Dempsey’s gift for complicated machinations that ruined other peoples’ lives in the blink of an eye. Storming off was the best she could come up with to relay her displeasure and give herself time to think.

She tore off her earpiece even though Carole currently informed her she needed to stick around the building for any follow-up interviews.

Like hell.

Adelaide picked up her pace, heels grinding out a frantic rhythm on the concrete floor as she burst through a metal door leading to the stairwell. She headed down a flight to the custodial level of the dome, taking the route where she was least likely to encounter media.

The sports journalists hadn’t really known what to do with the story about the Hurricanes’ coach getting married. Sure—they would recognize the news value. But in that he-man room full of sports experts, no one would quiz the tersest coach in the league about his love life. They would hand that off to the social pages.

Who, in turn, would eat it up. All four of the Reynaud brothers had been in People magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive list for two years running. The national media would be covering Dempsey’s engagement, too. While she ran away.

She stumbled as her heel broke on the bottom step because her shoes were meant for work, not sprints. Hobbled, she shoved through the door on the ground level just as her phone started vibrating in her bag. She ignored it, trying to think of the most discreet way to reach her car two floors up.

A car engine rumbled nearby. It was the growl of a big SUV—a familiar SUV that slowed as it neared her. Dempsey’s Land Rover, although it had probably never been operated by the owner himself.

Evan, his driver, lowered the tinted passenger window. He could have passed for a gangster with his shaved head, heavily inked chest and arms and frightening number of face piercings; his appearance gave Evan an added advantage in his dual role serving as personal security for their boss.

“Miss Adelaide,” he said, even though she’d told him a half dozen times it made her feel like a kindergarten teacher when he called her that. “Do you need a ride?”

“Thanks, Evan,” she huffed, out of breath more from runaway emotions than the mad dash out of the dome. “My car is on the C level, if you don’t mind bringing me up there.”

Relief washed through her as she limped over to the side of the vehicle. Before she could get there, Evan jumped out the passenger side and jogged around to help her, all two hundred sixty-four pounds of him. Before he blew out a knee, he’d been a top prospect on the Hurricanes’ player roster, one she knew by heart.

She’d worked so hard to impress Dempsey over the years, memorizing endless facts and organizing mountains of information to help him with his job.

Only to be rewarded like this—by having him ignore her notice of resignation, refuse to discuss her concerns and announce a fake engagement to the very industry whose respect her future work depended upon.

“No problem.” Evan tugged open the door and gave her a hand up into the passenger area of the vehicle specially modified to be chauffeur driven, complete with privacy screen. “Happy to help.”

She waited for his knowing grin, certain he’d been listening to the press conference in the garage, but his face gave nothing away, eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator shades.

“I appreciate it.” She tried to smile even though her voice sounded shaky. “I parked on the west side today. Close to the elevators.”

Ticket holders had cleared out after the game, leaving the lot mostly empty now, save for a few hardcore fans that stuck around for autographs. The press parking area was separate, three floors up.

“Got it.” Evan shut the door with a nod and she settled into the perforated leather seats. The bespoke interior was detailed with mother-of-pearl and outfitted with multiple viewing screens that Dempsey used to watch everything from game film to feeds from foreign stock exchanges to keep up with the Reynauds’ family shipping business in the global markets.

Sadly, she knew the stats of most of the ships, too.

Her phone continued to vibrate in her bag, a hum against her hip where her purse rested, a reminder that her life had just fallen apart. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt the Land Rover glide into motion and wished she could seize the wheel and simply keep driving far, far away from here. As if there was anywhere out of reach of the Reynauds, she thought bitterly.

Out of habit, she touched her right hand to the bracelet on her left wrist to feel the smooth metal that Dempsey had heated and shaped into a special present for Adelaide’s twelfth birthday. The jewelry was worth far more than any of the identical diamond parting gifts he’d doled out to lovers over the years. Maybe she’d been foolish to see so much meaning in those years they’d spent together when his life had gone on to change so radically. She’d always thought she would do anything for him.

But not at this price. Not when he stopped being her friend and started thinking he was the boss of every aspect of her life. He couldn’t dictate her career moves.

Or her choice of fiancé, for crying out loud. The funny part was, there had been a time in her life when she would have traded anything to hear him announce their engagement. But she’d grown up since the days she’d harbored those schoolgirl hopes. Once his father’s limo had arrived to take him out of her world and into the rarefied air of the Reynaud family compound in Metairie, things had never been quite the same between them. Sure, he’d checked up on her now and then when the family was in Louisiana and not one of their other homes around the globe. Yet he always seemed acutely aware of the expectations of his family, and they did not include hanging out with a girl from the old neighborhood. For that matter, Dempsey had put all his considerable drive into becoming a true family heir, increasing his workload at school and throughout college. Eventually, he’d dated women in his same social circles, and Adelaide had remained just a friend.

Peering out the dark tinted windows, she noticed that Evan had exited onto the wrong floor of the parking garage. She reached for the communications panel to buzz him even as the SUV slowed by the east side elevators a floor below where she needed to be.

“Evan?” she said aloud when he didn’t answer right away. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Miss Adelaide?” His voice sounded different. Sheepish?

Maybe he knew he’d made a mistake.

“We’re in the wrong spot—”

She stopped when the elevator doors opened. Dempsey strode out, a building security guard on either side of him.

“Sorry, ma’am. The boss called.”

Of course Evan hadn’t made a mistake. He’d come here to pick up the man who called all the shots. Or had he been sent downstairs earlier to retrieve her? Either way, she was screwed. Her escape plan was over before she’d even gotten it off the ground.

At almost the same time, the stairwell door opened and a small throng of reporters raced out, camera lights spearing into the parking garage gloom as they shouted Dempsey’s name and called out follow-up questions he must not have addressed in the televised press conference.

“Coach Reynaud, have you set a wedding date?”

“How do you think this will affect your team?”

“How long have you been dating your assistant?”

The last question came from a thin woman who reached him first, her voice recorder shoved toward his face. One of the security guards warded her off easily enough, opening the door of the Land Rover so Dempsey could step up into the vehicle.

“Does Valentina know?” the skinny reporter shouted, banging on the window of the SUV as Dempsey closed the door and locked it behind him.

Adelaide scooted to the far end of the seat as he lowered himself beside her, the soft leather cushion shifting beneath her as the vehicle started into motion again.

“Hello, Adelaide.” He made the greeting sound like so much more than it was, his deep voice tripping along her senses the way it sometimes did when he used her whole name.

She hated that he could inspire those feelings even now. It was as if he’d sucked all the air out of the small space so she couldn’t catch her breath. She watched in silence as he tugged off his team jersey, tossing the Hurricanes gear onto the opposite seat and leaving him clad in a simple black silk T-shirt with his black pants. He looked like a very hot hit man.

A hit man who’d targeted her business. Her future.

All for his own selfish ends.

“Can you call Evan and remind him my car is on the C level?” She glared at him, reminding herself with every breath not to get too emotional. Not to let all the anger fly, as much as she wanted to do just that.

She’d seen him in action for years, knew him well enough to understand that no one won battles with him by acting on feelings. Dempsey ran right over adversaries who couldn’t negotiate with the benefit of cool reason.

“It might not be wise to drive when you’re angry.” He set aside his phone and stretched an arm along the back of the seat.

Almost touching her. Not quite.

Not the way he had back in that vacant office before the press conference when she’d inserted herself between him and the door. When she’d felt the warmth of his hand on her hip. Brushed up against him chest to chest in a moment that had almost caused cardiac arrest. She swallowed hard and refused to think about all that wayward attraction, which had always been one-sided.

“It might not be wise to kidnap the assistant you’re dating either.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“We’re not dating. We’re engaged.” He reached to tug a lock of her hair, as easily as if she still had pigtails. As if she would still follow him anywhere just because he said so. “I’ll send someone back for your car later. It will be safer to stick together.”

“Safer for who exactly?” She tried not to wrench away from him, would not let him see how much this cavalier treatment got under her skin. Even now, despite the anger inside, another heat simmered right along with it. “And who made you lord of what I can and can’t do? Turn the damn car around.”

Being trapped beside his powerful presence in the back of a private luxury vehicle only stirred to life those other potent feelings she’d tried so hard to stamp out long ago.

“I don’t think either of us wants to create a firestorm around the team right now,” he reminded her.

“Seriously? Which is why you chose to announce an engagement to the press when you knew I couldn’t contradict you.” She clenched her fingers tight and contained her temper as Evan drove the SUV out of the parking garage and into the early-evening traffic heading west, away from her home.

Toward the Reynauds’ private compound in Metairie. She didn’t need to ask where they were headed, any more than Evan needed to ask. The world simply moved according to Dempsey’s wishes.

“I realize you think I did this just for me. For the team. But I did it for you, too.” His golden-brown eyes remained on her even when the viewing screens built into the overhead console flipped to life with game updates from around the league.

Being the focus of his undivided attention had the power to rattle any woman.

“We’ve been friends for too long for you to trot out that kind of BS with me.” She folded her arms tight across her chest, her body reacting all kinds of erratically around him today. “Can we at least be honest with each other?”

“I am being honest.” He shifted in his seat, turning toward her. Moving closer. “Adelaide, I don’t want to see you fail at anything. Ever. And I promise you, if you stick this out with me—just this one more season—I will ensure that your company gets off the ground with all the benefits of my connections.”

It was a lot to promise her. Worth a heck of a lot more than those diamond bracelets he passed out like consolation prizes.

“I don’t want a company that is a glorified Reynaud hand-off. I want the satisfaction of developing it myself.” There had been a time when he would have understood that. “Don’t you remember what it feels like to want to build something that is all your own? Without the benefit of—” she waved her arm to encompass his custom-detailed world in a vehicle that cost more than most people’s homes “—all this?”

His phone rang before he could answer her. And worse?

He held up a hand to indicate that he needed to take it.

“Reynaud,” he growled into the device.

Tuning him out, she fumed beside him. This was precisely why she needed to leave. She understood that he worked eighteen-hour days every day and that he took his business concerns as seriously as his team. But it had been too many years since he’d even pretended to make time for her or the friendship they’d once shared. He spoke to her as his assistant, not like the girl who had once been privy to all his secrets.

He had no idea about the strides she’d made in her business over the past few weeks—the way she’d pulled off funding for a short run of her first clothing item. He hadn’t been there to applaud her unique efforts or otherwise acknowledge anything she did, and she was sick of it. Sick of his whole world that could never pause for one moment. Even for the conversation they’d been having.

By the time Dempsey disconnected his call, she could barely hold on to her temper.

Enough was enough.

* * *

Setting aside his phone after clearing up some problems in Singapore, where it was already Monday morning, Dempsey hoped the time-out from the confrontation with Adelaide had helped her to cool off and see his side. She sure had backed him into a corner by quitting out of the blue.

What else was he supposed to have done when she’d forced his hand like that? The engagement was simply a countermove.

“Adelaide,” he began again, only to have her swing around in the seat to glower at him.

“How kind of you to remember we were in the middle of a conversation.” Her clipped words suggested her temper wasn’t anywhere close to cooling down. “Do you need a refresher on what we were discussing? One, our ridiculous engagement.” She ticked off items on her fingers. “Two, your sneak attack of having Evan lying in wait for me in the garage so I couldn’t make a clean break from the stadium today. Three, your inability to understand why I want to build my own company from the ground up, without the almighty Reynaud name behind me—”

“How can you, of all people, suggest I don’t understand what it’s like to want to develop your own company? To build your own team?” His voice hit a rough note even as his volume went softer. “You know why I went into coaching. Why it means everything to me to win a championship for this town.”

He remembered shared rides home that weren’t in the back of a Land Rover. Shared rides in a cramped bus full of bigger, stronger kids who amped up their street cred by converting new gang members or beating the living crap out of nonconverts. Of course he knew. He was giving back with his foundation. Constructing a positive environment with the Hurricanes for a community that needed an identity. Creating a team to root for that wore football jerseys instead of gang colors.

Adelaide didn’t answer, though. She stared at him with a stony expression. He didn’t have a clue what she was thinking. When had he lost the ability to read her? His gaze dipped to her mouth, set in a stubborn line. He read that well enough. Although, after that brush up against her before the press conference, he suddenly found himself wondering what she’d taste like. He hadn’t let himself think along those lines in years, always protecting their long-standing friendship. Something had gone haywire inside him after he’d touched her today. He couldn’t write it off as passing awareness of her as a woman, the way he had a few times as a teen. This attraction had been fierce, making him question if he’d ever be able to see her as just a friend again. It rattled him. He’d grown to rely on her too much to have an affair go wrong.

And it would. Adelaide was not the kind of woman to have affairs, for one thing. For another? Dempsey only conducted relationships that came with an expiration date.

With an effort, he steered himself back to his point.

“I’ve got controlling shares in businesses around the globe,” he reminded her as they got off I-10 and headed north toward Lake Pontchartrain. “But being CEO of this or vice president of that doesn’t mean as much when it’s handed to you. With coaching, it’s different. I earned a spot in this league. I am putting my stamp on this team, and through it—this town. I’m creating that right now, with my own two hands.”

He pulled his eyes away from her, needing a moment that wasn’t filled with the distracting new view of her as more than just his friend. He did not want to think about Adelaide Thibodeaux’s lips.

“You’re right.” She reached across the seat and touched his forearm. Squeezed lightly. “I’m upset about...a lot of things. But you deserve to be proud of your efforts with the team and with Brighter NOLA.” Her hand fell away, briefly grazing his thigh.