Joanne Rock - His Secretary's Surprise Fiancé

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.

Then she pulled back fast.

He wished he could will away his reaction just as quickly.

“I understand you’re angry.” Maybe that was the source of all this tension pinging back and forth. Passions were running high today between the team’s loss, the start of the regular season and her trying to quit. “But let’s hammer out a plan to get through it. You want to build your own business, fine. Just wait until after the season is over and I’ll at least help you finance it. I can offer much better terms than the bank.”

The moon hung low over the lake as the SUV wound around the side streets leading to the family’s waterfront acreage. The lake was shallow here, requiring boat owners to install long docks to moor their watercraft. Dempsey couldn’t recall the last time he’d taken a boat out, since all his time was devoted to football and business.

“That’s very generous of you. But I can’t stay a whole season.” Briefly, she squeezed her temples between her thumb and forefingers. “I posted a design of my first shirt and won crowd funding for the production. I need to honor that commitment after my followers made it happen for me.”

And he had missed that milestone, even if it was just enough capital for a small run of shirts and not the launch of an entire business. He admired that—how she’d started off things so conservatively that her potential buyers had bought the clothes before she’d even made them. She was smart. Savvy. All the more reason he needed her. He could help her with her business after she helped him solidify his.

“Congratulations, Addy. I didn’t know about that. So give me four weeks.” He did not want to compromise on this. But four weeks bought him more time to convince her to stay longer. To show her that she had a place with the team. “The deal still stands. I’ll help you with the startup costs. You retain full control. But you will stay with me for another month to get the season underway.”

“What about the engagement? What happens to that ridiculous fiction next month?”

“You can break it off for whatever reason you choose.” He trusted her to be fair. He might not have been paying much attention to her for the past few years in his intense drive to lead his team, but he knew that much about her.

When the time came to “break up,” she wouldn’t drag him through a scandal the way Valentina had threatened. Especially since he and Adelaide would still be working together, because no way in hell was he losing her. Four weeks was a long time to win her over now that he understood how high the stakes were. A season like this might only come around once in a lifetime. If he didn’t make the most of it and secure the championship now, he might never get another shot.

“And until then? What will your family think of this sudden news? Will you at least tell them the truth so we don’t have to pretend around them?” She bit her lip as they drove through the gates leading to the Reynaud family acreage along the lake.

She’d never seemed at ease here, not from the first time she’d set foot on the property for his high school graduation party and spent most of the time searching for shells on the shore.

The SUV rolled past the mammoth old Greek Revival house where Dempsey had spent his teen years, now occupied by his older brother, Gervais. Henri and Jean-Pierre split an eleven-thousand-square-foot Italianate the family acquired when they’d bought out a former neighbor. Neither of them stayed with the family for long, since Henri and his wife had a house in the Garden District and Jean-Pierre spent the football season in New York with his team.

Dempsey’s place was slightly smaller. He’d specially commissioned the design to repeat the Greek Revival style of the main house, with four white columns in the front, and a double gallery overlooking the lake in back.

Evan parked the vehicle in front, but Dempsey didn’t open the door. “My family doesn’t need to know the truth about our relationship.” He reached for her hand to reassure her, guessing she would be bothered by the lie. “It will be simpler if we keep the details private.”

Her hand closed around his for a moment, as though it was a reflex. As though they were still friends. But damned if he didn’t feel that spark of awareness again. Whatever had happened between them back at the stadium was not going away.