His Secretary's Surprise Fiancé(24)

"Hey, Coach. What's up?" Evan had lost his roster spot due to injury,  but unlike most guys who'd been in the league for any length of time, he  hadn't been in a hurry to rehab and look for a new team in the spring.  He understood well the hazards of being a player and had been content to  simply stick around the team.                       
       
           



       

Dempsey had asked him about returning to school for sports medicine and  coming aboard as a trainer, but Evan called himself a "simple guy with  simple needs," insisting he liked driving the Land Rover.

"Just checking to see if you're taking good care of my future wife."  The comment didn't roll off his tongue the way he thought it would.

His wife.

The idea made his chest go tight and he wasn't quite sure why.

"She's teaching me about the garment business at the moment. Just a  sec." Clearly holding his hand over the phone, Evan spoke to someone  else-Adelaide, presumably. But a man's voice came through in the  background, too. Then Evan came back on the line. "We're just finishing  up a tour of a manufacturing facility. She's hoping that with some  customization it might work out for producing her apparel line."

Her apparel line. Dempsey ground his teeth together, biting back a retort.

Apparently he hadn't made any headway yet convincing her to stay with  the Hurricanes-with him-for the rest of the season. But then, he'd spent  all his time romancing her after being surprised by an attraction he  hadn't accounted for.

He needed to get their relationship back on track.

"I'd like to surprise her with dinner," he improvised, although maybe that wasn't a bad idea. "Are you bringing her home soon?"

Dinner aside, he just wanted to know when he would see Adelaide. She  hadn't picked up her phone or answered his text after the game.

But then, she obviously took her start-up business more seriously than him.

"Definitely," Evan returned. "I think she's finishing up her meeting with the Realtor now. We're about half an hour away."

"Good deal. Thanks." Disconnecting the call, Dempsey pulled into the driveway of his house.

The outdoor lights were on, along with a few indoor ones. He had  everything on timers, and he'd increased the periods when the grounds  were lit, wanting to make the place as hospitable as he could for  Adelaide.

Had her decision to tour a manufacturing facility been made this  morning, spurred by her frustration regarding Valentina? Or had Addy  been quietly taking care of her own business concerns all week, in spite  of their agreement that she'd devote her time to the Hurricanes?

To him. This upset him far more than it should have.

His phone rang after he'd parked the BMW and headed into the house.  Juggling his keys in one hand, he didn't check the caller ID before he  thumbed the answer switch.

"Reynaud." He didn't need team problems. He had enough personal ones, since Addy was giving him the runaround.

"Hey, bro." The voice of his youngest brother came through the airwaves. "Congrats on the win."

"You, too, Jean-Pierre. I saw you put up some hellacious stats today."  Dempsey hadn't been able to watch any film highlights on the way home,  since he'd had to drive himself, but he'd checked for updates on the  other one o'clock games before he left the stadium.

"Perfect football weather in New York. The ball sailed right where I  wanted it to all day." The youngest Reynaud was the starting quarterback  for the New York Gladiators and currently the only member of the family  who wasn't a part of the Hurricanes organization. "Tomorrow's practice  is light. I could head down there afterward if you think we need a  powwow about Gramps."

"That'd be good. I think it's going to take all four of us to figure  out how to approach him." Dempsey stepped inside the house, which was  too quiet without Adelaide there.

Already, all his best memories in this place were with her.

Undressing her in the foyer. Chasing her out to the pool. Carrying her up to his bed.

"He's getting worse?" Jean-Pierre asked, pulling Dempsey's thoughts away from Addy.

"He thought I was Dad at a fund-raiser event the other night. Implied I  needed to be careful my wife didn't find out about the woman on my  arm."

On the other end, Jean-Pierre let loose a string of soft curses.

"That sucks," he finally said, summing it up well. "I'll be off the  practice field by noon. I can probably be at the house by four." A perk  of being in New York was that private planes were plentiful. Jean-Pierre  didn't come home often, but he could make the trip in a hurry when he  needed to.

"Sounds good. We practice at noon, but I'll make sure we finish up in  time. See you then." Disconnecting the call, he knew he'd have to go in  early to meet with his assistant coaches and watch game film.

Hell, he'd be watching game film tonight, too. But first, he would  order dinner for him and Adelaide. Do something nice for her to make up  for all the things he'd said wrong over breakfast. Maybe then he would  be able to confront her about that trip to see a potential manufacturing  facility. The capital investment for a start-up business would  compromise her operating costs. She had to know that.                       
       
           



       

Her role with the Hurricanes aside, it was too soon for her business to  launch in that kind of direction. Small growth was wiser.  Subcontracting the manufacturing would give her more cushion for  expenditures. As much as he understood she didn't want him interfering  with this company she wanted to build, he simply couldn't let her fail.

Ah, hell, who was he kidding? He might be a selfish bastard, but he couldn't ignore the truth.

He didn't want her to leave.





Ten

"No one could hold a grudge after that dinner." Adelaide swirled a  strawberry through a warm chocolate sauce served in a melting pot over  an open flame. "I might have to pick fights with you more often if this  is the aftermath."

Dempsey had ordered an exquisite meal to be catered for them, and  considering it must have been on short notice, the food was outrageously  delicious. Her scallops had been prepared in a kind of sauce that took  them from good to transcendent. The grilled vegetables were hot and  tender, perfectly seasoned. But the dessert of exotic fondues was  inspired.

She couldn't get enough of the chocolate sauce with a hint of raspberry liqueur.

"Are you sure?" Dempsey asked her, reaching under the mammoth dining  room table to skim a touch along her knee. "I know you were upset this  morning."

They were seated diagonally from one another-he was at the head of the  table and she was to his right. The table was a chunky dark wood  handcrafted in Mexico, the coarse finish making the piece all the more  masculine and right for the house. Adelaide liked all the decor even  if-in her fanciful imaginings-she pictured what she would do if she  lived here. She'd put a vase of birds of paradise on the table, for one  thing. Bright splashes of color to warm up this cool, controlled world.

"I was upset," she admitted. "But as I stood on the sidelines today, it  occurred to me that I don't want to spoil this time with you. Working  for you has been an incredible opportunity and I will miss it... I have  to confess I will miss working with you, as well. Seeing you."

"Tell me what else you'll miss." He pulled her bare foot into his lap and massaged the arch.

"That feels amazing." She settled deeper into the red leather cushion  on her high-backed wooden chair. Popping a raspberry into her mouth, she  told herself she could have one more chocolate treat if she ate two  plain berries.

Those were actually delicious as well, the juicy fruit almost tart after the sweetness of the chocolate.

"Turn your chair and I can do both feet." He nodded toward the side  that needed shifting. And sure enough, pivoting toward him made it more  comfortable to give him her other foot, too.

His thumbs stroked up the centers, over and over.

"What else will I miss?" She repeated the question to remind herself  what he'd asked her before she slipped into a foot-massage-induced  trance. "Always having a seat for the big games. The scent of barbecue  in the parking lot from the tailgaters before home games. Seeing the  young players at training camp and watching them horseplay because  they're overgrown kids."

He was quiet for so long she wondered what he was thinking.

But hadn't she promised herself to simply enjoy this time with him? To make the most of every day of these next few weeks?

"I'll bet chocolate sauce would taste good on you," she observed lightly, dragging the warm pot closer.

That captured Dempsey's attention completely. He slowed the foot massage.