His Secretary's Surprise Fiancé(4)

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.