His Secretary's Surprise Fiance

Easy enough advice if her engagement were real. But for the next few weeks, she was still more an employee than a fiancée. Then again, he had looked at her with decided heat in his eyes ever since that accidental touch in the stadium last weekend. And truth be told, it stung that he thought he could boss her into an engagement when they were supposed to be friends.

“Maybe I will surprise him.” She picked up her makeup and went to work on her eyes, hoping to look more like an exotic beauty and less like an efficient, capable assistant.

Mascara helped. Besides, she’d gone to art school. If she couldn’t create a good smoky eye, she ought to turn in her degree.

“No maybe about it.” Her mother went to work on Adelaide’s hair, her fingers brushing through the long caramel-colored strands. “This dress is a good start.” She winked at Adelaide’s reflection in the hallway mirror. “You don’t look like anyone’s assistant tonight.”

* * *

“How close are you?” Dempsey shifted the phone against his ear as his hired driver pulled up to the venue in Jackson Square.

He’d left the Land Rover and Evan with Adelaide this week, trusting his regular driver to keep her safe. By safe, Dempsey had meant keeping reporters away. He’d never imagined his temporary fiancée would have a sudden desire to visit the old neighborhood.

A tic started behind his eye as he thought about her there without him. She’d moved to an apartment closer to the French Quarter after college, but her mom had never left the place on St. Roch. Even Dempsey’s mother had found greener pastures nearer the lake.

But then, his mother had the financial cushion of whatever his father had paid her to keep clear of Dempsey.

“Two minutes, max,” Evan assured him. “I’m right behind the building, just crawling with the traffic.”

“I’ll walk toward you.” Dempsey exited the vehicle close to Muriel’s, the historic restaurant chosen for the event. Then he sent the driver on his way.

He would have preferred to pick up Adelaide personally tonight, but practice had run long and the meetings afterward had been longer still. There was unrest among some of the younger guys on the offensive line, but Dempsey was leaving the peacekeeping to his brother Henri, their starting quarterback. Henri had mastered the art of letting things roll off him, which was key for a player who operated under a microscope every week.

But the same quality could tick off other guys in the locker room, the players who took every setback like a personal affront, the athletes who were competitive to the point of obsessive. The media loved to key in on crap like that.

And with the press hinting at marital trouble in Henri’s private life, the team’s front man wasn’t exactly feeling friendly toward the local sports journalists. Dempsey just hoped he would get through the fund-raiser tonight. No matter what was going on in Henri’s personal world, he trusted the guy to lead them to a win Sunday.

“I see you.” Evan’s voice in his ear brought him back to the present, where he damn well needed to stay. “I’m going to pull right up to the curb for the sake of Miss Adelaide’s shoes.”

Looking up the street, Dempsey spied the Land Rover headed his way. He pocketed the phone and moved toward the red carpet that had been laid on the sidewalk. Players were already arriving along with prominent local politicians, artists and philanthropists. A lone trumpeter in a white suit serenaded the guests on their way into the Jackson Square landmark venue.

A staffer from the Brighter NOLA foundation hurried toward Dempsey to pin a flower to his jacket and update him on the guest list so far. He thanked her and waved the woman off as the Land Rover arrived in front of the carpet.

He didn’t care about protocol, so he didn’t wait for Evan to open Adelaide’s door. Dempsey tugged open the handle himself and extended a hand to...

Wow.

All thoughts of guests, players and philanthropy vanished at the sight of Adelaide. She wore a pink dress that might possibly be described as “lace,” but it was a far cry from a granny’s doily. Beaded and shimmering, the gown hugged her curves all over. It wasn’t low cut. It was long-sleeved and it fell to her toes. Yet the lace effect made strategic portions of her honey-toned skin visible right through the rosy-toned mesh. Her thighs, for example. The indentations above her hips.

Intellectually, he’d always known she was an attractive woman. Of course he had. He wasn’t blind. But maybe her workday wardrobe had helped minimize an appeal that damn near staggered him now. With an effort, he dragged his attention away from her body to meet her gaze.