by Joanne Rock
He let go of her to turn the paper toward him so he could read the story.
“She has a part in a new action-adventure film,” Addy admitted. “She mentions it toward the end.”
“You see? Self-centered and trying to scam off the Hurricanes’ publicity when a lot of people are paying attention to the team.” He kissed Adelaide’s cheek and pulled her to him again, holding her close, savoring the feel of her wearing precious little under that T-shirt. “C’mon. Let’s have this breakfast you made. It smells fantastic.”
“It’s just eggs,” she grumbled. Then her lips curled upward a bit. “Although I did make use of the cayenne pepper, which is why you like the scent, you crazy Cajun.”
She hadn’t called him that in a long time. Memories of their past—her friendship and unswerving loyalty—stirred along with it. Reminding him he didn’t want to hurt her. She’d made him breakfast long ago when there’d been no food at his place. Eggs were a cheap meal, and even though he had access to the most exotic foods in the world, there was nothing he’d rather share with her right now than the eggs she’d cooked for him herself.
Taking care of him.
“Some spice in life is a good thing.” He tugged her back and kissed her harder, more comfortable thinking about the chemistry they shared than that other, deeper connection. “And speaking of which, last night was incredible.”
“I had fun, too.” She shot him a flirtatious look as she took her seat at the table. “I’m glad you’re not upset about the article in the paper—even if I’m still steaming a little.”
He flipped it over and shoved it away.
“Not at all.” He tucked her chair in and then sat beside her. “Valentina is annoying but predictable. I’m only upset for you.”
He took a few bites before he noticed Addy had gone quiet. Glancing up, he noticed her studying him.
“Is that a plus when you’re dating?” she asked, carefully cutting a piece of her egg and sliding it onto her toast. “Predictability trumps selfish and annoying?”
And just like that, he stood alone in a minefield with no foreseeable path out.
“You must know that I’ve deliberately simplified my personal life these past few years in order to focus on my career.” He set down his fork, realizing he should have paid more attention to the nuances of this conversation.
It wasn’t about the article in the paper. Or about a potential distraction for him on his season opener.
Adelaide was more than a little angry about Valentina.
“You want simple and predictable.” She tapped the heavy band of her engagement ring on the table. “It’s strange that you opted to stage a relationship with me right now since it’s both complicated and unexpected.”
Didn’t she understand that she was nothing like other women he’d been with? He wouldn’t trade this time with her for anything.
“But you’re not like other women, Addy. I trust you not to turn our private affairs into a three-ring circus for your own ends.” He wanted to salvage a good day. He wanted to get back to where they were yesterday, when they’d had dinner with family and then driven each other wild all night long.
“You trust me to keep this simple and be predictable, too.” She shook her head, a smile that was the opposite of happy twisting her lips. She shot out of her chair. “Unbelievable how the Reynaud arrogance has no bounds.”
“Wait a minute.” He stood as well, scrambling to follow her, to understand how he’d hurt her when that was the last thing he’d intended.
“No.” The word was sharp. A short warning that her emotions were seething close to the surface.
He could see it in her face. In her eyes.
“Addy, please. Let me explain.”
“No.” She shook her head, her braid unraveling as she moved, since she hadn’t bothered to wrap a tie around the end. “I’m going to drive separately to the stadium. And when I get there, I will be an excellent assistant, as I’ve always been. I’ll even keep the ring on my finger. But don’t ask me to pretend with you, Dempsey. Not today.”
For a moment, he felt stunned, as if she’d kicked him in the solar plexus.
“What do you mean? You can’t end our agreement—”
“Please.” She held a hand up to stop that line of discussion. “I’m not ending anything except this conversation. But I’m asking you—don’t put me on the spot today, okay? I might not be as predictable as you’d like to think.”
* * *
Members of the media rushed onto the field after the Hurricanes won 21–17 in their home opener against the defending Super Bowl champs. Adelaide watched from the sidelines, a rare spot for her, since her duties were more behind-the-scenes. But after her exchange with Dempsey over breakfast that morning, she had been reminded that in three more weeks, she would no longer have a role on the team. She might never have the chance to witness a game from this vantage point again.
Rap music blared from the speakers in the stands, adding to the celebratory mood. Fans whooped it up with one another. While some headed out to the parking lots to party or drive home, many hardcore followers remained in the stands, getting as close to the field as ushers would allow.
A photographer with a camera and a big plastic sound shield shuffled past her, his lens trained on Dempsey where he shook hands with the opposing team’s coach. A coach who did not look happy. The guy’s face was still red after a screaming match with a ref about a pass-interference call that had not happened.
But the Hurricanes’ game one was in the books. Dempsey and his team were off to the start he’d wanted for this season, the start that meant so much to him. Logically, she understood why. He’d always felt like an outsider in the Reynaud family, working relentlessly to prove he belonged, that his father had not made a mistake in plucking him out of that crappy apartment down the street from hers.
Yet, she couldn’t help but think that if St. Roch Avenue wasn’t good enough for him, then she wasn’t good enough for him either. He’d dated one beautiful woman after another for years, never looking at Adelaide twice until she tried to quit. Hearing his easy defense of Valentina this morning had brought that hurt to the surface. When Adelaide’s time with Dempsey was through, he’d go right back to women who were simple, predictable and from a much different world than hers.
She had no illusions about his ability to move on. She’d seen him do that plenty of times. But she seriously doubted hers.
Heading for the door that led into the medical staff’s offices and bypassed the locker-room area, Adelaide picked up her pace when she saw a female reporter charging toward her, a cameraman in tow. Seriously?
The press on the field were normally big-time sports reporters, not from the social pages.
“Adelaide!” the woman called. “Excuse—”
Arriving at the door, Adelaide hauled it open and risked a glance back to see what had happened to her follower.
Henri Reynaud, the Hurricanes’ quarterback and Dempsey’s younger brother, had planted himself between Adelaide and the woman. Addy’s heart fluttered a bit. Not that she thought Henri was Mr. Dreamy the way the rest of the female fans did. But because Dempsey’s brothers had made her feel as though she mattered this week. Gervais by inviting her to dinner. Henri by running interference.
Seeing how she might have been accepted into their world made her chest ache for the things she wasn’t going to have with Dempsey. She would be walking away from so much more than a job in three weeks. So why was she spending this window of time second-guessing herself—and Dempsey—every time she turned around? Why couldn’t she just enjoy the moment?
Maybe she needed to stop worrying about the future. Starting tonight, she wasn’t going to look beyond three weeks from now.
She would save up her memories of being the woman who got to be on his arm
and in his bed. The memories of being part of a family. They wouldn’t be enough, but if they were all she would ever have of him, she would make each moment count.
* * *
Dempsey drove the fastest street-legal BMW produced to date, but it didn’t get him out of downtown any quicker after the game.
Had he ever felt so uneasy after a win?
He switched lanes to pass a slow-moving car, his G-Power M5 Beemer more than ready to launch into overdrive at the earliest opportunity. Too bad the ribbon of brake lights ahead meant he only succeeded in hurtling headlong from one stop-and-go lane to the next.
He’d asked the public relations coordinator if she’d seen Adelaide, but Carole didn’t know where his fiancée had gone after the game. Now he gave in and phoned Evan. Hitting the speed-dial icon on the dashboard, he listened to Evan’s line ring via Bluetooth.
“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.
“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.
“The catering staff is still here,” he reminded her, peering over his shoulder toward the kitchen.
They hadn’t seen anyone since dessert was brought out, but two servers waited behind the scenes to clear their dishes and put away the leftovers.