His Secretary's Surprise Fiancé. Joanne Rock
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“I am not an actress.
“I can’t make this engagement believable. I won’t be the only one who finds our decision to marry a total farce.”
She reached for the door as if to end the conversation on that note.
He reached for her, bracketing her with his arms. Stopping her from exiting the vehicle.
“No one is going to doubt that you have my attention.” The space around them seemed to shrink. He noticed she remained very, very still. “That much is going to be highly believable.”
She swallowed hard.
“Do you believe me, Adelaide?” He wanted to hear her say it. Maybe because it had been a long time since someone questioned his word. “Or shall I prove it?”
Her eyes searched his. Her lips parted. In disbelief? Or was she already thinking about the kiss that would put an end to all doubts?
“I believe you,” she said softly, her lashes lowering as her gaze slid away from his.
* * *
His Secretary’s Surprise Fiancé is part of the Bayou Billionaires series— Secrets and scandal are a Cajun family legacy for the Reynaud brothers!
His Secretary’s
Surprise Fiancé
Joanne Rock
While working on her master’s degree in English literature, JOANNE ROCK took a break to write a romance novel and quickly realized a good book requires as much time as a master’s program itself. Today, Joanne is a frequent workshop speaker and writing instructor at regional and national writer conferences. She credits much of her success to the generosity of her fellow writers, who are always willing to share insights on the process. More important, she credits her readers with their kind notes and warm encouragement over the years for her joy in the writing journey.
To Catherine Mann, my longtime critique partner, for inviting me to dream up a Mills & Boon Desire series with her. We’ve brainstormed many books together over the years, but this was a special treat since we both got to write them! Thank you, Cathy, for being a creative inspiration and a wonderful friend.
Contents
Dempsey Reynaud would have his revenge.
Leaving the football team’s locker room behind after losing the final preseason game, the New Orleans Hurricanes’ head coach charged toward the media reception room to give the mandatory press conference. Today’s score sheet was immaterial since he’d rested his most valuable players. Not that he’d say as much in his remarks to the media. But he would make damn sure the Hurricanes took their vengeance for today’s loss.
They would win the conference title at worst. A Super Bowl championship at best.
As a second-year head coach on a team owned by his half brother, Dempsey had a lot to prove. Being a Reynaud in this town came with a weight all its own. Being an illegitimate Reynaud meant he’d been on a mission to deserve the name long before he became obsessed with bringing home a Super Bowl title to the Big Easy. A championship season would effectively answer his detractors, especially the sports journalists who’d declared that hiring him was an obvious case of favoritism. The press didn’t understand his relatives at all if they didn’t know that his older brother, Gervais, would be the first one calling for his head if he didn’t deliver results. The Reynauds hadn’t gotten where they were by being soft on each other.
More important, his hometown deserved a championship. Not for the billionaire family who’d claimed him as their own when he was thirteen. He wanted it for people who hungered for any kind of victory in life. For people who struggled every day in places like the Eighth Ward, where he’d been born.
Just like his assistant, Adelaide Thibodeaux.
She stood outside the media room about five yards ahead of him, smiling politely at a local sportswriter. When she spotted Dempsey, she excused herself and walked toward him, heels clicking on the tile floor like a time clock on overdrive. She wore a black pencil skirt with gold pinstripes and a sleeveless gold blouse that echoed the Hurricanes’ colors and showed off the tawny skin of her Creole heritage. Poised and efficient, she didn’t look like the half-starved ragamuffin who’d been raised in one of the city’s toughest neighborhoods. The one who used to stuff half her lunch in her book bag to share with him on the bus home since he wouldn’t eat again until the free breakfast at school the next morning. A lot had changed for both of them since those days.
From her waist-length dark hair that she wore in a smooth ponytail to her wide hazel eyes, framed by dark brows and lashes, she was a pretty and incredibly competent woman. The only woman he considered a friend. She’d been his assistant through his rise in the coaching ranks, her salary paid by him personally. As a Reynaud, he wrote his own rules and brought all his resources to the table to make a success of coaching. He’d been only too glad to create the position for her as he’d moved from Atlanta to Tampa Bay and then—two years ago—back to their hometown after his older brother, Gervais, had purchased the New Orleans Hurricanes.
There was a long, proud tradition of nepotism in football from the Harbaughs to the Grudens, and the Reynaud family