Part of her wanted to march back into her office and strip off all his clothes. Request that detailed list of relationship benefits after all.
Except, of course, she had little experience with men. And baiting a Reynaud was a dangerous business when she wasn’t a man-eating Valentina type who could deal with the fallout. She was just Adelaide Thibodeaux and she had a feeling she might never recover from a night in Dempsey’s bed. Knowing her overinflated sense of loyalty, she’d probably be lovesick for life, stuck in a job as his assistant in the hope he’d one day crook his finger in her direction so she could repeat the mind-blowing experience.
No, thank you.
Dempsey might have started this game on his terms, but she planned to finish it. On hers.
Six
Dempsey made no claim to being an intuitive man.
But even he could sense that he’d made some headway with Adelaide earlier in the day. Sure, he understood her reluctance to jeopardize their friendship. And he meant what he’d said about respecting her. Caring about her.
Yet the flame that burned between them now wouldn’t go away just because they ignored it. She might not be ready to address it, but he sure as hell would. So now he found himself driving around downtown New Orleans in search of the fabric supplier she was using as a pretext for not meeting him for dinner.
He’d rearranged his day and moved his nonnegotiable meetings earlier in the afternoon. His practice had gone well. His game plan for Sunday was solid. Nothing was going to stand in the way of spending time with her tonight. He would make a case for exploring this attraction in a way he hadn’t been prepared to do last night after that unsettling talk with Leon.
He needed to get to know her better—a damn sorry thing to admit when he ought to know her as well as anyone. But he’d been too caught up in his own career the past few years to pay attention to Addy. If he wanted to persuade her to let her guard down and give him a chance, he needed to understand what made her happy. What pleased her.
Spotting the storefront of the warehouse, Dempsey steered his BMW sedan into a spot on the street. Evan had driven Adelaide to this location, so Dempsey had it on good authority she was still inside.
The least he could do was show an interest in the business she wanted to start. He’d looked over her business plan briefly before driving out here and he’d been both impressed and worried. Her goals were sound, but fulfilling them would mean a lot of hands-on involvement to get it up and running. Maybe if he discussed the clothing company with her in detail, he’d see a way for her to hand off some of the less important tasks. There had to be a way to free her up enough to keep working with him.
He needed Adelaide.
In the ten steps it took to hit the front door he was already sweating, the heat still wet as a dishcloth even though it was six o’clock. The man seated at the desk out front pointed Dempsey in the right direction, and he went into the warehouse to look for Adelaide.
He found her in front of a display of laces, draping an intricate gray pattern over her calf as if to see what the material looked like up against bare skin. Making him wonder what kinds of garments she had in mind for her next design project.
A vision of her high, full breasts covered in nothing but lace and his hands blasted to the forefront of his brain, making him hotter than the late-afternoon sun had. She wore different clothes from the ones she’d had on at the training facility, trading dark pants and a Hurricanes T-shirt for the yellow-and-blue floral sundress she now wore. Wide-set straps and a square neckline framed her feminine curves. Her hair was rolled into some kind of updo that exposed her neck and made him want to lick it. So much for keeping his thoughts friendly.
“Dempsey?” She straightened, a smile lighting up her face for a moment before a wary look chased after it. “What a surprise to see you here.” She gestured to the soaring shelves of fabric samples on miniature hangers, sorted by color and material. “Are you here to redesign the Hurricanes jerseys?”
He scanned a section of striped and polka-dotted cotton.
“I think the guys will stick with what we have.” He peered around the warehouse to gauge their level of privacy. He’d seen one other shopper on his way in, but other than that, the space appeared empty. “I’m here for you.”
The lace dropped from her fingers. “Is there a problem with our opening day? I checked my phone—”
He caught her hand before she could dig in her purse for the device.