Against All Odds (Arabesque) (8 page)

* * *

Adam stopped abruptly as they walked out of the restaurant, and his companions stared while he greeted a woman with such warmth that neither of them doubted she was a close friend.

“Ariel! What a pleasant surprise!” A smile drifted over his face. He shook hands with his guests, excused himself, and left with the elegant woman. Jason’s knowing look confirmed what Melissa knew: Adam had repaid her and had enjoyed doing it.

“He’s not vindictive,” Jason said, so that only Melissa heard, “but he believes in letting you know how he feels about a thing.” They waved Calvin Nelson goodbye.

“What is this about?” she asked Jason.

“Melissa, surely you know that Adam has cut you away from the pack. He knew you intended to leave his office with me and without telling him goodbye, and he didn’t like it. You didn’t show much enthusiasm for his company and he’s just let you know that he isn’t pining for you.”

“Who was she?” She hated herself for having asked him, but she had to know.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I don’t think she’s anyone special, because she made a pass at Nelson but, well...you never know.”

Melissa swore to herself that she hated Adam, that he was just another of the four-martini corporate types she disliked. She wished that it was Jason Court who attracted her, but
Adam was the one.

* * *

Adam settled down to work on that August morning, after telling himself that he’d done the smart thing in not calling Melissa over the weekend. They’d moved so fast in the short time they’d known each other that he figured he’d better step back and take stock of things, decide what he wanted. Maybe he’d been wrong last week in not asking her if she wanted to lunch with the group, but she’d been wrong in threatening to walk off in a huff, too. He flicked on the intercom.

“Yes, Olivia. Sure. Put him on.” He lifted the receiver of his private phone. His eyes widened in astonishment at Wayne’s incredulous request. Could he get away for a few weeks, go down to Beaver Ridge, and settle the strike at the hosiery mill? It was becoming increasingly clear that, except for Wayne’s newspaper, the family businesses had been held together by the force of their father’s personality, rather than by his managerial abilities.

“That’s asking a lot, Wayne. I’ll need an office manager for the time I’m gone, and it may be a few days before I can get one. I’ll get back to you.” He hung up and called Melissa, and the anticipation he felt as he awaited her voice surprised him.

“MTG.” His customary aplomb seemed to have deserted him, and seconds passed before he could respond in his usual manner.

“Melissa, this is Adam. I need an office manager right away. Can you get one for me without Jason having to spend hours drafting a contract? I’m in a hurry for this.” He walked around his desk cradling the phone against his left shoulder while he squeezed his relaxer—a plastic object that he kept in his top drawer—with both hands.

“Why do you need one? If your secretary can’t manage your office, maybe you should be looking for one of those, not an OM.”

He hoped that his deep sigh and long silence would warn her that he didn’t have time for games.

“Well?” she prodded.

“Melissa, would you please stop while you’re ahead? When I say I want an office manager, that’s what I want. If you can’t attend to that without lecturing me about how to run my business, I’ll try another service.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir. Just fax me a job description,” she needled, her tone cool and sarcastic.

Olivia’s voice came over the intercom, and he realized he hadn’t turned it off. “My Lord, Adam, what could she have said to make you mad enough to break the telephone? And I didn’t know you knew those words.” Her chuckle didn’t relieve his boiling temper.

“I’m sorry, Olivia, but Melissa Grant strips my gears, and she gets a kick out of doing it.”

He turned off the intercom, grabbed Betty—as he called his relaxer—leaned back in his chair, and squeezed the plastic object. What was it about her, he pondered. Why did that one woman get to him that way? She could make him madder than anybody else, and she could heat him up quicker and make him hotter than any woman. If he couldn’t get her out of his mind, maybe the solution was to take her to bed and get her out of his system. He dropped the relaxer, pushed away from his desk, and put a hand on each knee as if to rise, but didn’t. That could work either way, and if it brought them closer together, what would he do then?

Adam locked his hands behind his head. She questioned his motives and grilled him about his decision—
nobody
did that, not even his brother, his closest friend. He could get the response he wanted from most people with just a look, but not from Melissa. Was her attitude toward him part of the old Roundtree-Grant antagonism, or was it just Adam and Melissa, a part of the storm that seemed to swirl around them and between them even when outward calm prevailed? His intelligence told him it wasn’t their last names and that their family ties were irrelevant. He sat up straight, his nerves tingling with excitement. Melissa was worth the cost of getting her.

* * *

Melissa began the search for Adam’s office manager, deliberately looking for a man, because she knew he would expect her to find a woman. He’d repaid her for threatening to defy him in the presence of Nelson and Court. Well, she’d give it back to him. Nobody put her down and got away with it, she vowed, still smarting from the warm greeting he’d given that woman at the restaurant.

* * *

Within an hour after speaking with Melissa, Adam received another call from Wayne.

“Adam, one of the older workers discovered what appears to have been foul play or, at best, an uncommon accident in the Leather and Hides plant. Nearly seven hundred pounds of cattle hides that we’ve earmarked for women’s shoes and luggage have been given chrome tanning rather than vegetable tanning, and the lot is now too soft and too elastic for its intended use. These valuable hides will have to be made into cheaper and less profitable items, and we haven’t been able to trace the error to any worker.”

“Do what you can, Wayne. I’m working on getting that manager.”

He hung up and phoned Melissa. “How’s the search for my OM going?” She was peeved with him, and he knew why, so he kept his tone casual and friendly. He didn’t want her to have an excuse to needle him.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been working on it ever since you made the request an hour ago. When I find one, I’ll notify Jason.”

He couldn’t resist correcting her, but he kept his tone gentle. “Melissa, Jason Court is not in charge of this—I am. Please remember that.” He hung up and stared at the phone. Somebody ought to tell her that he never walked away from a challenge. And she was that...in more ways than one.

* * *

Melissa walked into Adam’s office the following morning with his new office manager, a forty-six-year-old man who had impeccable references. She entered his suite with her head high and defiance blazing across her face.

“Good morning, Mr. Roundtree. I’ve got the perfect person for you. Adam Roundtree, this is Lester Harper.” Adam narrowed his eyes and glared at her for what seemed an interminable minute. Abruptly he extended his hand in a welcome to Lester.

“Have a seat, and tell me about yourself.”

“Well, Miss Grant said I’m just what you need, so I thought—”

Adam interrupted, pulling rank, Melissa thought.

“We’ll see about that,” Adam said, spreading his hands in exasperation. His lips tightened as he ground his teeth and looked Melissa in the eye. “If you’ll excuse us, please.”

Her triumph dissolved into remorse as she realized that he’d practically ordered her to leave them alone. Shivers sprinted along her nerves when his twinkling eyes delivered an icy rebuke. She was teasing a tiger, she realized belatedly, and his whole demeanor told her that he wouldn’t be soothed until he got proper recompense. His gaze held her, refused to release her even when she struggled to look away. And she had no doubt of their message:
retribution is mine
was their promise.

The day passed too slowly. He had to let her know what he thought of her smart trick, bringing him a man when she knew he would have preferred a woman or anyone less officious than Lester Harper. The man was bound to try lording it over Olivia, and Jason had winced at the sight of him. Clever, was she? Well, he’d see about that! He sighed heavily. She infuriated him—but, heaven help him, he wanted her.

* * *

She answered her door uneasily around seven thirty that evening, knowing intuitively that her caller was Adam. What had possessed her to toy with him, she asked herself, as she slipped the lock.

“You aren’t surprised to see me?”

“Not very.” Why tell him she’d known he’d come after her? When he stepped inside the door without waiting for an invitation, she wouldn’t let him see her eager anticipation of his next move, nor her erotic response to the danger and excitement that his determined look promised her. Goose bumps popped up on her arms, and she rubbed them frantically. He didn’t give her time to regroup.

“Come here to me,” he growled as if he’d waited long enough. She thought she didn’t move, but she was in his arms, his fiery mouth moving over hers, possessively, unbelievably seductive. Her hands moved up to push at his chest, but instead they wound themselves around his strong, corded neck. She felt him growing against her just as he stepped back, though he didn’t release her.

So he was holding back, was he? He’d fire her up, but he wouldn’t let her know how she affected him. Darn him, he wouldn’t play with her and do it with impunity. She pulled him to her and held him so tightly that he could release himself only if he hurt her. And she knew he wouldn’t consider doing that. She felt him then, all of him, and she gloried in his male strength, his heat and energy until his fire threatened to overwhelm her. Now it was he who wouldn’t let go, he who groaned while he spun her around in a vortex of passion, he who held the loving cup and tempted her to drink from it. And how she wanted that sip. But she couldn’t take the chance—there was so much at stake. And he didn’t intend to commit to her, he’d all but said it. It wasn’t Gilbert Lewis whom she was facing; that relationship had been child’s play. Adam’s gaze warned her that he intended to go all the way, and even with her nearsightedness, she couldn’t mistake the storm raging in his eyes.

“I think we’re being reckless.” She spoke softly as if she could barely release the words. “Adam, there would be the devil to pay back home if my family knew what we’re doing.” She hoped her words didn’t make her appear as foolish to him as she did to herself.

“We’re of age, Melissa.” He didn’t sound convincing, she noticed, sensing that his folks would also be furious. “And why do they have to know?” She moved back, farther away from him.

“I refuse to have a secret, back door affair with you or any other man, Adam, and I’m surprised you’d want something like that. I wouldn’t have thought it your style.”

His right index finger moved back and forth along his square jaw, a sure sign of frustration. “You’re right. I don’t want it. My one brief experience with a secret affair, if you could even call it an affair, was disastrous. But then I was only fifteen.” Her eyebrows shot up. He’d started early. When she was fifteen, she hardly knew what boys were for.

They hadn’t moved from her foyer. “Come on in.” He followed as she glided into the living room.

“Melissa, I’m relocating for a couple of months. That may cool things down between us, and if it does, I expect it will be for the best.” She couldn’t argue with that, nor could she understand why it pleased her that his heated look belied his words.

“You’re right again,” she said. “It would be for the best. I think we ought to avoid each other so we don’t reopen those old family wounds, because I don’t want to stir up that mess.”

“Neither do I.” He walked a few paces, turned around, and let her see the desire in his eyes. “But I want you.” A note of finality laced his tone.

His words sent tremors racing through her, but she maintained her composure. “And you always get what you want?” she goaded.

He shrugged. “Why should I want something and not get it if all that’s required is effort on my part? I go after what I want, Melissa. I work hard—I leave nothing to chance, and I get what I go after.”

“This time you may get what you don’t want,” she told him, seeing in her mind’s eye the ugliness on their horizon.

* * *

Adam walked home oblivious to the light misty rain. The minute Melissa had opened her door, she had guessed his reason for being there, and her demeanor had become that of a defenseless person at the mercy of a Goliath. Not that he’d been taken in by that. She could defend herself with the best of them. But she’d parted her lips and squinted at him, and he’d lost it. Getting her to him had been the only thing he’d cared about. He weighed the chances of dashing safely across Broadway against the light, noted the speeding cabs, and decided to wait. Thinking about it now, he admitted that his reason for going to Melissa had nothing to do with the office manager. He’d needed to see her. His displeasure about Lester had been a weak excuse.

Chapter 4

A
dam closed and locked his office door, spoke at length with Olivia, took the elevator down to the garage, got into his newly leased Jaguar, and headed for Beaver Ridge. He hadn’t told Melissa where he would spend the next two months or so, because he wanted to find out whether a complete break would have any effect on their feelings for each other. He couldn’t imagine that they’d lose interest though, because a mutual attraction as strong as theirs had to run its course. He loved to drive and had missed having a car, which he considered more of a nuisance than a convenience in New York, but he’d forgotten the frustration of driving bumper to bumper. After more than four hours in heavy traffic, he turned at last into Frederick Douglas Drive, the long roadway that marked the beginning of his family’s property.

Wayne met him at the door of the imposing white Georgian house that Jacob Hayes had built for himself and his heirs sixty-five years earlier. Remodeled and modernized inside, it was home to Adam as no other place ever would be. He could close his eyes and see every stone in the huge, marble-capped living room fireplace. As a youth he’d slipped numerous times out of the room’s large back window that oversaw his mother’s rose garden and, as many times, the thorns had ripped his pants. He had loved the solitude that its many rooms assured him, and cherished the stolen fun he’d had with his brother when they secluded themselves in upstairs closets or the attic away from parental eyes. Coming home was a feeling like no other.

* * *

He and Wayne exchanged hugs in the foyer that separated the living and dining rooms and slapped each other affectionately on the back, appraising each other with approval, before Wayne took one of Adam’s bags, and they climbed the wide staircase to Adam’s room.

“What do you know about the new manager you hired for Leather and Hides? I’m sure you investigated his references. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s competent...but, well, can we trust him?”

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “He came with excellent references, but if you’re suspicious...” He let the thought hang. Wayne’s question raised a possibility that he hadn’t considered. He went to find his mother, to let her know he’d come home.

* * *

With several hours remaining before dinner, Adam decided to visit Bill Henry, his mother’s youngest brother. He figured he’d be seeing a lot of his uncle. If any man had come to terms with life, B-H was that man. And with a stressful two months ahead of him, he was going to need the relief that B-H’s company always provided. He entered the modestly constructed, white clapboard house without knocking. When B-H was at home, the door was always unlocked, and in summer the house was open except for the screen doors. It amused him that his wealthy uncle chose to eschew the manifestations of wealth, while his neglected investments made him richer by the minute.

“Why’re you home in midsummer, Adam? You usually manage to avoid this heat.” Not only did Bill Henry take his time speaking, Adam noted—his uncle, though still a relatively young man, did everything at a slow pace.

“Wayne asked me to come home. I expect you’ve heard about the near fiasco at Leather and Hides. I hope it was a simple error, but I’m beginning to suspect that someone wants to sink Hayes/Roundtree Enterprises. We don’t know who’s masterminding it, or even if that’s the case, but one of our employees had a hand in it. It couldn’t have happened otherwise.”

Bill Henry rocked himself in the contour rocker that he’d had designed to fit his six-foot four-inch frame. “What kind of mix-up was it?”

Adam related the details. “That’s burned-up money, B-H.” He wiped the perspiration from his brow. If Bill Henry chose to live close to nature, he could at least have something handy with which his guests could fan. The man must have sensed Adam’s discomfort, for he passed an old almanac to his nephew, and Adam made good use of it.

“Any new men on the job?” When Adam shook his head and then looked hard at him, as though less certain than he had been, B-H probed.

“Anybody mad at you?”

Adam shrugged. “I’ve thought of both possibilities, and I’ve got some ideas. But I can’t act until I’m positive. In the meantime I’ll install a variety of security measures. If you have any thoughts on it, give me a call.”

Adam took his time walking the half mile back home in the ninety-six-degree heat. A new man was on the job, but what did that prove? He had no reason to suspect Calvin Nelson. The man was too experienced to have permitted such a blunder, so he couldn’t have known about it. If it was deliberate... But why would he want to do such a thing? Unless... Adam didn’t want to believe that Melissa would engineer the destruction of his family’s company, that she would participate in industrial sabotage, producing the perfect candidate for the job. One who could destroy his family’s livelihood. No, he didn’t believe it. But she was a Grant, and there had never been such a mishap at Leather and Hides in the plant’s sixty-five years. Not until Calvin Nelson became its manager. It was a complication that he’d prefer not to have and an idea that he couldn’t accept.

* * *

He didn’t want to think about Melissa, but he couldn’t get her out of his head, because something in him had latched on to her and refused to let go. He’d taken a chance in letting her think their relationship was over. If she knew him better, she’d know that he finished what he started, and that she was unfinished business. He meant to have her, and leaving her for two months only made it more difficult. Melissa was special, and she appealed to him on many levels. He liked her wit, the way her mind worked, her composure, the laid-back sexy way she glided about. And he liked her company. He was tired of games, sick of hollow seductions, disgusted with chasing women he’d already caught just because good taste demanded it. It was always the same. A woman allowed him to chase her until she decided enough time had elapsed or he’d spent enough money, and then she let herself be caught. He never promised anything, but she’d go to bed and then she chased him. He was sick of it. Done with it. Melissa didn’t engage in such shenanigans, at least not with him, and that was part of her attraction. He wondered if she’d miss him.

* * *

A phone call from her father was reason for apprehension, though Melissa had learned not to display her real feelings when his treatment of her lacked the compassion that a daughter had a right to expect of her father. But when her father called her office and began his conversation with a reminder of her duties to her family, she knew he was about to make one of his unreasonable demands. She geared herself for the worst, and it was soon forthcoming.

“Melissa, you’ve been ignoring your mother,” he began, omitting the greeting. “I’m taking her to the hospital so the doctors can run some more tests. They can’t find anything wrong with her, but anybody can see she’s not well. Your mother’s getting weaker every day, and I want you to come home.” She didn’t want to argue with him. She had talked with her mother for a half hour the day before, and Emily Grant hadn’t alluded to any illness, though she had said that she got tired of taking test after test just to please her husband. But Melissa knew that her father’s views about his wife’s health would be the basis on which he acted, not the opinions of a doctor.

A strange thought flitted through her mind. She had never heard her father call her mother by her given name. Did he know it? It was my wife, your mother, she, her, and you. She didn’t want to go back to that depressing environment. It wasn’t a home, but a place where trapped people coexisted. Her brother had found relief from it by taking a job in Kenya.

“Father, I have responsibilities here.” She’d told him that many times, but he denied it as many times as he heard it.

“And I’ve told you that if you come home, I’ll support you.” She didn’t want that and wouldn’t accept it, but if her mother needed her, she couldn’t ignore that. Annoyance flared when he added, “And I need a hostess and someone to accompany me on special occasions. Your mother isn’t up to it, or so she says. She isn’t up to anything.”

She terminated the conversation as quickly as she could. “I’ll call you in a day or two, Father, and let you know what I can do.” Why hadn’t she told him no? That he could hire someone to help with her mother. Wasn’t she ever going to stand up to her father, stop begging for his approval? She closed her office door, kicked off her shoes, and began analysis of her financial situation to determine the effect of a move to Frederick, Maryland. Her father was insensitive in some ways, but she’d never known him to lie. Maybe her mother didn’t want to worry her by admitting that she was ill. She thought for a while. Yes, that would be consistent with her mother’s personality. Three hours later she walked down the corridor and knocked on the door of two lawyers who’d just begun their practice. If they agreed to her proposal, she’d move her business to Frederick. Later that afternoon she telephoned Burke’s Moving Managers and set a date.

* * *

Melissa entered her apartment that evening and looked around at the miscellaneous artifacts that had eased her life and given her pleasure for the five years she’d lived there. She loved her home, but she could make another one, she rationalized, fighting the tears. Ilona’s phone call saved her a case of melancholy.

“Melissa, darling, come down for a coffee. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“You saw me yesterday when I was hailing a taxi. Give me a minute to change.”

Ilona hadn’t indicated that she had a guest, and Melissa winced when she saw the debonair man. A boutonniere was all he needed to complete the picture of a Hungarian count. Melissa had dressed suitably for one packing to leave town with all of her belongings, but not for the company of an old-world gentleman. At times she could throttle Ilona.

“You and Tibor remember each other, don’t you?” Ilona asked with an air of innocence that belied her matchmaking, as she placed three glasses of hot espresso and a silver dish of chocolates on the coffee table. They nodded. Melissa suppressed a laugh. She was glad he didn’t click his heels, though he did bow and kiss the hand that she’d been tempted to hide behind her. After a half hour of such dullness that not even Ilona’s considerable assets as a hostess could enliven, Tibor bowed, kissed Melissa’s hand once more, and left. Ilona turned to Melissa.

“He is crushed, darling. He has been begging me to invite you down when he is here, so last night I promised him that if he came over this evening, I would ask you, too. I couldn’t warn you to wear something feminine, because then you’d give me an excuse not to come down. But Melissa, darling, you could have showed him a little interest.” At the quirk of Melissa’s eyebrow, Ilona added, “Just for fun, darling. A real woman is never above a little harmless flirtation.” The more Ilona talked, the stronger her accent became.

“Ilona, you spend too much time thinking about men. I’ve—”

Ilona interrupted her, clearly aghast at such blasphemy. “Melissa, darling, that’s not possible. Ah...wait a minute. What happened with that man?”

“Nothing happened. He built a fire, and he’s going away for a couple of months. Before you ask, the fire is still raging.”

Melissa looked with amusement at Ilona’s open-mouthed astonishment. “You mean he didn’t take you to bed? What kind of man is this?” Both shoulders tightened in a shrug, and her palms spread outward as if acknowledging the incredulous.

“He’s your kind of man, Ilona, believe me.” She grinned as Ilona shrugged again, this time in disbelief. “Anyway, that’s irrelevant now. I’m moving back to Frederick.”

“You couldn’t be serious, darling. The town doesn’t even have a ballet company—you told me so yourself. Who could live in such a place?” Ilona would have been a wonderful actress, Melissa decided, grinning broadly, as she took in her friend’s mercurial facial expressions and impassioned gesticulations. And all because a town of forty thousand inhabitants didn’t have a resident ballet company.

“I’ve decided to try it for two years.” She had to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. Ilona would pick it up in seconds and start punching holes in the idea. “My mother isn’t well,” she went on, “and... Look, I’ve made the arrangements, and if you hadn’t called, I’d be packing right now.” Melissa watched Ilona’s eyes widen.

“Really? Well, darling, you know I don’t do anything laborious, but I’ll help you pack. This is terrible. I hate to see you go but...” She paused, and a brilliant smile lit her face. “Maybe you will find there the man for you.”

Melissa couldn’t restrain the laughter. Was there a scenario into which Ilona couldn’t inject romance? “Thanks for the offer, but my biggest problem is finding a tenant. I’ll pack my personal things, but the movers will pack everything else.”

“You’re not selling your apartment?”

Melissa wondered at her keen interest. “No. I’m going to rent it unfurnished for two years. If I find life in Frederick intolerable, I’ll move back here.”

Ilona beamed. “I have a friend who would take your apartment for two years. That would suit us both, darling. Your place would be in good hands, and I’d be assured of seeing him every night, even if New York got two feet of snow. Shall I tell him?”

Melissa couldn’t contain the peals of laughter that erupted from her throat at the gleam in Ilona’s green eyes. “Sure thing,” she told Ilona when she recovered. “Tell him to call my office tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Two weeks later Melissa sat on a bench facing Courthouse Square in Frederick, exhausted. It hadn’t occurred to her that finding an office in her hometown would be so difficult. In the short time since she’d made her decision, she’d arranged to share her secretary with the lawyers who had offices down the hall from her own in New York, made similar arrangements in Washington, D.C., and Baltimore, and shifted her business headquarters to Frederick. With fax, email, telephones, and the use of electronic bulletin boards, she had expanded her business while cutting her expenses in half. But coming back home also had its darker side. She hated that the bed she slept in was the one she’d used as a child, and her father, satisfied that he had her once more under control, ignored her most of the time.