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“Okay, but only for a couple of minutes.” They rode the crowded elevator in silence and didn’t speak until they were inside Ilona’s place.
“What’s with you, darling?” Ilona called everybody “darling.” “Who is the man?” Laughter tumbled from Melissa’s throat, the first genuine merriment she’d felt since signing that contract.
“With you, it’s always a man, Ilona. This time, you guessed right.” She recounted her meeting that morning with Adam Roundtree.
“I don’t understand,” Ilona said.
“If I had passed up that contract, I might have had to declare bankruptcy. Now...well...Ilona, Adam Roundtree didn’t know who I was, but when he found out, I could see the light dimming in his eyes. You see, back in the 1920s his grandfather and my grandfather pooled their money to prospect some unproductive Kentucky oil fields for natural gas. For some reason, my grandfather pulled out, and six months later, Jacob Hayes brought in gas. My grandfather claimed that the gas field belonged to both of them, but he lost the court case. The townspeople gossiped, and years later Adam’s mother sued my family for slander and won an apology. It’s a mess. As far as I know, the Hayes-Roundtree clan and my folks hadn’t spoken in seventy years—until today when I met Adam Roundtree. You can’t mention their names in my father’s house.”
“And how do you feel about all this?”
“I don’t carry grudges.” Her weak smile must have reflected her grim mood; for once, Ilona had no clever response. Ilona brought their espresso coffee and some frozen homemade chocolates, explaining that she hadn’t made them and that she never cooked.
“If I had been wearing my glasses this morning, I’d have been better prepared for what I saw when I got close to Adam.” She thought that glasses didn’t become her and wore them only when absolutely necessary. Her laughter floated through the apartment. “The truth is that if I could have seen him, I wouldn’t have been foolish enough to get that close to him.” She rose to leave, but Ilona detained her.
“Darling, what are you going to do about this man?”
Melissa shrugged. “Avoid him as much as possible.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, “but I’d never give up on that man.”
“I’d like to see more of him but, knowing what I know, that wouldn’t be smart. I’d better go.”
Melissa left Ilona and went home to get her dinner and review some contracts. Her face heated as she remembered what she’d felt when she got a good look at Adam. He’d made her feel... Recalling it embarrassed her. His smooth sepia skin invited her touch, and when she’d looked into his warm brown eyes, eyes that had a natural twinkle, she sensed herself being lulled into a receptive mood, receptive to anything he might suggest or do. Although twenty-eight, she had never experienced such a reaction to a man. His big frame had towered over her five feet eight inches, but she hadn’t been intimidated. Power. Flagrant maleness. He exuded both. Adam Roundtree was handsome...
and dangerous. His eyes continued to twinkle, she recalled, even when his tone became cool.
* * *
Melissa arrived early at her office, drank a cup of tasteless machine coffee, and settled into her work. At about eight thirty, she answered her secretary’s buzz.
“Yes, Kelly.”
“Mr. Roundtree insists that he won’t speak with anyone but you, and that if you refuse to talk to him, he’ll void the contract. He says he knows other executive search firms. He’s serious.”
Melissa remembered Jason Court’s deference to his boss. Void their contract? “Just let him try it,” she told Kelly. “Put him on.” She let him wait a second, but not so long as to seem rude. “How may I help you, Mr. Roundtree?”
“My name is Adam, Melissa, and you may help me by assuring me that you don’t palm off your clients on your assistants. I’m paying enough to be able to speak with you directly. You left my office before I had an opportunity to tell you what you can trade off. I know what the contract says, but we may have to give a little, because I can’t wait for a manager until you’ve checked every guy who’s been close to a cow. Could we meet somewhere for lunch tomorrow, say around one thirty?”
“Does that mean I can check every gal who’s been near a pig or an alligator?” she asked, alluding to other sources of leather. She heard him snort, but before he could answer, she agreed to meet him. “One o’clock would be better for me, and I like a light lunch. How about Thompson’s?” He had to compromise, she figured. And why couldn’t he discuss it right then? Adam’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Alright. Thompson’s at one. And Melissa, leave your armor in your office.”
“Will do. And you leave your tough guy personality in yours.”
“See you tomorrow.” He hung up, and she thought she heard him make a noise. It couldn’t have been a laugh. Maybe he had a hidden soft side, but if he did, she didn’t want to be exposed to it—what she’d seen of him was more beguiling than she cared to deal with.
Melissa walked into her co-op apartment in Lincoln Towers, three blocks from Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, closed the door, and thanked God for the cool, refreshing air. She got a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator, took it into the living room and drank it while she watched the six o’clock news. After a few minutes her mind wandered to Adam Roundtree, and she switched off the television. She disliked driven, overachieving, corporate males. Gilbert Lewis had been one, a man with a timetable for everything. After “X” number of dinners, movies, and taxi rides, you either went to bed with him, or you were off of his list. She had told him to get lost when he gave her his stock ultimatum. She had stupidly fallen for him, and his attitude had hurt, but she’d kept her integrity. And now there was Adam Roundtree, a man whose impact on her when she met him was far more profound than any emotion Gilbert Lewis or any other man had ever induced.
* * *
Melissa wouldn’t have admitted that she dressed with special care that morning, had the red linen dress that she wore only when she wanted to make an impression not been proof. If her parents knew she planned to have lunch with Adam Roundtree, they’d have conniptions. She’d never been able to please her father, and her mother only said and did that which pleased her husband. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw her mother’s grayish brown eyes and her father’s mulatto coloring—the result of generations of mulatto inbreeding—and prayed that that was as much like them as she’d ever be. One thing was certain—if her business went under, she would consider it to have been due to her own shortcomings, not the fault of some imagined enemy that could be conveniently blamed the way her father always blamed the Hayeses and Roundtrees for his succession of failures. She let her curly hair hang down around her shoulders in spite of the summer heat, picked up her briefcase, and went to work.
* * *
She arrived at Thompson’s promptly at one to find Adam leaning casually against the cashier’s counter at the entrance to the restaurant. Punctuality fitted what she’d seen of his personality, and it was a trait she admired. His piercing gaze and that twinkle in his eyes fascinated her, and she realized she’d better get used to him—and quick—or he’d be laughing at her. She shook his hand and greeted him with seeming casualness, but the feel of his big hand splayed in the middle of her back as he steered her to their table was a test she could have happily forgone.
Melissa’s heavy lashes shot upward, and she gasped in surprise at the dozen yellow roses on their table. She glanced quickly at Adam, opened the attached note, and read: “My apologies for not having done this Tuesday rather than ask you to come to my office. Forgiven? Adam.”
Unable to associate the man with the soft gesture, she merely stared at him.
“Well?”
Melissa glanced downward to avoid his piercing gaze with its suggestive twinkle, certain that he discerned the flutter in her chest.
“Thanks. It’s a lovely gesture.”
Immediately he replaced his diffidence with his usual businesslike mien.
“Well, did you bring it?”
“Did I bring what?” she asked. His tone was jocular, but she wasn’t certain that it depicted his mood. She suspected that, with him, what you saw and even what you thought you heard might mislead you.
“Did you bring your armor?” She wanted to glare at him but didn’t trust herself to look straight into his eyes long enough to make it effective.
“It’s always close by,” she told him with studied sweetness, “but I’m not wearing it out of deference to your sensitive, gentle self.” He laughed. The dancing glints in his eyes matched both his softened face and the smile that framed his even white teeth, and hot sparks shot through her, his transformation very nearly electrifying her. He broke it off at once, and she had the feeling that laughing wasn’t something that he did often.
“When did you last laugh?” She watched him quirk an eyebrow and then frown.
“Not recently. What made you ask?”
She narrowed her eyes, squinting to get a good look, and shrugged her shoulder. “You didn’t seem comfortable doing it.” He laughed again, and she realized that he surprised himself when he did it.
Melissa controlled the urge to laugh along with him, reminding herself that she couldn’t afford to be captivated by his mercurial personality—they were there to discuss business. Her business. He sat erect suddenly, all semblance of good humor banished. She needn’t have been concerned, she told herself, because he had his own techniques for keeping people at a distance. And right then, his method was to serve his charm in small doses.
“Why did you need to see me in person?” she asked him. Did the twinkle in his eyes become brighter, or was she mistaken? She wished she could look somewhere else.
“My father managed Leather and Hides in his own way, ignoring the latest techniques and machinery. He made a good product, the best, but he’s gone now, and he didn’t leave a manual. I need a manager who can deal with that, who can make the business a state-of-the-art operation without sacrificing the quality that my father achieved. And I want an increase in productivity. We need to work together if I’m going to get what I’m looking for.”
“What are you willing to give up?”
He listed several traits that she considered minor.
“Okay. Now I’d like to eat my salad.” She looked down at her food and began to eat, but she knew he was glaring at her.
“Melissa, do I automatically ring your bell, or are you planning to carry on this ridiculous family feud?”
“I could ask you that.”
“You ring something, alright, but I’d hardly call it a bell. As for the rest, I chart my own course. I alone decide what I think and how I act, and my criteria for judging people don’t include reference to their forebears.”
“I can buy that. But with all their weaknesses, parents and siblings are very important, and it isn’t easy or comfortable to turn one’s back on them.” She could have kicked herself for that statement—after all, her thoughts about her family were not his business. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked him.
He seemed momentarily perplexed. “I didn’t realize I was. My common sense tells me I’d never forget a woman like you, but there’s something... Do you get the impression that we’ve met before...under unusual circumstances?”
“No. To my knowledge, I saw you yesterday for the first time. Why do you think we met somewhere else?”
“Just a feeling I have. When you were speaking softly about your family, your voice reminded me of someone and something special. Forget it. It’s probably just my imagination. Well, I’ve enjoyed our lunch, Melissa. Are you going to take my calls, or will I have to use blackmail again?”
She didn’t look at him. With that teasing tone, she could imagine the expression in his eyes. “Blackmail. But try something more original next time.” They both laughed, and she realized she liked him.
* * *
Adam told Melissa goodbye and walked briskly toward his office. In spite of the heat he didn’t want to go inside. He had a strange and uncomfortable feeling that something important was about to occur. It was like smelling a storm in the scent of the wind. Melissa Grant did not fit a mold, at least not one with which he was familiar. She wasn’t beautiful, but something about her grabbed him, embedded itself in him. He’d often wondered if he would ever feel for a woman what he’d felt the first time he saw her, wondered whether there would ever be a graceful, intelligent woman who’d bring him to heel. He had an irritating certainty that she could. She’d made him laugh, too, not once but three times, and it had felt good. The loud horn blast of a red Ford alerted him to the changing traffic light, and he stepped back to the curb and waited under the blazing sun. Melissa respected him, he reflected, but she wasn’t afraid of him, and he didn’t know many men about whom he could say that. But she was a professional associate, and she was a Grant.
* * *
Several days later at their regular Monday morning conference, Adam questioned Jason Court about Melissa. He wanted to know what progress she’d made, but he had other queries, too.
“Jason, why did you choose MTG for this search? I’m not displeased, just interested.” He had to know exactly what Melissa’s relationship was to Jason, and he scrutinized the man for any shred of evidence that he had a personal interest in her.
“MTG placed me in this job, Adam. I presume since you’ve just met her that my predecessor negotiated the terms. Anyway, she impressed me with her efficiency and manners. She’s thorough. She’s competent. If you answer all of her questions truthfully, you won’t have a secret when she’s through with you.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” So there was nothing personal between them. Good. He recalled her reaction to him when they met; if any other man was interested in Melissa Grant, he was out of luck.
Adam watched Jason tilt his head to one side, as if making certain of his words, before he said, “She’s not bad on the eyes, but she’s nearsighted as all hell. Man, she can’t see a thing from a distance of five feet, and when she does wear glasses, they’re on top of her head instead of on her eyes.” Adam couldn’t control the laughter that erupted from his chest. His head went back, and he laughed aloud, causing Jason to gape at him, apparently stunned.
“What’s so funny, Adam? That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in the four years I’ve been working for you.”
Adam stood, effectively terminating the meeting. “You don’t want to know, Jason. Believe me, you don’t.” He went to his office, closed the door, and enjoyed a good laugh. The morning she’d come to his office, Melissa hadn’t seen him clearly until she was close enough to touch him, and what she saw must have sent her hormones into a tailspin. At least it was mutual.
* * *
The flashing phone lights brought him out of his heretofore unheard-of indulgence in reverie. “Roundtree.” He’d hoped it was Melissa calling to say that she had found a prospect, but it was his younger brother, Wayne.
“I’ve engaged a search firm to find a head for Leather and Hides, Wayne. Yes, I know you’re not keen on headhunters, but it’s the most efficient way to get the kind of person we want.” He didn’t mention that he’d hired Melissa Grant to do the job; time enough when the bimonthly report circulated. He wasn’t ready to take on Wayne and his mother, especially his mother, about dealing with a Grant or a Morris. Mary Hayes Roundtree would go to her grave despising the Morrises and Grants. Such a waste of emotion! He got up from his desk and began to pace. Wayne was asking a lot of him. The telephone cord reached its limit and halted Adam’s pacing.
“You’re suggesting that I leave my firm here in New York and spend three months in Frederick reorganizing Hayes/Roundtree Enterprises? But I’ve just been made full partner, Wayne—this is hardly the time to amble off for a few months leave of absence. I know you have your hands full with the paper, but I’ll have to give this some thought and get back to you.”
A leave of absence. He could do it, though he disliked leaving his department in the hands of another person, even Jason Court. But what choice did he have? Wayne wouldn’t suggest it if there was a way around it. His brother couldn’t continue to manage both the leather factory and the newspaper. He needed that manager. He walked around to Jason’s office, thinking of the fallout when their families learned of that contract.
* * *
That question plagued Melissa as she prepared and ate a light supper and mused over the day’s events. The telephone ended her reverie, and one of her father’s demands greeted her hello, shattering her good mood.
“Daddy, I know you think my business is child’s play, but it has supported me well for five years, and I’ve never asked you for help. Can’t you at least credit me with that?” Wrong tactic, she knew at once: independence was precisely what he sought to deny her. “I can’t leave my business and go back home. And I don’t want to.”
“Your mother needs you,” he replied, emphasizing the words this time as if to say, “You wouldn’t dare disobey me.”
Scoffing, she ignored his words. She didn’t wonder that her brother, Schyler, had taken a job overseas to avoid the emasculating effects of their father’s dominance, overprotectiveness, and indulgence.
“Daddy, I’m running a business here. I hire three people full time. I can’t close my business like that—” she snapped her finger “—and leave them and my clients stranded. I have contracts to fulfill.”
“But your mother’s been feeling poorly, and I want you to come home. You don’t have to work—I’ll take care of you. You come home.”
“Don’t my responsibilities mean anything to you, Father?” Melissa wanted to kick herself—he knew she always called him Father when he managed to make her feel like a small child.
His answer didn’t surprise her. “What’s an employment agency? Anybody can run that. You come home where you belong.” Why had she expected anything different? He could as well hire a companion for her mother, and if she went home, he probably wouldn’t even realize she was there. And if her mother needed anyone, it was her husband, the man who ignored her at home but played the besotted husband in public.
Her father hadn’t wanted a girl and had ignored her, but he doted on her brother, and her mother seemed to love whatever and whomever her father loved, because she hadn’t the will to confront or defy her domineering husband. Resentment coursed through her. No matter what she did, her father wasn’t satisfied with her. And now he demanded that she give up the life she’d made for herself. For as long as she could remember, she had done everything she could to please him, but whenever he needed something he imposed on her, never on his precious Schyler.
“I’ll go down and see Mother,” she told him, “but I’ll have to come back.” He hung up, and she knew he was furious, but for once she didn’t care. Immediately shame and remorse overcame her for having thought unkindly about her family. Family was important—Rafer Grant held that premise sacred and had taught her to do the same. She mulled over her father’s suggestion; perhaps moving back to Maryland might not be such a bad idea. She could care for her mother, and computers and fax machines would enable her to run her business from there. She’d also have lower overhead, and she’d be away from the temptation of Adam Roundtree.
Chapter 2
Several days later, frustrated by the poor caliber of the applicants she’d contacted, Melissa answered the phone without waiting for her secretary to screen the call.
“MTG.”
“Melissa? Adam. You must have guessed that it was me. Otherwise you wouldn’t have picked up, right?” What had come over him? She’d had the impression that he didn’t joke much, but that if he did, his words had an important, second meaning.
“Well?”
His voice carried a tantalizing urgency that challenged her to open up to him, but the very idea put her on guard, and she shifted in her chair. He had to be thirty-four or -five and couldn’t have reached that age without knowing his effect on people, especially women. Well, if he wanted to play cat and mouse, fine with her, but she was not going to be the mouse.
“Sure thing,” she bantered. “Didn’t you know that I’m a psychic?” She wasn’t, but let him think about that.
“You disillusion me. I thought you answered because you’re on my wavelength, but I’ve been wrong a few times. How are you getting along?”
“Just fine.”
“You have some good prospects? That’s great.”
“I don’t have any prospects, but I’m just fine.” Silence greeted her delicate laugh. “Adam, what happened to that sense of humor you had a minute ago? Don’t tell me that it only operates at somebody else’s expense?” Before he could reply, she asked him, “You wanted something?”
“I told you. I want to know how you’re getting along with the search.”
“Adam, when I have a candidate, I’ll contact Jason Court.”
“Are you saying you prefer speaking with Court?”
Melissa’s sigh, long and deep, was intended to warn him of her exasperation. “I’m assuming that you’re too busy to deal with so insignificant a matter as a head hunt.” Where was her brain? How could she have told him that he was paying her an exorbitant fee for an insignificant service?
Adam’s thoughts must have parallelled hers, because he spoke in clipped tones. “I didn’t realize you thought so little of the service you provide.” Did his voice reflect bitterness? She wasn’t sure.
“I’m sorry, Adam. It wasn’t my intention to imply that I don’t take your needs seriously.”
“Now you see why I dislike discussing business on the telephone. If I had been looking at you, I wouldn’t have mistaken your intent. Have lunch with me, and let’s straighten this out.”
