Against All Odds

She turned on her heel and headed for the elevator, but Jason must have guessed her intention, because he detained her. “Melissa, it isn’t smart to belittle Adam. You wouldn’t get away with it, and there’s no point in making an enemy of him. Besides,” he grinned lazily, “the food at Thompson’s is first class. Worth a try.” She looked up as Adam approached the elevator with Calvin Nelson. His disapproving scowl told her that he knew what she’d threatened and dared her to do it. Jason looked from one to the other. He didn’t know that she and Adam were more than business associates, she remembered, forced a smile and got on the elevator.

* * *

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.