Against All Odds. Gwynne Forster
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.”
“Adam, I don’t see that there’s anything to straighten out. Anyway, you probably won’t enjoy lunch with me. I don’t care much for power executives and two-hour lunches.”
He spoke more slowly, and his tone suggested that he didn’t like what she’d said. Why did the worst in her always seem to come out when she talked to him? She reckoned that, no matter how much the corporate giant he was, he had feelings, and she didn’t want to hurt him.
“I take it you don’t care for executive men. Why?”
“It isn’t that I dislike them—I understand them.”
He winced, and she had no trouble figuring out what he’d thought of that. Not much.
“I wasn’t aware that we were all alike,” he replied with pronounced sarcasm. Then he asked her, “Melissa, when you signed our contract, did you know I was a member of the Hayes-Roundtree family in Beaver Ridge, Maryland?”
“Yes, I knew.” She’d been expecting the question and had wondered why he hadn’t asked earlier. That was one thing she had decided she liked about him—he didn’t waste time speculating if he could get the facts. “I run a business, Adam, and I try to give my clients good service. If I think I can find them the kind of employee they want, I take the job. I don’t hold one person responsible for what another did.” The words had barely left her mouth when she realized her mistake.
His low, icy tone confirmed it. “Moses Morris’s accusation was false and unconscionable, and that was proved in court.”
“I’m sorry I alluded to that. I’d rather not discuss it. As far as I’m concerned, the matter was over seventy years ago.”
“No. You won’t state where you stand on that issue, though you know it’s important. You’ll evade it just like you walked out of my office without completing our discussions the day I met you. Avoid the heat, lady. That way you can stay calm, unruffled, unscathed, and above it all.”
She couldn’t tell from his voice whether she had angered him or saddened him, but she wouldn’t let him browbeat her. “You’re very clever to have learned so much about me in the...let’s see, two and a half hours that you’ve been in my presence. The arrogance of it boggles my mind, Adam. Well, let me tell you that I hurt as badly as the next Joe or Jane, and I bleed when I get cut, just like you do.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to— Melissa, this was a friendly call. I wanted to get to know you. I... We’ll talk another time.”
Her gaze lingered on the telephone after she hung up, annoyed with herself for having revealed such an intimacy to Adam. She could hardly believe that he’d been so accurate. She’d gotten out of his office that morning to preserve her professionalism, but for reasons other than he’d said. His effect on her had been mesmerizing, and she’d had no choice but to flee or lose her poise. She couldn’t allow him to regard her as just so much fluff—she headed a flourishing business, and she wanted that fact impressed on him.
*