style="font-size:15px;"> “Same as always. I’ll tell him you asked.” The voice suddenly lacked its soft, southern lilt. “I know you’re busy, dear, but come home when you can. And take care of yourself. You hear?”
Melissa hung up, feeling no better than before she’d made the call.
* * *
Melissa arrived at her apartment building that evening just as her friend, Ilona, reached it. She had met Ilona—a blond, vivacious, and engaging Hungarian with a flair for wit, conversation, and romance...and who admitted to fifty years—in the mail room just off the lobby. Until she’d met her, Melissa had never known anyone who kept a salon. You could always meet an assortment of artists, musicians, singers, dancers, and writers in Ilona’s bachelor apartment. Most were Europeans; all of them were interesting.
“Melissa, darling,” Ilona said in her strong accent, “come with me for a coffee for a few minutes.” Ilona drank hot espresso even on the hottest day.
“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
