prepared to head off any gesture of intimacy on his part. Though wary of the guaranteed effect of his touch, she extended her hand.
“It’s been nice, Adam. Since we’ve just had coffee, I won’t invite you for more. Maybe we’ll meet again.”
His displeasure wasn’t concealed by the dancing light in his eyes, she noted. “Are you always so cut and dried?” When I’m nervous, yes, she thought. Without waiting for her answer, he went on. “Your tendency to dismiss people could be taken as rudeness. Why are you so concerned with protecting yourself? Trust me, Melissa. I can read a woman the way fortune-tellers read tea leaves. You’d like this evening to continue, but you’ve convinced yourself that it wouldn’t be in your best interest, and you have the fortitude necessary to terminate it right now. I like that.”
He grinned. She hadn’t seen him do that before, and she couldn’t decide what to make of it. Why didn’t he leave? She didn’t want to stand there with heat sizzling between them. Tension gripped the back of her neck, and her hair seemed to crackle with electricity when he took a step closer. She moved, signaling her withdrawal from him, and he pinned her with the look of a man who knows every move and what it symbolizes. His brazen gaze told her that her reprieve was temporary, that he knew she was susceptible to him, and that he could easily get her cooperation in knowing him more intimately. Her blood raced when his right hand dusted her cheek just before he nodded and walked away.
* * *
Melissa closed her apartment door, leaned against it, and sighed with relief. Adam Roundtree was quintessential male. An alluring magnet. But she wasn’t fool enough to ruin her life—at least she hoped not. But the uneasy feeling persisted that Adam Roundtree got whatever he wanted, and that her best chance of escaping him was if he didn’t want her. Just the thought of belonging to a man like him was drugging, a narcotic to her libido. With his height, fat-scarce muscular build and handsome dark face, and those long-lashed bedroom eyes with their brown hazel-rimmed irises, he was a charismatic knockout. Add to that his commanding presence and... A long breath escaped her. She recalled his squared, stubborn chin and the personality that it suggested and concluded that if he softened up and stayed that way, he would be a trial for any woman. She heard the telephone as she entered her apartment, and excitement boiled up in her at the thought that Adam could be calling her from the lobby.
Her hello brought both a surprise and a disappointment. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t call me again, Gilbert.”
“You suggested it,” he said, “but I didn’t agree.” At one time she couldn’t have imagined that this man’s voice would fail to thrill her or that her blood wouldn’t churn at the least evidence of his interest.
“You don’t say.” His weary sigh was audible. Women didn’t dangle Gilbert Lewis, and she found his impatience with her disinterest amusing.
“Well, if you didn’t agree, what’s your explanation for this long hiatus? Do you think I’ve been twiddling my thumbs waiting to hear from you?” She didn’t approve of toying with a person’s feelings, but where Gilbert was concerned, she didn’t have a sense of guilt—if he had feelings, he hadn’t made that fact known to her. She grinned at his reply.
“Honey, you don’t know how many times I’ve tried to reach you, but you’re never home. Let’s get together. I’m giving a black tie party next Saturday, and I want you to come. And bring Roundtree.” The latter was posed as an afterthought, but she knew it was the reason for his call. Ever the opportunist, Gilbert Lewis had called because he wanted to meet Adam Roundtree. He had no more interest in her that she had in him.
“And if Adam has other plans, may I come alone or bring someone else?” She had evidently surprised him, and his sputters delighted her, because she’d never known him to be speechless.
“Well,” he stammered. “I’ve always wanted to meet the guy. See if you can get him to come.” She imagined that her laughter angered him, but he was too proud to show it. When she could stop laughing, she answered him.
“Gilbert, you couldn’t have been this transparent four years ago. If you were, there must have been more Maryland hayseed in my hair than I thought. Be a good boy, and stick to your kind of woman. I’m not one of them.” She hung up feeling cleansed. What a difference! Her thoughts went to Adam. That man would never expose himself to ridicule or scorn.
Minutes after he left her, Adam sat at a small table in the Lincoln Center plaza drinking Pernod, absently watching the lighted waters spray upward in the famous fountain. Across the way, the brilliant Chagall murals begged for his attention, offering an alternative to his musings about Melissa Grant, but he could think only of her. His strong physical reaction to her mystified him. He sipped the last of his drink, paid for it, and walked across the street to his high-rise building.
“This has to stop,” he muttered to himself. He’d never mixed business with pleasure, but when they’d reached her apartment building, he had wanted more than the coffee she refused to offer or a simple kiss—he’d wanted her. She would never know how badly. Sound sleep eluded him that night. Another new experience. Like a flickering prism, Melissa danced in and out of his dreams. Awakening him. Deserting him. And waking him up again.
* * *
Adam walked into his adjoining conference room promptly at eight o’clock to find coffee and, as he expected, his senior staff waiting for him. Their normal business completed, he detained them
“Where might an abusive man look for a woman who’d defied him and escaped his brutality?” he asked the group. Anywhere but a small town was the consensus. He returned to his office and began redrafting plans for a women’s center in Hagerstown, Maryland, an unlikely place for one. His secretary walked into his office.
“Are you planning to open another one?” He nodded, explaining that “this is more complicated and more ambitious than our place in Frederick.”
Her gaze roamed over him, with motherly pride, it seemed. “If you need help with this, I’ll work overtime at no cost to you. It’s a wonderful thing you do for these poor women, supporting these projects from your private funds.”
He leaned back in his big leather chair. “I can afford to pay you, Olivia, and I will. You do enough for charity.”
“Pshaw,” she demurred. “What I do is nothing compared to the help you give people. These homes for abused women, that hospital ward for seriously ill children, and the Lord knows what else. God is going to bless you—see if He doesn’t.”
He shook his head, rejecting the compliment. “I’m fortunate. It’s better to be in a position to give than to be on the dole.” Abruptly he changed the topic. “Olivia, what do you think of Melissa Grant? Think she’ll find me a manager for Leather and Hides?”
“Yes. She seemed very businesslike. Real professional. Anyhow, I trust your judgment in hiring her. When it comes to people, you don’t often make mistakes.”
Adam slapped his closed left fist into the palm of his right hand. Not in the last fifteen years, he hadn’t, but the thought pestered him that where Melissa was concerned he was ripe for a blunder of the first order.
Melissa. He had the sense that he’d been with her before. She reminded him of a woman he’d danced with in costume one New Year’s Eve. He’d been dancing with the woman, but at exactly midnight she’d disappeared, leaving an indelible impression. As farfetched as it seemed, whenever Melissa spoke in very soft tones, he thought of that unknown woman. Perhaps he’d wanted the woman because she was mysterious. His blood
