Against All Odds. Gwynne Forster

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