Against All Odds. Gwynne Forster

looked up at Adam, trying to read him. “I’m sorry you were exposed to this, Adam. My father never wanted a daughter, and sometimes I think he’s not sure he has one. At least that’s how he acts.” She’d meant it in jest, but Adam’s dour expression told her that he was not amused. Upon reflection, she wondered if her father might be more caring if she showed him that his opinion of her didn’t matter. Should it matter so much, she pondered, as she and Adam walked without speaking to the elevator, her hand tightly enclosed in his.

      At her apartment door he held his hand for her key, and she gave it to him and watched him open her door. Inside, Adam asked her, “Does your father always behave this way with you, or was he disrespectful because you were with me, a Roundtree?”

      “Both. He’s that way when I do something that displeases him,” she explained, “which is fairly frequent.”

      “How does he act when you brother displeases him? Or does that ever happen?”

      She hesitated; even though she was displeased with her father and ashamed of his behavior toward her, she couldn’t criticize him. Especially not to a man whom he considered an enemy.

      “Adam, my brother doesn’t displease my parents.” Then as the implications of her words hung between them, she joshed, “He’s the good kid.

      “Come on in the kitchen with me while I make some coffee.” She had to change the subject—she didn’t want Adam to see her as an ineffectual person. They were business associates, and she’d better remember that. She gave him a mug of coffee, and when he nodded in approval after having sniffed it, she was glad she’d made it strong.

      “I like it straight,” he told her, when she offered sugar and cream. “I also like your taste. I wouldn’t have thought that beige and a dark gray would be so comfortable to look at, but this kitchen is attractive. Of course, the yellow accents don’t hurt.”

      Her surprise at his interest in colors must have showed, because he shrugged and explained, “I dabble in watercolors.” Then he asked her, “What’s your hobby?”

      She hesitated. “I go to a library in Harlem on Saturday mornings in the winter and conduct a children’s story hour.”

      “That’s not a hobby, Melissa. That’s volunteer work. What’s your hobby? I mean, what do you do for fun, just to please yourself?”

      She didn’t reveal that part of herself to acquaintances. Only her mother knew of her secret pleasure, though she hadn’t let her mother read her verses. A desire to share herself with Adam welled up in her. She didn’t look directly at him. “I like to write poetry. When I was at home, before I went to college, I used to sit in my room writing poems, and if I heard my father or brother roaming around or calling me, I’d hide what I was writing under my mattress.”

      His grim expression disconcerted her. “You don’t think much of poetry writing?” He stood, his gaze boring into her. “I was thinking that I’ve known you less than a month and yet I know you better than your family does.” Lowering her eyelids, she tried to veil her emotions from his probing stare. Her sudden self-consciousness must have been evident to him, for his casual posture suddenly changed. As though attempting to rein in an uncustomary wildness, he jammed both hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels before turning swiftly and heading toward her hallway. Her ingrained courteousness overcame her diffidence, and she followed to see him out. At the door he turned to her.

      “It’s too bad that my presence caused you problems with your father. I expect you have enough trouble with him without having to explain why you were with me.” She sensed that this impatient, demanding, and sometimes harsh man could be gentle, tender, and he would be that way with her. Her gaze drifted up to his face to the yearning, the fiery passion in his eyes and unconsciously she moved to him.

      “Adam. Oh, Adam.” Both of his hands reached out and wrapped her into his embrace. Her senses reeled at the feel of his big hand behind her head, positioning her for the force of his mouth. Heat shot through her when his marauding lips finally took possession of her, imprisoning her in a torrent of molten passion. He nipped her bottom lip and quickly, as if she’d waited a lifetime to do it, she opened for him and welcomed his hot tongue into every crevice of her hungry mouth. She reveled in the savage intensity with which he loved her, crushing her to him, then caressing her with a gentleness that belied the strength of his ardor. She opened her mouth wider, and as if he sensed a deeper need in her—one that he wanted to fulfill—his hand stroked her bottom then pulled her up until the seat of her passion pressed against the unmistakable evidence of his desire.

      More. She needed more. To be a part of him, to crawl inside of him. One hand moved to his head to increase the pressure of his mouth on hers while the other caressed his face and neck. Frantically she undulated against him. His groan warned her to stop it, but she couldn’t make herself move from him. The feel of his hard chest against her tender, sensitive breasts, his hands moving slowly over her back, and the intimacy of her position against him enticed her closer. She wanted... His hands gently separated them and held her from him. When she dared look at him, she saw his difficulty in maintaining control. Honest to a fault, as always, when she could restore her equilibrium, and without thought to sparing either of them, she told him, “If you hadn’t waited so long to do that, it might have been easier.”

      He released a grudging laugh. “Easier? You’re kidding. Woman, kissing you is easy—it’s the consequences that’ll sure as hell be rough.” He continued to let his gaze roam indolently over her, and she knew his passion hadn’t cooled.

      She backed away from him. What had she been thinking about? If she had doubted that an involvement with Adam would rekindle the hatred between their families, her father’s behavior when he saw them together was proof. Adam folded his arms and leaned against the wall, obviously judging her reaction to what had just happened.

      “I see you intend to break off personal relations between us. I agree that we ought to at least decide if we want to go where we seem to be headed, but I hope you know that breaking it off and staying away from each other will be easier said than done.” He brushed her cheek with his lips and winked at her. “I’ll call you.”

      “At my office on business only,” she quickly interjected. His raised eyebrow did not signify agreement.

      She closed the door, drew a deep breath, and sat down to assimilate her feelings. One minute she had thought he’d walk away from her as usual, but in the next she was reeling from the jolt of his strength and passion. She knew that trouble lay ahead of her, so why was she already anxious for that telephone call? A famous actress once said that she’d have swum the Atlantic to be with her man—I still don’t know exactly why, Melissa reasoned, but I sure am in a better position to guess.

      * * *

      Two days later, one day short of the month allowed in her contract, Melissa decided that she’d found a candidate with flawless credentials, one whom Adam couldn’t reject. As was her custom, she escorted the candidate, Calvin Nelson, to his potential employer. Jason Court like the man and assured her that his boss would. Adam hired Nelson after an interview that confirmed Melissa’s opinion that Adam was hard, but fair, and that he had a keen mind. And her relief was nearly palpable when Adam made no allusion to the intimacy they had shared the previous Sunday evening.

      “You’re African American and so is Mr. Court,” Calvin Nelson commented to Adam. “When I saw you, I was sure I wouldn’t get the job, that you wouldn’t hire a man who wasn’t African American for such a high position in your company.”

      Furrows creased Adam’s brow as he leaned back in his chair and weighed the words. The man was open, unafraid to speak his mind; he liked that. “I’m an equal opportunity employer, Calvin. What I want in an employee is competence, integrity, and honor. I don’t give a hoot about a person’s sex or ethnicity.” He stood and shook Calvin Nelson’s hand. “Welcome to Hayes/Roundtree Enterprises, Calvin. Oh, yes. We use first names here and in Maryland. Let me know what I can do to help you get settled in Frederick.”

      * * *