Against All Odds. Gwynne Forster

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      * * *

      She arrived at Thompson’s promptly at one to find Adam leaning casually against the cashier’s counter at the entrance to the restaurant. Punctuality fitted what she’d seen of his personality, and it was a trait she admired. His piercing gaze and that twinkle in his eyes fascinated her, and she realized she’d better get used to him—and quick—or he’d be laughing at her. She shook his hand and greeted him with seeming casualness, but the feel of his big hand splayed in the middle of her back as he steered her to their table was a test she could have happily forgone.

      Melissa’s heavy lashes shot upward, and she gasped in surprise at the dozen yellow roses on their table. She glanced quickly at Adam, opened the attached note, and read: “My apologies for not having done this Tuesday rather than ask you to come to my office. Forgiven? Adam.”

      Unable to associate the man with the soft gesture, she merely stared at him.

      “Well?”

      Melissa glanced downward to avoid his piercing gaze with its suggestive twinkle, certain that he discerned the flutter in her chest.

      “Thanks. It’s a lovely gesture.”

      Immediately he replaced his diffidence with his usual businesslike mien.

      “Well, did you bring it?”

      “Did I bring what?” she asked. His tone was jocular, but she wasn’t certain that it depicted his mood. She suspected that, with him, what you saw and even what you thought you heard might mislead you.

      “Did you bring your armor?” She wanted to glare at him but didn’t trust herself to look straight into his eyes long enough to make it effective.

      “It’s always close by,” she told him with studied sweetness, “but I’m not wearing it out of deference to your sensitive, gentle self.” He laughed. The dancing glints in his eyes matched both his softened face and the smile that framed his even white teeth, and hot sparks shot through her, his transformation very nearly electrifying her. He broke it off at once, and she had the feeling that laughing wasn’t something that he did often.

      “When did you last laugh?” She watched him quirk an eyebrow and then frown.

      “Not recently. What made you ask?”

      She narrowed her eyes, squinting to get a good look, and shrugged her shoulder. “You didn’t seem comfortable doing it.” He laughed again, and she realized that he surprised himself when he did it.

      Melissa controlled the urge to laugh along with him, reminding herself that she couldn’t afford to be captivated by his mercurial personality—they were there to discuss business. Her business. He sat erect suddenly, all semblance of good humor banished. She needn’t have been concerned, she told herself, because he had his own techniques for keeping people at a distance. And right then, his method was to serve his charm in small doses.

      “Why did you need to see me in person?” she asked him. Did the twinkle in his eyes become brighter, or was she mistaken? She wished she could look somewhere else.

      “My father managed Leather and Hides in his own way, ignoring the latest techniques and machinery. He made a good product, the best, but he’s gone now, and he didn’t leave a manual. I need a manager who can deal with that, who can make the business a state-of-the-art operation without sacrificing the quality 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 СКАЧАТЬ