Against All Odds (Arabesque) Read Online Free PDF

impressed on him.
    * * *
    Adam replaced the receiver with more care than usual and stared at the blank wall facing his desk. He didn’t want to feel compassion for Melissa; she’d made a solid enough impression on him as it was. It was one thing to want her, but if he also began to care about her feelings, he’d be in trouble. He had close women friends, but he didn’t allow himself to become emotionally involved with them. One woman had taught him to need her, to yearn for her, but foolish boy that he’d been, he had believed her seductive lies and gone back for more. Her full breast and ripe brown nipples were the first he’d ever seen. She had guided his lips to them while she stroked him, and he’d gone crazy. How could he have known that she only wanted to humiliate him? After nineteen years her vicious laughter still rang in his ears. Not again. Yet his life lacked something vital: a loving woman with whom he could share everything, the deepest desire of his soul; a home warm with a woman’s touch, devoid of the chrome and black leather sofas that decorators loved. And children. He shook his head. Just so much wishful thinking.
    He left work late, grabbed a hot dog from his friend, who sold them at a corner pushcart, and made his way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He enjoyed the concerts there. People went because they appreciated the music, not because it was the chic thing to do, and they didn’t applaud halfway through a piece. At intermission he strolled out to the hallway for a stretch and a look at the crowd. Was he seeing correctly? He wouldn’t have thought that Melissa would attend a concert alone. Maybe she was waiting for someone. He watched her, undetected, and saw that she didn’t have a date. Just as he decided to speak to her, she looked directly at him, surprise mirrored in her eyes, and flashed him a cool smile.
    * * *
    Melissa watched Adam walk toward her, a gazelle in slow motion, and resisted the urge to smile. He must collect women the way squirrels gather nuts, she mused. She told herself not to be captivated by his dark good looks, his blatant masculinity, but she sucked in her breath as he neared her and wished that she’d taken off her distance glasses at the beginning of intermission.
    She couldn’t hide her surprise at seeing him there alone. What had happened to the New York City women that such a man as Adam Roundtree attended concerts by himself? She decided not to comment on it, not to rile him, since he seemed more relaxed, less formal than previously, though she sensed a tightness about him. Her heart lurched in her chest as his slow, captivating smile spread over his handsome ebony face. She wasn’t a shy person, but she had to break eye contact with him in order to control her reaction. When her glance found him again, he had nearly reached her, and she had to steel herself against the impact of his nearness. What was wrong with her?
    Adam held out his hand to her, and she took it, but they didn’t shake—though that was what he seemed to have intended. Instead he held her hand, and they looked at each other. His gaze burned her until her nervous fingers reached for the top button of her blouse. What is it about him? she asked herself. He spoke first.
    “The auditorium is barely half full. Why don’t we sit together for the remainder of the concert?” She didn’t want to sit with him, and she didn’t want him holding her hand. Tremors ploughed through her when he touched her. She eased her fingers from his—feeling as though he’d just branded her—opened her mouth to refuse, and had half turned from him when another familiar voice caught her attention. Gilbert Lewis sauntered toward them.
    “Yo, Melissa. I saw you sitting by yourself. I’m going for a drink, mind if I join you?” The man glanced up at Adam. “Or are you busy?” She wondered if he would have suggested it had she been alone.
    “Excuse me, Gilbert. I’m with Mr. Roundtree.” She watched