One Way or Another: A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance (The Sisters Quartet Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  When he touched Calder, plans tended to fly out the window. When she returned his kiss with total abandon, Adam forgot everything else. The hell with light and uncomplicated. And to hell with the place. He held in his arms the sexiest, most exciting woman he'd ever met. They could be in a hole in the ground. He'd still want her naked.

  Oh, wait. They were in a hole in the ground. Point proven.

  Adam ran his hand up the length of Calder's thigh to the hem of her jacket. Underneath, he found a sweater which covered a t-shirt. He burrowed, determined to find skin. Nope, another shirt. Layers were practical in a dank, dark cave. Not so much when all he wanted was the feel of her soft, warm flesh.

  Just as he lifted the last barrier, Reggie interrupted them. For over an hour the man was like the Sphynx. Now, as Adam was about to reach nirvana, he chose to speak.

  "Hey, Calder. You need anything else tonight?"

  Adam let out a growl of frustration. I need something, he wanted to shout. You. Anyplace but here. However, when Calder's laughter vibrated from her chest to his, the tension in his body floated away. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  "To be continued," Calder whispered. With a promise-filled wink, she picked up her bag.

  "Thank you, Reggie." She handed the little man some money. From the way his eyes lit up, Adam assumed the bills weren't singles.

  "Tell Bryce I'm only a phone call away. Any time. Day or night."

  "Reggie has a bit of a crush on my sister," Calder said when they were alone.

  "I figured."

  "I try not to take advantage."

  Calder knelt on the tablecloth as she removed a plastic container from her bag. Followed by another and another. Fascinated, Adam watched as the number grew.

  "How many people do you expect to feed?"

  "Blame Mrs. Finch. I mentioned a picnic. She did the rest."

  Ah, the indomitable Mrs. Finch. Adam met her after she called in search of someone to paint the second floor of the Benedict mansion. A friend had recommended him, the housekeeper explained. However, she didn't take anyone's word. Not when her family's home—and her girls—were involved.

  Adam went through a thorough—but fair—interview process. Tea and delicate pastries were involved. He had wondered if the refreshments Mrs. Finch served during their first meeting were part of her test.

  If he'd showed the least bit of reticence over the less than manly offerings, would she have shown him the door? He would never know. Adam was raised by a woman who loved her afternoon tea—and insisted her son know the finer points. As a result, he didn't blink when faced with the prospect of cucumber sandwiches and tiny iced cakes.

  In the end, Adam had the job. And he'd gained a lasting appreciation for Mrs. Finch and her baking skills.

  "I hope you like fried chicken and potato salad." Calder filled a paper plate. "Chocolate cake for dessert."

  Adam chuckled. Good old Mrs. Finch.

  "I can probably force myself to eat a helping or two." Adam's stomach rumbled. "Maybe three or four."

  "No problem. Mrs. F. sent plenty."

  Calder added a thermos and glasses to the laid-out bounty. Adam looked over Calder's shoulder as she continued to dig. At any moment, Adam expected her to pull a three-piece band from her bottomless bag.

  "Where'd you get that thing? From Mary Poppins?"

  "I'm an expert packer."

  Without missing a beat, Calder handed him a cup of steaming coffee.

  "You, Calder Benedict, are many things." Adam took a sip, sighed, and savored. "All of them interesting."

  Calder looked pleased. She crossed her legs, taking a generous mouthful of salad.

  "Tell me about Adam Stone."

  "Nope." Adam had dominated the lion's share of conversation on their first date. "Your turn. You mentioned your sisters. I know there are four of you. Who's the oldest? Are you close?"

  "You didn't Google me?" Calder seemed genuinely surprised.

  Adam shook his head. The thought hadn't crossed his mind.

  "Did you?" he inquired. "Google me?"

  "My youngest sister did a bit of digging. Don't worry. I only wanted to know if you were a desperate character. Destry gave you a passing grade."

  Adam understood caution. Knowledge was an important building block of trust. Without trust, they could be casual friends. Casual lovers. Anything more? Not in Adam's book. Or, he realized, in Calder's.

  Whatever information Calder needed, he was happy to supply. Because the longer he was with her, the clearer his intentions. At least for his foreseeable future. Adam wanted Calder. How much, for how long? He didn't know. But he wanted to find out.

  Adam took a bite of crispy chicken and sighed. Fantastic.

  "I would love to know your definition of desperate."

  "No criminal record. No overt ties to shady characters. No gambling debts." Calder shrugged. "Gambling is a major red flag. Especially for Destry. Your health was discussed. Clean as a whistle, by the way."

  "I'm aware."

  Before Adam could decide if his medical history was a line Calder's sister shouldn't have crossed, she shared a bit of her own.

  "To balance the scales? I can send you a copy of my last physical. Spoiler alert. I'm healthy as the proverbial horse. Would you set this up?"

  This turned out to be a compact battery-operated space heater. From annoyed to bemused in less than thirty seconds, he did as Calder asked. Adam flipped on the switch. Surprisingly powerful for something so small, he was impressed.

  "Where were we? Oh, right." Calder sipped her coffee. "My sisters. You could say we're close. Very close. Mess with one, the rest of us will make sure you lose your ability to walk straight for a week."

  Adam winced as a twinge of male sympathy zinged his balls.

  "Andi is the oldest. Mother hen—in a good way. I mentioned Destry, the youngest. She's hard to categorize in twenty words or less. When you meet her, you'll understand."

  When not if. Off-hand. Perhaps unintentional. Adam didn't care. He took Calder's words to heart.

  "And Bryce? Older or younger?"

  "Younger. By fifteen minutes. A point I lorded over her more than once in our younger days."

  "Twins?" He tried to remember if he'd noticed a photo of Bryce Benedict on her books. For the life of him, he couldn't. "Identical?"

  "The truth isn't a secret." Picking at her salad, Calder hesitated. "Bryce and I are twins. Fraternal. We shared a womb. However, we have different fathers."

  Adam let the revelation sink in. He understood the basics, but he was hardly an expert. Two eggs fertilized at different moments by two different men. Reality could be stranger than fiction.

  "So many questions. I don't know which to ask. Or which are too personal."

  "I'll let you know."

  From what he'd learned about Calder, Adam had no doubt.

  "How did your parents find out?"

  "The thing about blood types?" Calder sounded as if she were teaching a class. "Though paternity can't unequivocally be proved, a man can be eliminated. Basic biology. Still, if Bryce hadn't been born with a shock of red hair, the secret might have remained buried."

  "Ah." Adam didn't need a medical degree to understand how recessive genes worked. "I assume red hair doesn't run on either side of the family? Who was the other man?" Adam groaned. "I didn't mean to make Bryce's life sound like something out of a soap opera."

  "You aren't far off. Turned out, our mother had sex with two different men within a week of each fertilization. Her husband—my father. And her ex-high school boyfriend—Bryce's father. I imagine at the time the headlines were pretty salacious."

  "And hard to ignore."

  Calder nodded. "Luckily, the furor died down before we were old enough to read."

  Adam refilled his cup. "More coffee? Unless you have something stronger in your magic bag."

  "Wine or beer?"

  "Not for me. For you."
>
  "I don't need a drink," Calder assured him. "What seems like a mess to you, is simply my life. Bryce and I are twins. Period. We weren't torn apart by our parents' idiotic behavior. In fact, we're freakishly connected."

  "Can you tell when she's hurt? Feel what she feels." Adam had a disconcerting thought. "When we kissed, did Bryce…?"

  "Get a vicarious thrill?" Calder's lips twitched. She didn't quite smile, but Adam could tell she wanted to.

  "Silly question?"

  She patted his hand. "Since you're so darn cute, I'll give you a pass. And, an answer. My sisters and I talk all the time. About everything. Or nothing. Yet, there are times when Bryce and I are the only two in a room, and we don't have to say a thing. We just are."

  "I think I understand." Or as close as an only child—happily so—could get. "One thing I need clarified."

  "Only one? I'm impressed."

  "You told a clean, concise tale, Ms. Benedict." Adam chuckled. "What I want to know is…"

  "Go on," she urged.

  "Isn't Benedict your mother's maiden name?"

  "You noticed. Not everybody does." Calder held out her cup. When he'd refilled her coffee, she continued, "To know Billie Benedict is to never understand her. She's a contradiction on top of a contradiction. For a woman who can't spell feminist, let alone call herself one, she decided to take a stand after her first husband, Andi's father, filed for divorce shortly before she was born."

  Thoughtfully, Calder paused. "Or, maybe she did the whole thing out of spite. With Billie, you never know."

  Apparently, Calder explained, Andi's father had a wandering eye. A nice way to say he slept around. Women. Men. He wasn't choosy. One year into their marriage, ready to give birth at any second, Billie caught him with the downstairs maid. And outdoor gardener. In the upstairs guest bedroom. The maid and gardener were married at the time.

  Talk about a soap opera, Adam thought.

  "Billie kicked all three out of her house. She decided then and there to give her child the Benedict name. After she gave birth, I don't know if sentimentality won out. Or the pain medication. Either way, she named her newborn daughter Anderson."

  "I don't understand the significance?"

  "Billie's husband was Sterling Anderson."

  Anderson, aka Andi. And the light dawned.

  "If Bryce and I were born to the same father, I don't think Billie would have continued the tradition. However…"

  "Calder is your father's last name?

  "Give the man a cigar." Instead, Calder served him another piece of chicken. "Edwin Calder. Daddy number two? Dermott Bryce. By the time the last Benedict sister came along, a short year later, naming her was a no-brainer."

  Another light went off in Adam's head. Destry was an uncommon name. He should have made the connection sooner. "Miller Destry. Isn't he in prison?"

  "Was in prison. Miller's out on parole. For now."

  Adam sensed Calder was ready for a break. She deserved one.

  "Didn't you mention something about chocolate cake?"

  Calder sent him a look of gratitude. In her eyes, he caught a definite twinkle.

  "You sure?" She held the dessert just out of Adam's reach. "After everything I told you, I thought you might want to run for the hills."

  "I'm always sure about chocolate cake."

  Her smile sent a slow burn through Adam's veins. He wasn't going anywhere. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. How could he? Calder Benedict was in his blood.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ~~~~

  "BURR." CALDER SHUDDERED. "Explain why the air feels colder above ground?"

  They had just emerged from their underground adventure. Slung over his shoulder, Adam carried Calder's bag. The plastic containers were almost empty—between them, they'd polished off most of the food. Still, the canvas tote weighed a ton.

  If Adam had realized, he would have insisted Calder let him carry the bag from the beginning. Not because he thought of her as weak or incapable. Hell, she lugged the damn thing for miles without breaking stride even once.

  His mother raised him to at least ask a woman if he could help. Whether Calder would have agreed was another matter. Something told Adam her answer would have been an emphatic no. With a thank you added for good measure.

  Since they'd started their underground adventure, a slight drizzle had started to fall. Calder was right. There was a definite chill in the evening breeze.

  "We had a space heater," he reminded her.

  "I suppose." Calder shivered again. "I'm not a big fan of cold."

  Adam unzipped his jacket. In the way of an invitation, he opened the ends and met Calder's gaze. He didn't have to ask twice. Without hesitation, she walked into his arms. When he wrapped her in a cocoon of leather and body heat, she snuggled close.

  "You, on the other hand, are hot." Her arms snaked around his waist. "On every level."

  Calder's sigh held a note of contentment. And just enough of a teasing lilt to bring a grin to Adam's lips. Hot didn't begin to describe the path of his thoughts.

  "Do you have someplace to be in the morning?"

  "Depends." Calder kissed the line of his jaw. "Do the women you take to bed usually sleep over?"

  "No."

  "Never?" Calder tipped her head back, a teasing twinkle in her dark eyes. "You have your way, enjoy what they have to offer, then throw them out on the street? Shame."

  "I've never kicked a woman out of bed in my life."

  For one simple reason. Adam didn't take women home.

  Understanding lit Calder's face.

  "You always go to their place?"

  "Usually."

  What could he say? Adam liked his privacy. Yet, in a complete about face, he wanted Calder in bed. His bed. Unquestionably. Truthfully, he wanted her any way he could have her. Damn the implications.

  "Or do you rent a hotel room?" Calder teased. "Could get expensive. Depending on the level of your sex drive."

  The drizzle had turned into a steady rain. The temperature continued to drop. Didn't matter. The second Adam's lips touched Calder's, they generated heat to spare.

  "You don't have to worry about my sex drive. How's yours?"

  Calder's hand slid down his chest. Wide eyed, her expression innocent, she toyed with the snap on his jeans.

  "Whatever you have in mind, I can keep up. In fact, I might even lap you. So to speak."

  The city of New York City wasn't keen on graphic displays of public affection. At the moment, they hadn't broken any laws. If Calder moved her hand a little lower, relatively innocent could quickly morph to X-rated.

  "Unless you want to explain a charge of public lewdness to your family, we should go. Now."

  Calder backed from his embrace. With a crook of her finger, she beckoned him to follow.

  "My car is a block away. We can be at your place in twenty minutes. Fifteen if the traffic lights are with us."

  Certain he'd never wanted a woman more, Adam used his long legs to eat up the distance between them. Without breaking stride, he took her hand. He didn't worry if she could keep up. If he had to, he'd carry her the rest of the way.

  Calder's legs weren't as long, but she was fast. Just as eager, she easily kept pace.

  "Did you bring your toothbrush?" Adam asked.

  "And a few other goodies."

  Parked near a lamppost, Calder's metallic-blue Porsche glistened with rain. The interior lights came on as she unlocked the doors. Adam walked her to the driver's side, opening the door. Gently, Calder touched his cheek.

  "Such a gentleman."

  "Enjoy the moment. When I get you naked—" A generic ringtone interrupted. "You or me?"

  Calder glanced in her pocket.

  "You."

  "I miss the days before cell phones."

  Adam glanced at the screen and frowned.

  "Business or pleasure?" Calder asked.

  Aurora Charles had not
hing to do with Adam's business. Pleasure? Sometimes. Old friends, occasional benefits. They hadn't spoken in weeks. The last time they hooked up? He searched his memory. Months. Probably closer to a year.

  "Problem?" Calder seemed concerned when Adam continued to stare at the ringing phone.

  "Maybe." He'd soon find out. "Hello?"

  "Adam!" Aurora screamed his name. With a wince, Adam moved the phone away from his ear. "How ya doing, lover boy? Need you, baby. Want your big, hard cock. Now."

  Shit. Adam glanced at Calder. Head angled to one side as she eavesdropped, her highly amused grin told him she wasn't the least bit perturbed by what she'd heard.

  "Sounds like your friend has had a bit too much to drink."

  Adam begged to differ. Aurora wasn't drunk. She was blotto. When she went off the rails, she went all the way. Which meant she was almost certainly riding high on more than alcohol.

  "Are you on Long Island?" he said into the phone.

  "Nope. City. South. Maybe."

  Voices and music filled the background. A bar? Probably a club. Aurora liked a crowd when she partied.

  "Damn it, Aurora. Give me something. An address, even a partial one."

  "Don't ya know?" Slurred, Aurora's voice dropped to an intimate level. "I'll give ya everything. Just ask."

  Adam ran a hand over his face. Shit. The rain had become a downpour. The phone in one hand, he took Calder's arm with the other. Thankfully, she didn't resist when he helped her into the car. Before he could shut the door, Calder stopped him.

  "Get in," she whispered. Adam nodded.

  "Aurora?" Adam jogged to the passenger side. He was soaked, but he had more important things to deal with than some soggy clothing. "If you want me, tell me where to find you."

  "Diggers. Oops." Aurora snorted. "Tripped. Bye."

  Abruptly, the connection ended. Adam didn't bother to call back. He knew Aurora wouldn't answer.

  "Damn it! Did she say Diggers?" Adam typed the name. "Never heard of the place."

  "South? She must have meant Lower Manhattan." Calder started the car. "My guess is she's at Clam Diggers."

  Before she could shift into drive, Adam placed a staying hand over hers. Aurora could be a handful at the best of times. Hopped up on God knows what? He shuddered to think what he'd find. He didn't want to drag Calder into what could turn out to be a royal-ass mess.