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

by Mary J. Williams

  "Keep bouncing me around, asshole. I'm about to barf what empty calories are left in my stomach down your back."

  Son of a bitch. Adam picked up his pace. In two long strides, he deposited Aurora onto the floor of the shower stall—right on her ass. He turned the water on full blast—nothing but cold. When the icy spray hit her in the face, the resulting screech could have broken window panes from Manhattan to Buffalo.

  "If you decide to vomit? Use the garbage can."

  Adam set the plastic-lined basket within reach of a still cursing Aurora, walking away without a backward glance. He stripped the sheets from the bed, dumped them in a pile on the floor, and left the room.

  Small, compact, but serviceable—like the rest of the apartment—the kitchen didn't get a lot of use. Adam knew how to cook. Could put together a damn fine meal when the mood hit. However, he was a single man in New York City. Drawn by the energy and nightlife, he rarely stayed in to eat.

  Breakfast was usually a quick grab. Cold cereal. A piece of fruit. Whatever was handy.

  Today would be an exception.

  Coffee first. Strong and plentiful. Adam reached for his cast-iron frying pan, a carton of eggs—borderline expiration date, but doable—and some bread for toast.

  Experience was a great teacher. As nasty as food sounded the day after, the best cure for a hangover was a basic, rib-sticking, stomach-settling breakfast.

  Aurora could—would—balk all she wanted. If Adam had to shove the food down her throat, she would eat every last crumb.

  Stupid. Still fuming from the night before and Aurora's foolhardy behavior, Adam slammed the pan onto the stove. What if he hadn't been available? Hadn't answered his phone? A bad situation could have ended much worse.

  "Do you have to make so much noise?" Hair wet, rubbing her temples, Aurora shuffled across the room. "Thanks for ruining my dress, by the way. First time I'd worn the thing. And the last. Jesus, Adam. If you had to drown me, couldn't you take my clothes off first?"

  The t-shirt he'd set out for her was ten sizes too big and hit just above her knees. Matted-down, bright-red hair, and none too happy, Aurora resembled a hissing wet cat.

  Without the least bit of sympathy to her plight, Adam turned back to the stove.

  "Aspirin's on the counter. Be sure to drink all the water."

  Grumbling under her breath, Aurora followed his instructions. Her reward, a cup of coffee. Filled to the brim.

  "Bless you."

  As she sipped the steaming brew, Aurora's gaze landed on the sofa. She frowned at the neatly folded blanket and pillow.

  "You slept out here?"

  "I did." Adam placed a plate filled with scrambled eggs and dry toast on the small dining room table. "Sit. Eat."

  Again, Aurora did as Adam told her without argument. A definite first. Her hangover had to be worse than he imagined.

  "Why?" Though she frowned at the food, she took a tentative bite. "Big bed, little woman. Plenty of room for both of us. We could have had a nice morning cuddle."

  Adam had deposited Aurora in his bed the night before. He removed her shoes—nothing else. Even if she hadn't been the worse for drink and drugs, he wouldn't have joined her. They had always been friends. One day, they crossed the line to occasional lovers. He wanted to keep her friendship if possible. Nothing else. Not anymore.

  "Look, Aurora. The last time we had sex was the last time. Period."

  "Because of the skinny brunette?" She sneered around a mouthful of eggs. "Your taste is slipping."

  The fact that Aurora had been conscious enough to notice Calder shouldn't have surprised him. Her hangover wasn't an act. But the rest? Obviously, she hadn't been as intoxicated as she'd led him to believe.

  If Adam knew at the time, his actions wouldn't have changed. A woman in need was his weakness. A fact Aurora knew and exploited without a single qualm—damn her. Adam had to tip his hat. She took her shot and hit a bullseye. But she used up her reserve of goodwill. He was tired of her games. If she ever tried to pull the stunt again, he'd call the police and let them deal with her drunk ass.

  "Nice car, though. Girl must have money. Or a rich boyfriend." Thoughtfully, Aurora tapped her fork against her chin. "Not a husband. You don't do married women."

  "Calder isn't the point."

  "Definitely a rich girl. You wouldn't find anybody with a name like Calder where we grew up."

  "Do tell… Aurora."

  Annoyed by Aurora's attitude, Adam crossed his arms. She might not have a problem with reverse snobbery. He did.

  "Nothing high end about my name. The Charles family doesn't have a pot to piss in. Hasn't for generations. Something tells me your Calder can't say the same. Dressed down, she still reeked of old money."

  Adam wasn't about to argue. Would he prefer if the size of their respective bank balances were a little closer to equal? Sure. However, Calder's net worth had nothing to do with why he wanted her. His reasons—his feelings—were as close to righteous as he expected to get. And, none of Aurora's business.

  "Finish eating. I'll drive you home before I head to work."

  "You're going to haul my sweet ass all the way to Long Island?" Aurora perked up. "You do care."

  "I always will, Rora. But—"

  "Say no more. Have your little fling. Get Ms. Blue Blood out of your system. I'll be here when you're ready for some good old-fashioned, down-to-earth, home cooking."

  Aurora patted Adam on the cheek before she walked away. Sad instead of interested by the exaggerated sway of her hips, he could have talked himself blue in the face, she wouldn't listen.

  Calder wasn't the issue. Without marking the exact moment, Adam had moved on. Any desire he once felt for Aurora's body was gone.

  Adam loaded the dishwasher. Another convenience he rarely used. Plates from a week ago lined the near-empty interior. Rather than wait until he filled the machine—which could be a month from now—he decided to run a wash cycle.

  As he hit the start button, his phone chirped. Calder. He hoped like hell she didn't have to cancel their plans. Seven o'clock already seemed like a lifetime away. Another hour? Another day? Freaking torture.

  Are you free this afternoon? I need your unique facilitating skills.

  Relieved—and stoked—Adam's thumbs flew over the keys.

  Two o'clock work for you?

  He waited. But not for long.

  You know the address. See you then.

  Grinning, Adam set the phone aside. Seemed he would see Calder sooner than expected.

  ~~~~

  AURORA PEEKED AROUND the bedroom door, observing Adam. And his goofy smile.

  Had to be that damn, rich girl. Calder.

  Aurora hadn't let on, but she recognized the name. How many Calders could exist in the world?

  One too many.

  The Benedicts were a favorite topic in the gossip rags Aurora poured over while she had her hair colored and trimmed at Harriet's Hair Salon.

  Calder. Her sisters. Their mother. More than once, Aurora and her friends envied their beauty. Their wealth. Their lifestyle. The bitch already had everything. Could have any man she wanted. Did she have to take Adam?

  From the moment they met, Adam belonged to her. Always had. Always would. Her belief was unshakable and bone deep. Didn't matter if he knew or not. One day he would.

  Adam Stone was her destiny. The wind-up Barbie doll? An insignificant blip. For now, she'd let him play.

  Aurora's gaze hardened. For now.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ~~~~

  AT TWO O'CLOCK sharp, Calder answered the front door. Adam waited, the sun at his back. Dark glasses covered his blue eyes, his perfectly tailored suit a reminder he was there for business, not pleasure.

  To prove his visit didn't have to be one without the other, she didn't invite him. Instead, took his hand, guiding him into her home.

  "Ms. Benedict."

  Formal in tone, Adam
inclined his head. He slipped off his glasses, the twinkle underneath unmistakable.

  "Different suit." Dark blue with the thinnest of pinstripes. "How many do you own?"

  "I lost count." Adam didn't take back his hand. Nor did he step closer. "May I ask a question, Ms. Benedict?"

  Calder's lips twitched—just a little—as she did her best not to smile.

  "Of course. Mr. Stone."

  "Before we talk business?"

  "Yes?"

  Adam's gaze dropped to her mouth.

  "May I kiss you?"

  Happy to play along, Calder looked around, as if she gave a damn who might see them.

  "If you feel the inclination, I don't mind."

  Adam wasn't in a hurry. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Calder wore a pair of strappy sandals, the perfect foil for her pale-yellow silk dress. The four-inch heels meant she could practically look him in the eyes without tilting her head.

  "I'm inclined to do many, many things to you, Ms. Benedict," Adam whispered near her ear.

  The heat of his breath combined with his words sent a shiver of anticipation down Calder's spine. She rubbed her cheek against his. Smooth. She sighed, breathing in the slightest scent of citrus.

  "Please. Do tell."

  "Like your fantasies, my thoughts on the subject are better left for a more private location. Now, about that kiss."

  Adam ran his fingers up Calder's arm, over her shoulder, to rest at the nape of her neck. Strong, yet gentle. If she'd tried to move away, he could have stopped her. Easily. However, she didn't move. She didn't protest. Because she knew, one word from her, and he would have let her go. No questions asked.

  Another kind of trust, she realized. Content to let Adam make the next move, she waited.

  Then, his lips closed over hers.

  Calder was never one to melt. Not under pressure. Not in the heat of the mid-July sun. And never in a man's arms. Yet, as Adam deepened the kiss, she would have sworn her insides turned to liquid. She liked the feeling. Quicksilver in her veins. Hot and dangerous and addictive.

  "Hello," Adam said when he finally raised his head.

  "Hi."

  With her finger, Calder touched the corner of Adam's mouth, the edge of his smile. She hated to end what could have been such a lovely beginning. But her sisters waited. Impatient at the best of times, one of them was bound to come looking.

  "Time to switch from pleasure to business?"

  Adam sounded as reluctant as she felt.

  "Afraid so."

  Calder couldn't stay in his arms. However, as she backed away, she kept his hand in hers.

  "We thought the second-floor library would be the best place to meet."

  "We? I thought you needed me."

  Sexual innuendo of a graphic nature popped into Calder's head. Too easy, she decided. Besides, they'd switched gears. Except for holding hands, overt flirting would have to wait.

  "I'll explain on the way. We—"

  Out of the corner of her eye, she detected a slight movement. Ingo Hunter. She should have known the second her skin began to crawl. How long had he watched from the shadowed doorway? The ever-so-slight smirk on his lips told her he'd seen everything and enjoyed the show. The bastard.

  She gave Adam's hand a squeeze. He must have sensed her sudden unease. When she tried to pull away, he held tight.

  "Calder. Looking lovely, as always."

  The man had slept in her home. Eaten breakfast at her dining room table. Now, he strolled the foyer as if he owned the place. Calder's spine stiffened. Over her dead body.

  "Ingo. I didn't realize you'd returned."

  Calder had a hard time looking past the smarmy glint in the depths of his near-black irises—as though he pictured every woman he met naked. Yet, in all fairness, she had to admit Ingo Hunter could be called a handsome man.

  Pushing sixty, his tanned skin carried minimal signs of the advancing years. Perhaps he and Billie shared the same dermatologist. The gray at Hunter's temples seemed a bit too precise to be natural—especially in contrast to the rest of his stark black hair.

  This afternoon, he'd dressed his tall frame in casual attire. Tan slacks. A polo shirt which masked, but couldn't quite hide, the slight middle-aged spread around his waist.

  "Actually, I never left." As usual, Hunter's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Billie kindly let me use your grandfather's office to make some important calls."

  Amazing. In two compact sentences, Hunter managed to let Calder know he'd moved in on Thomas Benedict's former terrain. Plus, he slipped in a not-so-subtle, self-aggrandizing comment. Ingo Hunter didn't just make phone calls. Unlike normal people's, his were important.

  "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

  "Adam Stone." Adam stepped in before Calder could tell Hunter where to stick his introduction.

  "Ingo Hunter." The men shook hands. "Have we met before?"

  "Not to my knowledge."

  "Hm." A speculative glint entered Hunter's gaze. "I must say, I admire the cut of your suit. Designer or off the rack?"

  Mentally, Calder rolled her eyes. The equivalent of a dick measuring contest, Hunter's remark was meant to show his superiority. Both socially and financially. If he'd expected Adam to wilt under such an obvious ploy, he was sorely disappointed.

  Smooth as silk, with just the right amount of casual disdain, Adam smiled.

  "I never feel the need to drop names."

  Nice jab, Calder thought.

  "However, since you asked. My suit is an Andi Benedict original."

  "When did Andi branch out into men's wear?"

  Hunter directed his accusatory question to Calder. As if she should have kept him abreast of the situation.

  Andi's new line—her first foray away from exclusively women's clothing—would hit the runway in September. Worldwide outlets by next spring. Calder knew her sister made some of her designs available to a select few exclusive customers. She had no idea Adam was one of them. A fact she didn't share with Hunter.

  "I'm surprised Billie didn't mention Andi's new venture."

  Hunter let Calder's dig slide. Though he hid his annoyance well, enough snuck through, in his eyes, the stiffness of his shoulders, to brighten Calder's afternoon.

  "Andi is talented. In many ways. I look forward to personally sampling her designs."

  The way Hunter suggestively emphasized the word designs made Calder's blood boil.

  "We should go," Adam said.

  "Yes." Calder managed the one word. Barely. She had a lot she could say. Another time, she promised herself.

  "Until later, Calder. Adam." Hunter inclined his head. "Nice meeting you."

  "Sleazeball, sleazeball, sleazeball."

  Calder muttered the mantra under her breath as Ingo Hunter used his best Lord of the Manor saunter to leave the room.

  Adam lifted their joined hands. Matter of fact, he pried open Calder's grip, shaking the blood back into his fingers.

  "Sorry," Calder apologized. She started up the stairs. "I didn't realize I had such a stranglehold."

  "Glad to be of service."

  Adam's positive energy helped dispel Ingo Hunter's negative vibe. Calder breathed in the fresh air. When they eliminated the man from their lives once and for all, she would ask Adam for the name of a good fumigator.

  "By the way. How did you get your hands on one of Andi's suits?" The story Calder handed Ingo Hunter had been completely off the cuff. "Her designs are guarded better than Fort Knox."

  "I know people who know people who know your sister. My suit?" Adam paused with a playful pose, and then continued up the stairs. "A sample design she decided to cull from the final lineup. My friend texted me a picture. Half price. How could I resist?"

  "Wow." Calder was impressed. "You really are a devoted clothes horse."

  Obviously proud of the label, Adam nodded. As they reached the top of the stairs, he tucked
her hand into the crook of his arm.

  "About Ingo Hunter? I know the name. And I hate to judge after one meeting…"

  "Yes?" Calder was interested to hear Adam's first impression.

  "The man's a slimy creep."

  Laughing, Calder reached to open the library door. If she hadn't been crazy about Adam before, his perfect, concise assessment of Hunter would have done the trick.

  "Join the club."

  Inside sat Andi, Bryce, and Destry.

  "I assume your sisters are the 'we' you mentioned?" Adam whispered out the side of his mouth.

  "Sorry I didn't have time to fully explain."

  Calder wished she'd mentioned her sisters sooner. The last thing she wanted was for Adam to feel ambushed. Turned out, she had nothing to worry about.

  "Ladies." Adam greeted each woman with a handshake and a friendly, charming smile. First Bryce. Then Destry.

  "Nice suit," Andi said when her turn came.

  "Seems to be the consensus." Adam gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I hate to come off as a brown-noser. I was already dressed and on my way before I remembered the founder of AB Designs is Calder's sister. Too late to change."

  "No need to apologize." Andi circled, checking Adam out from every angle. "Good color. Good design. Modern but not too out there. I might have to rethink my decision and add the suit back to the collection."

  "My vote is yes."

  "Come on." Impatient as always, Destry flopped onto a winged-back leather chair. "Enough with the fashion banter. Can we get down to business?"

  Used to her sister's moods, Andi calmly leveled Destry with a cool look.

  "Fashion is my business. A fact you take advantage of on a regular basis."

  Destry couldn't argue. Calder knew the brushed-cotton jumpsuit currently worn by her baby sister came from Andi's Madison Avenue boutique.

  "We all love clothes," Destry admitted "Your designs in particular."

  "Naturally." Andi's nod was regal. A second later, she winked and ruined the haughty effect.

  Calder watched Adam as he watched the familial by-play. Relaxed. Joking. Comfortable and completely at ease. Few men ever witnessed this side of the Benedict sisters.