One Way or Another_A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance

by Mary J. Williams

  Destry never made the same mistake twice. The experience added another layer to her already cloudy outlook on life. By example, her sisters learned a valuable lesson.

  Never give their fathers money.

  "Edwin won't change. Advice is a waste of breath. An offer of support will fall on deaf ears."

  Andi's father was the same. Destry's was a lost cause. And while Bryce's father was the most easygoing of the lot, he was unpredictable.

  Money was only one of the pitfalls the Benedict sisters had to deal with where Billie's ex-husbands were concerned.

  "My problem is, I feel guilty."

  "You feel guilty because you don't feel guilty."

  "I knew you'd understand."

  "Who better?" Andi set aside her work to join Calder on the deep-blue velvet loveseat. "Our parents are screwed up. But at least they gave us each other."

  Andi put an arm around Calder's waist. Comforting. Loving. Her hug felt like home.

  "Should we thank them?" Calder teased.

  Andi's laugh filled the room.

  "Let's not get carried away."

  ~~~~

  THE FILE FELT lighter than Calder expected. After a brief but friendly greeting, Dee Wakefield sat the folder on the desk. She took a seat. Stretched out her legs, crossed her ankles, and relaxed.

  "Before I say anything, read what I found. I'll add my take after you get a feel for the information. Warning. A week isn't very long. I've only scratched the surface."

  "I understand." Calder started reading.

  "Are your sisters coming?"

  "Just me. I'll fill them in later."

  Dee popped a butter cookie into her mouth. "Between the excellent coffee and the butter cookies? You're my favorite client ever."

  Calder smiled.

  "If I took away the treats?"

  "Top five. With a bullet."

  The report started with the basics. Ingo Hunter's age. Place of birth. He was an only child. Parents deceased. The money they left him was enough for several very indulgent lifetimes.

  Calder checked the amount of the inheritance against Hunter's current estimated net worth. Frowning, she looked up.

  "Are these numbers correct?"

  "We haven't known each other long, so I won't take offense." Dee topped off her coffee, then retook her seat. "I check every fact. Every number. Every period and comma. Hunter isn't the savvy businessman he wants the world to believe."

  Unlike Calder's father, Ingo Hunter wasn't hurting. However, in thirty-five years, he managed to diminish his fortune by a considerable amount.

  "I'm no expert, but some things are obvious. Hunter loses a lot of money for his investors. He tends to skate through with a few bumps then, recoups a hefty chunk of cash on the next deal. Then loses. Recoups. The circle bends."

  "But never breaks."

  "My guess? His tax returns are this side of dodgy. A good accountant and some high-up friends keep him in clover." Dee shrugged. "You'll never know for certain unless you find someone equally as dodgy to do some digging."

  Calder could speak for her sisters without hesitation.

  "No."

  The approval in Dee's eyes was easy to read.

  "Be nice if Hunter's actions were an anomaly. Truth is, what I found is standard operating procedure for the filthy rich. No offense."

  "None taken."

  The books Calder kept defined squeaky clean. Professionally, and personally.

  "I haven't been able to scratch up a lot about Hunter's after-hours life. Other than the basics. He was married. Only once. One child. Ingo Hunter the third." Dee sneered. "What's the deal with numbers? The second. The fourth? One is more than enough."

  "Legacy, I suppose." Considering the history of her name, Calder didn't feel in any position to judge. "Why don't I remember anything about Hunter's son?"

  "Fell off the map ten years ago. And when I say fell off, I mean vanished. Without a trace. I'll keep looking. Even if his address is six feet under, he has to be somewhere."

  "You think he's dead?"

  Thoughtfully, Dee sipped her coffee.

  "Nah. The funeral would have made headlines. Hunter wouldn't let grief get in the way of publicity."

  Sad, but true. Calder knew many people who felt the same way. Huge weddings. Bigger funerals. Many, many cameras.

  "The Third attended Carver Academy. Some snooty, and very exclusive, upstate prep school."

  Calder was impressed. Unlike many of the places wealthy families chose to educate their children, money couldn't get a child through Carver's gates, only brains. The entrance exam was killer. For some.

  "Carver Academy made a hard push for Destry."

  "They came after her? Like a college after a top athlete?" Dee shook her head as if the scenario was beyond her grasp.

  "High school academic recruitment is a big deal. The best minds plus the highest test scores equal prestige."

  The ideals of learning were a lofty goal. However, only money kept the doors open, the lights on, and the eighteen-hole golf course groomed. Because of their reputation, Carver charged triple what some schools asked. Tuition alone—forget about all the extra fees—was more than most people made in ten years.

  "Destry attended Carver Academy? Maybe she met Hunter's son."

  "She aced the entrance exam—to prove she could. Then, the little genius told them where they could shove their blue and gold uniform. Destry isn't a fan of rules. Or uniforms."

  Calder chuckled at the memory. Thirteen years old and full of piss and vinegar. The only thing that had changed was Destry's age.

  "On the surface, Ingo Hunter's information cupboards are pretty bare. Makes me itchy." Absently, Dee scratched her leg. "Figure if I can't find anything, there must be something."

  "What's your plan?"

  "Dig, baby, dig. So far, nobody's talking. Yet. One disgruntled employee. A spurned ex." Some of Calder's misgivings must have shown in her eyes. "Don't worry. I won't step on too many toes."

  "I'd hoped our meeting would give me a definitive answer."

  "I will find out if Hunter is a threat to your mother."

  "But a threat how?"

  Dee shrugged.

  "Exactly why you hired me. If Hunter wants something besides your mother's scintillating company, I'll find out."

  Calder believed in Dee. Trusted her to find what they needed. Information. Hunter's secrets. His agenda.

  Absently, Calder tapped the file with her finger. Nothing would help if they found out too late.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ~~~~

  ADAM DOUBLE CHECKED his schedule. Jam packed, he had just enough time for a quick bite to eat before he zipped across the Queensboro Bridge. After a non-stop morning crisscrossing Manhattan, then back again, the one thirty meeting would take the better part of the afternoon.

  Some days he spent more time in traffic than interacting with clients.

  Not that Adam had any complaints. Business was so good, he was ready to expand his workforce. He should have made the move months ago. Another body, or two—maybe three—made perfect sense.

  The problem? Right now, he controlled every aspect of his one-man operation. Adam had to learn the art of delegation.

  "You're killing yourself." Melvin tossed Adam a sandwich. "You know a million people. They know a couple million more. Somewhere in the pool of friends and acquaintances must be someone who you trust to take on some of the load."

  Adam could name a dozen off the top of his head. Good men and women. Hardworking. Capable. Reliable. All he had to do was make a few calls. Whenever he tried, he suddenly lost his ability to dial.

  "I'll get there." Eventually.

  To save wear and tear on his suit, Adam leaned against the side of his newly hand-tooled car. Melvin, dressed in his usual paint-splattered coveralls, lounged on a pile of cinderblocks. The job—arranged by Adam—was huge. The newly constructed home needed
a lot of paint.

  Melvin and his crew were almost finished inside. Adam took a tour before they settled down to eat. The exterior was up next—as soon as landscaping and general cleanup were completed.

  "Tamara has a cousin."

  "Ah, Tamara and her endless supply of relatives." Adam bit into the ham and cheddar. Good sandwich.

  "You can scoff. I know what you're looking for. Reggie meets all your qualifications. And more. He's super organized. A wiz with computers. He—"

  "Tell him to email me his resume."

  "Really?" Melvin did a sitting happy dance, arms and legs waving in the air. "I had a long, step-by-step argument ready. You saved me a lot of words, buddy."

  "What are friends for?"

  "Coffee?" Melvin held up an oversized thermos.

  Adam shook his head.

  "I'll stick to water."

  Adam's timing wasn't coincidental. He could have stopped by the site that morning. Or later in the day. Tamara was a great cook and always packed more than her husband could eat. Melvin was happy to share. Adam was happy to accept.

  More than food, he enjoyed the company. They ate in companionable silence. When Melvin pulled out two thick slices of cake, Adam wondered why he didn't join his pal for lunch more often.

  "Banana spice with cream cheese frosting." Melvin took a huge bite.

  "Delicious." Adam chewed slowly, savoring the tender goodness.

  Melvin let out a hefty sigh as he wiped his mouth.

  "I guess I'll have to ask."

  No need for Adam to respond. Eventually, Melvin would get to the point. He emptied his water, tossed the empty bottle into the trash. And waited.

  "Word on the street is you have a new woman in your life."

  Ah, gossip. Adam had planned to mention Calder. No reason not to have a little fun first.

  "Why are you hanging out on the street? And does Tamara know?"

  "You're funny. Hilarious. If you don't want to tell me, just say so."

  Adam's lips twitched. He could always rely on Melvin to give him a good laugh.

  "I don't want to tell you."

  "Fuck you." Melvin jumped to his feet. Before he could storm off, Adam relented.

  "Her name is Calder."

  "Holy shit, holy shit. Holy. Shit." Eyes wide, Melvin slapped Adam on the back. "Calder Benedict? Super rich? Super connected? Super out of your league? That Calder?"

  "Calder is the most down to earth person you'll ever meet. As for out of my league? You're right. Luckily, she doesn't agree."

  Melvin let out a low whistle.

  "Did you meet before or after my crew did the job at her place? Shit, man. The woman lives in a freaking castle."

  "We met during. As for where she lives? So what?"

  Adam wasn't after her money. Still, he wasn't blind to the differences in their lifestyles. The less impressed he acted, the sooner the feeling would become reality. He hoped.

  "Over a month and you haven't said a word. No wonder you didn't have time to come to dinner. I was going to suggest you bring your new lady. But Calder Benedict?" Melvin cleared his throat. "Bad idea."

  "Why?"

  "Tamara and I live in a one-bedroom walkup. The house will be ready to move in next month. Even then? She can afford the Ritz. The closest we ever get is the cracker."

  Adam laughed. Good joke. Except Melvin was dead serious.

  "Calder doesn't mind a few flights of stairs. And she likes crackers."

  "Adam…"

  "At least meet her before you pass judgment."

  "I'm sure she's great. But—"

  "Are we invited, or not?"

  "Sure. What the hell?" Melvin threw his hands up in defeat. "Friday work for you?"

  With a glance at his watch, Adam realized he better get going, or he'd be late. Behind the wheel, Adam started the car.

  "Unless you hear different, we'll be there."

  "Tamara will kill me," Melvin muttered.

  He had good friends, Adam thought as he drove away. Calder would love them. And, despite Melvin doubts, he knew they would love her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ~~~~

  THE LAST MILE of Calder's daily run was her favorite. Her blood flowed. Sweat streamed from her face. Her muscles were loose. Best of all, the damn thing was almost over.

  Exercise was a solitary activity. A necessary evil. Not a social event. Today, with Adam at her side, she decided some chit-chat wasn't a bad thing. Five miles passed without notice. Almost. Right off the top of her head, Calder could think of a dozen things she'd rather do. But for the first time, her companion made the pounding of her feet on the pavement as close to fun as she would get.

  The eye candy he provided when he bent to tie his shoes didn't hurt either.

  Adam talked as they ran without a single huff or puff. When Calder took her usual detour up a long flight of steps, down, back up, and down again, he didn't complain. Instead, a glint of competitiveness entered his blue eyes. He won the unofficial race by three strides.

  Calder chalked his victory up to longer legs—not superior speed.

  "Any plans for Friday night?"

  "Right now, all I want is a hot shower and a foot massage."

  The cushion in her shoes seemed less springy than usual. Calder did the math. Age plus number of miles. Time for a new pair.

  "I can help with both."

  Calder sent Adam a look filled with gratitude—and promise.

  "You'll scrub my back?"

  "With pleasure. Might hit a few other spots. Just to be thorough."

  An anticipatory shiver traveled down her spine. Adam was a wonderful shower mate. He never shirked his duties. And was happy to let her soapy hands explore every inch of his hard, sculpted body to her heart's content.

  "And the foot massage?"

  Adam grinned.

  "After we shower."

  "Deal. If you do a good job, I'll return the favor."

  "I'll do a dandy job," he assured her. "Then? I pick the part of my body you massage."

  Sexy, smart, and adorable. She'd hit the trifecta when she met Adam Stone.

  "I don't have any set-in-stone plans."

  Adam's smile turned into a puzzled frown.

  "For…?"

  "Friday night. You asked. I answered." Eventually.

  "We're invited to dinner. Melvin Delray and his wife, Tamara."

  They stopped by Adam's car. He took a couple towels from the trunk, handing one to Calder.

  Since he invited himself on her run, he insisted she pick their route. Calder always started in the same place. On the sidewalk outside the mansion. For variety, she'd go right. Or left. Or straight ahead. Whatever her mood.

  "Old friends?" Calder asked as she did her post-run cool down stretch.

  "Melvin's an old Navy buddy."

  "Another one? Did you know anybody before you joined the military?"

  "One or two, smartass." Adam snapped his towel in her direction. The end barely grazed her butt. "Melvin is my best friend. Tamara is a sweetheart."

  "Okay."

  "Really?" Adam used his towel to wipe Calder's cheek. His other hand snaked around her waist. "No argument?"

  "Why? I like to meet new people. Friends of my friends are even better."

  "We're friends?"

  Calder put her towel around Adam's neck. A hand on each end, she had him right where she wanted him.

  "Do I have your attention?"

  "From the moment we met."

  Unlike any man she knew, Adam could deliver an obvious line with utter sincerity in his eyes. And mean every word. He made her heart melt. Little by little. Day by day. If she wasn't careful, the increasingly thin protective layer of ice, so carefully constructed, would soon be nothing but slush.

  Calder moved in for a kiss. She could get used to a warm heart.

  "Don't distract me. I have a point to make."

  "Who
kissed who, sweet lips?

  "We can be lovers without friendship." Calder continued without acknowledging Adam's question. "However, I don't run with a lover who isn't a friend. Understand?"

  "I can follow your logic. And agree." With the pad of his thumb, Adam traced her bottom lip. "You said you always run alone."

  "I did. Until today."

  "I'm your first?" Adam let out a sound, half groan. Half chuckle. "Sounded different in my head."

  Calder laughed with him—and a little at him.

  "Another minute and my clothes will permanently adhere to my body."

  Calder took his hand. Normally, Adam didn't hesitate to go where she wanted. Suddenly, he became an immovable object.

  "Where are we going?"

  "To shower. And so forth. Come on."

  Adam dug in.

  "I thought we'd go to my place."

  "Why? My place is right across the street."

  "Well. Sure. But…"

  Adam's glib tongue vanished. Right down his throat, if his cough was any indication.

  "My apartment is private."

  "So is my room."

  Calder tugged. Hard. Reluctantly, Adam unglued his feet. But he wasn't in a hurry. He made the trip more of a journey than a jaunt.

  "What if your sisters are home? Or your mother? Or Mrs. Finch?"

  "I'll put a do not disturb sign on my door. In fact, I'll—"

  The light dawned. Adam's reluctance. His sheepish expression. Worry her family might see him. He was embarrassed.

  Afraid he might bolt if she stopped their forward progress, Calder urged him up the steps. She keyed in the security code. When the door clicked open, she pushed Adam through.

  "Sometimes you are too adorable for words. We're well above the age of consent. As is every woman in my family."

  For a second, Calder considered taking the elevator. She opted instead for the stairs. To keep Adam's mind off where they were headed, she told him a story.

  Other than deliveries, the servants, or physical disabilities—Bryce once broke her ankle on a skateboarding dare gone wrong—only her mother used the elevator on a regular basis.