Less than a month ago, Billie had returned from her bi-annual European excursion. As always, she'd done her best to pluck the crème de la crème from every Paris design house.
"You must have something left."
Billie never wore anything twice—much to the delight of New York gossip rags and various thrift stores where she donated her used couture.
"Nothing." Billie let out a dramatic sigh. She walked the length of Calder's extensive wardrobe with the critical eye of a seasoned shopper. "I can't leave the house in the same old rags! Ingo and I are dining at the new restaurant. The one with a waitlist a mile long. My outfit has to be perfection."
Billie held up a dress Calder had yet to wear. She dismissed the ruby-red satin with a shake of her head and a flick of her wrist.
"Hey," Calder protested. With a frown, she rescued the dress from the floor. "Either respect the clothes or get your butt out of the closet."
As usual, Billie didn't hear anything if the comment came close to a criticism.
"You really should update your wardrobe, Calder. These?" Billie held up a pair of strappy sandals. "So last year."
"I imagine my feet will survive the humiliation."
Calder watched with growing exasperation as her mother continued her search. Desperate to hold onto her youth, Billie dressed young and acted younger. She believed age was a state of mind. And with the help of expensive creams, facial massages, and the best plastic surgeons money could buy, she planned to be young forever.
Genetically blessed, Billie hadn't found a reason to go beyond the Botox and chemical peel stage. Yet. She checked the mirror every morning. And afternoon. And evening. The second her skin betrayed her? A sag here or a wrinkle there? Wear and tear her doctor couldn't fix with an outpatient procedure? She would jump in without hesitation.
"We could pass for sisters," Billie declared.
The comment hadn't come out of the blue. Billie made the same statement to one daughter or another at least once a week. Calder reacted as expected.
"Absolutely." A much older sister. But Calder wisely kept the last part to herself.
"Ingo couldn't believe I have four grown daughters. He thought I was twenty-five. When I told him to add ten years, he was shocked. Said he couldn't believe his ears." Billie giggled. "Or his eyes."
So many responses, so little time. Calder bit her tongue. Billie had given her the perfect opening, she didn't want to kill the moment with a snippy remark.
"Ingo Hunter?"
Under her blackened eyelashes, Billie sent Calder one of her patented coy looks. Perfectly designed to set a reasonable person's teeth on edge.
"What about him?"
Calder wished she could shake some sense into her mother's lovely head. Tell her some much-needed home truths. Tempting. But, as experience had taught her, unproductive. Billie closed her ears to what she didn't want to hear. As for the lies men told her? She lapped them up as she purred like a cream-starved pussycat.
To get the information she needed, Calder had to pick her words carefully.
"Do you enjoy his company?"
An innocuous question. Yet, from the way Billie's face lit up, the right one.
"I do." Billie smile beamed. "Ingo is attractive. And attentive. He's interested in my brain, not just my body."
Calder tried not to roll her eyes. Billie wasn't stupid. However, she'd never wanted to expand her mind beyond fashion magazines and the latest gossip. Current events? Politics? The economy? Boring!
"Don't get me wrong. Ingo is a very passionate man." Billie let out a contented sigh. "Very passionate. If you know what I mean."
Eww. Calder didn't want to know about her mother's sex life. Ever. The idea of Billie and Ingo Hunter? Together? Her skin crawled.
"He's not your usual type."
"Ingo is exactly my type, silly girl. Handsome beyond words and crazy about me." Billie's eyes sharpened. "I like what you have on."
The shimmery silver dress was brand new. And showed off Calder's long legs to perfection.
Calder had to laugh. Between her daughters and herself, Billie literally had a house filled with designer clothing to pick from. Naturally, the only outfit she wanted was the one already in use. A classic case of the grass was always greener.
"You can't have the dress off my back."
"Fine." Billie's smile turned into a pout. "I'll find something. I still have a few things Ingo hasn't seen."
Billie swirled past Calder. In her wake, she left a trail of expensive perfume—a one-of-a-kind fragrance Andi's father presented his wife on their wedding day. She changed husbands—many times—but she never changed the scent she dabbed on each morning.
Sentimentality over the first man she married? Or the fact the scent bore her name. Billie. Calder imagined the truth was a little of both.
"Hey." Calder paused. Deliberately, she called out the name she rarely used. "Mom?"
At the bedroom door, Billie turned, her expression vague. Obviously, the difference hadn't registered.
"Yes?"
Be careful, Calder wanted to tell her. For once in your life, look before you leap. Knowing they would fall on deaf ears, she kept her warnings to herself.
"I hope you have a nice evening."
"I always do."
With a dramatic sweep of her hand, Billie disappeared. Calder walked into the bathroom to finish getting ready for her date. As she brightened her lips with a touch of color, she looked herself in the eyes.
"Wish all you want, Billie will never change," Calder told her reflection. "And for all her exasperating ways, you'll never stop loving her."
For the first time, Calder realized what she and her sisters were up against.
Time would tell if they could protect Billie from Ingo Hunter. Lord knew they would do their best.
The question was, could they accomplish the impossible? Could they protect their mother from herself?
CHAPTER SIX
~~~~
ADAM TRIED TO remember the last time he'd spent so much time thinking about a woman.
High school? The night he'd been one hundred percent certain he would finally get lucky with Mavis Emery? Months of sweaty make-out sessions with nothing to show for his efforts except what felt like a case of terminal blue balls, he spent hours dreaming of how glorious sex would be—if the day ever arrived.
The definition of a blond bombshell, Mavis was every high school boy's wet dream. Teased-out hair. Fire engine red lips. When Adam looked into her eyes, he saw a wealth of womanly knowledge in the pale blue depths. Mavis carried herself with worldly sophistication. Or so his sex-obsessed teenage imagination thought.
Turned out they were a couple inexperienced kids with more hormones than brains. The night Mavis confessed she was still a virgin, Adam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He knew the basics. He'd counted on her to guide him.
Eventually, they fumbled their way through. In retrospect, Adam suspected he enjoyed the experience more than Mavis. She'd smiled as he held her close. Said all the right things to stroke his fragile ego. And because they were young, he believed they were in love.
A month later, Mavis turned her sights on the captain of the football team. His heart fully intact, Adam started dating a cute little brunette. Her name was stored in his memory beside all the other women he'd been with. Sherry Klein.
Names were easy for him. Lasting relationships, not so much.
Adam straightened his tie. He'd fallen into a pattern of one forgettable relationship after another. More like one or two-night stands if he wanted to be brutally honest. Mavis was memorable because she'd been his first.
With very few exceptions, he moved from woman to woman. All he needed—or wanted—were a few laughs. And a lot of sex.
Until one night on his way home from drinks with friends when he encountered a leggy, dark-eyed beauty and her asshole of an escort. Barely a blink in time.
Yet, her fa
ce lingered in his mind well after he'd watched her cab drive away.
As he lay awake, Adam told himself she was just a woman. When her image was still with him the next morning, he tried to convince himself she was like all the rest. Female. To be respected. To be enjoyed. To be forgotten.
How was Adam supposed to forget when the next day he literally ran right into her? Or rather, she ran into him. Calder. An unusual name. Like the woman herself.
Not a big believer in fate, Adam couldn't argue that something kept pushing them together. Calder didn't hem or haw when he asked if she were interested in him. Her eyes said yes. Her body said yes. Most important, her words said yes.
As a result, he did what any rational, heterosexual man would do. He asked her out before he gave into the impulse to kiss her. Wrong place. Wrong time.
Adam easily imagined how she would feel in his arms. And he smiled. Soft and warm and willing. Maybe even eager. A match for him. He wanted somewhere private. Not the back stairwell of her family's home where they could be interrupted at any second. Somewhere they could take their time. Explore. Taste. Enjoy.
Leaning close to the bathroom mirror, Adam ran his hand over his freshly shaved jaw. Smooth. As a teenager, he'd lived in jeans and sweatshirts. Yet, no matter what he wore, he always liked to be well groomed.
To Adam's surprise, he'd become quite the clothes horse since he left the Navy. Of course, money helped. For the first time in his life, his bank account was well padded. Very well padded. He'd discovered a side of the good life he hadn't expected. Tailored shirts and suits. An assortment of silk neckties. The Italian leather shoes that lined one wall of his closet were a big step up from canvas high-tops—the cheapest his mother could find.
Expensive didn't always equal better. Just because he had the money didn't mean Adam spent with reckless abandon. He saved whenever possible. Invested wisely. However, the first time he slid a pair of hand-crafted dress shoes on his feet, he knew he could never go back to bargain rack specials again.
Adam grabbed his wallet. Checked his image. Again. Same as the last time he looked. And the time before. Pressed suit. Crisp white shirt. Polished shoes. Foolish man.
Chuckling, Adam locked his apartment door. He wasn't a skinny kid, all nerves and uncertainty. He was a man with years of experience under his belt. A man who never doubted his choices. What was the point? Often, he took the right path. On the few occasions he swerved right when he should have gone left, he corrected the error. And moved on. Forward. Always forward.
Nerves and doubts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced either. Yet, Adam wasn't so far removed from the emotions that he couldn't recognize them. What he felt tonight was different.
Anticipation.
Unlike the women Adam usually dated, Calder was a wild card. Not because of her money or social status. He didn't give a flying leap about either. What made her different was… Honestly, he had no idea. But he couldn't wait to find out.
~~~~
CALDER DIDN'T KNOW what to expect when she accepted Adam's invitation.
She wasn't a party girl. Never had been. Late nights, every night, weren't her scene. Social by nature meant she did go out on a regular basis. Sometimes with her sisters. Or with friends. Often with a male escort.
Dinner. Dancing. Movies. Concerts. Calder enjoyed the usual pursuits and gravitated toward people with the same interests. People she'd known for a long time or met through mutual acquaintances.
Adam was different. Calder knew very little about him. Beyond the fact that he wasn't a bouncer. Or a painter. Or that he hadn't hesitated to step in when he thought she needed his help.
He arrived at seven sharp. Which meant he was punctual. Calder knew the time because she glanced at the clock more often than she wanted to admit, willing the minutes to pass.
Perhaps she knew more about him than she thought. While Adam could rock a perfectly tailored suit with the best of them—comfortable and natural—he looked just as at home in a pair of jeans. And sexy as hell in either option.
The car he drove was expensive. Something low-slung and sporty—Calder wasn't informed enough on the subject to know the make or model. The fact that Adam didn't feel the need to expound on things like horsepower or the astronomical price tag impressed Calder more than he would ever understand.
On top of his growing list of virtues? He smelled amazing. The interior of the car was small. Intimate rather than cramped. If he'd doused himself with cologne, she would have known. Cheap or expensive, Calder was not a fan. Adam's scent was subtle. She breathed deeply. Mild soap and yummy male.
The combination was unexpected. And heady.
"All buckled in?" When Calder nodded, Adam's gaze dropped from her eyes, down her body. "Thank you."
"For?"
"The dress." With a grin, he put the car in gear. "First thing I noticed about you the night we met was your legs."
"These old things?" Calder crossed one leg over the other—in Adam's direction. "I've had them all my life."
Adam laughed. A low growl. He didn't need words to let Calder in on his thoughts. One heated glance as he merged into traffic was all she needed.
"How do you fill your days?" he asked. "Do you have a regular job?"
"Give me an example of an irregular job."
"Off the top of my head, I can't think of any." Adam braked as the traffic light changed from yellow to red. "You have money."
Calder waited while Adam paused to choose his words. The Benedict family fortune landed on the filthy side of rich—a good description, if the stories she'd heard about her ancestors were true. She wasn't particularly proud of her monetary status. Any more than she was ashamed.
Grateful? Definitely. Calder enjoyed her life. She worked. She played. She gave back to those in need through her charity and other worthwhile organizations.
"I have a job, Adam. Not because I need to work. Because I want to."
"Did I sound judgmental?"
"Maybe. A little." Calder liked that he was self-aware enough to ask. Speaking of which. "Did I sound defensive?"
"Maybe." Adam winked. "A little."
"I think I might like you."
"You sound surprised?"
"Like isn't the same as lust." Calder understood the difference. Did Adam?
"I've had sex with women I barely knew." Adam pulled the car to a stop. "Not something I brag about. Simply a fact. I wasn't interested in how they made their living. Or their family. Or their dreams. All I wanted was a yes."
Adam's bald-faced honesty didn't put Calder off. Instead, she found herself drawn to him even more.
"Did you at least get their names?"
"Usually." His eyes carried a roguish twinkle. "I knew a young lady who could hook her leg behind her head. The details don't matter. I—"
"Are you kidding? The details are the best part," Calder declared.
"Another time."
"You think I'll forget to ask. But I won't."
"Then I'll tell you. Another time."
Before Calder could mount an argument, Adam left the car. A few long strides later and he had the passenger door open. He took her hand.
"My point is simple—even if I took a roundabout journey to get there."
"Do tell."
"I like you, Calder. And I want you. The two don't always go together. In this case, our case, they do. On my side, at least."
Before they crossed the street, Adam tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. A casual gesture. Yet, intimate. Thoughtful without an ounce of premeditation. Not to impress. Natural. Part of who he was as a man and a human being.
"Where are we?" Calder asked.
"My part of town."
Adam led her toward a nondescript brick building. The entrance was lit by a single low-wattage bulb which hung over a simple, unmarked black door.
Since they hadn't crossed a bridge or traveled through a tunnel, Calder knew they wer
e still in Manhattan. Their exact location, she couldn't say. Nothing looked familiar. She hadn't kept track of landmarks or made a note of street signs.
Mentally, Calder kicked herself. If Destry were here, she would be livid. And her youngest sister would be right.
Always be aware of your surroundings. Never let your guard down. Women are vulnerable. Women with money? We have freaking targets on our backs.
Though Destry had better reason than Calder, Andi, or Bryce to be overly cautious, her words of warning applied to them all. The Benedict name meant a life of comfort and privilege. And—unfortunately—a certain amount of danger.
"You aren't kidnapping me. Are you?"
Now was hardly the time to ask. If Adam's motives were nefarious, Calder was already in trouble. She wasn't worried. Not really. Still…
"Seriously?" Adam smiled. However, when he looked into Calder's eyes, her slight concern must have come through. His expression turned thoughtful. "Has someone tried to kidnap you?"
Calder shrugged. She didn't share personal family business with anyone. Especially when the information concerned one of her sisters.
"You're safe with me. Always." Adam's gaze deepened into an intense blue. "I will never hurt you, Calder."
Foolish or not—Destry would fall on the side of foolish—Calder believed him.
"I don't expect you to trust me." Adam touched her cheek—ever so lightly. "Not now. Hopefully you will. When you know me better."
Calder didn't point out the obvious. Trust didn't happen overnight. She and Adam had barely entered phase one of something she refused to define. Relationships weren't her forte. Lovers she could handle—temporarily. Friends. Sure. Though she didn't have many of the male variety. None she would categorize as close.
Maybe Adam would be one of the few. Maybe not. Time would tell. Calder tightened her hand on Adam's arm. Trust—of a sort.
"For now, let's have dinner. I'm hungry." Cars lined the street. However, the building didn't inspire hope of culinary excellence. "Are you sure you have the right place?"
One Way or Another: A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance (The Sisters Quartet Book 1) Page 6