Calder didn't think twice about the two sides of her complicated sister. She loved Destry—the rough and the soft—without reservation.
"Enjoying your downtime?"
Destry nodded.
"I have a whiff of a job. Nothing set in stone."
"Your favorite kind."
When Destry grinned, her eyes clear of their habitual cynicism, she looked like a kid. Carefree. Happy. Calder grinned back.
"How was your trip?"
Calder kept to the highlights. Short and sweet. Though if she'd wanted, she could have elaborated. One of Destry's greatest talents was listening. She never appeared bored. Or disinterested. Her sister never asked a question unless she cared about the answer.
"I'm so glad you're back." Destry sighed. "I needed somebody to talk to."
"Poor little girl." Calder winked. Only her sisters could get away with calling Destry little. Or a girl. "Where is everybody?"
"Bryce is writing. Which is as good as not here. Andi's at her studio working on a fabulous new creation. A wedding dress for some princess somewhere. I think."
Sounded right. Andi was in high demand. Her fashions were worn by movie stars, first ladies, and monarchs. Not to mention her newest off-the-rack line of clothing any woman could afford. If their big sister had her way—and she always did—the entire world would soon be dressed by AB Designs.
"Mrs. Finch is shopping. Billie hasn't returned from Florida." Destry's expression grew pensive. "Speaking of Mother Dear and her latest amour. Something you said the other day keeps sneaking into my thoughts."
"Remind me?"
"Hunter's reputation. What exactly do we know outside of gossip and our personal experiences?" Destry shuddered. "Yuk, by the way."
Calder's sentiments exactly.
"Until now, we had no reason to look beyond the surface."
"I wish we could forget the man exists." Destry slowly shook her head. "Billie's less than stellar judgment makes the option of blissful ignorance impossible."
"What's your plan?" Calder asked. Destry always had something good in mind.
"I've done some preliminary research. But to dig beneath Hunter's slimy surface, we need somebody who's a lot more tech savvy."
"You mean tech sneaky."
"Some of my influence has rubbed off." Dramatically, Destry clutched at her heart and sighed. "I'm so proud."
Calder felt a little proud herself.
"Andi and Bryce will agree. I say call whomever you know. The sooner, the better."
"I tried last night. My first choice, Minna Lister, is on vacation and can't be reached until week after next. My other friend, Roscoe, can help, but not until he clears his calendar. At least a week."
"Checking up on the skeevy is a busy business." Calder was impressed and disturbed at the same time.
"No matter what some of these so-called cyber detectives claim, a lot of them have the discretion of an alley cat. Whatever they find, or don't find, we don't want Ingo Hunter to know what we're up to."
"I know a man who might be able to help us."
Destry perked up. "Is he a computer geek?"
"No. He's a facilitator."
"Adam Stone." At Calder's surprised look, Destry smiled. "Andi, Bryce, and I did some catching up while you were gone. Naturally, the subject of your love life turned out to be a lively topic."
"Naturally." Calder rolled her eyes. Sisters. The fantastic, the annoying, and the gossipy. "Well? What was the verdict?"
"Impossible to pass judgment so early in the process. Especially when I haven't met him yet."
The shrugged-off remark would have worked on a stranger. Not Calder.
While experience had taught each of them to be wary of new acquaintances—hell, they had to keep their eyes peeled around most of their relatives—Destry took suspicion to a different level. Often a blessing. Sometimes a curse. As necessary as breathing. Destry never took anyone at face value.
"Well?" Calder's stomach slowly twisted into a knot. "What kind of crap did you uncover about Adam?"
Assume the worst. Never get hurt. The unofficial Benedict sister motto. Frustrated with herself for falling into the same old pattern, Calder buried her face in her pillow. She hated the path her thoughts automatically followed. However, letting go of past hurts was hard.
"Adam's a good man." Calder spoke the words with a firm conviction. Mentally, she crossed her fingers.
"You don't want to know what I found?"
Calder wanted to believe in Adam. Honestly, she did. However, she wasn't a fool.
"Tell me."
"Smart." Destry gave a nod of approval. "I didn't find anything problematic."
"I didn't think you would." The first knot in Calder's stomach loosened.
Though Destry gave her a knowing smile, she kept any comment to herself.
"I'll reiterate, my cyber skills are minimal. However, Adam Stone— Do you want me to give you his particulars? Middle name? Date of birth? Blood type?"
"You found his blood type during a surface dig?"
"General medical details are easy to access. Adam's health is impressive, by the way. And his teeth? Not a single cavity."
Calder was impressed. She ran her tongue over her back molars. Straight, strong, and all her own, she hadn't completely avoided the dentist's drill.
"Forget Adam's blood type. You know what I need to know."
Destry nodded.
"He's clean. But not too clean."
"Too clean is bad?" Calder asked. Boring, sure. But she thought a clean record was a good thing.
"Everybody has a bump in their past. A speeding ticket. Overdue bills. Credit card debt." Destry met Calder's gaze. "A police record."
"I was in college."
Youth alone was a valid excuse in Calder's book. The fact she and some fellow students were hauled in when they tried to free live test animals from the science lab—and succeeded—made her police record justifiable. Even righteous.
"Besides, my record was expunged after I spent the summer picking up trash along the highway."
"I never judged."
"Considering the things you've done, I should hope not."
"Big difference? I never got caught." Smug, Destry smiled. "Back to your boyfriend. Adam's bumps consisted of a few foolish indiscretions. Where he grew up, there were plenty of tough crowds he could have run with. For whatever reason, he chose not to."
Calder's insides settled—close to normal.
"Nothing illegal or immoral?"
"Immoral is a judgment call," Destry reminded her. "According to what I found, Adam lightly brushed illegal. He didn't cross the line. What we need to know, what you'll have to decide? Can we trust him?"
Adam and his damn blue eyes had a way of scrambling Calder's wires. Her judgment, usually spot on, was a bit skewed in his favor. Destry's digging helped. Tonight, she would do her best to keep an open mind. In the end, all she could do was go with her instincts.
"I'll ask Adam if he knows a good private investigator."
"Okay." Destry accepted Calder's decision. "But you didn't answer my question. Can we trust him?"
"I guess we'll find out."
~~~~
JEANS. A PAIR of sturdy boots, good for walking. A coat of some kind to keep out the cold. Gloves—just to be safe. Dirt is a given. So, if your clothes are machine washable, you're golden.
Smiling, Calder tapped out her response to Adam's text. Poor baby didn't know what to wear for their date. Her thumb hovered over send. Then, decided on a last-second addition.
See you at six thirty. Sharp.
Satisfied, she sent the message. Before she could set aside her phone, she received Adam's answer.
I can be ready at six. Sharp.
Either he was anxious to see her. Or… Calder couldn't think of another reason Adam would try to push their date up by a half hour. She was flattered. And frankly, wanted to see him just a
s much.
Fine, she typed. Six o'clock. But not a second sooner.
A few seconds later, her phone chimed.
Six o'clock—to start. How late?
Her smile widened as she considered Adam's question.
I make my own curfew. How late depends entirely on you.
Somehow, Adam shaved several seconds off his last response time. The concise three-word text helped.
Bring a toothbrush.
Determined not to let him have the last word, Calder's fingers flew.
I always do. Been awhile since I've broken the seal on the box.
Calder tossed her phone onto the bed and headed for her bathroom before Adam could answer. She imagined something clever. Maybe a little sexy. But not too suggestive or arrogant. As tempted as she was, she would rather exchange quips in person.
The possibilities when she and Adam were face to face seemed much more interesting. And varied.
Steam poured from the shower stall in billowy puffs. Calder lifted her face to the spray and simply stood, arms to her sides as the pounding pressure washed away the scents of travel in particular and airports in general.
She had decided to give herself a break from family drama and enjoy the evening. Billie. Ingo Hunter. Private investigators. Trust issues. Tomorrow was soon enough to tackle the growing litany of headaches. Tonight, she wanted to have fun. With Adam.
No reason to fuss with her hair or makeup. Casual plans meant casual preparation. However, she refused to skimp on the time she spent on her skin. Moisturizing was an essential. As she smoothed lotion over her body, her thoughts drifted to Adam and his strong, gentle hands.
Masculine—like the rest of him. Long fingers. His palms sported just enough callouses to make them interesting. To spark her imagination. How would they feel against her arms? Her back? Her breasts? Gentle, yet firm. Sure. Knowing.
Calder set aside the bottle, chiding herself. Silly to fantasize about Adam's touch. Why get all worked up when the man himself was only a car ride away?
Ten minutes later, Calder was dressed and ready to go. She checked the contents of her tote bag. Wallet. Phone. Condoms—a modern woman was always prepared.
Almost out the door, she backtracked to the bathroom. What the heck. Just in case, Calder grabbed the bottle of lotion and tossed it into the bag. Right next to her toothbrush.
CHAPTER NINE
~~~~
SPLAT. FROWNING, ADAM looked up just as a second drop of water landed on his head. Or rather, his face. He should have known better. Something wet landed on his head. He should move away before he tilted his head to check out the source. Common sense 101. A basic tenet Adam failed to follow.
And paid the price.
"Here."
Laughing, Calder handed him a large, square cloth. Red. Soft. Like something a cowboy would wear around his neck in an old Western movie.
"Handkerchief?" he asked as he eyed the unusually large piece of material.
"Technically, the term is bandana—according to my sister. Right now. For you? A towel."
"Thanks."
The overhead lighting was minimal. What at best could be termed the other side of dim. However, as Adam wiped his face, and the back of his head, and his neck, he easily identified more than mere water on the used cloth.
Grime and sweat. Mixed with… Blood? Adam didn't remember hitting his head. Or, perhaps he hit his head, and he didn't remember. Either way, he was more perplexed than concerned. He sniffed at the substance.
"Oil." He nodded. "Thank the Lord."
"You like when viscous matter ends up in your hair?" Calder looked amused.
When Adam would have returned the bandana, she shook her head. Taking a square of blue, she wiped off her own share of dirt and perspiration. "I packed more than one."
"Thanks again." He tucked the cloth into his back pocket. "And I don't give a flying leap about the oil. But if I cut myself, you'd probably insist on a trip to the emergency room."
"Definitely," Calder corrected.
"And I don't want to leave. Not yet."
Calder let out a delighted chuckle. Adam had to put her laughter right near the top of his best sounds ever list.
"Having a good time?"
He nodded. Though Calder had proved during the past hour she didn't need his help—the woman was intrepid—he automatically took her hand, helping her over a large outcropping of rusting pipes.
"We have to come back. Soon."
"Sure. But, you can always come by yourself. I'll give you Reggie's number."
Reggie was a small, wiry-looking man with a shock of orange hair and front teeth made of gold. After a brief introduction, he grunted a greeting. He hadn't said another word since. Their official guide—Calder's words. Or unofficial. Adam wasn't sure how many laws they'd broken. Maybe none. Maybe a dozen. He hadn't asked. Nor did he care.
One thing he knew for certain. Tonight was the best time he'd had in longer than he could remember. And the reason had nothing to do with their location. The reason was Calder.
True, Adam admitted to himself as they walked around the next corner. He was a man who appreciated his own company. Especially after the Navy where he'd spent months at sea crammed into small quarters with hundreds of other sailors.
What his fellow servicemen and women didn't have was Calder's never-ending verve. She raised the concept of companionship to a new level. She was fun. And funny. One didn't always go hand in hand with the other.
Plus? She smelled a hell of a lot better than any sailor he'd ever met.
And talk about full of surprises. If given a month of Sundays, he never would have guessed their date destination.
Calder arrived at his apartment—five minutes early. Beautiful to be sure, the woman who greeted him with a winning smile was not the perfectly put together fashionista he'd come to expect. Her clothing reflected the texts they'd exchanged. Faded jeans—not the designer variety—hugged her long legs. Her boots were scuffed at the toes, worn down at the heels. Obviously, they'd seen serious activity.
"I hope you're ready for an adventure." On the way to her car, Calder shot him an impish grin. "Where we're headed isn't for the faint of heart."
Adam had laughed, certain the endgame couldn't match the buildup.
"Don't worry. I'll catch whatever you throw my way."
Calder zipped through evening traffic with the skill of a race car driver. Her skin, free of the artifice makeup often provided, carried a healthy, natural glow. And her dark eyes sparkled with life.
"My advice? Don't try to field tonight's curveballs."
"What do you suggest instead?"
"Duck."
More and more intrigued, Adam barely winced as Calder changed lanes. She had some mad moves. Emphasis on mad.
Born and raised in the area, Adam had explored most of New York City. Visited every borough. Seen the highs. The lows. The in between. Yet, in all his twenty-nine years, he had never trekked beneath the streets.
A ride on the subway didn't count. Calder brought him to an area not meant for the general public. Or, as she'd said, the faint of heart.
Caverns and tunnels and weeping walls. Oh, my. The smell of mildew with an overlay of gasoline. A touch of moldering garbage added to the already dank atmosphere. Adam hadn't hesitated when Calder led him down a dark stairwell. She'd said they were about to embark on an adventure. And she hadn't been joking.
"You've been down here before?"
"A few times." From her tote bag, Calder removed two bottles of water, offering one to Adam. "Bryce set a book in the underground caverns of a fictional city. She wanted to do some hands-on research and dragged me along. Took me about five minutes to morph from reluctant companion to enthralled explorer."
"I understand completely. Wait. Bryce? Your sister is the Bryce Benedict?"
"The one and only. Are you a fan?"
"I am."
Adam had learned
not to read a Bryce Benedict book before bedtime. Not if he wanted a good night's sleep.
"I'll let her know. Millions of books sold, and Bryce still worries her fanbase is going to dry up."
Adam had the feeling he'd scored some unintentional points in the pro column. He really was a huge fan. But where Calder was concerned, he'd take any leg up he could get.
"If you're game, why don't we have our dinner here?"
An electric sconce brightened the small area. Fairly rock free, the area was small, but would suit their purposes.
Adam watched as Reggie, without explanation, disappeared down the next narrow passageway. Apparently, their reticent guide had other plans for his meal.
"Takeout seems unlikely."
"Most pizza places frown on underground transactions," Calder agreed. With a flourish, Calder whipped a blue and white-checked tablecloth from her bag. "Exactly why I brought all the makings of a picnic. No delivery required."
"Do I tip you?"
Calder laid the cloth on the tunnel floor.
"In your case. I'll accept a kiss."
Her tone was casual as though the weather were the topic at hand.
Adam didn't give her a chance to change her mind. Three long strides and he had her in his arms.
"I plan to take my time," he whispered.
Calder dropped her bag. He dropped his water. Their gazes locked as she wound her arms around his neck.
"I plan to let you."
A man could easily lose track of the women he'd kissed. After so many years, so many sets of lips, the numbers blurred. In a heartbeat, Adam knew he would remember everything about his first taste of Calder. For the rest of his life.
Like silk, he thought. Her lips. And her hair. With a single tug, the dark tresses fell free. He let the metal clip fall from his fingers. Long, fragrant strands cascaded past her shoulders, over his hands, around his forearms.
A spontaneous offshoot of their banter, Adam thought the kiss would be light and uncomplicated. An appetizer, so to speak. To be continued at a more convenient, more romance-conducive location.
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.
One Way or Another_A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance Page 9