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.

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.