CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 

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ADAM HELD THE door for Calder. She brushed his arm as she passed.

Friday. Date night all over the United States. They hadn't seen each other since he took her home after their trip to Greenwich Village. Other than a confirmation text earlier in the day, they hadn't been in touch.

Space and time. Somehow, Calder instinctively knew Adam needed both. Time to speak with his mother. Space to gather his thoughts.

The conversation wasn't as painful—and only slightly more awkward—than Adam anticipated. Adriana Stone proved once more why she was the greatest woman he would ever know.

Changed by what happened, she hadn't let the attack define her. She didn't live in fear. Or simmer with what she considered fruitless emotions tagged with hate. Instead, she used the experience to help other victims of violence.

When Adam went to his mother, he wasn't sure what he would say. How he would ask if he could tell her story to Calder. He shouldn't have worried.

"Calder. A lovely name. Is she important to you?"

"Yes. Very."

"Well." Adriana took a moment to absorb the news. "I want to meet her. Soon."

"You will. I promise. Mom." Adam took a deep breath. "I need to tell her. But…"

"You wanted to ask me first."

He nodded.

"What a fine young man I raised."

"I'm my mother's son."

"Tell her." Her eyes damp, Adriana nodded. "Your Calder should know."

Adam would tell Calder. Later. When they were alone. Now, he wanted them to enjoy the evening. Good food. Good company.

Melvin and Tamara lived in a modest, but well-maintained building. The floors immaculate, the walls graffiti free.

Automatically, Calder started up the stairs without a glance to see if the building possessed an elevator. Adam, right by her side, wondered how much time they'd spent on one staircase or another. He didn't mind. He thought of the walks as their unique brand of bonding.

Besides, the up and down trips gave him the perfect excuse to engage in his second favorite activity. Holding Calder's hand. His first favorite demanded a bit more privacy than a public stairwell. In a pinch, he could probably persuade her—and enjoy every second of the process.

"When was the last time you visited the Bronx?"

"Do I hear a touch of the snob in your voice?" Calder asked.

"A touch? Probably." Adam returned her smile. "I noticed you didn't answer the question."

"What's the point? When I step out my front door, I don't see Manhattan. I see New York City. The Bronx is part of the whole. Correct?"

"Technically. Some people are more territorial. The borough you occupy matters. So, be honest, rich girl. And, FYI? A Yankee game doesn't count."

Calder had taken Adam's fashion advice. Paired with a dark-brown leather bomber jacket, she wore a crisp white shirt. Her hair hung down her back in one long braid. Under the hem of jeans peeked a pair of high tops. Converse red.

Effortlessly chic. Adam doubted she knew any other way.

"A wedding."

"Okay." Seemed plausible. "Who's wedding?"

"Friends. I do have one or two, you know." Calder had a challenge in her gaze. "And, Navy boy, I didn't have to join the military to acquire mine."

"Not the first time you questioned my pre-enlistment popularity. We need to make a trip to Long Island. You won't take two steps without tripping over my friends."

"You're a good talker. When you show me some action, I'll believe you."

"Action? You want action?"

The fourth-floor landing, with a secluded little nook, was the perfect spot. Adam backed Calder away from potential prying eyes until shadows blanketed them.

"Remember where we are." Calder's laugh turned into a moan as Adam's lips found the side of her neck. "Tamara won't thank us if she has to serve a cold dinner. Or does Melvin do the cooking?"

"Both." Calder tasted like honeyed wine. Sweet and intoxicating. "Don't worry. I'll take the blame."

"Damn straight, you will."

Calder threaded her fingers through Adam's hair, tugged him close, and gave in. The kiss was short but thorough and wanton.

"More."

"Nope," Calder gasped. She slipped from his grasp before he could persuade her to stay and be bad. "You're part devil, Adam Stone."

With the smile of an angel, Adam ushered her down the hall.

"What about the rest of me?"

Lips twitching, Calder took a small mirror from her purse. Adam could have told her how she looked. Absolutely beautiful. After a quick perusal—and a dab of fresh lipstick—she seemed satisfied his impromptu fun hadn't mussed her up.

"Just ring the bell.

Adam barely grazed the button when the door flew open. Melvin didn't greet him as much as drag him into the apartment. Calder followed in the wake.

"Finally! Where the hell have you been?"

"We're right on time. Me. And my date?"

Melvin's slightly wild-eyed gaze landed on Calder. His anxious expression turned contrite. "Where are my manners? Welcome. Come in. I'm Melvin. You must be Calder. Nice to meet you."

A bemused/amused sparkle in her eyes, Calder shook Melvin's hand.

"Thank you for inviting me."

"Our pleasure. Tamara will be right along. She's checking something in the kitchen. Roast beef. Or chicken. I can't remember. Would you like a drink?"

"White wine would be great."

"Terrific. Adam? You know where to hang Calder's jacket. I'll be right back."

"Is your friend always wound so tight?"

"Hand to God, I don't know what got into him." Adam helped Calder with her jacket. "One time during basic training, a stray bullet missed Melvin's head by three inches—at the most. I freaked. He hardly blinked. In an emergency, the man has ice water in his veins. Usually."

"His wife is pregnant, right? Could something be wrong?"

Adam's stomach dropped. Tamara.

"I don't know. She's here. Surely she wouldn't be in the kitchen fiddling with dinner if the baby was in trouble."

"I don't have experience with pregnant women."

"Me, neither."

"Good to know." Calder smiled. "If a problem exists. I'm certain Melvin and Tamara will tell you. If. I'm sorry I put the idea into your head."

Calder hugged him close. The best medicine in the world. At least in his world. Adam kissed her. And she kissed him back. Soothing, with enough of the underlying zing he'd come to expect—to crave.

The kitchen door swung open. Tamara walked out, looking happy and healthy. Melvin, still frazzled, carried a tray of drinks.

"White wine for Calder. Ginger ale for my darling wife. And a beer for me."

"Forget someone?" Adam held up his empty hands.

"You know." Melvin tapped a finger against his chin as if he had a sudden thought. "I bought a selection of fancy beers. Why don't you come take a look? Pick whatever sounds good. Won't take a minute."

"Okay." Adam didn't know what the hell was going on, but he had the feeling he was about to find out. "Calder? The lovely lady with the mother-to-be glow is Tamara."

"Right. Calder, Tamara. Tamara, Calder. Get to know each other. We'll be right back."

Melvin pushed Adam from the room.

"Before I kick your ass, tell me one thing. Are Tamara and the baby okay?"

"Yah." Melvin waved off the question. "You'd be the first to know if they weren't."

"Then, what the hell is wrong with you? I wanted Calder to get to know my friend. Instead, you show the face of a raving fool. Nice first impression."

"I'm sorry. Honestly. I'll apologize. Unless Calder runs screaming from the apartment and never wants to talk to any of us again." Melvin grabbed Adam by the arms. "Man, we have a potential disaster on our hands. With a capital fucking D."

"Tell me!"

"First, calm down."

Melvin gave him a shake. Not the smartest move he ever made. Adam's patience was one thin thread away from a major break.

"Me? I should calm down? You're the one on red alert. I don't have a clue what's going on."

"Don't blame Tamara. Her hormones are out of whack. And you know Aurora. If manipulation were an Olympic sport, she'd own more gold than Fort Knox."

"What the hell does Aurora have to do with anything? Unless…"

Please, Adam raised his eyes toward the heavens, not tonight.

"Tamara invited her to dinner. Before you explode, let me explain," Melvin rushed on.

Adam wouldn't explode. He might cry for the first time in his adult life, but shock had sent his temper into a deep freeze.

"I can't wait to hear a viable reason why crazy is about to crash the party."

"Long story short. This morning, Tamara decided to visit her mother. Out on Long Island. They walked to a nearby café for lunch. They started talking, as people do—"

"Short, you said?" Impatient, Adam sighed. "I'd hate to hear the long version."

Melvin stopped pacing long enough to shoot Adam a disgruntled look.

"Pertinent details take some time. And if you wouldn't interrupt, I'd—"

"Damn it, Melvin!"

"Right." Air whooshed from Melvin's lungs along with a breathless string of words. "Innocently, Tamara mentioned you. Calder. Dinner. Tonight. A perfectly natural progression of a mother/daughter conversation. No harm done. Except, the café is small, the tables close together."

"Aurora was there."

"Right behind Tamara."

"Coincidences happen." Adam shrugged. "How does an unfortunate case of eavesdropping turn into dinner here? Tonight? Hell, any night?"

"Tamara isn't sure. Her mother left to use the ladies room, Aurora moved in. Before you can say, the girl has some nerve, she finagled herself an invitation."

"The hell you say."

Adam took his phone from his pocket. Damn Aurora. She lived to make trouble. Calder could hold her own. Take anything thrown her way with both hands tied behind her back. But, damn it, she deserved what he'd promised. Dinner with friends. Aurora didn't qualify.

"Damn. She won't pick up." A message would be pointless, but at least he could vent. "Stay away, Aurora. I swear, if you show up tonight, we're through. Understand? Completely and finally over."

A waste of breath. She was certain he'd always be there for her. In a week or two, she'd concoct an elaborate way to draw him back into her life. The kind of life or death situation where only he could save her.

Adam had reached the end of the line. He was tired of her neediness. No matter what happened tonight, he was through with her and her drama.

A few clicks of the keypad. Aurora Charles. Number blocked.

"She'll be here any second," Melvin warned.

"I know."

All Adam could do was prepare Calder.

"With a date. Tamara doesn't know who."

"Great." Adam sighed. "Just great."

He left the kitchen, Melvin on his heels.

"Sorry I didn't call to warn you. I didn't know until the last minute. And to be honest? Tamara would feel terrible if she realized what she'd done."

And Melvin didn't want to upset his wife. Adam understood.

"You want to leave, I'll figure out something to tell Tamara. I'm sure the upset won't disturb the baby."

"Guilt? Really?"

Melvin had played the pregnant wife card. And won.

"I'm steamed. But not at Tamara. Or you."

"You'll stay?"

"Yes."

Melvin wilted with relief.

Adam knew Calder. He'd ask, but she would see Aurora's manipulations as a challenge. Run? Not likely.

When the chime sounded, Melvin nervously stated the obvious.

"Doorbell," he called out.

Out of time, Adam took Calder's hand.

"Come with me."

Confused, Tamara looked at her husband.

"When did our kitchen become such a fascinating place?"

With an innocent shrug, Melvin went to answer the door.

Adam didn't have time to mince words. The second they were alone, he gave Calder the facts.

"Aurora invited herself to dinner."

Calder, Lord love her, didn't blink.

"Talk about rude," she scoffed. "Poor Tamara's too nice. Give me a little while, I'll embed some mean in her. Not too much. Her delightful touch of innocent sweetness is charming. But sweet doesn't work on a woman like Aurora."

"My first instinct is to believe she's here to cause trouble."

"Instincts are good." Calder frowned. "But why? What would she gain?"

Adam's knew his theory might sound self-centered and egotistical. He'd let Calder judge for herself.

"She wants me."

"Ah. And I'm in the way." Arms crossed, Calder leaned her hip against the counter. "The woman has taste. What do you think she has planned?"

"Aurora doesn't plan. I imagine she hopes she can somehow offend your high-brow sensibilities to the point you'll never want to see me again."

"High-brow sensibilities? Me?" Calder laughed. "I hope you know better."

"I do."

Obviously pleased by his answer, Calder's deep-amber eyes warmed.

"I shouldn't judge Aurora on one meeting. Though I don't know if her semi-conscious in the back of my car qualifies as a meeting, the woman is seriously messed up."

Aurora was his friend. If she was a mess, Adam didn't want to stop and think what the fact said about him.

"Want my advice?" Calder asked.

"Please."

"Hope for the best, expect the worst." Calder sighed. "Works with my father."

Adam could have kissed Calder. In fact, he did. And felt better. Much better.

"You're amazing."

"I'm also hungry. At some point, I might cross over to annoyed. Potentially pissed. Depends. Think positive. Aurora might behave herself."

A loud voice, followed quickly by the same voice only louder, reverberated through the kitchen door. Adam groaned. He recognized the sound. And the implications.

"She's drunk."

Adam took the lead. In the living room, Aurora was already in fine form. Her coat half on, half off, she'd plastered herself to Melvin as she tried her best to give him a hello kiss. Any other time the panicked look on his friend's face would have been comical.

Beside him, Calder shook her head.

"So much for positive thinking. I don't see her date. At least we know her plan. Show up alone, shit-faced, so you feel obligated to drive her home."

Tamara looked ready to blow a gasket—Adam didn't blame her. He felt the same. Neither she nor the baby needed any added stress. Melvin—poor Melvin—didn't deserve the aggravation.

Aurora had to go. But not the way she envisioned.

"Call a cab."

Calder nodded.

"You get her out of here, I'll have a ride outside in five minutes."

Adam didn't question Calder's word. If she said five minutes, he could bank on five—or less.

"Thank goodness," Tamara breathed when she caught sight of Adam. "Melvin is at his wit's end."

"I'll take care of her. And, I'm sorry."

Tamara brushed off Adam's apology.

"Don't be ridiculous. I have nobody to blame but myself. Now, go. Please."

Aurora put up a token resistance. A little pushing. A lot of yelling. Her act fell on deaf ears. Adam quickly lost what little patience he had left.

"Move, Aurora. Or I swear, I'll forget you're a woman and kick your ass out the door."

Adam's empty threat didn't concern Aurora. She knew he'd never raise a hand to her. Certain she'd accomplished her goal, she had the nerve to don a Cheshire cat grin as he escorted her from the apartment.

"Guess I messed up. Again."

Not the least bit contrite, Aurora leaned heavily against Adam. When he didn't answer, she tugged on his shirt.

"You're angry. Shouldn't be. Saved you. Boring dinner. Boring friends. Boring rich girl."

Breath like a sour distillery, Aurora seemed intent on blowing as much foul air into Adam's face as humanly possible. He held his breath and thanked the elevator gods for a mercifully quick trip.

Adam considered depositing Aurora on the lobby sofa while they waited for her ride. Tempting, but he quickly dismissed the idea. She was too unpredictable. He couldn't count on her to behave. Rather than take a chance she might say or do something offensive if they ran across someone who lived there, he walked—half-dragged—her from the building.

"Bet ya aren't so rough with your Park Avenue bitch. Think her farts smell like flowers just cause she has money. Well, they don't. Whatever comes out of her tight ass stinks—just like us peasants."

Adam tuned out Aurora's ramblings and leaned her against a lamppost.

"Stay," he commanded.

In response, she sank like a stone. Adam shrugged. Close enough. The ground was dry and relatively clean—and he wasn't in a chivalrous mood. So, he left her where she landed.

"I'm more fun, damn it! And prettier. She's a fucking stick figure." Aurora grabbed her breasts. "One time a man paid me fifty bucks for just a look. Bet Calder would starve if she had to depend on her skinny-ass body for survival."

Four minutes and counting. Adam looked down the street. Headlights. Please stop here. His prayer was answered.

"You Adam Stone?" Adam nodded. He wanted to kiss the man. "I'm Phil Potts. Ms. Benedict said you had a lady a little worse for wear and in need of a ride." Phil took one look at Aurora and let out a slow whistle. "More like down for the count."

"You'll make sure she gets into her apartment before you leave?"

"All part of the service."

"You aren't coming with me? No!" Aurora locked her arms around the metal post.

Adam took more care than he felt Aurora deserved. A couple of firm, but relatively gentle tugs and he had her off the ground. Another pull, she was free of the lamppost. Phil held open the car door while Adam deposited one hundred and five pounds of deadweight onto the seat.

Before he could get away, Aurora launched herself into his arms.

"Don't go back to her." The crocodile tears had turned genuine. "I love you. I know you feel the same."

The ice in Adam's veins melted enough to carry a twinge of regret to his heart. He'd never loved Aurora. Not the way she meant. However, they'd shared some good times. In the early days after he'd left the Navy, she was a friend when he needed one. A lover when the mood was right.

The good memories in his thoughts, Adam brushed the tears from Aurora's face.

"You deserve someone who puts you first. A man who loves you with all his heart."

"You!" Aurora sobbed.

"No. I never was. Never will be. Your happiness is out there, Aurora. But not with me."

Adam closed the door. Try as she might, Aurora couldn't follow. Bless him, Phil had locked her in. She screamed. Pounded on the window. To no avail.

"Scary. And kinda sad."

"Exactly." Adam reached for his wallet. "She lives on Long Island."

Phil held up his hands.

"All taken care of. Just give me the address."

Adam waited until the car was out of sight before he slowly walked away. Into the building. The elevator. Away from one chapter of his life.

Toward, fingers crossed, the future.