CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

~~~~

 

ADAM BUTTONED HIS gray twill suit jacket. The jacket he'd left in the car. A pair of pants. And Italian leather shoes. Shirt, socks, etc. The change of clothes he always packed for a just in case event like today.

Somewhere between the time he fell onto the bed, with Calder, and the time he woke from a pleasure-induced nap, the garment bag and duffel had appeared in a neat pile. Just inside the bedroom door.

"I gave your keys to Hilly."

"Who? And, when?"

"Upstairs maid. When you dozed off."

The concept of a maid, upstairs or otherwise, was odd. Not exactly beyond Adam's comprehension. He read. Watched TV. Went to movies. However, Calder was the first person he knew beyond a business relationship who employed servants.

"I don't know how I feel about someone fetching for me."

While he dressed, Calder had disappeared into her closet. One dress in each hand, she walked out.

"You make her sound like a dog. We pay Hilly a salary—with excellent benefits. I asked her to walk across the street, open a car door, and bring a few items back to the house—activity hardly beyond her purview. Which one?" She held one dress forward, then the other. "Blue or yellow?"

Without a second thought, he nodded toward the yellow. The color made Calder's skin glow. His answer made her beam.

"Great minds." She blew him a kiss before she disappeared back into the closet.

Adam adjusted his tie in the full-length mirror. He'd acquired a certain amount of polish since his punk-assed youth. He rarely gave a thought to whether he fit in or not. A formal dinner? Piece of cake. The world wouldn't end if he used the wrong fork. While he'd rubbed elbows with some of New York City's biggest movers and shakers without the blink of an eye, money and power were Adam's ambition. Not his reason for living.

In the reflective glass, Adam took in the details of the room behind him. Details he'd missed while his mind and body were focused on other things. Calder, to be exact.

Simple. Classy. The kind of off-hand elegance that took years to develop. Or, as in the Benedicts' case, was born in their blood.

Fully dressed, Calder left the closet. Blindly, she slipped on a pair of earrings, a small smile on her lips. She'd done something simple to her hair. Flip and a clip—her words. Perfect. Ready to take on the world.

And all Adam wanted to do was throw her back onto the bed and mess her up. Mess both of them up. For the next week or so.

Suddenly, the source of the niggling unease in the pit of his stomach became clear.

"I don't care about your money."

Eyes like warm honey, Calder met his gaze.

"I know."

"No. Really listen to me. Hear my words, Calder."

Adam took her hand. The physical connection felt important.

"The maid. The house. The antiques. Hell, I didn't grow up around women who casually slipped diamonds on every morning."

Frowning, Calder's hand went to her ear.

"I wear other earrings."

"Diamonds aren't the point." Adam took a breath. Paused to clarify his thoughts. "For a second, I felt out of place."

"You aren't."

"I know. You live in a mansion." Adam shrugged. "Honestly, I like your mansion. And your antiques. And your maids."

Calder's lips twitched. He let out a sigh of relief. In spite of his less than coherent ramblings, she understood.

"Do you like my diamonds? And silk dress. And—"

"I like your lips more."

To prove his point, Adam kissed her. So sweet. And so damn soft. Reluctantly, he pulled away. But not too far.

"I need you to understand. Take away everything. I'd still be here." He cupped her cheek. "Because of you. Always you."

As close to a declaration as he could make—for now—Adam waited. Had he said too much? Not enough?

"Looks like we're heading in the right direction." Calder turned her head. Her lips lingered on his palm. "The same direction."

Adam said a little prayer of thanks. The same direction. Sounded good to him. No promises. No guarantees. At some point, they might decide to take different paths. Now? Tomorrow? They were exactly where they wanted to be. Together.

 

~~~~

 

OVER HIS PROTESTS, Calder insisted Adam eat something before he left for work. Naturally, Mrs. Finch fixed them a late breakfast. When she asked what he'd like, for the first time in his adult life, Adam worried he might blush.

"An apple is all I need. Really."

"I try never to send one of mine out the door without a full stomach."

Her smile smug, Calder's look dared Adam to argue. How could he? Mrs. Finch called him one of hers. With three words, she stamped him with her seal of approval. The casually delivered proclamation left him speechless.

"Fruit and toast for me, please." Calder piped up with her request. She poured Adam a cup of coffee. "Is everybody gone for the day?"

Mrs. Finch nodded.

"Bryce had her usual lumberjack special before she rushed off to parts unknown. Andi was in such a hurry she barely waved hello. Not that she would have eaten if she had the time. Breakfast wise, she's a lost cause."

"And Destry?"

"Pizza."

"We have leftover pizza?" Calder perked up at the idea. Before she could open the refrigerator, Mrs. Finch dashed her hopes.

"We had leftover pizza. Your sister sucked up every last pepperoni. Who knows where she ended up after? Somewhere in the city is my nearest guess." Mrs. Finch, filled with eager anticipation, heated up a cast-iron skillet.

"What sounds good, Adam? Pancakes? Eggs and bacon? Do you prefer sausage? Or something vegan. I might have tofu left from Calder's winter health kick. The stuff never expires. She, on the other hand, lasted two weeks before she rejoined the rest of us meat lovers. Scarfed an entire side of beef."

"A bit of an exaggeration." Calder laughed. "Though not by much. And don't worry about Adam. He's one hundred percent carnivore."

"Bacon would be great, Mrs. Finch."

"Eggs?"

"Scrambled."

A happy whistle on her lips, she went to work.

Eyes twinkling, Calder cleared her throat as Adam dug into his breakfast.

"Still wish we'd headed back to your place?"

"The food is fantastic, Mrs. Finch. Thank you." For Calder's ears only, he added, "And thank you. Smartass."

"My pleasure."

Under the counter, she squeezed his leg in what some might call a friendly manner. The way her fingers inched up his thigh? Beyond friendship. Way beyond. Luckily, Mrs. Finch had her head in the refrigerator, muttering something about what she would make for dinner.

With a shake of his head, Adam removed Calder's hand.

"Behave," Adam warned.

"Always." Calder battered her lashes. "I'm the original good girl."

Adam almost spewed a mouthful of toast over the gleaming marble countertop. Just in time, he tamped down the impulse. Swallowing, he sent Calder a look of disbelief. Had she forgotten their recent shower activities? Followed by the bedroom? And at one point, the floor?

The memories mirrored in Calder's eyes made him wish he could say the hell with work and enjoy a return engagement.

"Good?" he scoffed. "Don't sell yourself short. You're spectacular."

 

~~~~

 

ADAM WALKED CALDER to her office. She wanted to gather some notes for a meeting. The return walk, up the same five flights, was a perfect way to work off part of his bigger than expected breakfast.

When Mrs. Finch insisted he top the bacon and eggs off with a huge, fresh from the oven cinnamon roll. Who was he to argue?

"Anything interesting on your schedule?"

"Depends on how you feel about Greenwich Village. I have a client in the middle of a big renovation. You'd be amazed how often second thoughts set in. He can't see past the chaos. The expense. My job is to remind him how much he'll love the finished product."

Calder looked up from the stack of papers in her hand.

"Seems above and beyond."

"Just another part of the service I provide."

"The contract I signed didn't say anything about above and beyond handholding."

"I'll hold your hand anytime you want."

"Stay back." Calder formed her forefingers into a make-shift cross. "I recognize the glint in your eyes, fella. Neither of us has the time for another round of hide the sausage."

Adam chuckled. And kept his distance.

"Six thirty good for you on Friday?"

"Fine." Calder paused. "I hate to be such a girl."

"But…"

"What should I wear? Are your friends the casually dressy types? Or should I opt for something weekend chic?"

Adam knew Calder wasn't worried about her wardrobe. Give her five minutes notice and she could dress for any occasion with one hand tied behind her back.

"Are you nervous to meet my friends?"

The idea surprised—and charmed—him.

"Maybe. A little. If they hate me, I—"

"Not possible. Just be yourself, Calder. Believe me, they want to like you."

"And I want to like them," Calder assured him. "Still, for my peace of mind…?"

"A casual skirt. Jeans. A nice blouse. Any variation. Melvin and Tamara want to meet you, not your wardrobe. They won't care if you show up in a burlap bag."

"She'll care. Women dress for each other. Melvin might not notice if the heel of my shoe has a scuff, but Tamara will."

"I notice." Adam noticed everything about Calder. "By the way? You, and your heels, are immaculate. Always are."

"You, my friend, are the wonderful exception." Calder gave him a quick kiss. She scuttled away before he could move in for a prolonged embrace. "Now, go. I don't want to be the reason your nervous client has a breakdown."

"He's nervous. Not certifiable." Adam glanced at his wrist. Damn. "I must have dropped my watch in your room."

"You're welcome to look. Or, if you don't mind going without until Friday, I'll have Hilly do a thorough search. I'm sure your watch will turn up."

Hilly the maid? Mentally, Adam threw in the towel. If he wanted Calder, he had to get used to the way she lived. Would always live.

"Sounds like a plan. Hey."

Calder turned her head to the side, a question in her eyes.

"Stay safe."

"I will if you will."

The smile stayed on Adam's face as he walked down the hall. His good mood vanished when he spied Ingo Hunter. Lurking. The man had no business above the second floor where Billie had her bedroom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing up here?"

Guilt flashed across Hunter's face. Quick to recover his composure, his lips moved into a sly, cunning smirk.

"A better question would be, what the hell are you doing up here?

Prevarication 101, with a master class in manipulation. The best way out a sticky situation? Answer a question with a question. Though the technique annoyed the hell out of Adam, Hunter couldn't get the best of him. He knew what move to make next. The old accusation cloaked within another question.

"Did you need something in Calder's room?"

Hunter didn't flinch. But his right eye twitched. Ever so slightly. Enough to let Adam know he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Such a large house. My mind was occupied by other matters when I entered the elevator. I must have pushed the wrong floor."

The elevator was all the way at the end of the hall. If he'd made a mistake, Hunter would have realized his error long before he reached Calder's bedroom.

Adam didn't need to point out the obvious. He knew. Hunter knew. Soon, Calder and her sisters would know.

"Mistakes happen. Since I'm on my way out, I'll ride down with you."

A wise man would have cut his losses. Thanked his lucky stars he would live to fight another day. An arrogant man, certain of his superior intellect, didn't think he needed anything as mundane as luck.

Ingo Hunter, from the set of his shoulders to the glint in his eyes, reeked of arrogance.

"You didn't answer my question, Adam. Why are you here?" Hunter looked around. "Unaccompanied."

Adam didn't respond. Or wilt under the sheer will of Hunter's cold gaze. So, the older man adjusted his strategy to a more personal tract.

"Seems you and I have something in common."

"No. We don't."

"Come on. Just us guys. The Benedict women are a passionate bunch. I can attest to Billie's charms. But I've wondered about the rest of them. You can tell me. What's Calder like in bed?"

Adam saw red. And blue. And green. Colors he pictured on Hunter's swollen face after a thorough beating. With a deep breath, he didn't act on the impulse. As much as he wanted to wipe the smug smirk off the scumbag's face, he remembered where he was.

Some stains were almost impossible to remove. Adam would feel bad if his actions—and Hunter's blood—ruined the beautiful, obviously expensive, Persian rug.

No blood, Adam promised himself. Not today. But he couldn't leave Hunter with the idea the man was allowed to ooze his slime over Calder—or any woman—without some sort of retribution.

Adam's hand closed around the bastard's throat. Surprise replaced the smug expression. Genuine fear seeped into his eyes.

To emphasize the point, Adam slammed Hunter against the wall with just enough force to knock some of the pompous out of the windbag.

"I'm not one of your country club cronies. We'll never be drinking buddies. You know why?" When Hunter didn't answer, Adam tightened his grip. "Do. You Know. Why?"

"Why?" Eyes bulging, Hunter gasped the word.

"My friends respect women. Respect. In words and actions. Women aren't toys placed on Earth for your enjoyment. Money? Muscle? Neither gives you the right to take what isn't freely offered. Understand?"

Bit by bit. Word by word. Adam could feel his control slip. Hunter's face blurred, replaced by one of the anonymous bastards who hurt his mother. The image his imagination pieced together over the years. Retribution. His hand shook at the prospect. Tighter. Tighter.

Someone had to pay for her pain and suffering. Finally—

"Adam. Let go. Please."

The voice—familiar, soothing—drifted along the perimeter of the swirling, enveloping, red haze. Subconsciously, he knew what was right. The grip of revenge was seductive. Strong. Almost more than he could resist. Almost.

Calder's hand on Adam's wrist broke the spell. Without an ounce of force, or a harsh word. Her touch slowly cooled his blood. Calmed his anger.

Perhaps, saved his soul. With a shove, Adam let go.

Hunter staggered. He rested his hand against the wall. Rubbed his reddened neck, coughing.

"Call the police," he wheezed. "The lunatic attacked me for no reason."

"Adam? Are you with me?" Calder cupped Adam's chin. She didn't give Hunter a second look. "Are you okay?"

"The hell with him. I'm the one he almost killed."

Finally, Calder spared Hunter the briefest glance.

"Dial down the drama." Contempt practically dripped from her tongue. "Adam didn't want to kill you."

"How do you know?"

Good question, Adam thought. Murder's muse had whispered in his ear. Tempted him. More than he wanted to admit. Without Calder, he didn't know if he could have stopped himself in time.

Calder's response surprised him.

"You're breathing. If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead." Calm, matter of fact, Calder met Adam's gaze. "Am I right?"

Adam gave a brisk nod. Calder was right. However, the jury was still out on what he'd wanted before she came along and returned his sanity.

"Case closed."

Aghast, Hunter watched as Calder calmly slipped her hand into the crook of Adam's arm.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? If you won't call the cops, I will."

"You want to explain to the police why Adam caught you snooping around my bedroom?" Calder directed her next question to Adam. "When the press gets wind of the story, what will the headlines read? What will the tabloids call him?"

Adam shrugged. And couldn't wait to hear her answer. She tapped her finger to her chin as she pondered the possibilities.

"Ingo Hunter. Jewel thief? Panty pilferer?"

"Panty— Don't be ridiculous. Nobody would believe such a claim." Though Hunter scoffed at the idea, he wisely didn't reach for his phone. "I'll let the incident slide. But if you touch me again, you'll be sorry."

Hunter staggered off toward the elevator with as much dignity as he could muster. Which under the circumstances, wasn't much. The whoosh of the doors signaled he'd left to lick his wounded pride.

"You okay?"

Multiple unanswered questions about what happened and why hung in the air. He'd carried emotional baggage into her home. Almost spilled blood on the floor only feet from the bed where a few hours earlier she'd shared her body with joy and abandon. Yet, Calder's first thoughts were for him. About his welfare.

Adam felt humbled. And sick to his stomach.

"I should go."

"What you should do is come here." With the strength of steel wrapped in velvet, Calder held him close. Her lips brushed his ear. "Breathe."

"I—"

"Just breathe."

Adam's mind protested. He wanted to go. Crawl into a dark place. Brood until the ugly passed. His body had other ideas. Without thought, air filled his lungs. His muscles slowly relaxed. The fragrance of Calder's hair, the touch of her skin, calmed his chaotic senses.

"You could make a fortune from your brand of magic."

As she smoothed back his hair, a smile formed on Calder's lips.

"I already have a fortune. Besides, I have a feeling my magic would be useless on anyone but you."

Adam had the feeling Calder was wrong. Selfishly, he hoped she never wanted to find out.

Reluctantly, he stepped away. Calder kept hold of his hand.

"Cancel your meeting. We'll drink some tea. Spend the afternoon snuggling on the library sofa."

"A witch and a temptress. How am I supposed to say no?"

"You aren't." Calder met his gaze—and sighed. "But you will. Okay. New plan. You go to your massively important meeting."

Calder never gave up so easily.

"What's the catch?"

"I drive. You ride."

"And I tell you what Hunter did to set me off?

"Such a smart man." Calder beamed. She took out her phone.

"I can drive myself." Adam felt the need to state the obvious—if only for the sake of his pride.

"Your nerves aren't in any condition to deal with New York City traffic. I'll grab my purse and we can— Sara? Reschedule my two o'clock with Declan Springfield. I'm off the clock for the rest of the day."

As her long legs ate up the distance to her office, Calder rattled off instructions to her assistant.

"I can drive myself," Adam called out.

Back in a flash, Calder produced a key which she used to lock her bedroom door.

Adam nodded his approval.

"Smart."

"Sad. Here. In my home. I never felt the need to bar anyone from my personal space. Until now. Another reason to hate Ingo Hunter."

Adam wished he had the power to take the shadow of sorrow from Calder's eyes. The only way was to remove Hunter from her life. Permanently. Since he had his emotions under control—for the most part—murder wasn't an option.

If Billie Benedict didn't come to her senses and toss Hunter to the curb, they'd hope Dee Wakefield could dig up enough dirt to end the relationship.

A bonus would be jail time. But Adam understood how the real world worked. Rich, powerful snakes rarely paid their dues behind bars.

"Come on." Calder stopped at the top of the stairs. "Don't want to keep your client waiting."

The smile on Calder's lips didn't fool him. Under the surface, Adam caught a hint of self-satisfaction. Better than sadness any day, Adam couldn't let the moment pass. He had to set her straight on a very important point.

"If I wanted, I could leave without you."

"I know."

Adam took the hand Calder offered. He wanted her to know he appreciated how much she cared. Besides, he liked to touch her. As often as possible.

"I let you win." Adam refused to drop the subject until he was certain Calder understood.

"Of course you did. Now and then, I'll let you win. To prove my point. You can drive."

In spite of himself, Adam chuckled as they left the house and crossed the street. Two strong personalities were bound to clash from time to time. Knowing himself—and Calder—they were destined for some straight-out fights. Followed by some damn fine make-up sessions.

Adam opened the passenger door.

"You're impossible."

Calder slid into the car. Eyes sparkling, she buckled her seatbelt.

"Would you want me any other way?"

"Not in a million years."