Rita had long abandoned the check-in table, and the only sound in the lobby was that of Perdie’s high heels clacking against the hard marble floor. She retrieved her coat from the coat check, tugged the sash tight around her waist, and then leaned against a wall near the door. Waiting.
When Carter appeared, striding towards her like James Bond to a baccarat table, she examined her manicure nonchalantly, fake sipping her scotch. But she tripped on her heels attempting to cross one ankle over another. Shit. She straightened.
“Stalking me again?” she asked, feigning boredom.
He let out a low whistle. “You’re wasted, Bad Girl.”
She shrugged. “So what? It’s a party.”
He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the gesture prompting her to face him. His eyes were green under the harsh lobby light. “Time to go home, don’t you think?”
“You don’t tell me what you do.” She turned her head away. “Besides, everything’s off between us. I’m over this.” She sneaked a peek at him.
He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that about a million times before.”
She bit back a laugh at her bluff being called out and cleared her throat. “But seriously. Jennifer and Sophia know something.”
“Like what?”
Perdie stiffened. “They said they needed to talk to me.”
“And?”
Perdie crossed her arms tight in front of her chest, attempting to balance her drink on the inside of her folded elbow. “And I told them to stop ruining a fun time. I wasn’t about to get called out at a party. How awkward.”
The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched. “I think I need to help you with your fact-finding skills.”
“Psh. Stop being so good at everything.”
“You don’t even know half the things I’m good at, yet.” His eyes glimmered. Agh. Sometimes all she wanted to do was fight with him. “C’mon, let me take you home.”
She huffed. “You’re not the boss of me.”
She was aware of her juvenile reaction, but a moment of silence passed as they both processed the meaning of her words.
Carter’s face softened into a gentle smile, and he rubbed his hand up and down the white faux fur of her coat sleeve. “I promise I only have the interest of your health in mind. You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, mark my words.”
“Plus, you don’t want me to flirt with Max anymore. Admit it.” She jabbed at his shoulder with her index finger, but his hand caught her own and held it against his body.
Then his voice dropped low and soft as he leaned in near her ear. “Oh, I definitely don’t want you to do that anymore.”
Even with her coat wrapped tightly around her, goose bumps prickled all over her arms and neck. And just like that, her tumbler of scotch slipped from her free hand—crash!—and exploded into shards, amber liquid snaking a path on the marble floor. Carter yanked Perdie against his chest and jumped from the wreckage.
“Okay, yeah,” she squeaked. “Maybe it’s time to go.” She wiggled her way out of his grasp. “But you’re not coming in.”
If he was disappointed, he didn’t let on. Part of her wished he would.
“Doorstep delivery it is.”
Carter located a Slippery When Wet sign tipped up near the lobby bathroom and moved it over Perdie’s broken glass. He ushered her out the door, his hand grazing her lower back.
The temperature dropped in the late hours of the night, but now it was humid too, leaving her chilly and damp. She had to concentrate while walking, her feet smarting with every step on the cobblestone street. One wrong move and she might crack an ankle bone clean in two. “Where are we even going? Shouldn’t we order a car?”
“I’m sober. Parked nearby.” Carter’s steps in comparison were smooth and steady. She admired his gorgeous profile through her haze.
“Shit.” The tip of her heel snagged on an uneven stone. She tumbled as her foot slipped from the shoe. She grasped Carter’s arm on her way to wiping out face-first.
“Whoa.” He caught her by the elbow, helping her upright.
“Fucking heels,” she muttered while disentangling.
“Why do you always wear them if they’re so painful?” He waited next to her while she unsuccessfully used him as a balance bar and attempted to wiggle her swollen foot back into the shoe.
She gritted her teeth, giving up with only one shoe on, the other hanging in her hand, and limped down the freezing ground. “Oh my god, how do I explain this? Hold on, let me pull out my dissertation on European cultural beauty standards for women. It all began in the mid fifteen hundreds when Catherine de Medici—Hey!”
Perdie’s reality shifted upside down as Carter knelt and hoisted her body over his shoulder, her arms and head dangling down his back and his hand squarely pressed on her ass.
Futility, she beat her fists against the muscle of his back. “Put me down, you brute.”
She let out a yelp as his hand landed in a sturdy smack against her behind. “You’re gonna break your goddamn ankle.”
“I’m gonna break your goddamn back. Where are you taking me?” Her head was swimming a bit hanging upside down.
But Carter walked with the ease of a man who didn’t have an entire grown woman slung over his shoulder. “Relax. We’re almost there.”
He led them down a quiet street with a row of parked cars. Bowing, he gently slid Perdie to the ground. When she regained composure, her head was dizzy, and not just from the drinks. She stood lopsided, holding one shoe.
In front of her was a gleaming black sports car. Carter retrieved his key fob, prompting the car to beep softly.
