Perdie wriggled out of his grasp and padded into the kitchen to collect snacks.
When she returned, squishing a bag of chips and licorice inside her arm and balancing half a cherry pie in her hand—thank god for Lucille providing junk food—she stopped short at the sight in front of her.
Light streamed through the window behind Carter as he sprawled out sunlit on her overstuffed leather couch. The light tinged his hair with fire and created a halo around his frame. He was shirtless again, one arm splayed across the back of the couch, one leg bent up on the cushion.
Perdie shook her head. “Is this a fucking joke?”
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t need to waste one of my one hundred thousand questions finding out that you used to model as it is entirely evident right in front of my face. I mean... Jesus, did you mean to pose like that?”
His lips curved up and he rubbed the back of his neck. “What can I say? I’m a man at his leisure.”
Perdie shuffled over to the end table and deposited the food, then put her hands out like she was indicating a stop sign. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? Just...don’t move...”
Carter’s expression was questioning, but amusement danced in his eyes. “Okay...”
Perdie ran off to fetch her phone. When she returned, she halted in front of him, assessing.
He cocked his head. “What are you doing?”
“Taking your picture...sending it to Lucille...” She smiled innocently. “Would you mind? As an artist, she’ll appreciate this composition. And the subject. You’re like a goddamn Greek god.”
Carter chuckled but then shrugged. “Do your worst.”
Perdie snapped a few shots and then turned the camera over to Carter, who was not as impressed by his own image. She nibbled her bottom lip and sent the picture.
Within a few minutes a text returned.
L: IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS??? MARRY HIM YOU FOOL
Perdie giggled, warmth spreading over her.
“I take it she liked the picture?”
“And she doesn’t even know you yet—” Perdie’s words were cut short when Carter leapt from the couch, his arms catching her at the waist and rolling her underneath him on the cushions. She shrieked, breathless as he pinned her wrists above her head.
His mouth caught hers and kissed her recklessly, his hand roaming up and down her body, their legs stretched out and tangled.
As things were reaching a fever pitch, a familiar ding in the distance caught Perdie’s attention. Her work email. Ugh. She already had a lineup of texts she had to contend with that she’d been ignoring all day, Max Goodridge’s being one of them. But work wouldn’t slow to a halt because of a party, the holidays, a snow day, or an extremely hot man on her couch.
“Waywaywaywait,” she murmured, turning her head to the side, holding her breath.
Sure enough, within seconds, several more dings rang out.
With a big exhale, Carter’s head fell to the side of her shoulder. “Work emails?”
Perdie clumsily scooted from beneath Carter, falling the short distance to the ground with an umph. She went to find her tablet and glanced over her shoulder. Carter was flopped out on his back, rubbing his eyes.
“Get up, Pretty Boy. We’ve got work to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The snow continued to fall in record-breaking inches, melting in the afternoon to a messy slush and then icing at night into a hazardous roller coaster. Charleston life halted to a slippery stop. Perdie cracked the blinds to survey the gleaming vast whiteness, the glare burning her retinas. It hurt, and yet it felt good.
Her body was enveloped in warmth as two arms encircled her rib cage from behind, rocking her back and forth. “Hey, Merry Christmas.”
She twisted around so her face pressed against Carter’s chest. “I would’ve gotten you a present had I known you were going to be my extended Christmas guest. Maybe another Knox Family Christmas sweatshirt?” She tugged at the sleeve of his offending shirt.
They’d been making do with what they had to keep Carter in clean clothes, which meant cycling through oversized T-shirts, sweatshirts, and random items in Perdie and Lucille’s closet. There was something especially enticing about seeing Carter in these silly clothes as opposed to his normal uber-refined style. It was almost a test of his beauty: Was there anything she could put on him that would take away from his good looks?
Of course, they’d done plenty of lounging in their underwear, or at times, in nothing at all. In fact, last night they’d sat together at Perdie’s kitchen table, tablets, phones, laptops, notebooks, and pens strewn about, Perdie in nothing but her glasses, undies, and sports bra, Carter in his freshly laundered boxer briefs, pouring over their mutual cases.
Working with Carter in the sanctity of her home, without anyone else around or any workplace distractions, had been exhilarating. Perdie resented their power imbalance at the office, but when it was the two of them, they were a good team. She couldn’t deny it. Their differences made their strengths. While Carter worked from instinct, from his gut, Perdie was measured, analytical.
When Carter reached a conclusion based on seemingly nothing more than a hunch, Perdie would grab her whiteboard and colored markers and work out the proof. At times it might take her a bit longer than him, but ultimately they reached the same conclusions together. They just found their way there differently. And to Perdie, this played like harmony. Like partnership.
They both also had the ability to summon large swaths of text by memory, something Perdie claimed as her talent alone, but Carter gave her a run for her money.
“In article 4, section 1a, the case stands for the proposition that all contracts more than five thousand dollars must be in writing or are rendered null and void.”
“No, I’m telling you it’s article 17, section 4c.”
When they flipped through the documents for confirmation, they found that they were both right; the clause had been referenced twice.
Perdie tossed the document back to the table, chewing her lip.
“Looks like we both win.” Carter smiled.
