Perdie awoke in her bed, mouth dry, and a dull headache nudging her left eye. She pushed up on her elbows, grappling around on the nightstand for the two aspirin she’d left there the night before. Her hand bumped the glass containing last night’s wine.
She brought it to her nose and gave it a whiff. Malbec, still good. She popped the two pills, gulped down half the glass, and wiped her mouth with her hand. She needed all the courage she could drink before she lit up her phone screen to check her notifications.
The last few days might’ve had her in a spiral. That’s what Lucille called it, at least. They’d stayed up late Friday night recapping each other’s lives.
Perdie grabbed her phone and squinted at it. Zero messages.
Actually, that wasn’t accurate. There were twenty-seven work-related messages. Zero from Carter.
He’d behaved irritatingly professional with her the whole week after their phone conversation. She’d requested he treat her like nothing but a colleague, and well, by fuck he had been doing exactly as she requested.
And it was driving her out of her goddamn mind.
She clicked off her screen and rolled over in her bed, a wave of dizziness overtaking her vision.
Okay, well, maybe hair of the dog hadn’t been the wisest choice.
There was a quiet knock, and Lucille peeked her head through the crack of the doorway, her topknot poking into Perdie’s room before the rest of her. “Hello, my beautiful baby birdie. How are we doing this morning?”
Perdie’s body was a sweaty and tangled lump in her bedsheets, encased in nothing but an oversized T-shirt with the emblazoned movie title Earth Girls Are Easy. She stretched her arms out above her. “Aaaaaghhhhhhhhh. It’s been seven hours and four days since I told Carter to go away.”
Lucille tiptoed inside. “Okay, Sinead, I think it’s time to get out of bed. And if you’re going to drink wine at ten in the morning, at least let me know so I can join you, yes? Now, why don’t you say we make this thing official and go to brunch?”
Perdie groaned. “I can’t, I have all this work to do, and I have to get in touch with Noah about our discovery process.”
“Invite him along. He likes hanging out with us. Isn’t that basically why he agreed to be your client in the first place?”
Lucille’s words didn’t betray any extra emotion, but Perdie hadn’t forgotten the way she’d called Noah sexy a few weeks ago. And she’d been thriving without Hampton around.
Perdie scratched her head. “Yeah, I suppose I can.”
“What’s really wrong with you? Can it really be all about this Carter guy? I’ve never seen you like this over anyone.”
At Perdie’s silence, Lucille’s eyes went wide. “Wow, talk about role reversal. For once you’re the one hung up on some loser and not me.”
Perdie rubbed her face. “Yeah, except he’s not a loser. He’s...” She gulped. Then whispered, “He’s nice.”
Lucille cupped her ear and leaned forward. “Sorry, didn’t catch that?”
Perdie rolled her eyes. “He’s nice. And not like a nice guy who’s actually a creep. A nice guy who’s actually...good.”
Lucille laughed. “Plot twist. A nice guy. Who could’ve seen that coming? Well, why don’t you text him then? Why even put on this facade. Maybe he’s right. You’re two consenting adults...”
“No.” Perdie shook her head. “I have to show some level of restraint. You should’ve seen the judgment in Jennifer’s eyes.”
Lucille crossed her arms. “Okay, but she always looks like that. And since when you do you give a fuck? She hired me for a baby shower so she can’t be all bad.”
Perdie could feel her insides simmering to a roil, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I need to hold strong.”
Lucille stepped forward and planted her hands on Perdie’s shoulders. “I mean this from the bottom of my heart. Text the guy already.”
Then she spun around to leave, turning back with a bright smile that showed off her dimples. “Brunch at eleven with Noah. Should I wear my new red sweater? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ll leave the details to you. Be back soon, so hurry up and get ready.”
Perdie collapsed onto her bed, spread like a starfish. She clicked the button on her phone one more time.
Zero messages.
Okay. Enough of that. Up again, she wobbled to the bathroom.
After a steaming hot shower renewed her spirits, she wrapped herself in her silk robe with thick velvet cuffs and collar that made her feel like some kind of sexy old-timey movie star.
No more obsessing over Carter. Rebirth.
She held that conviction for about five more seconds until she checked her phone again.
One message from Carter.
Her heart raced, or maybe it was the residuals of a hangover.
50,000 digital documents received at 9:42am. FYI
Her heart sank. Oh. Completely professional. What else would it be? The fact that she was hoping for anything else was lunacy.
She froze in place as a wicked thought crossed her mind. She could take a sexy pic and accidentally send it in response. Hadn’t Lucille used that ploy with Hampton to much success in the past? She could pretend it was meant for someone else. Some fictional man who was also drop-dead gorgeous and also into her very much but whom she hadn’t basically told to fuck off and treat her like a sexless gnome.
After all, there was no better time to send a dirty pic than when one was flushed and supple right out of the shower.
She sat back on her bed, a splash of water from the ends of her hair hitting the glass. No, of course, it was too desperate. Too obvious.
Sighing, she picked up her phone to text Noah.
Got the digital docs right on time. Any interest in brunch around 11 for discussion? Mimosas on me. And by me, I mean Joy and Schulz ;)
She hit send, the curiously sharp feeling in her sternum for Carter beginning to dissipate along with her hangover. A little work and play could distract her now.
Her phone lit up.
Golf with Frank and the Fletcher Group people. Didn’t know mimosas were on the list of permissible colleague activities. What other “colleague” activities am I missing out on?
Perdie clapped her hand over her mouth. She had sent the message to Carter instead of Noah. Talk about her subconscious working overtime. Freud would have a field day.
P: Sorry, meant to send this to our patent plaintiff.
C: Mimosas with your client?
Was he jealous?
P: Golf with YOUR client.
C: AND Bloody Marys.
The next message made her heart thud in her chest, a selfie of Carter, Bloody Mary in hand, the sprawling green-and-blue backdrop of the manicured golf course behind him.
The subsequent thought that popped into her head was a naughty one. One she shouldn’t act out. One she should thoroughly resist. It could only serve to complicate a friendly and normal situation. The selfie Carter sent her was completely innocent. It could only stand to tangle her into a weird, sexually charged workplace-web of which she had purposely extricated herself.
Still, she reached for her half-full wineglass. She raised it to her lips, squeezing her cleavage together, peering up at her lens under dark lashes and snapped the selfie.
The Fates intervened that day because usually Perdie had to take at least seventeen selfies before she could pick a suitable one for public consumption. But this time, with the morning light streaming into her bedroom, the luxe velvet trim of her robe, the moisturized and flushed skin from her shower, she looked good. She also looked like a woman who wanted to get fucked.
An invitation kind of pic.
The Fates left her no choice. A selfie like this didn’t come along just any millennia. And who was she, a mere mortal, to tempt the wrath of the selfie gods by throwing out a perfectly good celestial gift? The karmic and cosmic risks were too great.
She sent the picture. She had no other options really.
P: How about wine with myself?
A minute passed. No response. Another minute. She began to panic. She threw her phone onto the bed. She would forget she sent it, she would put it out of her mind. They would act like it had never happened.
At the office, she’d done her best to keep her distance, and she’d withdrawn all outward indicators of flirting. And he’d followed her lead. Maybe he was already over the whole thing. He said he wouldn’t wait around forever...
Her breath hitched when she flipped her phone back over to find one new message from Carter. She bit her lip and unlocked the screen.
C: You’re being a very, very, very bad...colleague.
Delight and relief rushed through her. He was flirting.
She mentally slapped herself: she was playing games, and she couldn’t stop herself. The worst part was her nipples were getting hard from one little suggestive text. What would it have been like to have his mouth on them? She never did find out, a tragedy now.
Emboldened, she let her robe slide off the slope of her right shoulder so the tiniest slip of nipple showed and a whole hell of a lot of cleavage. As her damp hair fell over one eye, she snapped another selfie. Before she could think twice, she hit send.
She squeezed her eyes shut but this time the screen lit up quickly.
C: You shouldn’t play with fire if you don’t want to get fucked, Bad Girl.
Welp, he was definitely still interested. The corners of her lips curled up despite herself. But this was his warning, wasn’t it? Her chance to back off.
She dipped her left shoulder allowing the robe to slide off the other side as well. Heading into big-league territory now. Her breasts were exposed, her silky robe hanging loosely from her upper arms, her hair shedding droplets down her bare skin. She raised her phone to snap the pic—
“P, where did you decide—Oh, heyyo. What’s going on here?” Lucille had elbowed her way into the crack of the doorway.
Perdie snatched up her robe in a hurry. “I...just got out of the shower... I’ll text Noah right now.” She tightened the robe.
Lucille’s eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh.” She slowly backed out of the room, latching the door shut.
Another text appeared on her screen.
You know if you need help taking nudes, I’m here for you.
It was from Lucille.
The interruption had been for the best, slowing Perdie’s roll before she did anything even more rash.
She texted Noah, extra careful to select the right contact, and they set up a time and place for brunch. Lucille’s coming, she added for good measure.
Then she leaned against her headboard and stared at the ceiling, her skin still tingling from her hot shower. Or maybe from her texts with Carter.
Once again, she let the top of her robe drop, her own fingertips traveling to the sensitized peaks of her nipples. She turned her head to the side with her breasts exposed, save for her long hair tumbling around them, her fingertips trailing over the tightened tips, and held up her phone. Click.
She hesitated only briefly. He was out golfing with her bosses. Clients. She shouldn’t do this, it would only fulfill a brief surge of lust. And was lust worth it? On the other hand...
She sent the picture.
P: Your move, Pretty Boy.
Instantly her phone lit up. Carter was trying to call her. And like any other time someone tried to call her, Perdie’s first instinct was to decline.
Who actually talked on their cell phones in this day and age? The thought of it freaked her out. What did he want to have a discussion about—her half-naked picture? Why couldn’t he send a dick pic in return like a normal man?
Perdie tentatively lifted the phone to her ear, and her voice croaked when she answered. “Hello?”
She could hear Carter’s labored breath on the other end, probably from jogging away from the other lawyers on the golf course. The thought both embarrassed and thrilled her.
“Go out with me tonight.”
At his words, she sharply inhaled. She didn’t know why it surprised her so much; after all, they’d been sexting moments before. She had been doing most of the work too. But that was sex. And what he was asking was something other than sex...
Her fingers trailed north against her headboard. “Go out where? Your place? My place? The backseat of that big old SUV of yours?” She twirled a lock of hair on her finger.
“Perdie.” His voice sounded like a warning.
“What, Carter?” She feigned innocence.
“I’m talking about a proper date. And the SUV was a rental.”
She fiddled with the trim of her robe, her index finger gliding up and down the naked skin of her breast. “Best I can offer you is more sexting.”
Carter chuckled. “I’m not a pawn shop. I’m a real person. I know that you like playing this game with me, but is that all you like? Because I don’t believe it.”
Her hand stilled and her words came out small. “I don’t know.”
“Well, why don’t you give yourself the chance to collect more evidence?”
She let her thumb scrape across the puckered skin of her nipple and shivered at the idea of Carter’s tongue there instead. “Okay, fine. I’ll meet you somewhere. But it has to be later because I’m not going to cancel my brunch for you.”
“I would never dare ask a lady to cancel brunch.”
“And you have to send me a dick pic.”
He sounded surprised. “What?”
She cleared her throat, straightening up on the bed. “You heard me. Those are my terms.”
“Okay...”
“It’s for collateral. Your face has to be in it. You got a dirty pic of me. I get a dirty pic of you. Fair’s fair. Them’s the rules.”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
She lifted a brow. “What’s that?”
“You have to answer a few questions.”
Her curiosity piqued. “Ask away.”
Men’s voices called in the background, rustling Carter’s phone. “No, I’ll text you later. I have to get back to the course.”
She shook her head. “For someone who appears so incredibly normal, you really are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”
“You like games? We’ll play a game.”
She shrugged. “Fine, and Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“Make it a good pic.”