Addison opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Courtesy of the candles flickering on the island, the glow of their flames had turned Joanna’s hair from dark red to a fiery crimson and unbound and free, the long, wavy tresses washed over her shoulders like a brilliant wave. Joanna’s smile was the most dazzling Addison had ever seen, and wearing painted-on jeans and a snug green sweater, every curve the woman owned was in view...again.

Addison hadn’t intended to ogle, and she certainly hadn’t intended to be caught doing it, but when her eyes met Joanna’s, Addison quickly cleared her throat and said the first thing that came into her head. “You’ve...you’ve done something with your hair.”

“Um...yes, several weeks ago, actually.”

“Oh.”

For a few seconds, Joanna stared back at the statue that was once Addison Kane before her curiosity got the better of her. “Are you all right, Addison?”

Addison wanted to answer yes, to dismiss Joanna’s concern with a witty reply or perhaps even a cutting remark, after all, she was an adult with several degrees to her name and a vocabulary to prove it. The problem was, at that particular moment, Addison felt like a schoolgirl...with a crush.

“Addison, are you okay?”

Brought back to now by the sound of Joanna’s voice, Addison jerked her head up. “Yes, I’m...I’m fine,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “Um...what...what can I help you with?”

It was Joanna’s turn to lose the ability to form a sentence. She knew the woman across the room was Addison, after all, she was wearing her standard black suit, and those eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s, but something was different. Something was very different.

A dozen thoughts ran through Joanna’s mind, reasons why Addison’s disposition had suddenly changed, but deciding to chalk it up to their situation, Joanna returned to the matter at hand. “We need wine,” she said, looking back at Addison. “And honestly, I don’t know a thing about it.”

Addison stood a bit taller. “Well, luckily I do,” she said, making a beeline toward the wine cellar. “Consider it done.”

“Oh, Addison?”

Stopping at the door, Addison turned around. “Yeah?”

“I think you may need this,” Joanna said, picking up one of the candles.

It was simply a gesture of kindness, an assurance Addison wouldn’t meet her maker by falling down the stairs, but when Joanna walked over and placed the jar in Addison’s hand, their fingers touched.

The body rush Addison felt was undeniable. It coursed through her veins like a train out of control. It had been but a touch, a simple brush of skin meeting skin, but it had taken her breath away in an instant.