Springing into action, she stood straight and ripped the jacket from her body. Tossing it on the floor, she became an enraged flamenco dancer as she stomped, stamped, and tramped the fabric into oblivion. Seconds later, the spider and the Italian worsted wool had met their demise.

Joanna pressed her lips together, trying to keep her giggles to a minimum at the sight of Addison’s staunch exterior becoming dislodged. Her hair gel was no match for the dance of death she had just performed and her face was now framed in wisps of dark brown hair, loose and wild. One tail of her crisp white shirt had come out of her trousers and sometime during the frenzy Addison’s tie had loosened, and the top button of her shirt had opened. One would have to be blind not to see Addison was attractive and Joanna certainly wasn’t blind, but as she stood there staring at the woman, it seemed to Joanna that disheveled added to Addison’s beauty. Gone was the stiffness. Gone was the propriety, and in its place, Joanna saw something natural and exquisite. Once again, the fuse Joanna thought she had extinguished was lit and she felt her face heat.

Satisfied nothing could have survived her attack, Addison raised her eyes. She noticed Joanna’s rosy complexion immediately, but believing it to be caused by her laughter, she didn’t give it a second thought. Kicking her suit jacket into the corner of the room, Addison said, “I don’t like spiders.”

Thankful Addison hadn’t mentioned her blush, Joanna relaxed, and remembering what she just saw, her eyes began to sparkle. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

“I must have looked like a bloody fool.”

Joanna’s face split into a grin. “No, but after that interpretative dance you just performed, I don’t think we need to dress for dinner. Do you?”

***

“You really need to stop canceling appointments I make for you.”

“And you really need to remember who owns this company,” Addison said, glaring at Fran as she stood in the doorway. “And besides, it wasn’t an appointment. It was a party invitation, and you know how I loathe those.”

“It wasn’t just any party invitation.”

“Oh, that’s right. It was a Christmas party,” Addison said, rolling her eyes. “More the reason why I won’t be attending.”

Shaking her head, Fran went over and planted herself in one of the chairs opposite Addison’s desk. “Did you happen to pay any attention to who was throwing the party?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“So says you.”

“That little Christmas soiree is being put on by none other than Bradley Easterbrook.”

Addison curled her lip hearing the name, but Fran had just piqued her attention. Resting her elbows on the desk, she steepled her fingers. “Go on.”