“I couldn’t...um...I couldn’t keep my mind on business. Thank God Fran didn’t have her head up her arse or something we’ve been working on for over a year would have all been for naught.”

“But it went okay – right?”

“Yes, I think so. These things go in stages, and I’m fairly confident we passed the first one today.”

“That’s great. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Addison said picking up her glass. Discovering it was as empty as the bottle it came from, there was nothing to keep them in the room other than conversation, and that had just stalled. Racking her brain, she said, “Would you like dessert?”

While the room was cool and the air still, Joanna felt a warmth surrounding her. Born from carnal knowledge and nurtured by imagination, food was the last thing on her mind. The only thing she had yet to discover was whether Addison felt the same. Joanna’s eyes began to gleam as the perfect response came into her head, and she practically purred it. “What did you have in mind?”

Addison’s libido came to life with a thud and shifting in her chair, she cleared her throat. “I...um...well, we don’t usually have it, but if you’d like I could ask Noah to start adding some to the menu.”

“I can take it or leave it.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

“I enjoy it on occasion, but I usually just have a scotch after dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Joanna said as her eyes met Addison’s.

“Would you like one?”

“No, thank you,” Joanna said softly. “I’m fine.”

Perception, like beauty, is owned by the beholder. An intuitive awareness overriding one’s sense of sight and sound, it brings with it hope and possibilities if one dares to believe. And as Addison got to her feet, she believed.

“All right then,” she said, heading to the door. “I...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I guess you will.”

Joanna watched as Addison left the room, and picking up her glass, she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and sipped what remained until Sally came in to clear the rest of the table.

“Sally, could you do me a favor?” Joanna said as she stood up.

“Yes, miss?”

“Open another bottle of wine.”

***

Addison walked to her desk, the decanter of scotch in one hand and two glasses in the other. Slowly removing the stopper, she carefully poured the single-malt into a glass, frowning when her unsteady hand caused the crystal to clank against the tumbler. Her intuition rarely failed her, at least when it came to business, but this was not business, and she was second-guessing a woman she’d yet to guess correctly. As the corners of her mouth drooped even further, she debated on whether to fill the second glass.

“I brought my own.”