Still, Susanne made no move to step back or to get rid of the confetti that was now probably trickling down her chest, down her flat belly, and maybe even finding its way—

A tap on her shoulder stopped Anja’s mind from imagining exactly where that confetti might end up.

When she turned, she came face to face—or rather face to mask—with the witch whose confetti she had just stolen. The sorceress or sorcerer towered over her and reached into one of the bags.

Uh-oh. Anja prepared for yet another confetti shower. Well, she deserved it.

But instead, the witch pulled out a piece of candy and held it out to her.

Dazed, Anja took it and stared after the witch, who ran off to catch up with the rest of the group. For a second, she wanted to run too, but she knew she had to face Susanne. Slowly, she turned back toward her. “Sorry. That went a little far.”

“It’s okay. I was asking for it.”

“Were you?” Anja murmured, more to herself than to Susanne.

When Susanne shrugged, a bit of confetti trickled out of her pant leg.

Anja tried hard not to imagine all the places it had touched in between. Lucky confetti.

Grimacing, Susanne pulled her blouse from her slacks and shook out as much of the confetti as she could. “Come on. I think we both got as much carnival as we can take.”

“The streetcars still aren’t running,” Anja said.

“Then come home with me.”

The words and a bit of huskiness in Susanne’s voice made shivers run up and down Anja’s body.

Susanne laughed and nudged her, easing the tension between them a little. “To work. Get your mind out of the gutter! I was talking about us writing another blog post, and since I live within walking distance, we might as well do it at my apartment. I can drive you home once we’re done.”

“I knew what you meant,” Anja said, even though her head was spinning and she didn’t know much of anything anymore. Work, work, work, she told herself every step they took toward Susanne’s apartment. They were just going to work.

Right?

Susanne was very aware of Anja’s presence behind her as she unlocked the door to her apartment. Her body was still buzzing from the brush of Anja’s fingers along her chest.

When she took Anja’s coat from her to hang it on a hook next to her own, the fleeting touch of their fingers sent heat coiling through her. Get yourself together. She’s not some woman you’re taking home to have sex with.

It didn’t feel like it either—she had never cared much what the women she had occasionally taken home thought about her apartment, but Anja’s opinion mattered.