“There’s white wine in the fridge and a bottle of red on the counter,” Susanne called from the bathroom. “Feel free to open whatever you prefer.”

Since the lasagna was a veggie one, Anja opened the bottle of pinot blanc chilling in the fridge. Just as she looked around for napkins, a meow and a tap-tap-tap drifted over from the living room.

Anja hesitated, then shook her head. Susanne seemed insistent on not letting the cat think this might be his new home, and she had to respect that. Besides, she wanted this evening to be just for the two of them. “Sorry, Muesli. Not tonight.”

When she heard the bathroom door open, she took the lasagna out of the oven. A cloud of steam wafted up. Her mouth watered at the scent of tomato, ricotta, and melted mozzarella cheese. Carefully, she put two huge pieces on their plates.

She felt more than heard Susanne come up behind her. “How does it look?” she asked right next to Anja’s ear.

Anja shivered and inhaled deeply. Susanne smelled of cocoa butter, maybe from a shower gel, and a subtle but sexy perfume.

“Yummy,” Anja answered, not sure if she meant Susanne or the lasagna. Probably both. She turned and found herself nearly body to body with Susanne, who had changed out of her jeans and the long-sleeved shirt. Black slacks hugged her hips, and a silver-gray top emphasized the color of her eyes. Its cowl neck dipped low, giving Anja a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, while the capped sleeves showed off her toned arms.

Anja’s mouth watered again, and this time the lasagna had nothing to do with it. Susanne looked good enough to eat. “You look…nice.” Gosh, she really was out of practice at complimenting women. “Very, very nice.”

Okay, that wasn’t much better, but the warm glow in Susanne’s eyes revealed that she knew how much Anja appreciated her outfit.

“Thanks. Come on. Let’s eat before the lasagna gets cold.”

Anja carried the plates to the table, while Susanne followed with their glasses of wine.

“Sorry I don’t have any napkins,” Susanne said as they sat.

“Doesn’t matter. This is perfect just the way it is. Much better than a restaurant.”

“Really?”

Anja nodded.

Susanne lifted her glass. “To a perfect evening.”

To us, Anja wanted to say, but since they were taking it one day at a time, that might have been too much, so she nodded and looked into Susanne’s eyes. “To a perfect evening.”

They clinked glasses and then dug into the steaming lasagna.

The taste of tomato, fresh mushrooms, zucchini, bell pepper, and cheese burst on her taste buds. “I know I keep repeating myself, but…wow! You can cook, and you can ink up a fountain pen. You might be—” She stopped herself before she could say, The perfect woman for me.