“SO…WHAT’S OUR STORY?”
If Manuel La Rosa kept a list of things he liked about his colleague, Jamia Damiles, her entrancing chestnut brown eyes would no doubt be on top. Right now, they gleamed with animated enthusiasm, the lone tealight candle sitting innocently on their table centerpiece unaware of being complicit to the crime of stealing his breath away.
Intent on gathering his bearings for a second, Manuel broke eye contact and feigned exceptional interest on the scallop lying on top of his vongole pasta. “Armand hasn’t decided on one yet,” he said, poking the scallop’s shell with his fork until it slid gracelessly to the side of the plate. “It’s still early in the pipeline, anyway, but if you want to start working on it early, I can follow it up with—”
“No, no, no.” Jamia’s index fi
