Tamara shook Giorgio"s hand and looked into his eyes. The bright color of his iris was amplified by the white surrounding them, which made his eyes seem even more alive set against the bronze glow of his skin.
They talked for some time about their lives – they were both thirty-two years old, both college educated – who they were and what they did for a living.
“I"m an architect,” Giorgio revealed in an offhand, unimposing way.
“I"m a CPA,” she replied. “That"s certified public accountant,” she responded.
He laughed that gentle, smiling laugh of his.
“Sì, sì. I know what a CPA is. I have one – no, two! – for my company. So,” he paused, “you are good with numbers?”
Sì, sìTamara shrugged her shoulders in an easy reply to the question, and added, “But so are you. You"re an architect. I"m
