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He looks very much like a guy who knows everything, which, according to Ada, he does. Or almost everything.
He doesn’t know I had the weekend from hell, pacing my apartment, turning in my sleep. I’ve never told a woman I loved her. Not once. But that’s the plan.
“You’re early for the meeting.”
“I am,” I admit. “Are you joining us?”
Qasim is a chemistry guy, like Enzo. So I’m not surprised when he nods. The red flag had to do with the toxicology numbers. He motions toward the meeting room. “Yeah. I can take you in.”
I’d been hoping to talk to Ada alone, but it seems like our discussion will have to wait.
“Thanks.”
As we walk into the boardroom, Qasim asks if I want a coffee. I don’t.
All I want is for this entire approval process to be over so I can get on with my life. So Ada and I can get on with our relationship.
“You must be ready for all this to be over?” Qasim asks, his smile infectious.
“You’re not kidding. It’s been a bit of a process.”
He laughs. “You can say that.”
“How long have you worked here?” I ask.
“Started here right out of college.”
Impressive. From my understanding, these jobs aren’t easy to come by.
“And you like it? Working for the government?”
Qasim doesn’t answer immediately. “I do,” he says after a moment’s consideration, “but we get frustrated with the red tape too sometimes. Every once in a while I think about going private.” He shrugs. “But there are a lot of benefits too. And I was fortunate to find a place in this office.”
The majority of the FDA is located down by Ada’s family, in Maryland.
“You from here?”
His answer is interrupted by the door opening. Ada’s boss. I’m stepping forward to shake her hand when I see a flash of blond hair behind her.
My mouth goes dry.
This is her professional look—a black suit with her hair tied back in a low ponytail—but she’s every bit as tempting as when I last saw her.
Well, maybe notthattempting. I force out thoughts of our car ride back from Rooftop 40.
“Good morning, Mr. Tanner,” says Ada’s boss, the DNPD chief, as she reaches for my hand. Not surprisingly for a woman in her position, she has a firm handshake. And a no-nonsense air about her.
“Good morning, Doctor Davis. Doctor Flemming.”
When I shake hands with Ada, it’s like an electric shock passes between us. She looks away quickly, but not before I give her hand an extra little squeeze.
“You’re early,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice.
I remind myself, for the first of likely many times this morning, not to flirt with her.
“You can never predict the traffic,” I explain instead, sitting back down.
Doctor Davis sits between Ada and Qasim.
