My gaze fell on the containers of sugar and creamer that Daniel had taken out of the cupboard. “I thought you took your coffee black?”
“I thought I’d take them out for you.”
I may not swoon at the feet of Daniel Ferrer on command, but I wouldn’t deny that he was handsome. His hair was short enough to keep the emphasis on his almond eyes and sharp cheekbones. His skin had the kind of glow that came from running at the break of dawn, which he always talked about as part of his regular-day workout routine. And while he cut an impressive figure whenever he showed up in his suit and tie on-screen, the jeans and polo shirts that he wore to work showed off his lean muscles, especially in his arms and chest.
And his abs.
And his butt.
There, I’ve said it. Daniel Ferrer had a hot bod. But his body was beside the point. First and foremost, he was a co-worker, and co-workers weren’t supposed to think of each other that way.
He smiled like he knew how his presence would affect me. “You look like you’ve got a lot of things on your mind.”
Of course I had a lot of things on my mind. We had a show to produce tonight, and a meeting in two hours about our trip to Jakarta for the football friendly between the Philippines and Indonesia. Not to mention the text messages that I wasn’t getting from my mother and brother…
“You make this face whenever you’re worried,” Daniel said.
He pointed to my mouth. “See that? Your lips curve downward when you press them together.”
“No, they don’t.”
“You’re making that face again.” He cocked his head to the side and leaned forward. “See? Your lips press hard, and your eyebrows scrunch in the middle of your forehead. Then your eyes go blank, like you’re spacing out.”
“I don’t space out.”
“Really? Then why haven’t you stirred any cream and sugar into your coffee?”
I looked down into my cup, and—just as Daniel said—my coffee was still black.
“It’s getting cold,” he said. “Here, have a spoon.”
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