Page 28 of Fire in You

“And if you think we can’t, what do I have to do to change your mind?” His jaw softened. “More doughnuts? I’m sure you still like Reese’s Pieces. I can include a weekly supply as a part of your employment package.”

I started to smile, so I curved my fingers over my mouth.

“What do you say?” he asked, nudging my arm with his.

Glancing up at him as I lowered my hand, I decided I could at least try, because it would make working together easier. Iwasgetting tired of pretending I was on the phone. “Okay.”

The smile that spread across his face proved a man could be masculine and beautiful, because that smile robbed the air right out of my lungs, and I immediately had to picture those barbed-wire-covered walls and the mile-deep line in the sand.

Friends.

I could do this.

Chapter 9

“I know what I’m doing.”

“No.” Brock, who was currently hovering behind my chair Friday morning, reached around me and snatched the mouse out from underneath my hand. “I think you need to click that.”

“No, I don’t.” I smacked his hand away, taking control of the mouse as I tried to move the graphic over so it was centered. Brock’s sigh stirred the hair along my left cheek, sending a shiver curling down my spine.

“All you have to do is click on the centering button.”

“Yeah, I already did that.” I leaned to the right when he tried grabbing for the mouse again. I swatted his hand again. “Don’t you have something better to do?” I asked, scooting my chair back, which forced him to step aside. I looked up as he moved to lean against my desk. “Approving advertisements is my job. I would already have this done if you weren’t in here trying to backseat computer click me.”

“Backseat computer click?” His forehead creased. “That sounds kind—”

“Don’t even say it.”

An innocent look crossed his face. “Apparently it’s not me who has their mind in the gutter. I was going to say it sounded like a video game.”

“Uh-huh.” Slowly, carefully, I moved the mouse just a fraction of a centimeter, successfully centering the block of text. “Ah-ha! Done.”

“You’re so talented.”

I shot him a look, and he grinned.

Paul appeared in the open doorway. He was a tall and lithe, middle-aged man with fair blond hair and bright blue eyes. Dressed in the Lima Academy polo and black nylon pants, he blended in with any number of the sales associates out on the floor, but he was one of the trainers from the second floor. He’d been here since the Academy opened.

I didn’t know him very well since the trainers and scouts were mostly Brock’s responsibility, but whenever he looked at me, like he did now, I had the harsh impression that he thought my position was pretty useless.

Most of the employees appeared to accept me, like Andre had insisted would be the case, but Paul looked at me like I was about as wanted as a cold sore.

He also reminded me of that dickhead who used to work in Philly, the one who cornered me in the supply room.

“Mr. Mitchell, do you have a moment?” Paul asked, his glacial gaze moving from me to Brock. “I have a couple of new students that I’d like you to check out.” He raised a file. “And see if you’d like to get them on film.”

“Be right there.” Tapping the bridge of my nose like I was five, Brock rose as he winked, and then swaggered out of the office.

Of course I watched him.

I couldn’t help myself. He gave good rear, which was annoying. I mean, where did he get those trousers and why did they fit his ass so well? Why?

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the computer and finished tweaking and approving the ads that had been submitted.

A couple hours later, after the daily sales meeting in the back conference room, I was gathering up the reports from the table when Brock asked, “So, you got any big plans for the weekend?”

I glanced over at him. His head was bowed as he scanned one of the sales reports that Jeffery had turned in. “Um, tonight, I’m babysitting Avery and Cam’s kids. It’s their date night.”

---