It wasn’t that I was that weak when it came to the opposite sex, but Brock had a kind of magnetism that drew you in, even when you resisted. It was that teasing playfulness of him, the way he doled out affection once he got to know you and how he easily, with no effort, made you feel like you were the most important person in his world. It was how he made you forget that all those things didn’t necessarily make you a special snowflake. It was just how he was, and even the brightest and strongest women out there could be sucked in.

But Brock wasn’t available. He was engaged. There was a barbed-wire-covered wall between us, a deep line in the sand that would never allow me to even ponder those thoughts. Not that I was thinking them now.

“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. I was getting 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

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.”