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.”

“That’s nice of you to do on a Friday night,” he remarked and then asked, “Is that how you normally spend your Friday nights?”

Cradling the stack of papers to my chest, I stared at the top of his dark head. “Not usually.”

“So you normally go out?”