Текст книги "Irresistibly Yours"

Автор книги: Layne Layren

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 21

Later that afternoon, Cole knocked on Cassidy’s door.

“Boss. You wanted to see me?”

Cassidy glanced up from his computer. “Yeah. Cole, come in.”

Cole came into the office, planting himself in the chair across from Cassidy as he had dozens of times in the past.

“What’s up?”

Cassidy leaned back in his chair. “Just wanted to see how things are going. I think I talk to you less since you’ve become my employee than when you were a contractor.”

“That’s because you work your employees to the bone,” Cole said. “I barely find time to eat.”

“Hmm,” Cassidy said, folding his hands, resting them against his lips, and staring at Cole. “And yet you do find time to have sex with your co-editor.”

Shit.

“Ahhhhh—”

Cassidy let out a rare laugh. “I wish I had a camera. I believe this is the first time I’ve ever caught you at a loss for words.”

“How the hell did you find out so fast?” Cole said, unable to keep the slightly sheepish note out of his voice. As he’d told Pen this morning, he wasn’t ashamed of sleeping with her, but he didn’t exactly love the fact that their boss knew about it.

“Please. Everyone knew about thirty seconds after Julie got back from her run,” Jake Malone said from the doorway.

Cole mentally calculated how painfully slow Julie Greene’s running pace was. “So, noon?” he asked.

Jake entered the office and plopped into the chair beside Cole. It was a familiar scene. How many times had he and Jake sat in this exact spot, giving Cassidy shit about anything and everything?

But this time, it wasn’t Cassidy getting the shit. Judging from the smirks on both of his friends’ faces, they were gearing up to make Cole’s life miserable.

And not just them.

A strange wheeling noise sounded from the hallway, and Cole shifted to see Lincoln scoot his way into Cassidy’s office while still seated in his office chair.

“Seriously, dude?” Jake asked. “You wheeled in here? Nobody does that past the age of eight on Take Your Kid to Work Day.”

Lincoln shrugged as he shuffled his feet, scooting forward until his chair was on the other side of Cole’s. “What? Cassidy only has two chairs, so I brought my own.”

“For what?” Cole asked. “Group therapy? Why do I get the feeling this doesn’t have to do with my work on the actual magazine?”

“Because that would be boring,” Lincoln said.

Cole glanced to his right and gave Lincoln a once-over. “Dude, are you wearing a pink tie?”

Lincoln glanced down. “I rock it. You know I do.”

Cole rolled his eyes. Lincoln did kind of rock it. When you’re built like Superman, you could get away with wearing just about whatever the fuck you wanted.

“So, you’re sleeping with Penelope,” Jake said in a soothing, therapist kind of voice.

Cole glanced around. “Everyone knows, huh?”

“Definitely,” Lincoln said. “I’d say it became common knowledge that you wanted her right about the time you bit my head off for kissing her—”

“No, before that,” Cassidy broke in. “He definitely wanted to sleep with her that first night he saw her at the Yankees game. He just didn’t know it yet.”

Cole settled back in his chair, and wiggled his fingers in a Come on motion. “Keep this coming, all good stuff. Very helpful to know who I want to sleep with, and when.”

“Lincoln, shut the door,” Cassidy said.

Lincoln rolled backward, still refusing to get off the chair.

“I can’t imagine why Penelope chose me over you,” Cole muttered. “You’re so mature.”

Cassidy cleared his throat. “Our boy Cole here’s put us in a weird position by hitting on one of our colleagues. And I know you all respect Penelope as a co-worker as much as I respect her as my employee.”

Everyone nodded, even as Cole tensed for what Cassidy’s next words were going to be.

“But for the next five minutes, all discussion of Penelope Pope is as our friend, and Cole’s girlfriend—”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not my—”

Cassidy cut him with a glance. “Save it, Sharpe. After those five minutes are up, we go back to thinking of her as co-editor of the sports section. Understood? Respectful-like.”

“Roger,” Lincoln said. “Copy that.”

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” Jake said, leaning forward. “Penelope has an, um, friend coming into town this weekend.”

Cole’s head whipped around. “What?”

How did Jake know this, and he didn’t? Also, this weekend? That was supposed to be their time to, well…get naked.

And what friend? She’d mentioned a handful of girlfriends from back in Chicago, but why would these guys care about that?

“It’s a former co-worker,” Cassidy added.

“And you knew about this too?” Cole said, unable to hold back a glare at his boss.

Lincoln spun around in a circle in his chair. “Penelope had lunch with Julie. Julie went back to the Stiletto office and filled in Grace, so Jake knows, and Emma, so Cassidy knows.”

Jake, Cassidy, and Cole all stared at Lincoln. “And how do you know this?”

“Because I was also in the Stiletto offices,” Lincoln said, as though it were obvious that he’d been hanging out in the offices of a women’s magazine.

“Explain?” Jake asked Lincoln.

“I’m hooking up with one of the girls in the Beauty department. I saw Julie and Riley whispering, and they filled me in.”

Cole scratched his nose. “You know this whole thing is fucked up, right? Jake being married to a Stiletto gal, Cassidy being almost married to one…Lincoln sleeping with everyone who’s left over…”

“Yes, well, you’re hardly one to talk about mixing relationships and the workplace,” Cassidy said. “But back to the point—”

“So there is a point?” Cole asked.

“Can I be the one to tell him?” Lincoln asked, raising his hand.

Cassidy nodded and muttered Your funeral under his breath.

“So,” Lincoln said to Cole. “Penelope’s friend is of the male variety.”

Cole froze. “Don’t tell me it’s Ivan. No, Eric. No—”

“Evan,” Jake said.

Cole felt a flash of rage followed by a stab of glee that the man who’d stolen Penelope’s job was going to be within arm’s reach so that Cole could kick his ass.

But immediately following the rush of masculine protectiveness was a surge of jealousy.

Cole thought back to his and Penelope’s first conversation about this Evan guy. It hadn’t just been about the job. She’d had feelings for him.

Back then, he’d barely known her, and hadn’t really cared.

But Cole sure as fuck cared now.

“When?” Cole ground out. “When does he get here exactly?”

“Friday,” Lincoln said. “And according to Riley, who talked to Grace, who talked to Julie, she’s freaking out about it.”

“Which is where you come in,” Jake said.

Cole gave them all a wary glance. “Am I going to like this?”

“Well, now, that depends,” Cassidy said, giving a quick study to his cuticles. “Exactly how serious were you when you said Penelope isn’t your girlfriend?”

Chapter 22

Other than meetings where they’d both been in attendance, Penelope hadn’t seen Cole all day.

She told herself it was no big deal. That it was the way things were supposed to be.

Colleagues only from Monday through Friday, remember?

But at six o’clock, just as she was loading up her laptop and preparing to head home for a quiet night with takeout and Edgar the goldfish, Cole appeared in her office doorway.

And call her crazy…but her heart flipped over.

Once. Twice. Okay, fine, her heart flipped over and over and over again for Cole Sharpe.

Crap.

But Penelope refused to take full accountability for her fluttery reaction. Cole was at least 80 percent responsible, especially when he had his suit jacket slung over his shoulder all sexy-like, looking at her with a combination of heat and affection.

“Hey!” she said.

His smile was slow and intimate. As though he knew exactly what she was thinking, and that the thoughts weren’t particularly pure. “Hey back.”

“I thought you’d gone for the night.”

He pushed away from the doorjamb, shifting the strap of his briefcase higher on his shoulder. “Thought we could grab a drink.”

She hesitated for only a half second.

What was the harm? Other than the not so tiny fact that her heart could get broken, that is.

“A drink would be great,” she said, unable to stop the happy smile.

He smiled back and Penelope silently scolded her heart for lighting up the way it did.

Cole Sharpe smiles like that for all women, she reminded herself.

But when they stepped out of their building, and he rested his hand lightly—casually—on the small of her back, it didn’t feel like she was just any woman. It felt like she was his woman.

“How do you feel about fancy cocktails?” Cole asked as he led her south.

“Depends. If they have whiskey in them, I feel favorable.”

Cole laid a hand over his heart. “I do believe my ticker just skipped a beat.”

She smiled. “That’s all it takes, huh? A girl who likes bourbon?”

“I’m not shallow, Pen. The girl has to like baseball and bourbon.”

“Well, then, I’m your girl.”

“Yeah, you are,” he said with a quick grin.

Penelope’s heart did some more acrobatics, but before she could dwell on his words, Cole shifted conversation to work stuff, and Penelope marveled at just how easy it all was, transitioning from colleague, to friend, to lover and back again. It was precisely the type of thing that should be complicated, but with Cole, it felt wonderfully simple.

Penelope scrunched her nose in confusion as he led her toward Grand Central. Did their drinks involve getting on a train?

Instead of entering the main terminal, he led her around to a side door and up a handful of steps to a dimly lit bar. A pretty blond hostess in a black cocktail dress and pearls waited with a polite smile; Frank Sinatra played in the background.

“Where are we?” she whispered quietly as the hostess led them up a staircase to the balcony overlooking the main bar. “And what year, nineteen twenty?”

“The Campbell Apartment,” Cole said, “one of my favorite places in the city.”

“I can see why,” Penelope said as they were seated. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Apparently it used to be some guy named Campbell’s office back in the day. Personally, I like it better as a bar.”

Penelope glanced around at the sexy, dim lighting and the well-dressed patrons. “Dang. Some office.”

“You should bring your friend here this weekend,” Cole said, without looking up from the cocktail menu.

“I should,” Penelope said distractedly. “Evan would—”

Wait. Wait a darn minute.

“How did you know I have a friend coming into town?”

Cole grinned and set the menu aside. “Really? You haven’t figured out the delights of being part of the strange Stiletto/Oxford web?”

Penelope could only shake her head in wonder. “Julie. She moves fast.”

A cocktail waitress appeared at their table, wearing the same elegant black dress and pearls as the hostess had, only this one filled out the top part of the dress in an Are those real? kind of way.

Penelope didn’t miss the way the stunning redhead seemed a little more interested in helping Cole pick out his cocktail than hers, but Penelope didn’t hold it against her. Penelope couldn’t blame the woman, really. Especially with his tie just slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his smile doing that slow, panty-melty thing.

Cole opted for a cocktail called the Commodore, while Penelope stuck with a trusty Manhattan.

“Okay, so, about your friend,” Cole said once Booby Redhead had moved away. “I was thinking…I could tag along?”

Penelope leaned forward with a smile. “It wouldn’t happen that somebody planted that idea in your head, now, would it? Because this seems to be very similar to a plan I hatched with Julie just this afternoon.”

Cole let out a little laugh and held up his hands. “Guilty. But I confess, I was prepared to have to talk you into it.”

“Why? I’m the one who needs the favor.”

“I guess I just thought you’d try to play it like you didn’t need help.”

“Oh, I need help. I so need help.”

Cole’s smile slipped a little at her admission, and his eyes went serious. “So you and this guy…”

“Evan.”

His jaw moved just slightly, and when he spoke again his voice was more gravelly than before. “You and this Evan. What exactly happened between you?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“I know the details of the asshole stealing your job. I want to know the sexy parts.”

“There are no sexy parts,” she grumbled. “That was kind of the problem.”

Cole winced. “I can’t believe I’m actually asking to hear about you and another guy, but…short version. I need the details if I’m going to pull this off this weekend.”

“Short version? I thought I was in love with him. Maybe I actually was, I don’t know. And I was so ready to tell him. I’d just nailed my interview with Sportiva—or so I thought—and I was feeling very confident. I thought it was my time, you know. The moment where my life quit being average. I was going to tell Evan I felt…”

“Did you sprinkle rose petals on the bed?” he asked sympathetically.

She laughed. “Just about. I went over to his place to watch a game, the way we had a hundred times before, and I just…I don’t know, I wanted to be spontaneous, so as soon as he opened the door, I kissed him.”

Cole said nothing and Penelope forced herself to tell the rest of the story. “He didn’t kiss me back. And by the time it all registered, there was this other woman there in the background sort of smirking at me….”

“Ah,” Cole said knowingly.

“Yeah.”

She let out a little groan. “The thing is, I should have seen it coming. Guys like Evan Barstow don’t go for plain girls like Penelope Pope.”

Cole stared at her. “Did you just call yourself plain?”

“Well, you know what I mean. Nonflashy.”

As though proving her point, the stunning waitress came back over to deliver their drinks, and the eyes of every man in the room followed her.

Every man but Cole. He gave her a distracted thank-you without even glancing at the woman’s wares that were so blatantly on display.

Instead he seemed focused only on Penelope.

He leaned forward slightly. “You’re not plain, Pope. And in case I haven’t said it before, you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen.”

She blinked at him. “My eyes?”

He gave a smile that verged on embarrassed. “I know it sounds like a line. But, swear to God, those damn big brown eyes get me every time.”

Penelope had no words to describe how she felt just then. Sometimes happy simply didn’t cut it.

Cole lifted his drink in a toast. “So whaddya say? Let me tag along this weekend? Remind you of all the reasons I’m a far better choice than this Evan asshole?”

She hesitated slightly. “Cole, if we do this, it would only be pretend. I’m still not sure I’m ready for an actual boyfriend.”

Not until I know this can last.

Something flitted across his face, but it was gone before she could identify it.

“I haven’t forgotten the rules,” he said quietly. “No falling in love. Weekends only.”

Penelope smiled. “And yet today is Monday.”

“True, but we’re both fully clothed, so, in theory, this could just be two drinks between co-workers.”

She took a sip of her drink. This didn’t feel like drinks between co-workers. It felt like…more.

“Tiny, do me a favor,” Cole said, watching her with a slight smile.

“Hmm?”

“Quit overthinking everything, would you? For tonight, let’s just be Penelope and Cole. Free of labels. Let’s see how that goes.”

She took a deep breath.

Here was a guy—an insanely good-looking guy—asking her to spend an evening with him. No strings attached. Just fancy cocktails, a sexy bar, and companionship.

“All right,” she said slowly. “No labels.”

“Good girl. Now, there’s something I’ve been waiting to discuss ever since our sales meeting this morning. You did hear that the Adam Bailey issue is likely to be one of our bestselling issues ever?”

Penelope narrowed her eyes and took another sip of her Manhattan. “Mm-hmm. I was there. Saw the numbers.”

He twirled a lock of his hair and batted his eyelashes before pitching his voice into a high, feminine squeak. “I was there, Cole, I saw the numbers, and I just want to take this opportunity to tell you that you were right about Adam Bailey being the right cover choice, and you’re so wise and brilliant—”

Penelope gaped. “Wait. Was that supposed to be me?”

He dropped his hand. “Was it not spot-on?”

“Well, considering I’ve never twirled my hair in my life, don’t know how to bat my eyelashes, and surely my voice doesn’t sound like a cartoon mouse—”

“Details. All details. Just say it, Tiny. Say I was right, and that Adam Bailey was an excellent idea.”

She gave him a slow smile. “You were right. Adam Bailey was an excellent idea.”

He opened his mouth, then narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. Wait just a damn minute. I know that tone. When you and Adam Bailey went for drinks after the photo shoot, it was just drinks, right?”

“No labels tonight, Cole. That means you don’t get to ask that. We’re just Penelope and Cole, remember?”

His scowl only deepened. “Well, fine, from unlabeled Cole to unlabeled Penelope…did you hook up with Adam Bailey?”

“I never kiss and tell,” she said, surprising herself by the saucy, confident note in her voice.

Cole frowned and fell uncharacteristically silent, but he let himself be coaxed out of his bad mood. She seriously doubted this man had ever had a bad mood that lasted for more than two minutes. They chatted about anything and everything, until one drink turned into two, and then two drinks turned into stopping for dinner on the way home.

By the time they were on their way back to her place, she was just happy-buzzy enough not to freak out about the fact that he was holding her hand. Or that he occasionally bent to kiss the top of her head.

Or that, if they were to apply labels to the evening, romantic was the first word that came to mind.

Romantic and sweet.

They stopped outside her apartment, and Penelope realized it was the moment of truth. It was Monday, which meant…no sexy time. And yet, they’d already crossed all sorts of other lines today, what with the hand-holding and the flirting…

“Do you know that we were standing in this very spot the first time I kissed you?” he said, pulling her around to face him.

She smiled. “Hard to forget a perfect kiss in the gently falling snow.”

He didn’t smile back. “Perfect kiss, huh? That why you kicked me to the curb after?”

Her stomach twisted. “Cole, I—”

He took a step forward, his hand resting against her cheek. “Let’s forget about the way that one ended. I vote for a do-over.”

His mouth melted against hers, and she sighed.

There was no snow this time, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Cole, the warmth of his hand, the heat of his kiss. The way his tongue flicked out to touch hers as though he needed the taste of her.

He pulled back slowly, his thumb rubbing against her cheek as he held her gaze. “Those damn eyes of yours,” he said roughly. “They undo me.”

Penelope made her decision. “Do you want to come up?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s Monday.”

“It is, but, um, do you want to come up?” she repeated.

He tenderly ran a finger along her hairline. “So badly, but—”

“But?”

He grinned wickedly and leaned down to kiss her nose. “You hold back from me more easily than I’d like, Penelope Pope. I want you begging for me. No matter what day of the week.”

“Wait, so you’re walking away?” she asked, unable to keep the glumness from her voice.

“Only for tonight. Gotta give you a chance to see how you feel about that.”

He gave her one last wink before he walked away into the night—whistling, for God’s sake—and Penelope realized that she didn’t need a chance to explore how she felt about his leaving.

She felt horribly, painfully empty.

Chapter 23

Cole was 110 percent prepared to hate Evan Barstow.

Not just because of the sketchy way the man had gotten his new job, although stealing someone’s portfolio and presenting it as your own was Villainy 101.

No, what really pissed Cole off about this Evan character wasn’t what he’d done to Penelope’s career but what he’d done to her heart. That Evan had been dumb enough to choose another woman when he had Penelope Pope standing right in front of him.

Moron.

Still, Evan’s loss was Cole’s gain, so Cole was determined to at least pretend to be civil.

But halfway through dinner, Cole’s resolve to play nice was weakening.

Because Penelope was playing too nice, considering how the man had treated her. And considering that she was supposed to be dating Cole.

Granted, his being her boyfriend was a lie. As she’d pointed out at least a half dozen times in the past week, Cole wasn’t actually her boyfriend.

Fine.

Cole had absolutely zero qualms about lying to this son-of-a-bitch for the sake of Penelope’s pride. He was doing a damn good job with his lie. He’d held doors for her, dropped plenty of casual, possessive touches, called her sweetie.

But too late, Cole was realizing that the charade they were putting on for the sake of Penelope’s pride was having a disastrous effect on Cole’s own ego.

This whole thing made absolutely zero fucking sense. Cole had spent most of his adult life avoiding serious relationships. He didn’t have time for his career and Bobby and a woman.

So why did it bother him so much that the only way Penelope would think of him as a boyfriend was if it was pretend?

And why did he want to punch Evan in the face every time he was on the receiving end of one of her smiles?

“So how long are you here, Ev?” Penelope said as she took a bite of fish.

“Just until Sunday for this trip,” Evan said, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m planning on making quite a few New York trips in the near future.”

Penelope nodded at this, seemingly preoccupied with her dinner, but Cole was watching the other man. Noted the way Evan’s eyes lingered speculatively on Penelope, as though she were part of some grand master plan.

Evan Barstow was a good-looking dude.

This alone didn’t bother Cole. What bothered him was that Evan looked an awful lot like Cole.

Evan was bulkier. And maybe an inch taller. But the dark blond hair was similar in both color and cut. Brown eyes, like Cole’s. The rest of his features a little closer to Cole’s than he’d like. Plus, they were both sportswriters….

Cole was struck with an obnoxious thought: What if he was some sort of look-alike rebound?

Was Penelope still so hung up on this asshole that she’d settled for the closest New York version she could find?

The thought burned.

“So, how long have you two been a thing?” Evan asked, transferring his gaze to Cole.

“Not long,” Penelope said quickly, before Cole could answer.

Cole stifled a surge of frustration. What was the point of them playing this little game if she was all but waving the available flag at Evan?

“And you met at work?” Evan asked.

“Penelope and I applied for the same job,” Cole said before Penelope could answer.

Sound familiar? he silently added.

“Oh yeah? How’d that work out?” Evan said with an uninterested little laugh, as though he hadn’t once applied for the same job as Penelope.

Cole slowly, deliberately reached around the back of Penelope’s chair, and rested his hand on the nape of her neck, as he turned to stare at her adoringly.

“I’d say it worked out pretty damn well.”

She glanced at Cole and gave a nervous little laugh. “We both ended up getting offered the job, actually. Co-editors.”

“Huh,” Evan said noncommittally.

“You two used to work together, yeah?” Cole asked, faking ignorance.

Penelope stiffened slightly under his hand, and he rubbed his thumb along the nape of her neck. Trust me.

“Yeah, for a while,” Evan said, taking a sip of his wine.

“And now you work for…refresh my memory on the company name?”

“Sportiva,” Evan said.

Cole frowned, feigning confusion as he kept his gaze locked on Evan. “Sportiva. Wait, Tiny, wasn’t that the company you interviewed for?”

There was a beat of silence before Evan gave a nervous laugh.

Cole looked at Penelope to find her giving him a back off glare.

He glared back, trying to silently communicate. Come on, Penelope. Stand up for yourself. What are we doing here if not to put this asshole in his place?

She merely looked away, licking her lips nervously. “Yeah. I applied.”

Evan set his wineglass down, and his expression went from nervous to earnest. “Actually, Pen, I wanted to talk to you about that.” He shifted his gaze just briefly to Cole. “Maybe later this weekend we can get some time to chat?”

Oh, hell no.

Penelope was silent for several moments. Then, “Sure. Okay.”

Cole’s gaze whipped back toward her. What the fuck?

But she wasn’t even looking at him. She and Evan were locked in some silent bubble of communication with Cole on the outside.

And it fucking blew.

Cole’s grip tightened on his wineglass as he tried to tell himself that it didn’t bother him, but fuck, of course it bothered him.

He wasn’t her boyfriend—he got that. But he treated her a hell of a lot better than this asshole.

He cared about her. A lot.

Just as Cole was wondering if he should make an excuse to leave the table before he made a fool of himself, he felt the soft brush of fingers against the back of his hand. Felt as her hand slid against his until they were palm to palm.

She turned her head then, meeting his eyes, smiling shyly as she linked her fingers with his.

He couldn’t look away, even though he knew this small woman could crack his heart in half.

Aw fuck, Sharpe, you are in so much trouble.

She gave him a thoughtful look and then turned back to Evan. “Actually, Ev, I’m busy the rest of this weekend.”

Cole’s heart beat faster, wondering if he’d heard her correctly, and she squeezed his hand.

“Come on, Pen, it’s just—”

“If there’s something to say, you can say it now,” Penelope interrupted Evan in a quiet, firm voice.

The subtext of Penelope’s statement was clear: You are not worth a second more of my time.

Cole wanted to slow clap.

Evan’s smile faltered. “It’s, um…I was hoping we could talk, just the two of us.”

Penelope shrugged. “You lost that right when you used me to get ahead in your career.”

The other man’s laugh was nervous. “Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to apologize—”

“Accepted,” she said.

Both Cole and Evan looked at her in shock.

She gave a little shrug. “I’ve wasted enough time on you, Evan. You screwed up. You treated me badly. I can continue to hang on to the anger and hurt or…I can move on.”

Evan started to reach across the table toward her, then caught sight of Cole’s glare and thought better of it. “Pen, I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed us—”

She held up her free hand—the one that wasn’t linked with Cole’s—and stopped the other man’s words.

“Hold on, Ev, just because I forgive you doesn’t mean we’re going back to the way things were. Even if I were still in Chicago, we can’t go back. You’re not my colleague anymore and you’re certainly not my friend. I don’t know that you ever were.”

Evan swallowed, looking increasingly panicked now. “I dumped Tara because of you. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Cole cleared his throat pointedly, but Evan ignored him.

She shrugged again. “That’s not my problem, Evan.”

Evan gave a small smile, which Cole supposed was intended to look regretful but instead looked smarmy. “Come on, Pen. Give me a second chance. I deserve at least one more. Three strikes you’re out, and all that.”

Cole tensed. Enough with this bullshit. Cole enjoyed a sports reference as much as the next guy, but this was too much. Treating relationships like a game. Treating Penelope’s heart like it was some field to be navigated…

Cole wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Barstow, the job you stole from Penelope pays well, right?”

Evan blinked. “Um, what?”

“Good,” Cole said, as though the other man had responded affirmatively. “Then you won’t mind paying? I think we’re done here.”

Cole held out a hand to Penelope, his heart silently begging her not to reject it.

She placed her hand in his.

Placed her trust in him.

Penelope stood. “Goodbye, Evan.”

Cole listened carefully for any sign of misplaced regret in her voice and was relieved to hear nothing but finality.

They walked hand in hand from the restaurant, not bothering to turn around to see if Evan Barstow was sputtering about being stuck with the check or whether he was sitting there in shock.

Cole didn’t really give a fuck.

He’d done what he’d come here to do. He’d helped free Penelope from the past that was holding her back from knowing how fucking amazing she was.

They didn’t speak as they exited the restaurant. Cole hailed a cab, but after giving the driver Penelope’s address, he felt uncharacteristically at a loss for words, so they said nothing.

He had no idea what the next move was here. They’d all but wiped the floor with Evan, yet there was another hurdle ahead of them tonight. A more important one than the shadowy asshole in Penelope’s past.

How had Cole not realized that tonight wasn’t about Evan? Not really.

Tonight was about them—about him and Penelope.

They hadn’t slept together since before his completely idiotic idea to hold back from her until she reached for him—wanted him.

So far, his plan was backfiring. Penelope had been friendly all week, but she’d hardly been hurling her naked body at him in darkened corners.

What did he even want from her?

Suddenly Cole felt tired. Bone-tired in that way one gets when one desperately wants something that seems to be getting farther and farther away by the minute.

Something he didn’t know how to ask for. Something important.

Wordlessly they emerged from the car, walking side by side, before stopping in the familiar spot. The same place where he’d kissed her, twice now.

Cole tried to think of some clever quip about déjà vu, but he had nothing.

All he wanted was to pull her toward him—to kiss her until she begged him to take her upstairs. But he knew all too well how kissing Penelope on the sidewalk turned out. He ended up walking away with blue balls and, more recently, a pain in his chest.

She seemed to sense his mood, because her happy smile had faded slightly. “Hey, so, thanks for tonight. I’m sure it wasn’t your favorite way to spend a Friday night—”

“It was fine.”

“Cole, people only say ‘fine’ when things are anything but.”

“I had a good time,” he said slowly. “Really.”

“But…?” she prompted.

He could only stare at her. What could he possibly say?

That he hated that the only reason she’d brought him along tonight was to make Evan jealous? That he hated the fact that she had to be coaxed into hanging out with him, and sleeping with him and kissing him…