Текст книги "Irresistibly Yours"

Автор книги: Layne Layren

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 6

Penelope: Your precious Yankees aren’t looking so hot.

Cole: You watch your filthy Chicago mouth.

Penelope: Hmm, maybe I need glasses, because I keep looking at my TV, and I’m seeing Chicago White Sox: 6, New York Yankees: 2…What are you seeing?

Cole: The Yanks will come back. They always do.

Penelope: Has anyone told you how cute your delusions are?

Cole: Not recently. Want to come over and tell me to my face?

Penelope: Nice try, Sharpe. I’m quite comfortable on my own couch, thank you very much.

Cole: Fair enough…What are you wearing?

Penelope: Goodbye, Cole.

–

Cole Sharpe was good at a lot of things. Baseball. Putting furniture together. Cooking steak.

Sex.

But waiting was not on his list of skills.

And when an entire week passed after his interview without any word from Cassidy, Cole was past impatient and heading toward pissed.

The only consolation was that Penelope Pope hadn’t gotten word either. He knew because true to their agreement that afternoon in the bar, they’d ventured into a friendship of sorts.

Not that they were hanging out every day or anything. He actually hadn’t seen her since that day at the pub.

But they’d exchanged a few casual texts. Mostly about sports, with the occasional restaurant recommendation thrown in when she was craving Italian and didn’t know which of the hundreds in the city to choose from.

Cole found that he kind of enjoyed his new nightly routine of plopping on his couch with the remote, his notebook, his whiskey…and his phone.

He bickered with Penelope over texts about whether or not the rookie Henderson’s homer was a fluke or hint of potential. About whether or not Perez had gained weight in the off-season and would be able to maintain his impressive stolen base percentage.

It was through these nightly exchanges that he knew she hadn’t gotten the job offer either.

Why the fuck was Cassidy taking so long to decide?

On Thursday, one week and one day after his and Penelope’s interviews, Cole took matters into his own hands.

And this time, when he walked into the Oxford offices, two coffees in hand, the correct recipient was sitting at the front desk.

“Jo. My love,” he said, giving her his best smile.

The dark-haired receptionist glanced up from her computer and gave him a wry smile. “I was wondering when you’d show up with bribes.”

He handed her the coffee with an innocent look. “I’m offended, darling. This is just me trying to woo you so you’ll have dinner with me.”

“Unh-uh,” the brunette said, taking a sip. “For the nine millionth time, I don’t date guys from the office.”

“Ah,” he said, lifting a finger. “But I’m not from the office. I’m a contractor.”

She looked away, just for a split second, and it was exactly the opening Cole had been waiting for.

“Jo,” he said, leaning on the desk. “Is there something you want to tell me about that sports editor position?”

“Sharpe!”

Cole’s head snapped up, and he braced himself for a furious Alex Cassidy, only to sag a bit in relief when he realized the editor in chief was nowhere to be seen.

“Jake Malone,” Cole said, standing up straight and grinning at one of his closest friends.

Cole could have sworn he heard Jo sigh just a little as Jake came closer.

It happened a lot around Jake. Oxford’s travel editor had a Hugh Jackman kind of thing going on, and had definitely cornered the market on tall, dark, and handsome.

Jake had once been Oxford’s untamable playboy—a title he’d happily handed over to Lincoln, once Jake met and fell for his wife, Grace—one of Penelope’s Stiletto fairy godmothers.

Small world, and all that.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jake said, clapping Cole on the shoulder and giving him one of those half-man-hug things.

“Waiting for your boss to make up his mind,” Cole said, keeping his voice easy.

Jake rocked back on his heels. “Ah.”

Cole searched his friend’s face, but Jake gave no sign that he knew anything. Cole wasn’t surprised. Cassidy and Jake were good friends, but Cassidy also knew Jake had a big mouth. If Cassidy had made up his mind about the position, Jake would be the last one he’d tell.

“You here for an appointment with Cassidy?” Jake asked.

“Uh, well—”

Jake grinned. “He doesn’t know you’re coming, does he? Awesome. Can I be there when you surprise him? Heard you did that when he was interviewing your competition the other day. Damn, I wish I’d seen that.”

Cole winced. “Is he still pissed?”

Jake shrugged. “Honestly? I’ve barely seen the guy. He’s been up in corporate almost every day this week. Come on back,” Jake said, gesturing toward his office. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Cole followed Jake into his office, pointing at a new poster of a vineyard on his friend’s wall. “Napa?”

“Spain,” Jake said. “I’m trying to convince the boss to send me out there in October. Everyone talks about French wines, California wines, even Italian wines…Spain doesn’t get nearly enough love.”

“Wine, huh? Let me guess whose idea that was.”

Jake grinned. “Let’s just say if Cassidy maybe allowed me to let my wife tag along, she probably wouldn’t say no. Oh, and speaking of the wife…wanna come to dinner at our place? Two weeks from Friday?”

Cole looked at him in surprise. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. What, I can’t ask my friend to dinner?”

Cole lifted an eyebrow. Waited.

Jake sighed and relented. “Okay, fine. Grace and the other girls—they’ve got it in their heads that they want to adopt this Penelope Pope character.”

Cole’s eyebrow went higher. “And you think I should be there? You are aware that this woman is out for my job?”

“This woman?” Jake repeated. “You sound like my sexist grandpa who’s having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that women who show a bit of ankle aren’t harlots.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cole grumbled, dropping into the chair across from Jake.

“So it doesn’t bother you that she’s a woman?”

“Hell no. I love women.”

“Excellent,” Jake said. “So you won’t have a problem coming to dinner.”

“That was the lamest attempt at a trap ever,” Cole said. “Explain to me why your wife’s deciding to befriend Penelope Pope—which I’m in favor of, by the way—requires me to be present.”

“It’s not a trap,” Jake said irritably.

“Uh-huh. So you’re telling me this isn’t a couples-only party, with Penelope and me being the only single people?”

“Nope,” Jake said without hesitation. “And even if the girls were trying to set Penelope up, rumor has it Riley’s brother is first pick. Except he’s in Milan or Rome or something.”

Cole frowned. “Why was Liam first pick?”

Jake threw up his hands. “Do you want to come to fucking dinner or not?”

Cole considered. On one hand, he enjoyed hanging out with Jake and the rest of the crew. Was he slightly aware that he was the lone single guy in the group? Yes. Did it bother him? Not in the least.

Except…Grace and her friends were always not so subtly trying to set Cole up with women in an attempt to lure him into their coupled lifestyle.

As such, he could smell a setup a mile away. And this was definitely one of them.

“I think I’ll respectfully pass,” Cole said slowly, leaning back in his chair and resting his heels on Jake’s desk. “Penelope’s great, but—”

Jake shrugged as though it didn’t make a difference to him. “No problem. I’ll ask Lincoln.”

Cole’s feet hit the floor. “Hell no.”

“What’s wrong with Lincoln?” Jake asked distractedly, looking at something that had just come through on his computer screen.

“Yeah? What’s wrong with Lincoln?” came a familiar voice from the doorway.

Cole glanced over his shoulder to see the very topic of conversation strolling into Jake’s office. Lincoln sat in the chair next to Cole.

“Wanna come to dinner?” Jake asked Lincoln.

“No,” Cole said, pointing a finger at Jake. “No way.”

“Sure, I love dinner,” Lincoln said, ignoring Cole. “When?”

“You’re not going,” Cole told Lincoln.

Jake frowned. “Well, at least one of you has to come. If I go home and tell Grace I didn’t find her tenth dinner party member, she’s going to be cranky, and when she’s cranky, I don’t get laid.”

“I’ll be there,” Cole said.

Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Changed your mind, did you?”

Cole didn’t rise to the bait.

Jake likely knew full well that Lincoln was the worst possible alternative.

Women seemed to fall in love with Lincoln just for existing. Cole had seen smart, rational women all but offer to have the man’s baby in exchange for a smile.

Not that Lincoln ever fell in love back. In fact, whenever Cole so much as teased him about getting serious, Lincoln got this haunted look like he was torn between puking and punching something.

No way was Cole going to subject Penelope to that. The woman needed a friend, not a broken heart.

“What did I just miss out on?” Lincoln asked Jake. “I sense subtext.”

Jake jerked his chin at Cole. “Dude can’t make up his mind how he feels about Penelope Pope.”

“Ah, the cute brunette who’s gunning for your job.”

“Not my job yet,” Cole grumbled. “Unless you two know something…”

Lincoln held up his hands. “Dude, believe me, I’ve tried. Cassidy’s tight-lipped on this one.”

“Tight-lipped about what?”

Cole didn’t even have to turn around to know that Cassidy was standing in the doorway.

“Is this what you guys do all day?” Cole asked the group. “Just loom around other people’s office doorways and eavesdrop?”

“Why don’t you join the team and find out?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, Cassidy,” Cole said, tilting his head back and looking at his maybe-soon-to-be employer. “Why don’t I join the team and find out?”

Cassidy rolled his eyes, crossing both arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorway. “Yeah, I can see you’d be such a positive influence on my team’s productivity.”

“Glad you’re seeing the light,” Cole replied. “Should I start today? Jake here doesn’t mind sharing his office.”

“I do. I definitely mind,” Jake said.

Cassidy sighed. “I was going to call you tomorrow, Sharpe, but since you’re here—might as well get it over with.”

Cole felt his stomach drop suddenly. Cassidy’s words were hardly the encouraging pep talk of someone about to make a job offer.

He swallowed his bitterness.

He wasn’t going to get the job. They were going to give it to Penelope Pope.

And damn it, she probably deserved it.

But so did he.

And he needed it. He couldn’t let Bobby get kicked out of his home. Sure, his brother could move in with Cole, but they’d tried that, and Bobby had been bored out of his mind while Cole was at work, and Cole had been stressed and irritable, worrying about his brother more than he probably needed to.

Cole glanced at Lincoln and Jake, making a joking finger-slash-across-the-throat gesture. Neither of his friends said anything as he left Jake’s office, but it made him feel slightly better that they looked almost as disappointed by Cassidy’s dire tone as Cole felt.

Cassidy was already heading down the hall to his office, so Cole followed after him, feeling a good deal less jubilant than he usually did in the Oxford offices.

Abruptly he realized that it could be the last time he strolled these hallways.

Of course, there was always the chance that he could continue his current status as contractor, except…

That would be up to Penelope now, wouldn’t it?

Cassidy was already sitting when Cole entered the office, careful to keep his disappointment off his face. Careful not to show how much he cared.

He wasn’t sure why it was so important to uphold his happy-go-lucky reputation, only that the thought of anyone feeling sorry for him grated on his nerves.

“How’s it going?” Cassidy asked, once Cole had settled into the chair across from him.

Cole resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s fine, Cassidy. Can we just rip the Band-Aid off?”

Cassidy’s brows lifted. “What is it you think I’m about to say?”

Cole reached forward and snatched a pen off the desk, just so he had something to do with his hands, then put it back just as quickly.

“You’re giving the job to Penelope Pope.”

Cassidy’s chair spun slightly, his eyes never leaving Cole’s. “She’s damn good. You saw that.”

“Yeah,” Cole said, slowly exhaling a long, tired breath. “She is.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Cassidy said.

“Why, so that I’ll be less bitter about it at dinner parties?” Cole asked, trying to keep the snide out of his tone, and failing.

“I don’t give a damn whether you have PMS at our dinner parties,” Cassidy said. “I’m glad you like—or at least respect—Penelope, because the two of you are going to be spending an awful lot of time together.”

“Dude, it’s just one dinner,” Cole muttered. “How long are you thinking it’s going to last?”

Cassidy leaned forward, both arms braced on the desk. “Okay, let’s cut the bullshit. I’m offering you the job, Sharpe.”

It took several seconds for that to register. And then…

“What the hell, Cassidy. Why’d you just make me listen to how fucking great Penelope was if I got the job?”

Cassidy didn’t even flinch at Cole’s outburst. “Penelope’s being perfect for this job doesn’t make you any less perfect. You belong in this role, Cole. You know you do.”

Cole swallowed, uncomfortable by the unusual praise. He knew that Cassidy liked his work. His contract wouldn’t get renewed every year if he didn’t. But it was nice to hear it, all the same.

Still, Cole sensed he was missing something….

“I’ve been working with corporate all week to get approval for a second head count,” Cassidy said quietly.

Several moments of silence followed as the editor in chief waited for Cole to put the pieces together.

And then it clicked.

“You’re hiring both of us,” Cole said, annoyed that he hadn’t figured it out before now. “That’s why you’ve been up at corporate every day this week. That’s why you haven’t given either one of us an answer.”

“Yes,” Cassidy said. “I’ve decided to split the position. Two sports editors instead of one, and before you jump down my throat, this isn’t about me being indecisive.”

Cole nearly smiled at that. “Trust me. That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

Alex Cassidy was nothing if not decisive. Ruthless when he needed to be.

“You’ll be equals,” Cassidy explained. “Same titles, same authority. There’s more than enough work for both of you. You know what I want to do with this new sports section. It’s huge. We’re talking nearly a fifth of the magazine devoted to sports.”

Cole sat back in his chair, considering. “What happens when we don’t see eye to eye? If one of us doesn’t have final say—”

Cassidy smiled grimly at that. “Then you’ll have to learn how to work it out. Worst case, you bring it to me. I make the call.”

“That sounds terrible,” Cole muttered.

“It’s the offer that’s on the table,” Cassidy said in his usual no-BS voice. “You can take it or leave it.”

Cole blew out a breath. It wasn’t what he’d envisioned. He’d pictured running the show, hiring a team the way he wanted to, designing the pages the way they were in his head…

The thought of having a partner…chafed.

Then his thoughts shifted to Penelope Pope, about the ridiculous amount of sports knowledge practically bursting out of her brain, about the way she radiated true passion for her career.

Then he thought about the jackass from Chicago—the one who’d stolen a job right out from under her nose just because she was a ridiculously good person and hadn’t seen it coming.

“Okay,” Cole said simply. “I’m in.”

Cassidy breathed out in relief. “Somehow I was expecting it to be a bit harder than that to convince you.”

Cole smiled back. “Don’t worry, boss. I’m sure I can think of a whole slew of other ways to make your life miserable. When do we start?”

“Hold up there, cowboy. There’s one tiny little hurdle to get over first.”

“Who gets the bigger office?” Cole asked.

“More like…how the hell are we going to convince Penelope Pope to share the job with you?”

Cole lifted his eyebrows. “You haven’t told her yet?”

Cassidy shook his head. “I was going to call both of you in tomorrow.”

Cole stood and headed toward the door, already planning to drag Lincoln and Jake out for celebratory beers. “Don’t sweat it. She’ll agree.”

“How do you figure?” Cassidy asked.

Cole shot his boss a grin over his shoulder. “Haven’t you heard? We’re BFFs now.”

Chapter 7

“No. No no no no. Why the heck would we want our first sports cover story to be about a womanizing prick?” Penelope said, hands on her hips as she paced around her office.

Cole leaned back in the chair—her chair—looking entirely unperturbed as he ate an apple. “Because this is a men’s magazine. And men don’t care about another man being, quote, ‘a womanizing prick’ when he can consistently hit his driver over three hundred yards.”

“Adam Bailey is a first-rate turd,” Penelope shot back.

“Probably,” Cole agreed, swiveling around in the chair like a restless third grader. “But he’s a damn good golfer, and you know it.”

Penelope grunted in acknowledgment and paused in her pacing long enough to tap her fingernails against her desk.

Her desk. She had a desk.

It was such a simple thing—a simple joy, really, having one’s own office to decorate however one wanted, although she hadn’t quite gotten to that, having been here all of three days.

But it was still her desk. Her office.

The happy grin spread across her face before she could stop it.

“Oh no,” Cole said.

She glanced at him. “What?”

“That smile,” he said, taking another bite of apple. “It’s dangerous.”

“How can a smile possibly be dangerous?”

He shook his head. “You’re so cute and clueless.”

Since he’d commandeered her chair, Penelope didn’t feel all that bad about stealing his Starbucks cup and taking a healthy sip.

“Careful,” he said. “Didn’t you have a wardrobe malfunction the last time you drank coffee?”

“That was only because I was wearing high heels,” she said. “I’m very coordinated in these.”

She lifted up her leg so he could see her black ballet flat.

“Sensible,” he said, barely glancing at it. “But tell me honestly, Pope. How badly do you wish you were wearing a tennis shoe right now?”

She sighed and dropped into her own guest chair. “So badly.”

He smiled knowingly.

“You, on the other hand, seem to have settled into fancy office attire quite nicely,” she said, her eyes skimming over him.

“Tiny.” He laid a hand over his heart. “You noticed!”

Penelope rolled her eyes. It was hard not to notice just how well Cole Sharpe wore a suit. Today’s was dark blue, paired with a lighter blue tie for a monochromatic look that looked, well…mouthwatering.

He’d risen to the role of senior sports editor nicely.

No. Co–senior sports editor.

Penelope had felt the tiniest stab of disappointment when Alex Cassidy had told her that her new responsibilities would be shared.

She’d wanted to get this job on her own—wanted to prove that she could.

But, if you couldn’t beat ’em, join ’em, right? And if there was anyone she wanted to join with, it was Cole Sharpe.

Well…

Not join with.

Not that way.

Penelope’s eyes traveled over his lean torso. Well, okay. Maybe in that way, just a little bit.

But she’d meant what she’d said about the two of them remaining platonic. It was good to get things out in the open. Penelope knew all too well what kind of heartache happened if two members of the opposite sex weren’t on the same page about where they stood.

One thought they were headed toward a relationship…

The other had had a secret girlfriend the whole damn time.

“Uh-oh,” Cole said, watching her. “Now the smile’s gone. What’s going on in that little head?”

Penelope sat forward and needlessly adjusted her stapler. “Nothing.”

He chewed his apple as he watched her. “For the record, I don’t believe you for one second. But since I know firsthand how annoying prying can be, I’m going to let that go.”

Penelope watched as he shot the apple core across the room toward the garbage can. The quick swoosh followed by a clank indicated that he’d nailed it.

“You know there’s a wastebasket right under my desk, right? That was completely unnecessary.”

“Please. Manly displays of prowess are never unnecessary.” Cole sat forward. “Okay, so what do we do about this Adam Bailey thing? We’ve been sharing this job for three days, and already we’re at an impasse.”

She scratched the tip of her nose as she thought it over. “What about Jackson Burke? You can’t tell me that every guy in America doesn’t secretly want to be him.”

“No argument there. The man’s a living legend. But if your beef with Adam Bailey is his track record with women, how is Jackson Burke any better?”

Penelope scowled and crossed her arms. “I don’t believe those rumors about him.”

“Rumors,” Cole said slowly. “You mean like when his wife accused him of having multiple affairs with women she named by name, and then those same women came forward to back up her claims?”

Penelope glanced at her nails. “I think they made it up.”

Cole leaned forward, a knowing smile on his face. “Tiny. Do you have a crush on Jackson Burke?”

Maybe.

The quarterback of the Texas Redhawks had long been one of Penelope’s idols.

Not only because the man was exceptionally skilled on the football field, although he was. But he’d also funded a dozen charities—quietly, out of the spotlight. He’d adopted a handful of dogs rescued from another football player’s heinous dog-fighting hobby. He’d taken his parents out to dinner after every Super Bowl win….

“Tiny?” Cole prompted.

“Jackson Burke is a good man,” she said stubbornly.

“All right, let’s just say that he hasn’t been having affairs with half the women in Texas,” Cole said slowly. “He’s still not a good choice. Nobody cares about football in April.”

He had a point. They’d be better off saving a Jackson feature for football season, when everyone would be wondering if the rumors about his off-season activities affected his game.

“But golf?” she said, skeptical. “I know it’s growing in popularity, but—”

“It’s growing in popularity because of Adam Bailey,” Cole argued. “The man single-handedly revived the sport when he won four tours in a row and then started dating Hollywood actresses.”

“Exactly, and then he single-handedly tarnished the sport when he started dating more than one Hollywood actress at a time,” Penelope argued. “The man’s a playboy. And unlike Burke, Bailey’s all but admitted to it.”

“We don’t care about his bedroom game, we care about the golf game. And his game’s as good as it ever was. Better.”

“But—”

“You know I’m right on this. If we were the Relationships editors, we’d get flak for going with him, but we’re sports editors.”

“We’ll still get flak,” she grumbled.

“Bad publicity is still publicity. You know that.”

Damn it. Damn it. He was right.

It was just…she hated men who saw one woman while leading another on.

Shake it off, Penelope.

She lifted her hands out to her sides and shook them.

Cole smiled. “Penelope. Are you physically shaking it off right now?”

“Don’t judge, it helps,” she said.

He lifted his arms and mimicked her motions so they were both flapping like birds. “You’re right. It does.”

“What are you shaking off?” she asked.

Cole shrugged. “Nothing. I’m flawless.”

There was throat clearing from the doorway and she turned to see Lincoln Mathis watching them with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, hi, Lincoln!” She let her arms drop to her sides.

“Oh, hi, Lincoln!” Cole mimicked in a breathy voice.

She ignored him, mostly because he had a point. She probably had been a little breathless, but it was 100 hundred percent justified.

Yes, Lincoln Mathis was still the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

Dark wavy hair, blue eyes that were both friendly and distant, practically begging a woman to fix him. Same went for the shy yet confident smile, the muscled yet lean body.

Penelope felt a blast of misty water hit her cheek and turned around to see Cole holding a blue squirt bottle. “What are you doing? That’s for misting my plants!”

“You looked hot,” he said with a shrug, setting the bottle aside.

She wiped at her wet face with her sleeve. Forget Lincoln. It was Cole she was going to have to learn to survive.

“What can we help you with, Lincoln?”

The other man strolled into her office, sitting in the chair next to her before tilting his head. “Isn’t something backward here? Or did you switch offices?”

“Nope, you’ve got it about right,” she said. “Sharpe stole my chair.”

“And you let him?”

Penelope shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me where I sit when we argue.”

“Discuss,” Cole said. “We were discussing.”

“Yeah? Who won?” she asked.

“I did. Obviously.”

“Exactly. There’s no winner in a discussion. It was an argument, and I’ll concede this round, but—”

Lincoln held up a hand. “How about you two kids settle this later. I’ve got a crisis on my hands for my section.”

Penelope turned her attention back to Lincoln. “Relationships, right?”

“Ah, sure,” Lincoln said. “We can call it that.”

“Well, what do you call it?” Penelope asked.

He said nothing.

“Come on,” she coaxed, “I’m part of the team.”

Lincoln blew out a breath. “Well, the Table of Contents calls it Sex and Relationships. But around here we mostly call it—”

“Chicks and clits,” Cole said.

“We do not call it that,” Lincoln said, glaring at Cole.

“Sometimes we do,” Cole muttered.

“Anyway, we call it—”

“Hey, how come I didn’t get invited to the party?” Jake Malone strolled into the office without knocking.

“Welcome to my office,” Cole said, spreading his hands wide.

“It’s my office,” Penelope said.

“Well, it should be my office,” Cole said. “It’s bigger.”

Jake leaned down until his mouth was near Penelope’s ear. “Poor guy has to compensate.”

Penelope giggled and Cole shot his friend the finger.

“Guys—and gal—focus,” Lincoln said, snapping his fingers. “Cassidy asked me to do a quick filler story after some boring shit about shoes turned out to be a dud, and I’m stuck.”

“All right, young Lincoln, you may ask us sex gods our opinion,” Jake said.

“Actually, I was looking for Penelope.”

Jake looked crestfallen. “I thought I was your go-to sex advice guy.”

“Uh, I’m his go-to sex advice guy,” Cole said. “Lincoln comes to me when he needs fodder for his stories. You’re an old married fuddy-duddy—”

“Who gets sex every night,” Jake shot back. “Can you say the same?”

Penelope couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Cole. Could he say the same?

Cole narrowed his eyes at Jake, who grinned. “Thought not.”

Penelope smiled, enjoying their easy banter.

This was what she’d wanted when she’d applied for the job. This sort of camaraderie. Granted, she was the only female, but they seemed willing enough to include her.

And God knew they didn’t seem to be holding back on their “guy talk” in her presence. Chicks and clits? Really?

Lincoln was pulling out his notebook. “Okay, Penelope, so my article is on the first kiss of a first date…”

“Kissing?” Cole asked. “That seems tame.”

Lincoln shot him a pointed look. “Have you ever gotten laid without it?”

Cole opened his mouth, then shut it, making a rolling gesture with his hand. “Continue.”

“Okay, so, Ms. Pope,” Lincoln said, putting the tip of his pen to his lip and looking, well, hot. “I’ve always been under the impression that women preferred a good head-holding kiss. You know, our big hands on your little face. Chicks dig it. But, against my better judgment, I decided to do an informal poll of the office, and so far my results are coming up…scattered.”

Silence descended over the room, and Penelope realized that all three men were staring at her. Expectantly.

“Wait, sorry,” Penelope said nervously. “What do you want me to do about this?”

“Weigh in, of course,” Lincoln said. “We men only know what we think we know about women’s preferences.”

Penelope gave a nervous laugh. “Surely I’m not the only woman in the office.”

“No, of course not,” Lincoln said with a small smile. “There are six of you.”

“Six? That’s it? Out of how many employees?”

“A lot,” Jake said.

Penelope licked her lips. “Okay, well…why don’t you ask the other five?”

“I did,” Lincoln said patiently. “But six opinions are better than five, am I right?”

“Of course, it’s just—”

She glanced around the room to see all three of them watching her curiously.

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed slightly although not in a mean way. He leaned forward. “Penelope, darling. You have been kissed?”

“Eh, not appropriate, Mathis,” Jake said, glancing toward the door.

“Shit,” Lincoln said, looking horrified “Shit. Sorry. They make you take these sexual harassment classes, but I’m so used to just saying anything around these guys—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” she rushed to say.

The last thing she wanted to do was establish in her first week that she should be treated differently. “Of course, I’ve been kissed. I’m thirty-one…”

“Really?” Cole interrupted. “Damn, when I first saw you, I thought eighteen.”

“That’s the lack of boobs,” she said unabashedly.

Jake ran a hand over his face with a choked laugh. “Jesus. Maybe we should shut the door before Sandra walks by.”

“Sandra?” Penelope asked as Lincoln stood to shut her office door.

“Sandra Atens,” Cole explained.

“Ah,” Penelope said. “The HR lady who gave me all my paperwork.”

“That’s the one,” Lincoln said. “Look, so, Pen, if you don’t want to answer—”

“No, it’s just…” She started to bite her nail and then remembered that she’d gotten a manicure for her first week on the job and dropped her hands back to her lap. “Eh, it’s been a while. Since the kissing.”

For some reason, Penelope couldn’t bring herself to look at Cole Sharpe when she said it, so she kept her eyes locked on Lincoln, who, God bless him, didn’t look even tempted to laugh.

“Well, what the fuck’s wrong with those Chicago guys, honey?” he asked.

She laughed. “You’re sweet. But I think we know that men aren’t exactly barging down the door to get at all of this.”

She gestured awkwardly over her frame with her hands.

Lincoln looked her over, and Penelope sighed in resignation over what he’d see. She was wearing a skirt today—a slim gray affair, and a pink shirt—pink! But even still, she knew that the effect was hardly femme fatale.

Hell, it was barely feminine.

No matter what she did, no matter what color lipstick, no matter how high the heels, she never quite managed to escape the little-girl-playing-dress-up effect.

“I’m liking what I see,” Lincoln said.

“Oh my God,” someone muttered. Penelope wasn’t sure if it was Cole or Jake.