Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(25)

“Fuck no, I’m worried about her,” Cole said, pointing at Penelope.

She couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up then, and Cole gave her an incredulous look.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to keep her face straight, and failing. “It’s just…you look a lot like my dad right now.”

Cole’s mouth dropped open just as Jake let out a muffled laugh and Lincoln put a fist in front of his mouth, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Your dad?” Cole said, sounding horrified.

Lincoln glanced at his watch. “Shit. Malone. We’re late for that meeting.”

“What meeting?” Jake asked.

Lincoln gave him a pointed look as he grabbed his notebook and pen. “Fine, you want to stay here and watch this go down, be my guest—”

“Oh, that meeting?” Jake said. “Right. We’re late.”

“Thanks for the kiss,” Penelope called playfully after Lincoln. “I think head-holding is definitely—”

She broke off when she saw Alex Cassidy standing in the doorway. His expression gave away nothing, but there was no way he hadn’t heard her loudly thanking her colleague for a kiss.

Penelope felt a blush rise to her cheek as their boss looked around at the four of them.

“We were, ah, doing some research,” Lincoln said, scooting by Cassidy.

Jake followed Lincoln, holding up his left hand innocently as he did so. “Didn’t touch her. I’m married.”

Cassidy narrowed his eyes at the two men before shifting his attention back to Penelope, then to Cole.

Then he merely rolled his eyes and walked away.

Penelope blew out a sigh of relief as she slumped back into her chair. “Whew. Do you think it’s always like this around here?”

“Don’t sound so hopeful,” Cole muttered grumpily.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same in Lincoln’s position. I see the way you flirt with the receptionist every morning.”

“Flirt with is different than make out with,” he said, hands braced on the desk as he loomed over her.

Penelope rolled her eyes. “It was one five-second kiss. Hardly a makeout session.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

His eyebrow lifted in challenge.

“Well, you interrupted,” she huffed. “Maybe if he’d gotten to the other methods of kissing, I would have gotten a little more excited.”

Cole looked at her for several seconds before standing up straight. “I don’t think so.”

“Why, because I’m not capable of passion?” she asked, her voice sounding more defensive than she’d intended.

He was in the process of walking by her, but paused at that.

Cole glanced down, his expression thoughtful.

“Nah, I think you’re plenty capable.” He waited until Penelope met his gaze. “I just don’t think Lincoln’s your guy.”

He winked, then strolled out of her office, good humor apparently restored, closing the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, she slumped back in her chair, feeling flustered.

Cole was wrong. There was nothing the matter with Lincoln. That kiss would have been exactly the same coming from anyone else. Say, coming from Cole, for example.

She pushed out of her guest chair and moved around the desk to her actual chair.

Penelope was suddenly desperate to lose herself in work. Desperate to ignore that little voice in the back of her head whispering, Liar.





Chapter 8


Cole wasn’t exactly sure what had made him suggest that he and Penelope show up together at Jake and Grace’s dinner party.

If anything, he should have gone out of his way not to make a thing out of it.

It was bad enough that they’d be some of the only people not coupled-up at the party. And, despite Jake’s claims, Cole wasn’t at all sure that the Stiletto girls weren’t angling for a setup.

Arriving at the same time would only put the wrong idea in everybody’s head. Well, everybody except Penelope.

It was almost insulting how thoroughly he’d been put in the friend zone.

Or at least, he’d be insulted if he weren’t vastly relieved. The last thing he needed was a romantic entanglement with a co-worker.

Which absolutely did not explain why he was currently standing outside her apartment building feeling decidedly excited to see her.

Penelope lived in a mid-rise on the Upper West Side. Well, Upper Upper West Side, given how far north she was. He should know. He lived almost as far north, except on the eastern side of Central Park. The walk over had taken him only ten minutes.

He grimaced as he realized he was already trying to come up with an explanation for why he was stopping by her place first.

Cole knew his friends all too well. No way would they buy his “she was on the way” excuse.

Still, she was on the way, sort of, and here he was.

Cole used the callbox to ring her apartment, smiling as her frazzled voice came out all tinny. “Cole?”

“Yup.”

“Get up here!”

He lifted an eyebrow at the urgency in her tone. A couple minutes later, she opened the door, and he understood.