Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(28)

“I didn’t used to cook,” Julie said, holding up a finger. “But I’ve learned.”

Emma caught Penelope’s eye and shook her head.

Penelope hid a smile into her wine.

“Okay, so back to Cole—” Julie said. “Actually no, don’t answer that. Let’s wait for Grace.”

“Oh, well, there’s really nothing to talk about….” Penelope said.

“Of course there isn’t, sweetie. But let’s discuss it all the same before the men get back, shall we?”

“Honestly, how long does it take to check out a grill when it’s freezing out?” Grace mused.

Jake and Grace’s apartment building was in the process of remodeling the rooftop residents’ lounge, and the second Jake had mentioned grill, all five of the other men had insisted on a tour.

“You know they’re talking about us, just like we’re talking about them, right?” Emma said, as she came to join the rest of them in the living room.

“Maybe,” Grace said doubtfully. “Or they’re talking about steak—”

“Who cares,” Julie interrupted. “I want to hear about Cole.”

Penelope gave a nervous laugh when she realized that all of the women’s attention was riveted on her. “Okay, so please don’t think I’m playing coy, and I really appreciate the invitation tonight, but…Cole and I are just colleagues.”

Riley lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“And friends,” Penelope rushed to explain. “I like him. A lot. But not like that.”

Julie’s nose scrunched. “But he came here with you tonight, even though we made it perfectly clear that we weren’t trying to make this a couples thing.”

“Lies!” Riley said. “We’re totally trying to make it a couples thing. We just didn’t know Lincoln or Cole, so we brought both. Ooh, maybe they could mud-wrestle over you!”

Penelope laughed a little at Riley’s bald honesty. “I appreciate the sentiment. I do. But if you’re looking to set Cole up with a woman, I think you’ll need someone a little more…”

“A little more what?” Riley demanded.

Penelope blew out a breath. “I’m not his type.”

“Fun fact,” Julie said cheerfully, “Cole doesn’t have a type.”

“Well, he does, sort of,” Grace corrected. “Boobs.”

“See, there you go!” Penelope said, snapping her fingers and then pointing at her chest. “I’m lacking there.”

“Take it from another not-well-endowed gal,” Emma said, “the menfolk find all sizes very interesting.”

“Well, Cole doesn’t find these interesting,” Penelope said. “And I don’t want him to.”

“Well, this is disappointing,” Julie said with a pout. “I could have sworn my matchmaking instincts were dead-on.”

“Rumor has it we should have gone with plan B,” Grace said to her friends, sounding just a tiny bit smug.

“Plan B?” Penelope asked. “You had multiple plans?”

“Multiple men, she means. For you, sweetie,” Julie explained.

“Plan B is Lincoln,” Grace said.

“Mmmm, Lincoln,” Riley said with a dreamy sigh. “You like him, Pen?”

“He kissed her,” Grace said, before Penelope could answer.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Penelope muttered.

But nobody heard her. Riley was too busy pretending to swoon, Julie was fanning herself, and even the ever-cool Emma looked supremely interested.

“How do you know this?” Julie said, slapping at Grace’s knee.

“Jake saw it,” Grace replied. “Lincoln did it right there in Penelope’s office. Something about an article he was working on, and—”

“It seriously wasn’t romantic. Or sexy,” Penelope cut in. “Really. It was playful and—”

“But it was good, wasn’t it?” Riley asked. “I mean, I may be an almost-married woman, but Lincoln Mathis is hot.”

“The kiss was…” Penelope replayed Lincoln’s mouth on hers. “It was nice.”

Silence descended on the room.

“Nice?” Riley said, sounding aghast.

“You know, it was…” Penelope glanced around the room at disappointed faces. “I don’t have much to compare it to.”

She supposed she should be embarrassed by the admission—and she was, a little. But Penelope had never really seen the point of pretending to be something she wasn’t.

And she absolutely wasn’t an experienced femme fatale.

For all she knew, maybe Lincoln’s kisses were as good as it got. It had certainly been more skilled than most of the groping kisses she’d endured in college. And better than Erik’s, a guy whom she’d dated for a few months and who had borderline halitosis.

“Penelope,” Julie said slowly. “I don’t mean to pry—”

“She does,” Emma interrupted.

“Okay fine, I do mean to pry,” Julie continued. “But are you seriously telling me that the best kiss you’ve ever received is merely nice? From a guy you barely know, for the sake of work?”