Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(61)

“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 *?”

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?”