Irresistibly Yours

by Lauren Layne

  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. Bu
t 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…

  “But nothing, Tiny,” he said with a quiet sigh. He stepped closer, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and pulling her up slightly so he could press his lips to her forehead. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. She sounded confused.

  You and me both, darling.

  He gave her a wink, figuring he could at least try to act like himself, and then he walked away, wondering if he should stop for a drink on the way home. Wondered if he could muster any kind of interest in a woman. Maybe one who actually wanted—

  “Cole!”

  He turned, saw Penelope racing toward him. It was a full-out run too. Full speed, so that he had to brace himself for impact, supporting her small body as she collided with his.

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Cole froze. It was the first time Penelope had initiated a kiss, and the shock of it had him rooted to the spot, until slowly he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him with artless enthusiasm. She pulled back, giving him one last nipping kiss before digging her fingers into his hair and pulling his face down to look at hers.

  “The other day you told me that you wanted me to beg for you. Any day of the week.”

  He said nothing. He waited.

  “This is me. Begging.”

  Cole couldn’t help the brief laugh at the simple calmness of her voice. “Yeah, you sound really desperate there, Tiny.”

  She smiled and rested her hands against his chest. “Give me a break; I’m just now finding out that I’m not in love with the guy I thought.”

  Cole’s heart stopped for a moment, but he forced his voice to stay calm. “Oh yeah?”

  She fiddled with the button of his shirt, not quite meeting his eye. �
��I’m not saying I wasn’t in love with him once. But tonight, I was braced for the usual agony when I looked at Evan and remembered all the ways he broke my heart….”

  “And?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about any of that. It seems my mind kept drifting to other places.” Penelope looked up. “Other people. One in particular.”

  His hands slid up her back. “Is that so?”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? You look really good naked.”

  “You know, this speech would have been more effective on a Tuesday. Seeing as it’s Friday, you had a pretty good chance of getting laid anyway.”

  “Didn’t seem that way when you were walking away,” she said quietly.

  “My mistake,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

  “So you wanna come up?”

  “Fuck yes I want to come up.”

  Chapter 24

  It was strange.

  She and Cole had done this several times now. Hot sex. Raunchy sex. Playful sex.

  Great sex.

  But tonight, as they stood facing each other with only the streetlight from her window illuminating her bedroom, it felt different.

  Special.

  Important.

  She didn’t want it to be important. She wanted it to be spontaneous, and fun, and safe, and—

  Penelope’s thoughts scattered as Cole slowly, methodically unbuttoned his dress shirt, and tossed it aside.

  His eyes never left hers as he kicked off his shoes and then stripped off the rest of his clothes.

  Her mouth dropped open at his boldness, and he smiled. “You did say you liked me naked.”

  She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry.

  He stepped forward and rested his hands on her waist before dipping his head and brushing his lips along the side of her throat.

  Penelope sighed his name, and his hands slipped under her shirt, his fingers hot on her back as his mouth explored her neck.

  He tugged her shirt over her head, then his lips captured hers in an erotic kiss that reminded her of hot, sultry summer nights, even though it was only June.

  Cole’s hands flicked her bra open, his hands sliding forward to cover her with warm palms as she arched her back. Together they moved toward the bed, tumbling onto it in a graceless heap without their mouths ever breaking contact.