Irresistibly Yours - Lauren Layne Page 0,33

her, with Lincoln the one everyone was betting on.

But that wasn’t what was really bothering him. The Stiletto women, while meddling, were harmless.

What was bothering him was that his guy friends—the ones who knew him best—also seemed to think that Lincoln was better for Penelope.

They’d all but said as much when they’d been up on the rooftop admiring Jake’s new grill as though their man cards depended on it.

Their comments had been casual and off-the-cuff, but they’d stung all the same.

Sure, you’re both womanizers, but at least Lincoln is equal opportunity with his exes. Cole only likes ol’ leggy blondes, and none-too-bright.

Unless Penelope figures out a way to play for the Yankees, she can’t hold Cole’s interest for more than a week. Nobody does.

And worst of all, though meant as a joke, was Jake’s assertion that Lincoln had the dark secret thing going on, while with Cole, what you see is what you get.

It wasn’t that Cole needed to be all mysterious and alluring, or whatever the fuck Lincoln was. He didn’t want to be seen as the type of man who could be fixed with just the right woman.

But it did bother him that people thought he didn’t care about things. That he didn’t care about people.

Cole cared. He cared deeply. About Bobby. About his friends and co-workers. About the Stiletto women, and maybe…

Maybe he cared about Penelope Pope. Because, although he barely knew her, somehow here he was, walking her home, not out of duty, but because he wanted to.

Because he liked her.

New York was unusually quiet for a Friday night, due to the snowstorm, and Cole was surprised how quickly they made it back to Penelope’s place.

Too quickly, if he was being totally honest. He paused outside her building, ready to bid her a reluctant goodbye, but as usual, the woman surprised him.

She tilted her head back to look at him, the snow swirling around her, flakes soaking her dark hair, landing softly on her small features.

“Want to come up?” she asked.

Cole smiled. “Somehow I don’t think you mean that how it’s usually meant.”

Her nose scrunched. “Meaning?”

He grinned down at her, once again, marveling at the strange sense of tenderness that this woman pulled out of him. “Meaning that usually when a woman asks a man up to her apartment on a Friday night, it’s for sex.”

The word hung between them as she blinked against the swirling snowflakes. “I don’t want to have sex with you, Cole.”

“Because I’m not Lincoln?” he said.

Damn it. He’d meant the question playfully, but it came out…harsh.

Penelope merely laughed, a girlish happy sound. Did nothing bother her?

“I’m a hundred percent positive Lincoln’s not interested in me.”

It wasn’t quite the answer he hoped for. She hadn’t clarified that she wasn’t interested in Lincoln.

“And yet, he kissed you,” Cole pushed.

Her eyes rolled. “You know full well that was for his silly little story. It was hardly because he couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

“The Stiletto girls are trying to set you two up,” he said, unsure why he wasn’t just letting this drop.

“No they’re not.”

He folded his arms and gave her a smug look. “Oh yeah? Then why wouldn’t they quit nudging you and Lincoln together tonight?”

Penelope let out another one of those delighted laughs. “Because they’re trying to set me up with you. Riley said something about igniting your competitive juices.”

Cole stared at her, the pieces slowly falling into place. He’d suspected early on that that had been the plan, but then everyone had started talking about Lincoln, and he figured they’d shifted course.

Apparently not.

Then he laughed, mostly at himself, for not figuring them out sooner. It was so them. His friends could be…crafty. Their hearts were in the right place, always, but he should have known better to take anything they said at face value.

“Yeah. I tried to tell them it was ridiculous,” she said. She smiled again, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He took a step forward. “Hold up now, Tiny. Did you think I was laughing at you just now?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Just the prospect of us together is so…”

He took another step closer, even as he wondered what the hell he was doing. He shouldn’t play games with her. She was too good for that.

And yet it didn’t feel like a game. It felt…

Well, hell. He had no idea how to explain what was going on here. If anything was going on.

“I was laughing at my own stupidity,” he explained quietly. “I should have known they’d