Irresistibly Yours
Page 39
Objectively, she knew that he only wanted her because she’d rejected him. A man like Cole liked a challenge. After this kiss—this wonderfully wanton kiss that she’d initiated—his ardor would cool and he’d be off to chase some other woman.
But that was okay. He wasn’t Evan. She wasn’t in love with him.
If he never kissed her again, it wouldn’t break her heart.
She wouldn’t let it.
Cole pulled away slowly, straightening until his hands slid off the desk to his sides, and they stared at each other.
“So?” he asked finally, when the silence had stretched long enough to get awkward.
She licked her lips. “So, what?”
“Which did you like better? Head-holding? Or what we just did?”
She rolled her eyes and went to the other side of her desk, feeling a bit safer with the distance between them. “Lincoln’s already turned in that stupid article. The time for research has long passed.”
“Oh, I’m not doing research for Lincoln’s article. And I have no interest in being an expert in all things kissing, although honestly, I suspect I’m pretty damn close to getting my black belt—”
She held up a hand. “Then what are you after?”
He grinned and pulled the folder with their story proofs off her desk as he strolled toward the door. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m out to be an expert on Penelope Pope. Because, despite your efforts to prove otherwise, I don’t believe for one second that you don’t want me.”
“You’re wrong,” she called after him, even though he was out the door.
He backed up two steps, just enough to poke his head back into her office.
The look he gave her was positively panty-dropping. “We’ll see, Tiny. We’ll see.”
Chapter 14
For Cole, Sundays always had, always would be about Bobby. Cole saw his brother on other days of the week, certainly. Occasional lunches, ball games, spontaneous visits. But Sundays were their days.
Whether it was playing checkers in Bobby’s room while watching reruns of whatever his brother’s current pet show was, or trips to Governors Island on sunny summer days, Cole always ensured that Bobby knew he came first.
And more than that, Cole enjoyed it. Even before their disengaged parents had passed away, Bobby had always been Cole’s only real family.
It was Bobby who taught Cole that people could be unconditionally good.
And it was also through Bobby that he’d learned just how cruel they could be. People stared too long, laughed when they shouldn’t, or could be all-out mocking.
Even the ones with good intentions got it wrong more often than not. Whether it be talking about Bobby as though he wasn’t there or speaking to him as though he were a child, people in general just screwed up.
It was because of these people that Cole kept Bobby separate from the rest of his life, although he sometimes feared that Bobby would misunderstand his motives—that he would think Cole was ashamed of him.
Luckily, this had never seemed to cross Bobby’s mind, and Cole was glad for it, because it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Was he guilty of being overprotective of his brother?
Perhaps. But ashamed of Bobby? Never.
Bobby was the light of his life. His constant.
Which was why, on this particular Sunday, when Bobby was sick in bed with a nasty stomach virus and strict instructions for Cole to keep his distance, Cole was feeling a bit…
Lost.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Cole was lonely.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Sundays as his way of relaxing—of connecting—until the opportunity wasn’t there.
But the most startling realization wasn’t that Cole didn’t want to spend Sunday alone. The startling part was the way in which he’d decided to remedy it.
Somehow, Cole found himself outside the callbox of Penelope’s apartment building, trying to hide his apprehension as he hit the button next to her name and waited to see if she was home. Waited to see if she’d let him up.
“Hello?” Her voice was crackly, although not at all as confused-sounding as it should be for a single woman who wasn’t expecting company.
Unless she was expecting company. Ah, fuck, if she had plans with someone else—another man, he’d—he’d—
“Hello?” she said again, just a tiny bit impatient.
He hit the button before she hung up. “Hey, it’s Cole.”
He waited for the expected pause. The few moments of silence while she registered that her colleague was standing uninvited outside her apartment building and figured out how she felt about it.
As usual, Penelope surprised him. There wasn’t so much as the slightest delay before her voice crackled through, even more chipper than her hello. “Cole! Hey! You wanna come up?”
He stared for a second at the callbox.
How was it that everything was so simple with her?
Even with this push-pull thing they had going on, the sometimes kissing, sometimes arguing, sometimes platonic mess they had on their hands, she sounded genuinely glad to see him.
He closed his eyes in gratitude, just for a second.
“Cole? You still there?”
“Yeah,” he said, punching the button once more.
“Well get up here already.”
She let him into the building, and as he made his way up to her floor and knocked on her door, he realized that it wasn’t all that long ago that he’d been in this very spot, waiting to walk her to Jake and Grace’s dinner party.
But that was okay. He wasn’t Evan. She wasn’t in love with him.
If he never kissed her again, it wouldn’t break her heart.
She wouldn’t let it.
Cole pulled away slowly, straightening until his hands slid off the desk to his sides, and they stared at each other.
“So?” he asked finally, when the silence had stretched long enough to get awkward.
She licked her lips. “So, what?”
“Which did you like better? Head-holding? Or what we just did?”
She rolled her eyes and went to the other side of her desk, feeling a bit safer with the distance between them. “Lincoln’s already turned in that stupid article. The time for research has long passed.”
“Oh, I’m not doing research for Lincoln’s article. And I have no interest in being an expert in all things kissing, although honestly, I suspect I’m pretty damn close to getting my black belt—”
She held up a hand. “Then what are you after?”
He grinned and pulled the folder with their story proofs off her desk as he strolled toward the door. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m out to be an expert on Penelope Pope. Because, despite your efforts to prove otherwise, I don’t believe for one second that you don’t want me.”
“You’re wrong,” she called after him, even though he was out the door.
He backed up two steps, just enough to poke his head back into her office.
The look he gave her was positively panty-dropping. “We’ll see, Tiny. We’ll see.”
Chapter 14
For Cole, Sundays always had, always would be about Bobby. Cole saw his brother on other days of the week, certainly. Occasional lunches, ball games, spontaneous visits. But Sundays were their days.
Whether it was playing checkers in Bobby’s room while watching reruns of whatever his brother’s current pet show was, or trips to Governors Island on sunny summer days, Cole always ensured that Bobby knew he came first.
And more than that, Cole enjoyed it. Even before their disengaged parents had passed away, Bobby had always been Cole’s only real family.
It was Bobby who taught Cole that people could be unconditionally good.
And it was also through Bobby that he’d learned just how cruel they could be. People stared too long, laughed when they shouldn’t, or could be all-out mocking.
Even the ones with good intentions got it wrong more often than not. Whether it be talking about Bobby as though he wasn’t there or speaking to him as though he were a child, people in general just screwed up.
It was because of these people that Cole kept Bobby separate from the rest of his life, although he sometimes feared that Bobby would misunderstand his motives—that he would think Cole was ashamed of him.
Luckily, this had never seemed to cross Bobby’s mind, and Cole was glad for it, because it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Was he guilty of being overprotective of his brother?
Perhaps. But ashamed of Bobby? Never.
Bobby was the light of his life. His constant.
Which was why, on this particular Sunday, when Bobby was sick in bed with a nasty stomach virus and strict instructions for Cole to keep his distance, Cole was feeling a bit…
Lost.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Cole was lonely.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Sundays as his way of relaxing—of connecting—until the opportunity wasn’t there.
But the most startling realization wasn’t that Cole didn’t want to spend Sunday alone. The startling part was the way in which he’d decided to remedy it.
Somehow, Cole found himself outside the callbox of Penelope’s apartment building, trying to hide his apprehension as he hit the button next to her name and waited to see if she was home. Waited to see if she’d let him up.
“Hello?” Her voice was crackly, although not at all as confused-sounding as it should be for a single woman who wasn’t expecting company.
Unless she was expecting company. Ah, fuck, if she had plans with someone else—another man, he’d—he’d—
“Hello?” she said again, just a tiny bit impatient.
He hit the button before she hung up. “Hey, it’s Cole.”
He waited for the expected pause. The few moments of silence while she registered that her colleague was standing uninvited outside her apartment building and figured out how she felt about it.
As usual, Penelope surprised him. There wasn’t so much as the slightest delay before her voice crackled through, even more chipper than her hello. “Cole! Hey! You wanna come up?”
He stared for a second at the callbox.
How was it that everything was so simple with her?
Even with this push-pull thing they had going on, the sometimes kissing, sometimes arguing, sometimes platonic mess they had on their hands, she sounded genuinely glad to see him.
He closed his eyes in gratitude, just for a second.
“Cole? You still there?”
“Yeah,” he said, punching the button once more.
“Well get up here already.”
She let him into the building, and as he made his way up to her floor and knocked on her door, he realized that it wasn’t all that long ago that he’d been in this very spot, waiting to walk her to Jake and Grace’s dinner party.
