Irresistibly Yours
Page 9
Lincoln shrugged. “I managed to convince everyone else to just call back later, or distracted them by asking about their day.”
“Of course you did,” Cole muttered. Cole considered himself charming. But Lincoln had it down to an art form.
The blinking light chirped its reminder that someone was still on hold, and Lincoln swore, picked up the receiver and hit a rapid progression of numbers, and then hung it back up again.
“What just happened?” Cole asked.
“No idea,” Lincoln said, leaning back in the chair. “Okay, so talk to me about this Penelope Pope.”
Cole made his way back to the front of the desk, only to realize that Lincoln had swiped his coffee. Knowing Lincoln, that had probably been his play the entire time.
“She’s—wait, you’re supposed to be giving me the lowdown.”
Lincoln shrugged.
“Well, how’d she look when she came out of the interview?” Cole asked. “Nervous? Stressed? Hopeful?”
Cole had meant to stick around and see the aftermath for himself, but some of the guys from the Fitness department had dragged him to a long lunch, and then he’d gone straight to Starbucks for Jo’s coffee.
“Don’t know,” Lincoln said.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re Oxford’s resident relationship expert. You read women for a living.”
It was true too. Cole was good with women, but Lincoln was in a whole other league. Even more annoying than Lincoln’s ability to pick up women with little more than a wink was his ability to let them go without so much as a hurt feeling.
Whereas Cole’s in-box chronically held at least one hate email from a woman he’d dumped, Lincoln had standing lunch dates with at least half of his exes.
Cole had always figured that there had to be a story behind Lincoln’s strange approach with women. He just hadn’t figured it out yet.
“I do read women for a living,” Lincoln replied calmly. “But I have to actually see them first.”
The implication behind Lincoln’s words washed over Cole, and he froze. “Wait. Hold the fuck. Are you telling me you haven’t seen her come out of Cassidy’s office yet?”
Lincoln shrugged. “I’ve been sitting here since she went in. Haven’t seen her leave.”
“Maybe because you’re too busy reading about what to expect at your next gyno appointment,” Cole said, pointing accusingly at the Stiletto magazine in his friend’s hands. “Damn it, Linc, you’re supposed to be paying attention.”
“I can multitask, dude. I’m telling you, your girl hasn’t come out of there yet.”
Before Cole could stop to consider whether it was a good idea (it wasn’t), he was already strolling down the hall toward Cassidy’s office.
“If I were Jo, I’d have to follow you and tell you you can’t go in there!” Lincoln called after him.
Cole didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t have to look to know Lincoln was already back to his magazine.
It had been nearly two hours since the start of Penelope’s interview. What the hell were they talking about?
Cole could maybe understand how Cassidy had to go through the motions of the interview with another candidate—maybe.
But a thirty-minute “tell me about a time that you showed initiative” question-and-answer session should have sufficed.
Anything over an hour?
Bad news for Cole.
Alex Cassidy was a professional. He wouldn’t rush someone out without giving them a fair chance. But neither would he humor someone if he thought they were wasting his time.
If Tiny Brunette was still in there, it meant she was killing it in her interview.
“God damn it,” Cole muttered, when he found Cassidy’s door still closed.
Unfortunately for him, Cassidy’s office wasn’t one of those glass-for-walls affairs. There wasn’t even a peep window on the door for him to walk past accidentally-on-purpose.
He’d either have to wait until it was his turn, or—
His hand was on the door handle, and before he could think better of it, he’d opened the door.
Cassidy’s face was the first one he saw—the editor in chief’s expression went from surprise to pissed in record time—but Cole barely noticed.
His eyes were too busy taking in the small, dark-haired woman across from Cassidy, watching as she turned around at the interruption.
God, those eyes.
They got him every time.
And then she smiled. “Hi, Cole!”
God help them all. She sounded genuinely happy to see him. And not in a flirty, breathy, oh-Cole-ask-me-out kind of way that he was used to.
Just a friendly, I’m-a-nice-person kind of smile.
“Out,” Cassidy growled at Cole.
Cole glanced at his watch, letting his face go slack with fake dismay. “Crap, are you guys still— Sorry. Am I early?”
Cassidy pointed toward the door. “Out. Your interview’s not until two.”
“I know, but Jo wasn’t at the front desk, so I just figured I’d come on back like I always do.”
Cole’s like I always do was a deliberate reminder to Penelope that Cole belonged here. Him. Not her.
But if Penelope picked up on this, it never once registered on her face, and for some reason this annoyed Cole all the more.
For God’s sake woman, fight back. Tell me to get the hell out of your interview.
Instead, her damn smile never wavered and she turned around to Cassidy. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cassidy. I’ve taken up far too much of your time. I’ll let you go.”
“Of course you did,” Cole muttered. Cole considered himself charming. But Lincoln had it down to an art form.
The blinking light chirped its reminder that someone was still on hold, and Lincoln swore, picked up the receiver and hit a rapid progression of numbers, and then hung it back up again.
“What just happened?” Cole asked.
“No idea,” Lincoln said, leaning back in the chair. “Okay, so talk to me about this Penelope Pope.”
Cole made his way back to the front of the desk, only to realize that Lincoln had swiped his coffee. Knowing Lincoln, that had probably been his play the entire time.
“She’s—wait, you’re supposed to be giving me the lowdown.”
Lincoln shrugged.
“Well, how’d she look when she came out of the interview?” Cole asked. “Nervous? Stressed? Hopeful?”
Cole had meant to stick around and see the aftermath for himself, but some of the guys from the Fitness department had dragged him to a long lunch, and then he’d gone straight to Starbucks for Jo’s coffee.
“Don’t know,” Lincoln said.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re Oxford’s resident relationship expert. You read women for a living.”
It was true too. Cole was good with women, but Lincoln was in a whole other league. Even more annoying than Lincoln’s ability to pick up women with little more than a wink was his ability to let them go without so much as a hurt feeling.
Whereas Cole’s in-box chronically held at least one hate email from a woman he’d dumped, Lincoln had standing lunch dates with at least half of his exes.
Cole had always figured that there had to be a story behind Lincoln’s strange approach with women. He just hadn’t figured it out yet.
“I do read women for a living,” Lincoln replied calmly. “But I have to actually see them first.”
The implication behind Lincoln’s words washed over Cole, and he froze. “Wait. Hold the fuck. Are you telling me you haven’t seen her come out of Cassidy’s office yet?”
Lincoln shrugged. “I’ve been sitting here since she went in. Haven’t seen her leave.”
“Maybe because you’re too busy reading about what to expect at your next gyno appointment,” Cole said, pointing accusingly at the Stiletto magazine in his friend’s hands. “Damn it, Linc, you’re supposed to be paying attention.”
“I can multitask, dude. I’m telling you, your girl hasn’t come out of there yet.”
Before Cole could stop to consider whether it was a good idea (it wasn’t), he was already strolling down the hall toward Cassidy’s office.
“If I were Jo, I’d have to follow you and tell you you can’t go in there!” Lincoln called after him.
Cole didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t have to look to know Lincoln was already back to his magazine.
It had been nearly two hours since the start of Penelope’s interview. What the hell were they talking about?
Cole could maybe understand how Cassidy had to go through the motions of the interview with another candidate—maybe.
But a thirty-minute “tell me about a time that you showed initiative” question-and-answer session should have sufficed.
Anything over an hour?
Bad news for Cole.
Alex Cassidy was a professional. He wouldn’t rush someone out without giving them a fair chance. But neither would he humor someone if he thought they were wasting his time.
If Tiny Brunette was still in there, it meant she was killing it in her interview.
“God damn it,” Cole muttered, when he found Cassidy’s door still closed.
Unfortunately for him, Cassidy’s office wasn’t one of those glass-for-walls affairs. There wasn’t even a peep window on the door for him to walk past accidentally-on-purpose.
He’d either have to wait until it was his turn, or—
His hand was on the door handle, and before he could think better of it, he’d opened the door.
Cassidy’s face was the first one he saw—the editor in chief’s expression went from surprise to pissed in record time—but Cole barely noticed.
His eyes were too busy taking in the small, dark-haired woman across from Cassidy, watching as she turned around at the interruption.
God, those eyes.
They got him every time.
And then she smiled. “Hi, Cole!”
God help them all. She sounded genuinely happy to see him. And not in a flirty, breathy, oh-Cole-ask-me-out kind of way that he was used to.
Just a friendly, I’m-a-nice-person kind of smile.
“Out,” Cassidy growled at Cole.
Cole glanced at his watch, letting his face go slack with fake dismay. “Crap, are you guys still— Sorry. Am I early?”
Cassidy pointed toward the door. “Out. Your interview’s not until two.”
“I know, but Jo wasn’t at the front desk, so I just figured I’d come on back like I always do.”
Cole’s like I always do was a deliberate reminder to Penelope that Cole belonged here. Him. Not her.
But if Penelope picked up on this, it never once registered on her face, and for some reason this annoyed Cole all the more.
For God’s sake woman, fight back. Tell me to get the hell out of your interview.
Instead, her damn smile never wavered and she turned around to Cassidy. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cassidy. I’ve taken up far too much of your time. I’ll let you go.”
