“How can a smile possibly be dangerous?”

He shook his head. “You’re so cute and clueless.”

Since he’d commandeered her chair, Penelope didn’t feel all that bad about stealing his Starbucks cup and taking a healthy sip.

“Careful,” he said. “Didn’t you have a wardrobe malfunction the last time you drank coffee?”

“That was only because I was wearing high heels,” she said. “I’m very coordinated in these.”

She lifted up her leg so he could see her black ballet flat.

“Sensible,” he said, barely glancing at it. “But tell me honestly, Pope. How badly do you wish you were wearing a tennis shoe right now?”

She sighed and dropped into her own guest chair. “So badly.”

He smiled knowingly.

“You, on the other hand, seem to have settled into fancy office attire quite nicely,” she said, her eyes skimming over him.

“Tiny.” He laid a hand over his heart. “You noticed!”

Penelope rolled her eyes. It was hard not to notice just how well Cole Sharpe wore a suit. Today’s was dark blue, paired with a lighter blue tie for a monochromatic look that looked, well…mouthwatering.

He’d risen to the role of senior sports editor nicely.

No. Co–senior sports editor.

Penelope had felt the tiniest stab of disappointment when Alex Cassidy had told her that her new responsibilities would be shared.

She’d wanted to get this job on her own—wanted to prove that she could.

But, if you couldn’t beat ’em, join ’em, right? And if there was anyone she wanted to join with, it was Cole Sharpe.

Well…

Not join with.

Not that way.

Penelope’s eyes traveled over his lean torso. Well, okay. Maybe in that way, just a little bit.

But she’d meant what she’d said about the two of them remaining platonic. It was good to get things out in the open. Penelope knew all too well what kind of heartache happened if two members of the opposite sex weren’t on the same page about where they stood.

One thought they were headed toward a relationship…

The other had had a secret girlfriend the whole damn time.

“Uh-oh,” Cole said, watching her. “Now the smile’s gone. What’s going on in that little head?”

Penelope sat forward and needlessly adjusted her stapler. “Nothing.”

He chewed his apple as he watched her. “For the record, I don’t believe you for one second. But since I know firsthand how annoying prying can be, I’m going to let that go.”

Penelope watched as he shot the apple core across the room toward the garbage can. The quick swoosh followed by a clank indicated that he’d nailed it.

“You know there’s a wastebasket right under my desk, right? That was completely unnecessary.”

“Please. Manly displays of prowess are never unnecessary.” Cole sat forward. “Okay, so what do we do about this Adam Bailey thing? We’ve been sharing this job for three days, and already we’re at an impasse.”

She scratched the tip of her nose as she thought it over. “What about Jackson Burke? You can’t tell me that every guy in America doesn’t secretly want to be him.”

“No argument there. The man’s a living legend. But if your beef with Adam Bailey is his track record with women, how is Jackson Burke any better?”

Penelope scowled and crossed her arms. “I don’t believe those rumors about him.”

“Rumors,” Cole said slowly. “You mean like when his wife accused him of having multiple affairs with women she named by name, and then those same women came forward to back up her claims?”

Penelope glanced at her nails. “I think they made it up.”

Cole leaned forward, a knowing smile on his face. “Tiny. Do you have a crush on Jackson Burke?”

Maybe.

The quarterback of the Texas Redhawks had long been one of Penelope’s idols.

Not only because the man was exceptionally skilled on the football field, although he was. But he’d also funded a dozen charities—quietly, out of the spotlight. He’d adopted a handful of dogs rescued from another football player’s heinous dog-fighting hobby. He’d taken his parents out to dinner after every Super Bowl win….

“Tiny?” Cole prompted.

“Jackson Burke is a good man,” she said stubbornly.

“All right, let’s just say that he hasn’t been having affairs with half the women in Texas,” Cole said slowly. “He’s still not a good choice. Nobody cares about football in April.”

He had a point. They’d be better off saving a Jackson feature for football season, when everyone would be wondering if the rumors about his off-season activities affected his game.

“But golf?” she said, skeptical. “I know it’s growing in popularity, but—”

“It’s growing in popularity because of Adam Bailey,” Cole argued. “The man single-handedly revived the sport when he won four tours in a row and then started dating Hollywood actresses.”

“Exactly, and then he single-handedly tarnished the sport when he started dating more than one Hollywood actress at a time,” Penelope argued. “The man’s a playboy. And unlike Burke, Bailey’s all but admitted to it.”

“We don’t care about his bedroom game, we care about the golf game. And his game’s as good as it ever was. Better.”