“They both died a few years ago,” he answered quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Honestly, even if they were around, I don’t know that things would be different. They loved Bobby, but they alternated between treating him like a burden and a child. He wouldn’t have been happy living with them, and the home he’s in now is expensive—”

“You pay for it? All on your own?”

He smiled. “You sound impressed now, but wait until you see that my apartment doesn’t have a wall separating the bedroom from the living room or the living room from the kitchen…”

“Cole, the fact that you sacrifice your own comfort for your brother’s makes you more attractive. Not less.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her around to face him. “Is that why you’ve got a crush on me?”

“Ah—” She tilted her head down, her hat hiding her face, and he pulled her closer.

“Pen.” He kept his voice light, teasing, but he was oddly eager to have her confirm that what she’d told his brother was true.

She tilted her face up to look at him. “You know you’re ridiculously charming.”

He grinned. “You sound grumpy about that.”

“Let’s just say I’m not exactly loving the fact that I seem to find myself on the verge of joining the Cole Sharpe fan club.”

“Resistance is futile,” he said. He started to dip down to kiss her, only to realize that kissing in baseball caps on a semicrowded sidewalk was logistically annoying.

He stood back up, his eyes locked on hers. “What day is it?”

“Sunday.”

Cole traced a finger along her cheekbone. “Which is the weekend.”

She smiled, and his finger dropped down to trace her mouth.

“It is,” she replied.

He swallowed, preparing to take a risk he hadn’t taken in a long, long time.

“My place is thirty minutes north of here.”

She hesitated, and his heart sank. She couldn’t have known, of course, that she was the first woman he’d invited back to his studio in years. Couldn’t have known how unusual it was that he wanted her to see it. To know all of him.

But it stung, all the same.

I don’t want a boyfriend.

Suddenly her emphatic and repeated statement was starting to feel a lot more like I don’t want you.

“The thing is, Cole…I’m pretty sure I smell like butter.”

He blinked down at her. “Butter?”

She glanced down. “It’s hard enough for me to feel sexy on a good day, but when I smell like a movie theater…”

Cole was torn between relief that she wasn’t rejecting him and the now familiar anger at her lack of self-esteem when it came to her appeal. But it didn’t feel right to bring that up—not here.

“I’ve got good news for you,” he said. Cole lifted her hand to his lips, and before he realized what he was doing, had pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“The good news, my dear, is that I happen to like the taste of popcorn, almost as much as I like the taste of you.”

Her breath hitched a little, and he knew he had her.

“Come over?”

Her wide dark eyes went hazy. “Okay.”

Cole gave in to temptation then. Forgot about the whole kissing-in-hats-is-awkward thing.

He tilted his head and kissed her, and then lingered. And tried very hard to ignore the sudden, forbidden thought that he wished every day could be exactly like this one.

Chapter 19

The morning-after walk of shame was a new thing for Penelope, but luckily, she didn’t have to do it alone.

Cole wouldn’t hear about her walking home on her own, and since she refused to consider a cab on what was looking to be a gorgeous early-summer Monday morning, he walked her back to her place.

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this five A.M. wake-up call,” Cole grumbled as he held the door at Starbucks open for her.

She stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a sip of her latte. “You know exactly why we’re doing this. I need to get home in time to shower before work, and someone refused to let me go home last night.”

“Tiny, the day I willingly let a naked woman leave my apartment after a world-class blow job is the day you should just euthanize me.”

Penelope started to tell herself not to blush at the memory of last night, only to find…she didn’t feel like blushing at all. She felt…like doing it all over again. Many times.

Next weekend, she told herself. You can do it next weekend.

Although, truth be told, her oh-so-smart plan of only having sex on weekends was starting to feel a bit silly.

What would be so wrong with doing this on a regular basis? The baseball games, followed by chatty family dinners. Followed by sex and cuddling and talking long into the night.

Followed by Starbucks runs and…

Holding hands.

Cole casually reached for her hand as they started their trek across Central Park back toward her place. She glanced up at him and he winked.

She could fall for this man. She could so fall for him.

“You’ve got your thinking face on, Tiny.”

“You make that sound like it’s a rare occasion,” she said.

“Let’s just say I like your sexy face better. Or your sports-watching one, where you bite your lip when the score gets close. Or basically, any of your looks that aren’t going to end up with you telling me we can’t have sex again for five days.”