“Well, considering I’ve never twirled my hair in my life, don’t know how to bat my eyelashes, and surely my voice doesn’t sound like a cartoon mouse—”

“Details. All details. Just say it, Tiny. Say I was right, and that Adam Bailey was an excellent idea.”

She gave him a slow smile. “You were right. Adam Bailey was an excellent idea.”

He opened his mouth, then narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. Wait just a damn minute. I know that tone. When you and Adam Bailey went for drinks after the photo shoot, it was just drinks, right?”

“No labels tonight, Cole. That means you don’t get to ask that. We’re just Penelope and Cole, remember?”

His scowl only deepened. “Well, fine, from unlabeled Cole to unlabeled Penelope…did you hook up with Adam Bailey?”

“I never kiss and tell,” she said, surprising herself by the saucy, confident note in her voice.

Cole frowned and fell uncharacteristically silent, but he let himself be coaxed out of his bad mood. She seriously doubted this man had ever had a bad mood that lasted for more than two minutes. They chatted about anything and everything, until one drink turned into two, and then two drinks turned into stopping for dinner on the way home.

By the time they were on their way back to her place, she was just happy-buzzy enough not to freak out about the fact that he was holding her hand. Or that he occasionally bent to kiss the top of her head.

Or that, if they were to apply labels to the evening, romantic was the first word that came to mind.

Romantic and sweet.

They stopped outside her apartment, and Penelope realized it was the moment of truth. It was Monday, which meant…no sexy time. And yet, they’d already crossed all sorts of other lines today, what with the hand-holding and the flirting…

“Do you know that we were standing in this very spot the first time I kissed you?” he said, pulling her around to face him.

She smiled. “Hard to forget a perfect kiss in the gently falling snow.”

He didn’t smile back. “Perfect kiss, huh? That why you kicked me to the curb after?”

Her stomach twisted. “Cole, I—”

He took a step forward, his hand resting against her cheek. “Let’s forget about the way that one ended. I vote for a do-over.”

His mouth melted against hers, and she sighed.

There was no snow this time, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Cole, the warmth of his hand, the heat of his kiss. The way his tongue flicked out to touch hers as though he needed the taste of her.

He pulled back slowly, his thumb rubbing against her cheek as he held her gaze. “Those damn eyes of yours,” he said roughly. “They undo me.”

Penelope made her decision. “Do you want to come up?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s Monday.”

“It is, but, um, do you want to come up?” she repeated.

He tenderly ran a finger along her hairline. “So badly, but—”

“But?”

He grinned wickedly and leaned down to kiss her nose. “You hold back from me more easily than I’d like, Penelope Pope. I want you begging for me. No matter what day of the week.”

“Wait, so you’re walking away?” she asked, unable to keep the glumness from her voice.

“Only for tonight. Gotta give you a chance to see how you feel about that.”

He gave her one last wink before he walked away into the night—whistling, for God’s sake—and Penelope realized that she didn’t need a chance to explore how she felt about his leaving.

She felt horribly, painfully empty.

Chapter 23

Cole was 110 percent prepared to hate Evan Barstow.

Not just because of the sketchy way the man had gotten his new job, although stealing someone’s portfolio and presenting it as your own was Villainy 101.

No, what really pissed Cole off about this Evan character wasn’t what he’d done to Penelope’s career but what he’d done to her heart. That Evan had been dumb enough to choose another woman when he had Penelope Pope standing right in front of him.

Moron.

Still, Evan’s loss was Cole’s gain, so Cole was determined to at least pretend to be civil.

But halfway through dinner, Cole’s resolve to play nice was weakening.

Because Penelope was playing too nice, considering how the man had treated her. And considering that she was supposed to be dating Cole.

Granted, his being her boyfriend was a lie. As she’d pointed out at least a half dozen times in the past week, Cole wasn’t actually her boyfriend.

Fine.

Cole had absolutely zero qualms about lying to this son-of-a-bitch for the sake of Penelope’s pride. He was doing a damn good job with his lie. He’d held doors for her, dropped plenty of casual, possessive touches, called her sweetie.

But too late, Cole was realizing that the charade they were putting on for the sake of Penelope’s pride was having a disastrous effect on Cole’s own ego.

This whole thing made absolutely zero fucking sense. Cole had spent most of his adult life avoiding serious relationships. He didn’t have time for his career and Bobby and a woman.

So why did it bother him so much that the only way Penelope would think of him as a boyfriend was if it was pretend?

And why did he want to punch Evan in the face every time he was on the receiving end of one of her smiles?

“So how long are you here, Ev?” Penelope said as she took a bite of fish.