He resisted for only a split second before he stroked himself, letting his imagination pick up where the dream had left off.

Because there was no longer any denying it.

He wanted Daisy Sinclair.

And if this was the only way he could have her, here, late at night, with only his dreams and his need…

So be it.

Chapter 20

“Lincoln, you’re very good-looking and everything, even in that ugly T-shirt, but can you please put my godbaby on the screen?” Penelope Pope said, her face filling Lincoln’s entire iPad screen as she leaned forward as though looking through the lens for Kiwi.

Lincoln gave the quick two-tone whistle that Kiwi had long associated as her summons, and she came out of the bathroom, where she’d decided to convert Daisy’s plush bathmat into her new bed.

The second she got in reach, Lincoln scooped her up. “Ki loves to Skype, don’t you, baby?”

“Cole!” Penelope shouted. “Come look at our godbaby!”

“That’s not a baby,” Cole said, coming into view and nudging Penelope out of the way, taking a huge bite of folded pizza. “It’s a rat with a bow. Lincoln, why is that rat wearing a bow?”

“She’s taken to joining Daisy in the mornings. When they come out of Daisy’s room, Daisy’s in makeup, Kiwi’s in her bow.”

“Ah. Girl time,” Penelope said, sounding pleased.

Cole was still chewing his pizza and staring at the dog. “Tell me again how a six-foot-two guy ended up with a five-pound dog?”

Lincoln hesitated. Cole said tell him again, but actually Lincoln had never told anyone the first time. They’d put the pieces together it was some woman, but they didn’t know it was the woman.

Maybe it was time. Maybe healing started with little decisions, in small ways, in tiny moments like this one.

“Kiwi was Katie’s dog,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “I’m just a legal guardian.”

“Bullshit,” Cole said, taking another bite of pizza. “You, my friend, are that dog’s beloved daddy.”

“And I’m godmother, aren’t I? Hi baby,” Penelope said in a cooing voice.

Lincoln rolled his eyes even as his shoulders relaxed. There. That hadn’t been so hard.

Maybe every mention of Katie didn’t have to be a thing.

“How’s the story coming along?” Penelope asked.

Lincoln gave them both a knowing look. “Is checking up on the story the reason you insisted on doing this little party over Skype instead of email like normal colleagues?”

“We’re not colleagues, we’re friends,” Penelope said.

“And for the record, I voted for text,” Cole said, polishing off the last bite of pizza and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Penelope here insisted on Skype so we could make sure you weren’t haggard and disheveled.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible,” Penelope said, patting Cole’s hand. “And yes, we’re checking up on you, but I really do want to know about the story.”

Lincoln shrugged. “It’s almost done. It’s fine.”

“Cassidy’s going to want better than fine.”

Lincoln set the dog down and spun on the rotating stool slightly. “Well, it’s not like he gave me Pulitzer material to work with. Basically I’ve just talked to a couple dozen women, figured out what they’re looking for in a dude. Then I’ll spin it, explain how it’s different from New York women—”

“So they are different? From us New York girls?” Penelope cut in.

“You’re from Chicago,” Cole said.

She put her small hand over his face and pushed him away. “I love the way the Southern girls talk. All soft and feathery. Super-hot. Do you love it, Lincoln?”

“Pen. Do we have to have guy talk?” he said, grimacing.

“Yes,” she said emphatically.

Lincoln smiled. “Fine. Yes, there are plenty of beautiful women down here, and yeah, the accent is kind of hot.”

“Women, plural?”

He paused in spinning around in his chair. “You know I’m not down here to date, right? Cassidy just banished me so I could clear my head, not find a frigging life mate. I’ll be back next week. And speaking of, how’s my replacement doing?”

“Nick? He’s fine. I like him. A lot.”

Cole came back into the picture with another piece of pizza. “Oh do you?”

“Nick’s a part-time bartender,” Penelope told Lincoln. “Sometimes he can be talked into making cocktails in the break room in the afternoon.”

Lincoln nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to smile. Nick Ballantine had been brought in to cover the online portion of Lincoln’s job, which basically entailed making sure their contract online journalists didn’t shit the bed with crap articles, making sure everything went up on time, and writing posts himself as time allowed.

Lincoln had been checking the Oxford website daily, torn between dread that the guy would ruin what Lincoln had built, and fear that he wouldn’t.

So far, it was the latter. Nick seemed damn competent, and it pissed Lincoln off. He knew Cassidy wouldn’t replace him after a week away, not even two weeks, but it still sucked to feel so…replaceable.

It was also a rude awakening to realize just how much Lincoln had let work become the center of his being in the past couple years. Lincoln had accepted the Oxford job because he liked writing, liked the team, and because it paid well, but he was starting to wonder if he hadn’t let it define him—letting it become everything after Katie’s accident. A way to distract himself from the pain.