Chapter 20

After rifling around in her purse without finding anything resembling a lipstick, Penelope dumped the contents on her desk.

Surely she had a lipstick in here. Any lipstick would do.

Of course, even if there were a lipstick tube mixed in with the tampons and pens and ever-growing assortment of tickets to various New York sports events, there was no guarantee that it wasn’t expired.

Did lipstick expire? It was stuff like this that Penelope had never thought to figure out. Most of the time she didn’t even think to put lipstick on, much less know where it was.

Cole Sharpe’s other women likely knew their way around lipstick. Take, for example, that gorgeous blonde with her tongue in Cole’s mouth whom she’d walked in on not so long ago…

Penelope pushed the thought aside. It was Monday. For today, and the next four days, Cole Sharpe was her colleague. He could kiss whomever he wanted.

And if that person wasn’t her, she’d splinter into a million pieces.

“No,” Penelope muttered to herself. “You are a strong, independent woman. You don’t need a man to complete you. You don’t need lipstick to be a better person.”

Which was a good thing. There was no lipstick anywhere in this mess of stuff. She’d just have to go to lunch with Julie Greene as she was.

At least she was wearing a dress today.

It was one of the few that she owned, but after her sleepover at Cole’s last night that involved, well, not much sleep, she’d been feeling feminine and pretty.

The light green sweater dress had called to her.

High heels, on the other hand, had not, but her comfy yellow flats worked with the dress. At least, she was pretty sure…

Penelope’s cell rang as she was in the process of putting everything back in her purse. She picked it up. “Hey, baby sister.”

Janie made a huffing noise on the other end. “Finally. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for over a week.”

Penelope felt a stab of guilt. “I know, I’m so sorry. Work’s been crazy, and Mom hogs all the phone time I do have. And Dad. Did you know he’s taking up fishing? Can we please veto that?”

“Working on it,” Janie said. “But why do I get the feeling you’re trying to change the subject? I’ve sort of been hoping there was a more interesting reason why you haven’t called me back. Maybe someone tall, dark, and handsome…”

Tall, blond, and handsome, actually.

The words didn’t come out. If she was going to tell anyone about the weird thing going on between her and Cole, it should Janie. But her sister would ask questions that Penelope didn’t know the answers to.

Or worse, questions she did know the answers to, but wasn’t ready to say out loud. Or in her head. Or at all.

“The new job has been crazy,” Penelope repeated instead.

Not a total lie. Even with Cole as co-editor, the fast-paced world of Oxford was more than enough to keep her busy.

“Tell me you love it,” Janie demanded. “It’s the only way I’m going to let you stay in New York instead of inciting you to get your tiny, cellulite-free butt back to Chicago where it belongs.”

“I do love it,” Penelope said, as she sat down in her chair. A quick glance at the clock told her she had a few minutes before she needed to head out to meet Julie for lunch. “New York’s…crazy. But good crazy.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Janie said. “But please, please tell me you booked your flight for Fourth of July. You know I’m no match for mom’s overindulgence with the red, white, and blue food coloring without you.”

“Yup, was going to do that today,” Penelope said, pulling a sticky pad to her and writing Book flight home.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing her family in July. She missed them like crazy. It was just…

Well, oddly enough, Chicago didn’t feel as much like home as she thought it would at this stage.

It was like New York had very slowly, very subtly sunk its teeth into her.

Her phone beeped, and Penelope sighed. “Okay, there’s no way Mom doesn’t have some sort of radar for when we’re talking on the phone.”

She pulled her phone away from her face to check caller ID and froze.

It wasn’t her mom. Or her dad.

It was Evan.

What to do?

Her brain was screaming at her to ignore it. To send him straight to voicemail.

Her heart, on the other hand…

“Janie, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back this afternoon, I promise.”

Her sister was silent for a moment. “Sure, that’s fine, but…you okay?”

No. Not even close. Don’t let me do this.

“Yup, totally. Talk soon.”

She switched over to the other call before her sister could catch on to the fact that Penelope’s heartbeat was thumping in overdrive.

“Hello?”

“Now there’s a voice I haven’t heard in far too long,” said the gravelly voice on the other end of the line.

She’d always loved Evan Barstow’s voice. It was a shame his first passion was sportswriting, because he had an awesome radio voice.

“Hi, Evan.”

“How you doing, babe?”

She swallowed. He sounded so…casual. As though the last time they’d talked, she hadn’t been fighting back tears as he’d delivered a double whammy of I took your job, and Oh, by the way, that kiss you tried to plant on me was awkward because I’m seeing someone.

“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’m great.”

There, that was better. Less pathetic.

“How’s the New York freelance world treating you?”

“Actually, not doing that anymore. I took another job, with Oxford magazine.”

He paused. “The men’s magazine?”

“Yup.” The massive, household-name magazine, she silently added.

“Wow, that’s fucking awesome. Although they don’t have much in sports, if I remember correctly. A couple pages. You doing cologne reviews now or something?”

He laughed at his own joke, and her jaw clenched. Had he always been such a jerk? “Actually, they’ve recently decided to overhaul and expand their sports section, and brought me in to oversee the project.”

It was only a partial truth, since technically she shared the job, but she didn’t feel particularly bad about the semi-fib.

“How are things with you?” she asked.

“Good. They’re really good. Busy, which is actually why I’m calling, got a favor.”

Any hope that he might be calling to apologize went out the window. Of course he needed something.

She didn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Sportiva is looking to expand into New York, and they’re sending me out there to sort of do an initial scouting session. Knowing you, you probably did a ton of research about the New York sports scene before moving out there…”

Which you well know since you stole the last research I did.

“I was thinking I could take you out to dinner. Pick your brain a little.”

Penelope wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him to go to hell.

And yet, it felt…petty.

Plus, she wanted to prove—especially to herself—that she was over Evan Barstow, and the only way to do that…

“When are you coming out?” she asked reluctantly.

“Friday, actually.”

She blinked. “This Friday?”

“I know it’s last-minute, but figured, why wait, and…”

“Are you coming alone?”

There was a brief pause, and Penelope squeezed her eyes shut at what the question betrayed. “I mean, is Caleb or anyone coming with you or…”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No, just me. Been getting used to my alone time now that I’m single again.”

Boom. There it was.

Evan Barstow was single. And coming to New York. And wanted to see her.

And…

She didn’t care.

Did she?

“Well, it’d be nice to see you,” she said. “Maybe we could grab dinner on Friday when you get in?”

“Absolutely,” he said. She didn’t think she was imagining the relief in his voice, and it warmed her a little to think that he might have been nervous about calling her.

“Look, I’ve got to get going. I have a lunch meeting, but text me your flight details, ’kay?”

“Absolutely, will do. And Penelope—”

She stilled.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered an awkward goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Penelope gathered her bag to go meet Julie in the lobby, when all of a sudden she skidded to a halt.

Evan was flying in Friday.

He’d be here all weekend.

Except weekend days were her and Cole’s time, which meant…

She didn’t know what any of it meant.

“Freaking great,” she muttered to herself. “Well done, Pope.”

How was it that she’d gone from a chronic state of no men to all of a sudden having two to contend with?

A minute later, Penelope was scanning the lobby for Julie, when inspiration struck.

Julie…She would definitely know what to do.

“Whoa,” Julie said, holding up a hand as Penelope came to a stop in front of her. “Can we talk about your scowl for a second?”

“Sorry,” Penelope said with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t apologize. Tell me everything,” Julie said, linking her arm with Penelope’s and pulling her toward the door. “I know that scowl. It’s about a man. And considering I saw you wearing Cole Sharpe’s T-shirt at five-thirty in the morning…”

“Um…”

“Hold that thought until we’re sitting down,” Julie said.

Penelope let Julie lead her to a nearby Italian restaurant, and true to her word, Julie waited until they were seated and sipping iced tea before she dove in.

“Mitchell gave me explicit orders not to bug you about this, but since I never listen to my husband, I’ve got to ask…what is going on with you and delicious Cole? Are you going to have his babies? Can I be godmother? Or at least come to the wedding?”

Penelope searched Julie’s face for any sign of incredulity. Any hint of disbelief that someone like Cole would be interested in someone like Penelope.

Instead she saw only girlish curiosity.

“Come on, Pen,” Julie said, reaching for a piece of bread. “I’m an old married woman. Give me something juicy to work with.”

“Uh-huh,” Penelope said drily. “You forget that I’ve seen you and Mitchell together. The two of you set off fireworks every time you come into contact.”

Julie dunked her bread in olive oil before popping it into her mouth and chewing happily. “It’s a burden I must bear, being married to a gorgeous man I adore.”

Their server came by to take their order, and both women opted for the mushroom ravioli special with truffle butter sauce, because, as Julie pointed out, the only thing better than truffles was butter, and vice versa.

“Okay,” Penelope said, taking a deep breath when they were alone again. “You want to know what’s going on with me and Cole.”

“I do,” Julie said plainly. “But only if you want to share. If it’s private, just say the word and I’ll never breathe another word about it.”

Penelope appreciated that Julie was giving her an out, and was on the verge of taking the other woman up on it…but then she surprised herself. Because suddenly she did want to talk about it. Wanted to talk about how he made her laugh, and how great the sex was, and how sweet he was around his brother….

Julie’s smile was slow and happy. “You like him.”

Penelope sighed. “I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to like him.”

Julie nodded sympathetically. “Cole’s always been one of those guys. I doubt he can even get on the subway without someone falling in love with him. Lincoln too.”

Penelope nodded, although, much as she liked Lincoln Mathis, gorgeous smile and all, she didn’t have a problem avoiding falling in love with him.

Cole, though…

“See, that’s sort of my problem,” Penelope said, fiddling with her napkin. “Everyone falls in love with Cole. I don’t doubt that. But, um, see, nobody ever falls in love with me.”

“Penelope!” Julie’s voice was half shocked, half chiding.

“I know, I know. Believe it or not, I do hear myself. I hear the pathetic, poor-me thing I have going on, and I’m not proud of it. It’s just—”

Penelope broke off and Julie reached across the table and gently touched the back of her hand. “Sweetie, does this have to do with that guy? That asshole who stole your job?”

Penelope groaned. “He’s coming to New York. And for the life of me, I don’t know if I’m supposed to avoid him, or play it cool, or get a makeover to show him what he’s missing, or if I should tell him off, or—”

Julie pursed her lips. “Okay. Okay, let’s work through this. How much time do we have?”

Penelope smiled at Julie’s use of we. The woman barely knew her, and already she was treating Penelope like an old friend.

“This weekend. He gets in Friday.”

Julie whistled, only it wasn’t a very good whistle and came out as an awkward breath. “That doesn’t give us much time for a plan.”

“Tell me about it,” Penelope said, gnawing at a piece of bread.

“Okay, well, let me ask this,” Julie said hesitantly. “Are you…over him? Truly.”

Penelope paused in her chewing. “I have no idea. No freaking idea. I know that I should be over him. I know that only a fool wouldn’t be. But…”

“But the heart is sometimes foolish,” Julie said. “I get it. I totally get it.”

“So…any ideas?” Penelope asked with a smile.

Julie was quiet for several moments, a speculative look on her face as she tapped her fingers on the table.

“Why, yes, actually. Just one idea, but it’s a very, very good one.”