Cole knocked on the other side of the door. “Twelve minutes, Tiny.”

“Tiny. You and Cole are at the nickname stage, hmm?” Grace said with raised eyebrows.

Penelope ignored this, took a deep breath, and awkwardly undid the buttons of her stained shirt. As soon as it was off her shoulders, Julie snatched it and pulled it on.

Penelope hurriedly pulled Julie’s shirt over her head, before watching guiltily as Julie buttoned up Penelope’s own disaster, the front straining a little across Julie’s more ample breasts, making the coffee stain even more noticeable.

Penelope groaned. “You can’t wear that.”

Julie glanced down and then shrugged. “What better way to call attention to the twins?”

Grace reached out and straightened the turtleneck across Penelope’s shoulders. “A little big, but guys don’t notice these things.”

“Thank you so much,” Penelope said, glancing around at all four women. “I really don’t…I don’t even know what to say. If there’s anything I can do to repay you…”

“Actually, there is,” Julie said with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Anything.”

Julie gave Penelope a slightly smug look and crossed her arms over her chest. “How about you tell us why Cole Sharpe is helping a woman who’s standing directly in the way of his dream job?”

Penelope froze as Julie’s question sank in.

Cole Sharpe could have walked away down in the lobby. Could have let her show up with a big wet spot on her shirt after an unsuccessful attempt to remove the stain.

He could have ensured that she was off balance and embarrassed for her interview.

Instead he’d helped her. He’d gone above and beyond, really.

Penelope could only shake her head at the curious women. “Honestly? I have no freaking idea.”

Chapter 3

Nearly two hours after he’d shown Penelope Pope up to the Oxford offices for her interview with Cassidy, Cole still hadn’t figured out what the hell he’d been thinking.

He’d had the perfect opportunity to get the edge over Penelope Pope in the interview process, and instead he’d played fairy fucking godmother, whisking her away to the ball.

Or to the Stiletto girls’ office. Same difference.

It was just…

She’d looked so damn small. And when she’d blinked up at him with huge brown eyes trying so desperately to hold back tears…

Ah, hell. He’d been a goner.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to know if she’d bungled the interview. And he knew just the person to sweet-talk for the inside scoop.

Joanna Barry was Oxford’s front receptionist, and Alex Cassidy’s right-hand woman. If anyone knew what Cassidy had thought of Tiny Pope, it would be Jo.

Or at least, Cole sure as hell hoped so, because he’d just waited in line for twenty-five minutes at Starbucks to get his bribe.

“Hello, sweets. I’ve brought you something— Oh. It’s you.”

The reception chair at the Oxford front desk swiveled around. Cole had been expecting Joanna but got an altogether more manly visage.

Lincoln Mathis.

“Is that for me?” the black-haired man asked, tossing to the side the magazine he’d been reading and holding out an eager hand for one of the cups in Cole’s hand.

“It’s for Jo,” Cole said, looking around the office and hoping that the receptionist was nearby.

“Went home sick today,” Lincoln said. He snapped fingers expectantly for the coffee.

Cole hesitated for about a half second before relenting and handing over the coffee, careful to hide his grin. He took a sip of his own coffee, keeping an innocent expression on his face as Lincoln took a drink from the coffee meant for Joanna.

Wait for it…

Lincoln sputtered. “Son of a— What is this, tar?”

“That, my man, is an Americano,” Cole said.

“An Ameri-what? It tastes like dirt.”

“I thought you said it tasted like tar.”

“Give me yours instead,” Lincoln said, holding out a hand.

Cole lifted his cup out of the way. “Go get your own coffee. And besides, you wouldn’t like this. It’s an unsweetened cappuccino. Not nearly enough almond or sprinkles, or whatever you put in there.”

Lincoln Mathis looked like the type who’d like his coffee black. But he had a dirty little secret: a serious sweet tooth.

“It’s got to be better than this,” Lincoln grumbled.

Cole lifted a shoulder. “Jo likes things hot and strong.”

“Oh yeah?” A dark eyebrow crept up.

“It’s why she asked me out,” Cole said, grinning evilly.

“She didn’t.”

“Only because Cassidy is uptight about employees dating other employees.”

“But you’re not an employee,” Lincoln pointed out, leaning back in the chair.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Cole said grimly.

Lincoln’s words brought reality crashing down as Cole remembered why he was here.

A motherfucking interview.

A glance at his watch showed he still had nearly an hour until he could get the formality over with. He looked at Lincoln, who’d resumed flipping through a magazine.

“Dude, you’re reading Stiletto?” Cole asked, noting the unmistakable cover of the women’s magazine.

Blue eyes appeared over the top of the magazine. “Tell me you don’t pick it up from time to time for the sex tips.”

“Don’t need ’em. Hey, since you’ve been sitting up here, apparently doing absolutely no work at all, have you seen—”

The phone rang, and Lincoln held up a finger. “Hold please, I have to take this.”

“Seriously?”

Lincoln tucked the phone under his chin as he pulled a pen and paper toward him. “Oxford magazine, Lincoln speaking, how may I direct your call?…Mm-hmm. Of course. Just one moment.”

Lincoln pushed the hold button and squinted at the phone. “Hey, get over here and help me figure out how to transfer this call to Peter.”

“Um, no.”

Lincoln glanced up. “Really? Because I could tell you all about the cute brunette who’s talking to Cassidy right now about your job.”

Cole couldn’t get around the desk fast enough.

Holy shit, that was a lot of buttons.

“Why isn’t there just a simple transfer button?” Lincoln muttered.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Cole asked. “You haven’t figured out how to transfer a call by now?”

Lincoln shrugged. “I managed to convince everyone else to just call back later, or distracted them by asking about their day.”

“Of course you did,” Cole muttered. Cole considered himself charming. But Lincoln had it down to an art form.

The blinking light chirped its reminder that someone was still on hold, and Lincoln swore, picked up the receiver and hit a rapid progression of numbers, and then hung it back up again.

“What just happened?” Cole asked.

“No idea,” Lincoln said, leaning back in the chair. “Okay, so talk to me about this Penelope Pope.”

Cole made his way back to the front of the desk, only to realize that Lincoln had swiped his coffee. Knowing Lincoln, that had probably been his play the entire time.

“She’s—wait, you’re supposed to be giving me the lowdown.”

Lincoln shrugged.

“Well, how’d she look when she came out of the interview?” Cole asked. “Nervous? Stressed? Hopeful?”

Cole had meant to stick around and see the aftermath for himself, but some of the guys from the Fitness department had dragged him to a long lunch, and then he’d gone straight to Starbucks for Jo’s coffee.

“Don’t know,” Lincoln said.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re Oxford’s resident relationship expert. You read women for a living.”

It was true too. Cole was good with women, but Lincoln was in a whole other league. Even more annoying than Lincoln’s ability to pick up women with little more than a wink was his ability to let them go without so much as a hurt feeling.