“Okay, so, Ms. Pope,” Lincoln said, putting the tip of his pen to his lip and looking, well, hot. “I’ve always been under the impression that women preferred a good head-holding kiss. You know, our big hands on your little face. Chicks dig it. But, against my better judgment, I decided to do an informal poll of the office, and so far my results are coming up…scattered.”

Silence descended over the room, and Penelope realized that all three men were staring at her. Expectantly.

“Wait, sorry,” Penelope said nervously. “What do you want me to do about this?”

“Weigh in, of course,” Lincoln said. “We men only know what we think we know about women’s preferences.”

Penelope gave a nervous laugh. “Surely I’m not the only woman in the office.”

“No, of course not,” Lincoln said with a small smile. “There are six of you.”

“Six? That’s it? Out of how many employees?”

“A lot,” Jake said.

Penelope licked her lips. “Okay, well…why don’t you ask the other five?”

“I did,” Lincoln said patiently. “But six opinions are better than five, am I right?”

“Of course, it’s just—”

She glanced around the room to see all three of them watching her curiously.

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed slightly although not in a mean way. He leaned forward. “Penelope, darling. You have been kissed?”

“Eh, not appropriate, Mathis,” Jake said, glancing toward the door.

“Shit,” Lincoln said, looking horrified “Shit. Sorry. They make you take these sexual harassment classes, but I’m so used to just saying anything around these guys—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” she rushed to say.

The last thing she wanted to do was establish in her first week that she should be treated differently. “Of course, I’ve been kissed. I’m thirty-one…”

“Really?” Cole interrupted. “Damn, when I first saw you, I thought eighteen.”

“That’s the lack of boobs,” she said unabashedly.

Jake ran a hand over his face with a choked laugh. “Jesus. Maybe we should shut the door before Sandra walks by.”

“Sandra?” Penelope asked as Lincoln stood to shut her office door.

“Sandra Atens,” Cole explained.

“Ah,” Penelope said. “The HR lady who gave me all my paperwork.”

“That’s the one,” Lincoln said. “Look, so, Pen, if you don’t want to answer—”

“No, it’s just…” She started to bite her nail and then remembered that she’d gotten a manicure for her first week on the job and dropped her hands back to her lap. “Eh, it’s been a while. Since the kissing.”

For some reason, Penelope couldn’t bring herself to look at Cole Sharpe when she said it, so she kept her eyes locked on Lincoln, who, God bless him, didn’t look even tempted to laugh.

“Well, what the fuck’s wrong with those Chicago guys, honey?” he asked.

She laughed. “You’re sweet. But I think we know that men aren’t exactly barging down the door to get at all of this.”

She gestured awkwardly over her frame with her hands.

Lincoln looked her over, and Penelope sighed in resignation over what he’d see. She was wearing a skirt today—a slim gray affair, and a pink shirt—pink! But even still, she knew that the effect was hardly femme fatale.

Hell, it was barely feminine.

No matter what she did, no matter what color lipstick, no matter how high the heels, she never quite managed to escape the little-girl-playing-dress-up effect.

“I’m liking what I see,” Lincoln said.

“Oh my God,” someone muttered. Penelope wasn’t sure if it was Cole or Jake.

Still, Lincoln’s voice was more polite than it was enamored or lecherous, so she merely smiled.

Penelope hadn’t been here long, but she’d caught on pretty quick that Cole and Lincoln both had reps as ladies’ men. She could see why. They were both painfully good-looking.

And yet there was something about Lincoln…something about the way he held himself back and treated women with a deferential respect even as he charmed their pants off…

At least, she assumed. Lincoln hadn’t charmed her pants off. He hadn’t tried, really. And she was glad. He was handsome, and yet Lincoln wasn’t the one who sometimes made her heart beat a little too fast.

“How about the last time you were kissed, Tiny?”

Penelope’s head whipped around toward Cole. “What?”

He shrugged. “You said it’s been a while, but surely it hasn’t been so long that you can’t remember how you like to be kissed. So which is it? Do you like when a man holds your head? Your waist? Your back?”

“Cole!” Jake said in exasperation.

“I, um—” Penelope bit her lip, wondering how the hell she could stay relevant in this conversation without betraying the horrible truth that she didn’t really have a favorite, because she’d always found kissing…overrated.

“Okay, that’s it,” Lincoln said, throwing his hands up before tossing his pen and notebook on the desk.

He got to his feet, then gestured for Penelope to do the same.

“Up,” he said.

“What?”

“Stand up.” His voice was calm. Cajoling. “It’s experiment time.”