Praise for novels from USA TODAY bestselling author

VICTORIA

DAHL

‘A hot and funny story about a woman many of us can relate to’

—Salon.com on Crazy for Love

‘[A] hands-down winner, a sensual story filled with memorable characters’

—Booklist on Start Me Up

‘Dahl has spun a scorching tale about what can happen in the blink of an eye and what we can do to change our lives.’

—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars, on Start Me Up

‘Lead Me On will have you begging for a re-read even as the story ends.’ —Romance Junkies

‘Dahl smartly wraps up a winning tale full of endearing oddballs, light mystery and plenty of innuendo and passion.’

—Publishers Weekly on Talk Me Down

‘Sassy and smokingly sexy, Talk Me Down is one delicious joyride of a book.’ —New York Times bestselling author Connie Brockway

‘Sparkling, special and oh so sexy—Victoria Dahl is a special treat!’

—New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips on Talk Me Down

Also available from

Victoria Dahl

GOOD GIRLS DON’T

CRAZY FOR LOVE

LEAD ME ON

START ME UP

TALK ME DOWN

And watch for

REAL MEN WILL

coming soon!

Bad Boys Do
Victoria Dahl

www.mirabooks.co.uk

This story is for my wonderful agent, Amy.

Thank you for always being there.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to Jennifer Echols for her insight into the world of universities and grad students. Having only been an undergraduate, I needed the peek behind the curtain! Thanks to Amy for trying her best to keep me sane this time around. I’m sorry the duty fell to you this year. And huge thanks to Tara for her amazing support.

As usual, Twitter folk, you are the best virtual water cooler a girl could ask for. You did a great job of distracting me from stress, not to mention work. But for once you actually helped me concentrate, so a big shout-out to all my #1k1hr writing friends! Also, thanks to Jared for starting the kilt talk.

My husband truly helped me get through to the end of this story, and I couldn’t have done it without him. And boys, I promise a great vacation to make up for all the days I spent locked in my bedroom with coffee and a laptop.

Last but definitely not least, a thank you to my readers. Without you, I would not write.

You make all my books possible.

CHAPTER ONE

THIS WASN’T A BOOK CLUB; it was a manhunt.

Olivia couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it. Actually … she couldn’t believe she’d thrown herself headfirst into it. She’d read the assigned book. Twice. She’d downloaded important discussion points. Made detailed notes. Marked up the pages. And finally, before walking into the brewery, she’d sat in her car for ten minutes, pumping herself up for this first foray into a girls-only gathering.

They’re just women like me, she’d assured herself. No need to be intimidated. You’ll fit right in because you’ll all have the book in common.

Now here she was, sitting in the barroom of Donovan Brothers Brewery, listening to seven women discuss their current dating lives and sexual adventures. And Olivia, having no dating life or adventurous sex to contribute, sat there like a bump on a log, the book club selection clutched tight in her tense fingers.

It wasn’t that she’d never had girlfriends. She’d had a best friend in high school. And one in college. And then … then she’d had her husband. Her ex was as close as she’d gotten to a best friend in the past ten years, and he’d failed pretty spectacularly at that.

She needed girlfriends, and she needed them fast. When Gwen Abbey had invited her to join her book club, Olivia had felt honored and relieved.

She should’ve known better. Gwen wasn’t exactly the type to opine about literature. Oh, she was smart enough, but her attention flitted about like a hummingbird after a shot of espresso. She might read a book, but Olivia couldn’t imagine her spending two hours talking about it afterward.

“I’m so glad you came!” Gwen whispered, putting an arm around Olivia’s shoulders for a quick squeeze. “Isn’t this fun?”

“Yes!” Olivia answered, feeling her fingers go numb against the slick cover of the book. She really, really wished she hadn’t posted so many sticky notes in the pages. They fluttered like tiny blue banners under the breeze of the ceiling fan.

“Can you even believe how adorable he is?”

Olivia glanced automatically toward the bar, where a very young, very handsome man filled glasses at the tap. He was Jamie Donovan, she’d been informed, and his welcoming wave had set the whole table tittering a few moments ago. The tittering had been followed by promises—or threats—of what the women would do if they got Jamie Donovan alone for an hour. “Find out exactly what’s under that kilt,” had been a common refrain.

“So,” Olivia ventured, leaning closer to Gwen, “is he the reason you guys meet at this place?”

“Heck, yeah. No reason not to have a nice view while we hang out. Plus, Marie, Alyx and Carrie are all married, so this is a nice safe way for them to get a little flirtation in. They get to drool over Jamie, fantasize a little, and then their husbands benefit when they get home. Everyone is happy!”

“Great!” Olivia responded with fake enthusiasm.

But even she was tired of fake enthusiasm. Why couldn’t she just be enthusiastic? Granted, it wasn’t what she’d expected, and Olivia liked to know what she was getting into. She made plans. And lists. She believed that in life, you measured twice and cut once. But all the measuring in the world hadn’t managed to make a good marriage. She needed to loosen up.

And in all honesty, she felt better knowing that some of the women were married. If it was just about having fun and not about picking up a man, she could get into it. Or she could try.

“Here he comes,” Gwen whispered. “And it looks like we’re in luck….”

“Jamie!” one of the women called. “You wore the kilt for us!”

The cute bartender with the messy dark gold hair winked at them. At all of them. “First Wednesday of the month. You ladies didn’t think I’d forget book club, did you?”

If giggles could be raucous, these certainly were. As subtly as she could, Olivia tipped her head to the side to see past the other women. She finally caught a glimpse of the infamous kilt, and she couldn’t deny that it looked good on him. Between the bottom edge of the dark kilt and the top of his work boots, a lovely expanse of tanned leg was revealed, dusted with the faint glint of golden hair. The kilt wasn’t plaid. It looked like it was made from black canvas. His wide chest was covered by a faded brown T-shirt with a faintly visible Donovan Brothers logo stretched across it.

The man was gorgeous. Olivia couldn’t deny that.

He continued past their large table to deliver beer to a group farther on. There was no hooting from that side of the room. The men there were focused on the baseball game on the wide-screen TV. They didn’t even glance at Jamie Donovan’s bare legs. The women of the book club table, on the other hand, craned their necks shamelessly. Olivia sank down a little in her chair.

“How long have you been meeting here?” she asked Gwen.

“About a year. Before that we used to meet at Starbucks. Frankly, the club was about to die. Nobody had the free time to read and then get together for meetings. But now we have one hundred percent attendance.”

“And the reading?” Olivia pressed. But she didn’t get an answer to that, because Jamie Donovan had reappeared, a wide smile already in place. His hair looked darker now, but the lights of the ceiling fan behind him limned it with gold.

“Happy Wednesday, ladies.”

Gwen grinned. “Don’t you mean happy hump day?”

“Aw, come on, Gwen. I’m a nice boy. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’d like to be. Wanna help?”

For a split second, Olivia thought Gwen had gone too far. She’d offended this man. He was just doing his job. Olivia touched Gwen’s arm, trying to prompt her to apologize, but suddenly his face cracked and he burst into loud laughter.

“Good one,” he chuckled. “You been saving that up for me?”

“Maybe,” Gwen said.

“I’m honored. So do you want the usual? A pitcher of India Pale and a pitcher of amber?”

Everybody agreed, but as he started to turn away, Olivia cleared her throat. “Pardon me. Could I get a water?”

“Absolutely,” he said, swinging back around. When his eyes lighted on her, he stood straighter. “Oh, hello. A new member of the club?”

Now that the smile was directed at her, Olivia found herself mute. Her lips parted. Nothing came out.

“This is Olivia,” Gwen volunteered.

“Hello, Olivia.”

Good Lord. How did he make the few syllables of her name sound like a kiss? A deep, slow kiss. Olivia actually shivered.

Jamie Donovan’s eyes drifted down. His eyebrows rose. “Well, look at that.”

Outrage rushed through her at his words. Where did he get off looking at her breasts like—

He gestured. “You actually know something about how a book club is supposed to work. The rest of you should take note. Or notes.”

Heat flashed over her face as she looked down to her marked-up copy of The Last of the Mohicans. The other women booed and tossed crumpled napkins at Jamie, and Olivia was thankful for the distraction. Of course he hadn’t been checking out her body. He didn’t even look at her again before heading back to the bar. Olivia leaned over and slipped the book into her purse.

“I watched the movie,” the woman next to her said. “It was amazing. A really great story.”

“It was. I’m honestly glad I read it. Even if we’re not going to discuss it tonight.” She slid her eyes to Gwen. “So why did you tell me we were reading The Last of the Mohicans?”

Gwen shrugged. “Because you wouldn’t have come if I’d told you we were just going to drink and hang out. Right?”

She wanted to be outraged that she’d been lied to, but Gwen was right. She wouldn’t have come if it hadn’t been a book club. The point of a book club was that it gave Olivia something to talk about. It helped smooth over those awkward conversations she usually had with other women. But now she was here, and this was exactly what she’d been trying to work up to.

“You’re right,” she said. “So thank you.”

The discussion of The Last of the Mohicans led to talk of movies with hot men in them, and even Olivia could contribute to that. She’d been married, but she hadn’t been blind. And when Jamie returned to the table with their beer, she wasn’t blind then, either. His forearms alone were enough to draw her attention. They were strong and tan and undeniably male. She was still staring at his arms when a glass of water appeared in front of her.

“Your water, Miss Olivia,” he said, addressing her as if she were a teacher. Which she was. Just a coincidence, or did the scent of dry-erase marker cling to her? “And a pint glass, too, I presume?” He slid an empty glass to sit next to the water.

She didn’t like beer, but now she was fully invested. “Absolutely,” she answered, and his green eyes twinkled. God, could he just do that on demand? What a terrible and deadly skill. She averted her gaze in self-defense and kept her eyes down until he was gone. The man was constructed of nothing but charm and beauty. Indiscriminate charm. Fun to enjoy for a girls’ night out, but definitely not something to feel flattered by. She knew that from painful experience.

But Olivia was flattered that Gwen had gone to the trouble of tricking her into this. That alone made her smile as she sipped at the lightest of the two beers. But the lightness belied its bitter taste, and she had to hide a grimace. Maybe she could talk the group into going out for martinis one time. But as the evening wore on, she felt the easiness of the brewery. This wasn’t like a bar, where men swarmed like scavengers. Instead, it was safe and homey, and Olivia found herself loving it. She even managed to make it through half a glass of that awful beer, and by the time she excused herself to use the bathroom, her head buzzed pleasantly.

This was going to be part of her new life. A book club with no books. Women who wanted her company. And gorgeous men to wait on them hand and foot. Or one gorgeous man, at least.

Standing before the mirror, Olivia dabbed gloss on her lips, blinked several times to remoisten her contacts, and smoothed down her sleek new bob. She’d been tempted to try a new color, but she was glad she hadn’t now. Because tonight she looked like herself, only better. Older, wiser and more self-assured. Slightly more self-assured. But not quite so confident that she didn’t startle like a scared rabbit when she stepped out of the bathroom and straight into the path of Jamie Donovan.

“Oh, sorry!” She reached out a hand as if to help steady the keg balanced on his shoulder, but Jamie stepped smoothly around her and set the keg gently onto the floor behind the bar.

“Need a refill?” he asked.

“No!” she said too emphatically. His eyebrows rose. “I mean … I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You don’t like beer, do you?”

Olivia cringed. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to denigrate your life’s work or anything….”

“Oh, I think my self-worth will survive.” This time his smile was a little more natural, though no less dazzling.

“It’s just too bitter for me. I’ve never liked it. No matter how light I try to go …”

His eyes slid to the book club table. “Which one did you try?”

“The pale one?”

“India Pale Ale. There’s your mistake. Light isn’t always mild. India Pale Ale is notoriously hoppy. Extra hops were added to preserve it during shipment to India, hence the name.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, nodding as if she understood. But the truth was that she’d tried plenty of beer in her life and she hadn’t liked any of it.

“Try the amber,” he suggested.

“Okay.” She started to turn away, but he raised a finger to stop her.

“Here.” He filled a slim glass that appeared to be an overgrown cousin of a shot glass. She eyed the dark gold liquid with trepidation. She’d had no intention of trying the amber ale, but maybe he’d realized it. “Go ahead. I promise it’s milder than the pale ale.”

With a shrug of resignation, Olivia took the glass from him and tried a sip. She was already grimacing when she realized it wasn’t so bad. “Oh.”

“See? Told you.” His eyes crinkled with pleasure, and Olivia told herself that the warmth pooling inside her was the beer. “Even our porter is pretty mild, though you’re going to want to steer clear of the Blackjack Stout.”

“Oh, no,” she protested when she saw him drawing a glass of chocolate-brown beer. “No way.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

That couldn’t be a serious question. Who the hell would trust this man and his sparkling green eyes? In fact, it was a little insulting that he’d flirt with her as if he meant it. Like she’d buy that this boy would be attracted to a thirty-five-year-old woman like her. Did he think she was so desperate she’d believe it?

Olivia raised her chin and took the glass from his hand, ignoring the slide of his skin over hers. “I wouldn’t trust you in a million years,” she answered, but she took a generous sip of the beer anyway, amazed that it didn’t make her eyes water. It was actually kind of … smooth. “All right. Not bad.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that as she took her two tiny glasses and walked away. Every look from this guy was a lie, but they were pleasant lies, at least. Still, she knew better than to enjoy them too much. She’d fallen for that before. It was probably the only thing that Jamie Donovan had in common with Olivia’s ex-husband, Victor. Charm.

So it was easy for her to walk back to the table and rejoin the women. Gwen, however, didn’t make it easy for Olivia.

“Soooo,” she drawled as soon as Olivia sat down. “You were awfully cozy with Jamie over there.”

“I was not. He just gave me a new beer to try, that’s all.”

Gwen tapped one of the glasses. “Two new beers.”

“Yes, two beers. Does that mean something? Is there a secret Donovan Brewery beer code, like the Victorian language of flowers?”

Gwen collapsed onto the table, laughing so hard she snorted.

“I hope you didn’t drive.”

“Nah, I only live four blocks away.”

“I can drive you home,” Olivia offered. She’d always liked Gwen, but they hadn’t really started talking until news of Olivia’s divorce had gone public. Over the past year, they’d gone out to lunch half a dozen times, and Gwen had confessed that it hadn’t always been easy for her to make female friends, either. A wave of one hand down her body had said it all. Gwen was a natural blonde with long legs and playmate-style assets. She was not the kind of friend that women brought home to meet the husband. But Olivia didn’t have a husband anymore. And she’d rather go to lunch with Gwen than think about dating again.

Gwen finally sat up, wiping tears from her eyes. “You should totally hit that,” she said, pointing toward the bar.

“Yeah, right. I’m sure I’m exactly his type.”

“I think his ‘type’ is female, and you’ve got that covered. He’d be a really nice dip back into the old sexing pool.”

“I thought it was the dating pool.”

Gwen shook her head. “It’s a new world out there, Olivia.”

“Oh, I know about the new world, and I am not interested in being a cougar, thank you very much.”

“You’ve already been a trophy wife. Why don’t you try the other side of the coin?”

Olivia finished off one of the sample glasses. “I was not a trophy wife. I didn’t have the necessary qualifications.” She eyed Gwen’s chest with an obvious quirk of her brow.

“Yeah, but Victor was twelve years older than you, right? So go younger this time.”

Even as she shook her head, she spared a glance for Jamie. “How old is he, anyway?”

“I’m not sure. Twenty-five? Twenty-six? He’s in his damn prime.”

“My God, he’s just a baby.”

But apparently Olivia was the only one who felt that way. Amidst a lot of smothered laughter, one of the women approached the pool table and made a big show of putting the quarters in for a game. Olivia looked on, confused by the merriment, until the woman—was it Marie?—stood up and aimed an exaggerated frown at the table. “Jamie?” she called. “The pool table’s jammed!”

Jamie came around the bar, wiping his hands on a towel.

“It took my money, but it didn’t give me any balls,” she pouted.

“Well, I’d better take a look.” He slung the towel over his shoulder and crouched down, and Olivia finally understood what was going on. His kilt hitched up, revealing a few inches of strong thigh, and even though Olivia thought this was a childish prank, she stared right along with everyone else. She wondered what those thighs felt like. Hard, she thought. Thick with muscle. Strong. They looked like they’d taste damn good, too.

He slammed a fist into the coin mechanism, then pulled several times. Ropes of muscle flexed and relaxed.

Good Lord.

“Ah, here’s the problem,” Jamie said. “You put a nickel in.”

“Oh, silly me!”

He handed the coin over and started to get up, but his eyes swept the room and caught on Olivia. His brows rose at the same time his gaze fell to his bare knees.

“Busted,” Gwen whispered, as they both whipped around to face the table.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Olivia whispered back. “And we shouldn’t have looked.”

Gwen pressed her lips tight together to stifle her laughter.

“I’m serious!” Olivia insisted, but Jamie’s voice from just behind her chair cut her off.

“Really, ladies? You’re getting lazy. You pulled that trick four months ago. How about a little originality next time?”

“Aw, Jamie!” half the table cried in disappointment.

“And try not to break my pool table.”

He really was adorable. Like a puppy. But Olivia kept her eyes on the table. “Are you ready, Gwen?”

“To leave? It’s only eight.”

Eight? Those two hours had flown by. She’d actually had fun. But she still had to go to the grocery store, do laundry and get to bed by ten-thirty. She got up every morning at six to run, no exceptions. “I know I’m pitiful, but I’ve got to get going. Are you sure you don’t want a ride? I don’t like the idea of you walking.”

“I’ll catch a ride with someone. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow, all right?”

Olivia grabbed her purse and stood before she could get pulled back into the conversation. And for once, there was actually a possibility that she could be pulled back in. These women were all friendly and relaxed and funny. No one had brought up her divorce with a pointed look. No one had snidely asked where she was living now. They actually seemed to like her.

In fact, they all expressed disappointment that she was leaving. Several stood to hug her as she edged toward the door. “So what’s next month’s book?” Olivia asked, prompting the women into laughter.

“The Kama Sutra!” one of them called, and Olivia gave in to the temptation to give them all the finger. She giggled at their outraged laughter as she turned toward the door. And, of course, there stood Jamie Donovan, his fingers curled around the handle of the door.

“I highly recommend it,” he said as he pulled the door open, letting in a gust of cool night air. “The Kama Sutra.”

“She’s joking,” Olivia made clear.

“I’m not.”

She was caught in a strange mixture of happiness and acute embarrassment, but she didn’t want to simply blush and stumble by him. So instead, she took up his challenge and let her eyes travel slowly down his body. He looked lovely with his arm outstretched, holding the door. “Big talker,” she said as she breezed past him with a confident smile, trying to ignore the sticky notes on the book ruffling in the breeze.

“Good night, Miss Olivia,” he called. “See you next month.”

And the funny thing was … he probably would.

CHAPTER TWO

JAMIE DONOVAN LOOKED WARILY around as he walked across the U campus. There wasn’t much of a chance he’d bump into someone from his family. His brother and sister were both at work at the brewery, and they had long since finished their college careers. Jamie had earned his degree long ago, too, but now he was back and sneaking around like a girl past curfew.

He didn’t know why he felt nervous. No one, not even his family, would care that he was taking courses on food and beverage management. They’d find it surprising, true, but in an admirable way. He was, after all, the grand fuckup of the family. The one who took nothing seriously and managed only the barest of achievements. That was why this felt so frightening. If you tried at something, you could fail, and Jamie had a long history of failing.

He managed to locate the classroom without any trouble at all, and he felt a touch of disappointment when he entered. He’d kind of hoped it would look like a culinary classroom, complete with commercial appliances and huge prep areas. But this wasn’t a culinary class, and the room looked like any other lecture hall. Stadium seating. Plain gray walls. A whiteboard and computer screen at the front. And only a few other students so far. He glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes. In his nervousness, he’d shown up early.

He chose a seat near the back of the room and got out his phone to check his messages. But there was nothing. If things went wrong at the brewery, people turned to his older brother, Eric. And his sister, Tessa, only called when Jamie got up to trouble, which he most emphatically had not. He’d been good. Damn good. Better than anyone ever gave him credit for. Even that disaster two months earlier with the Kendall woman hadn’t been his fault.

Well, technically it had been his fault, but he’d been trying to do the right thing, not that he’d bothered to explain that. No, he was too far gone for those kinds of petty explanations. He needed to change his life in a big way and this class was going to help him do that.

With another glance at the clock, he opened his laptop, ready to take notes. He hoped to God this course was as practical as its description had promised. If it started with a socioeconomic history of restaurants, he’d have to get up and leave. He hadn’t rearranged his work schedule so he could get a better sense of his place in hospitality history. He had plans to develop. Big ones.

The door behind him opened, and as the new arrival walked past, Jamie glanced over. Then he glanced again.

No fucking way.

His initial surprise gave way to a pleased grin. It was the straitlaced woman from the book club. Amelia. No … Olivia. That was it. She was even more straitlaced today, in a pale gray dress topped by a blue cardigan. Her hair was still shiny and perfectly brushed, but today she wore little black glasses. She was just so … neat. Jamie felt an almost irrepressible urge to ruffle her hair, just as he had that night at the brewery. Compared to all the other women in the book club, she’d looked cool and sleek and removed.

Before he could give in to the urge to shake her up, she’d moved past him. Good thing, because he could just imagine her reaction to him reaching out and touching her.

He almost laughed out loud, but he was distracted by the fact that Miss Olivia didn’t take a seat in the audience. Instead she walked straight up to the table at the front of the class and set her computer and papers down there.

Holy crap. Miss Straitlaced Olivia was his teacher.

He hadn’t really meant anything by flirting with her last week, but he kind of wished he’d put more effort into it now. Because how hot was this?

She adjusted her glasses and tugged her sweater straight while Jamie noticed how slim she looked in the dress. She wasn’t exactly petite—if he remembered correctly she’d been average in height. Five foot five maybe, but her slim hips and delicate arms made her seem smaller than she was. Not that she wasn’t tough, though. Her eyes didn’t give an inch.

Those eyes were currently sweeping coolly over the classroom, but they didn’t seem to notice Jamie. He tried not to feel insulted.

“Welcome to Restaurant Development and Management,” she said, her voice ringing clearly up the slope of the room. “I’m Olivia Bishop. It looks like we’ve got a good mix of students for this session, as we usually do during the summer. Some of you are current restaurant owners. Some of you are dipping your foot into the idea. Some are just passing through for the air-conditioning.”

Laughter rumbled through the room and Jamie found himself grinning at her as if he were somehow responsible for her good work.

“As this is a community class with no credits, it’ll be fairly laid-back. Please remember that when I give an assignment, it’s not for a grade. It’s an opportunity for you to increase your knowledge and maybe work toward a dream of opening a restaurant. Later, I’ll invite some discussion about what each of you is looking for out of this session. But we’re opening with information that applies to everyone regardless, so let’s just jump into it, shall we?”

She fired up the computer screen and started with statistics about the restaurant business in the real word. Jamie relaxed. This was exactly the kind of class he’d been looking for. He had plenty of ideas, but he needed to understand the practicality of it.

It was just an added bonus that Olivia Bishop was going to be the one to teach him.

He typed notes into his computer and only occasionally took a break to let his gaze wander over her tight calves. She wore black flats, but he could just imagine those legs in spike heels and a short black dress. Did she ever dress that way? She’d worn dark slacks and a sleeveless sweater to the brewery. Tight black dresses probably weren’t her thing. But there was something about her that made him itch to find out.

And when she finally looked up at him, when her eyes finally found him and widened, Jamie felt a sharp stab of interest. When she stumbled over her words and lost her place in the lecture, the interest grew into something more solid. It wasn’t the first time he’d flustered her, after all.

Maybe Olivia Bishop wasn’t as cool and calm as she thought she was.

HAD THAT DARK BEER he’d fed her damaged her brain? How else could she explain the vision of Jamie Donovan sitting in her classroom?

It’s not so strange, Olivia tried to tell herself as she swallowed hard for the tenth time in a minute. He’s a partner in a brewery. Why wouldn’t he be here? But logic couldn’t make her mind stop skipping like a scratched CD. It didn’t help that he was smiling as if he knew how flustered she was.

She should’ve noticed his name on the enrollment sheet, but she’d gone over it two weeks ago, before the trip to the brewery. So here she was, facing him with no warning at all.

Olivia smoothed down her sweater. She clutched the delicate cotton of her favorite dress, then made herself let go before she creased it beyond repair. “Um, so … Yes, on to first-year failure rates. You hear a lot of numbers thrown about, but they mean nothing unless we … um, unless we take a closer look at the causes of failure.”

She finally got back on track and made it through the full ninety minutes with a few shreds of dignity intact. Whenever she’d accidentally looked in his direction, he was diligently typing on his laptop, apparently taking the class seriously. That helped her relax, but that relaxation disappeared in an instant when she dismissed the class and Jamie started down the stairs instead of up.

There was no kilt for her to peek up, thank God. Today he wore ancient-looking jeans and another T-shirt. This shirt offered a faded Road Runner racing across his chest.

“Well, hello there, Miss Olivia.”

“Don’t call me that,” she corrected.

His eyebrow quirked. “Ms. Bishop, then. I kind of like that. Makes me want to bring you an apple.”

She couldn’t stop the blush climbing up her cheeks, so she shuffled papers around and let her hair fall forward. “This is a community outreach class. It’s just Olivia.”

“All right. Olivia.”

Just like last time, he made her name sound like something naughty. She cleared her throat. “Are you taking the class for the brewery?”

“Yes, just trying to brush up a little.”

“And the first session? Was it useful?”

“It was great. Honestly, I was worried I’d be wasting my time. That it would be too esoteric for my needs, but … You were really amazing.”

That brought her head up. “I was?”

“Yes. You’re in charge, yet you’re warm. You give the information without being dry.”

“Thank you.”

“And …” he leaned closer “… you’re by far the prettiest teacher I’ve ever had.”

Olivia dropped the papers she’d been straightening and stepped back. “Mr. Donovan.”

“Yes?”

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“I know.” His smile became a wicked endearment.

Olivia pretended she didn’t feel the shiver work through her. That smile had nothing to do with her. He’d likely trotted it out ten times today already. It was a tool, though she wasn’t exactly sure what he meant to fix with it.

“Flirtation is extremely inappropriate.”

“Extremely? Come on now. You’re just barely my teacher. You’re not even giving me a grade, so I think ‘extremely inappropriate’ is a stretch. But if you’re interested in being in a position of power …”

Olivia gasped and drew her chin in.

“Go out with me.”

“What? No! Didn’t you even hear what I said?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Give me one good reason we shouldn’t go on a date.”

“You’re …” She waved a hand toward his body. “You’re just barely legal. What are you, twenty-five?”

“I’m twenty-nine. What about you? Thirty-one?”

“Thirty-five,” she bit out, her teeth threatening to break under the pressure when he gave a low whistle.

“Thirty-five, huh? I’d get a note from my dad, but he died a while ago. I think he’d be okay with it though.”

Olivia heard a soft growl and realized it was coming from her own throat. “No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get to my next class.” That was an out-and-out lie, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He shrugged, his body still perfectly loose and relaxed.

“Let me know if you change your mind. You know where I sit.”

He’d done that on purpose. She could see the mischief in his eyes as he turned to walk up the stairs.

Olivia had thought she was safe from the temptation to ogle since he wasn’t wearing the kilt, but his ass was on a perfect eye level as he ascended the stairs. And what a prize-winning ass it was. Round and tight and lovely.

If only she were a little bit younger. Or a little less careful. But she wasn’t.

She was just Olivia Bishop, but … she was learning to be happy with exactly that. She didn’t need to be someone different. And Olivia Bishop would never sleep with a young man in her class. Even if he did leave her body buzzing with excitement.

“Not in a million years,” she murmured as the door closed behind him.

CHAPTER THREE

OLIVIA SPENT THE REST of her day doing the responsible things she expected of herself. She cleaned her tiny office and filed away all the papers and notes from the spring semester. She called her dentist and rescheduled an appointment that conflicted with her summer class. Then she walked across campus to the library, her arms full of books and bound reports. It was a beautiful day, so this was one responsibility she didn’t mind. She was smiling by the time she dropped off the books, and instead of heading toward the nonfiction area, Olivia browsed the recent bestseller rack and paged through the fiction. Book club or not, she’d like to do more casual reading.

But her little bubble of relaxation was interrupted by the ding of her text message alert.

Hi, sweetheart. Are you going to Rashid’s farewell party tonight?

Sweetheart? Her ex-husband sure had a lot of nerve. He’d cheated on her. She’d divorced him. And he still thought he could manipulate her with his little hints and endearments.

Yes, she typed, assuming he’d ask her to pass along some message. Victor always left town as soon as his last spring class finished. Olivia was actually enjoying the quiet sunshine of the campus in summertime now that she wasn’t obliged to travel with Victor.

Her phone dinged again. Do you have the directions?

Olivia dropped the book she was holding and stared at her phone as the loud thunk echoed through the room. What the hell did he mean by that? The only reason she’d said yes to this party was because she was sure Victor wouldn’t be there with one of his recent graduates on his arm.

No, she typed, hitting Send as if she were pulling the trigger in a game of Russian roulette. She held her breath until the phone dinged softly again.

No problem. I’ll call Rashid. See you there, O.

That bastard. What right did he have to hang around when he was supposed to be gone? Had he stayed just for this? She didn’t think she was that important in his life, but he certainly seemed to relish any opportunity to strike up a conversation with her while his arm was draped around another woman.

She wondered which one he’d bring this time. Allison? Or was there a new one? It didn’t matter. Olivia could barely tell them apart anymore.

He’d been the one to cheat. She couldn’t understand why he was having so much trouble letting go. He’d lashed out as if it had been her fault. You’re no fun, he’d said. You’re boring! What did you expect? But the girls he dated now … they were like trips to the circus, apparently. Nonstop entertainment and wild-animal acts.

Olivia closed the text window without replying. She picked up the book she’d dropped and left the library in a much different mood than when she’d entered. The walk across the campus now seemed an impossible distance.

She didn’t want to go to the party if Victor was going. She could handle seeing him. She saw him four or five times a week at school, after all. But it wasn’t fair that she had to watch him parade his toys in front of her. She wasn’t even jealous anymore, she was just pissed as hell that he was so damn rude.

But Olivia never lost her temper. She didn’t cause scenes. She didn’t do anything emotionally impulsive. She was boring, just as he’d said. No fun. And the nice thing about having a boring ex-wife was that she never caused any trouble.

Screw him for taking advantage of that.

Jaw clenched in anger, she stomped across the green expanse of the lawn and thought of the last faculty party. Victor had brought a beautiful young woman and flaunted her with false modesty. He was a showoff, and sometimes Olivia couldn’t believe she’d been married to him. What she’d thought of as a generous, outgoing spirit … that was just a need to be the center of attention.

The center of attention. Like Jamie Donovan. He would give Victor a run for his money.

Olivia stumbled to a stop, one of her shoes slipping off in the rough grass. She kicked off her other shoe and stared at her scarlet toenails peeping through the blades of emerald.

She couldn’t, could she?

It would be wrong. Outrageous. Emotionally immature.

And she’d enjoy the hell out of it, at least for one petty moment. Victor deserved to be taught a lesson.

“No,” she told herself, picking up her shoes and continuing on. The grass was a cool contrast to the hot sun. She wondered why she hadn’t kicked off her shoes earlier. Sometimes loosening up brought good things.

“He did ask me out,” she whispered to herself. But he hadn’t asked to be used.

Anyway, she had no way of getting in touch with him. Well, she had the class lists, but that would be slimy. Way over the line. Using a student list to call for a date would reach Victor-levels of inappropriate behavior.

So there was nothing to be done, really. It wasn’t as if she knew where he worked. Ha.

When she finally reached her car, Olivia slid in and laid her forehead on the steering wheel. She stared at the specks of dust on the dark speedometer.

On one hand, she’d never do something like that: walk into a man’s workplace and ask him out. On the other hand, she was looking for new experiences. New adventures. New daring.

But daring didn’t mean foolish. And adventurous didn’t mean sneaky.

Decision made, she drove toward home, but for the first time, she noticed that her normal route took her within a block of Donovan Brothers Brewery. She couldn’t see it from this side of the block, but it was there, pulsing like a terrible beacon. Luring her in.

Cursing, she turned right and drove in the opposite direction of her house. This direction took her toward the brewery, and Jamie, and the really bad decision that called to her so loudly she couldn’t ignore it.

Pulling into the parking lot, she looked around as if she would recognize his car. Stupid. As stupid as getting out of the car and walking through the door, but there she was doing it, spite pushing her on.

After the bright sunlight, she couldn’t see anything for a moment. This world was dark and cool and smelled strongly of icy beer and wood polish. She blinked rapidly, worried that Jamie was standing there watching her founder.

Finally, her eyes adjusted, and she was both relieved and disappointed to see that Jamie wasn’t behind the bar. A blond woman with a perky ponytail stood at the tap. She slipped a lemon onto the edge of a glass, added it to a tray with three other beers and went to serve the only table that was occupied. “Hi!” she said as she passed Olivia.

“Hi,” Olivia replied weakly. A quick glance showed that Jamie wasn’t lurking in one of the corners of the room. Olivia eyed the swinging doors at the back, but if he was behind those doors, he may as well have been a hundred miles away. This was a sign that she wasn’t meant to be here. She’d been saved from ruin and embarrassment.

Olivia slid her foot back and started to turn.

“Can I help you?”

The woman again, with her tray tucked under her arm now. She smiled widely, and Olivia felt a jolt of recognition. This girl was definitely related to Jamie.

“Did you want a beer?”

“Oh. No. I was looking for someone. Sorry, I’ll just—”

“Jamie? He’s not working the bar today.”

Olivia blinked. Did women come in looking for Jamie all the time? Yes, of course they did.

Her chest filled with horror as she slid her left foot back to join the right. “Okay. Thanks.”

“You should follow our Twitter account! He always lets everyone know when he’s behind the bar.”

“Oh, sure. Thanks. I’ll do that.” She coughed, then repeated. “Thanks.”

Just as Olivia was reaching back for the door handle, the swinging doors opened and Jamie walked through.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

His smile froze and his eyes widened in surprise. “Ms. Ol—” His gaze slid to the female bartender and then back to Olivia. “Olivia. Hi. What are you doing here?”

The woman winked at Olivia and said, “Look who was hiding in the back,” before she retreated to the bar. “Hey, Jamie,” she said lightly as she passed him.

Jamie ignored her and walked toward Olivia, and her heart sped to a frightening pace. She couldn’t back down now. Because what other reason could she have for being here? She hadn’t even thought to bring class handouts or a book or anything that would offer an excuse for her presence. This was the kind of disaster that descended when you didn’t make lists.

“Hi,” she croaked.

“Hi.” He put his hands in his pockets and waited, his mouth curved in a puzzled smile.

“Are you working?” she asked.

“Not really. I’m off today.”

“Oh.” She nodded, and kept nodding until Jamie cocked his head.

“Did I forget something in class, or …?”

Olivia took a deep breath. “Are you busy tonight?”

That popped his chin straight. “What?”

“You asked, and I said no, but … there’s a party I have to go to tonight. One of the professors is leaving….”

The wide smile spreading across his face distracted her.

“What?” she snapped, irritated by the way her pulse sped.

“I’m just … surprised.”

She felt a sudden fear that he’d only been kidding. It had all been a flirtatious joke. She couldn’t possibly be his type. “If you don’t want to—”

“Of course I want to. What time should I pick you up?”

“We can just meet there. There’s no need—”

“Right. What time should I pick you up?”

For the first time, Olivia caught a glimpse of steel beneath his velvet exterior. Her pulse enjoyed it very much. “Seven-thirty?”

“Great. Seven-thirty. I’ll be there. Do you want a beer or a glass of water or …?”

“No. No, thank you. I’d better just …” Guilt was turning her stomach, so she gave him her address and phone number, then stammered out a goodbye while he smiled sympathetically.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, making it sound like a promise.

She left with an awkward lurch for the door. The heavy wood nearly closed on her leg, but thankfully Jamie caught it just before it got her. She hurried to her car and then collapsed inside.

What the hell had she just done? Why was she going on a date with a man who inspired women to regularly come into a bar to ask for him? It was madness. She must look like a fool.

“I’m not into him,” she whispered to herself. “I’m doing this for me.” And she was. But she couldn’t pretend that Jamie Donovan’s charm wasn’t part of what she wanted. That charm felt like magic dust being sprinkled over her skin, and she wanted everyone to see the glow. Including her ex-husband.

She’d wash the magic off later and everything would be fine. But her heart was still racing when she made it home, and it didn’t have anything to do with nerves.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WASN’T THE TYPE OF WOMAN he normally dated. Tessa had pointed that out immediately, but Jamie had ignored her. After not dating at all for over a year, he didn’t have a type anymore. He’d hit the reset button.

He stole a glance at Olivia, who stared straight out the windshield of his car as if she were the one driving. She looked different tonight, though no less uptight. Her glasses were off again and her lips glinted with shiny color. Instead of a demure dress, she wore a little black number. Not short or low cut, as he’d hoped, but it draped over her body like skimming hands.

And she smelled good. She made him think of a crisp summer night. Flowers that were cooling in the dark.

Nice.

Jamie had sworn off women for a while, but he’d make an exception for her. She was different. Calm and mature. Responsible and sharp. Maybe she’d be good for him. A positive step on the new path he was taking. Tessa had certainly been surprised.

Jamie still couldn’t believe Olivia had come by the brewery. That she’d asked him out. Her earlier rejection had been fairly firm. It hadn’t stung; asking her out had been a long shot, after all. But he must have really gotten under her skin. He smiled at the thought of being inside her head.

“Just to the right,” Olivia said, pointing toward a very large house set among cliffs and pine trees. The city of Boulder sat five hundred feet below them.

“You’ve got friends in high places.”

“Oh, these people aren’t my friends. They’re just colleagues.”

He edged the truck onto a narrow shoulder lined with a dozen other cars. “Don’t you have friends at work?”

“A few. Gwen, for one. But she won’t be at this party. It’ll be almost all faculty and spouses. And dates.” She shot him a look, but he couldn’t read it. “Not as much fun as most parties you go to, I’m sure.”

“You mean like the biweekly kegger in my basement?”

“Um … Yeah. Sure.”

“That was a joke, Olivia. I’m way past my kegger days.”

“Way past?” she asked, her gaze dropping down his body. “I don’t think that’s chronologically possible.”

She seemed to think of herself as much older than him, which was funny. She was only thirty-five, after all, and looked closer to thirty. Jamie got out and circled around to her side to open the door. “Careful. It’s rocky here.”

She set one black heel on the ground, and Jamie’s mouth watered. She looked as good in heels as he’d imagined. God, he loved heels.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he forced his eyes up. He took her hand, holding tighter when she wobbled. He felt her little gasp of surprise and she leaned into him, one foot slipping from a shoe. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Here.” He leaned down and Olivia’s fingers spread over his back as she held herself up. Jamie tugged the shoe out from its rocky vise and brushed dust off the heel. Then he curled his hand around her foot. Her skin was soft and her foot twitched as he dragged his thumb along the curve of her arch. He slipped her shoe on her foot and let his hand slide up to her ankle, smiling at the way her breath hitched when his fingers wrapped all the way around the delicate bones. “You didn’t hurt your ankle, did you?”

“No,” she whispered.

He set her foot down, still holding her ankle as if she needed support. “You’re sure?” He edged his hand up until his fingers opened over her calf.

“I’m sure.” She cleared her throat as if she was aware of how husky she sounded. “Thank you.”

“Then let’s go in.”

He offered his arm for the walk up the steep drive, and she accepted with a grateful smile. “We don’t have to stay long. I just need to make an appearance.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Is there anyone I need to watch out for?”

She stumbled a little, and he had to brace her. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Remind me to come pick you up at the front door when we leave. This hill isn’t safe in heels.”

“Okay. Sure. It’s not safe for me in heels, anyway.” Her laugh was tight and embarrassed, which he found damn cute on a woman like her.

“I just meant that I’ve heard these university functions can be tense. Who has tenure, who doesn’t. Someone got the government grant another person was going for. I hear a lot of bitching about it at the bar. Is there anyone you want me to kiss up to?”

“Oh, that. No, I don’t have any budget enemies. Or tenure tensions. I’m only an instructor.”

“What does that mean?”

“No PhD. No tenured position. No research. I teach—that’s all.” Her tone was neutral, and she didn’t look self-conscious about it, just matter-of-fact.

“That sounds nicer, actually.”

She flashed him a smile. “I think so, too.”

“All right. So no underlying tensions.”

“Right. Yes. I mean no.” Now she looked worried.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’ll have a good time.”

She swallowed hard enough that he heard it. “I bet you’re the kind of person who has fun no matter what you’re doing.”

He shrugged. “I try.”

“That’s really nice.” She stopped before the enormous wood door and took a deep breath. “But this is a university party, so I hope you’re up for a challenge tonight.”

Jamie let his eyes travel down her body while she was distracted by ringing the bell. “Oh, I am,” he murmured.

When the door opened and they stepped in, Jamie was damn glad he’d decided on a pair of black pants and a button-down shirt tonight. Jeans would not have fit in here, and even though he’d amped it up a notch, Jamie definitely felt slightly out of place among the sculptures and polished wood. Olivia, on the other hand, fit right in. She was elegant and cool and said all the right things as she made the introductions. The notes from the piano music seemed to float around her.

But she’d been right about the party. It was boring, starting with the languid piano music that sounded as if it’d been designed to coax insomniacs to sleep. Time passed slowly. He answered the occasional question about his name and job—there never seemed to be a follow-up—and fantasized about putting his hands to her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. A long, deep kiss. He imagined that she would thaw slowly that first time. He’d have to coax it from her.

Jamie hadn’t practiced his coaxing skills in a while, and he had to fight off the urge to stretch hard and crack his knuckles in anticipation.

“The brewery, right?” someone was saying to him.

Jamie blinked from his stupor to find a hulking man standing there with his wineglass held out like a pointer. An ex-football player if Jamie had ever seen one.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re with the brewery, right? Donovan Brothers? I’m Todd. Been in there a few times. Good beer.”

“Thank you.” Jamie introduced himself and found that, just as he’d suspected, the guy had been a power halfback at the U twenty years earlier. Jamie wasn’t much of an athlete. He’d played baseball for a couple of years in high school, but he’d never taken it too seriously. Still, knowing sports was part of his job, and he settled into a conversation about last year’s football season. He often wondered why these guys never got tired of the same subject. Surely Todd had already discussed last year’s season a thousand times over. Then again, Jamie never got tired of talking about beer. Maybe it was comforting to know you were an expert in something.

They soon moved on to next year’s lineup, and Jamie’s mind wandered. How long had they been at the party? An hour? He searched the room for Olivia, trying to find her among the crowd, as he agreed with everything Todd said about the up-and-coming starting quarterback.

When he finally found Olivia, she seemed to be in the same predicament. A tiny, ancient man had her cornered, and she nodded every few seconds even as her eyes glazed over.

Jamie was just settling into listening to the story of Todd’s last big game when he noticed Olivia’s gaze sharpen. Her body stiffened. She shifted to the other foot. Jamie followed her gaze—straight over the top of her companion’s head. It took Jamie a moment to pick anyone out of the crowd, but he finally figured out who she was staring at.

A couple had just stepped through the door. The man was tall and good-looking and enthusiastically shaking hands with everyone within his radius. The woman was blond, tan and very, very young.

Olivia had turned away from them as if she was pretending to ignore them, but as Jamie watched, the man spotted Olivia, raised his eyebrows and headed toward her. He very purposefully took his date’s hand and guided her through the crowd, though he stopped every few feet to exchange words with other guests.

When he got to Olivia, he pulled her into a hug as soon as she turned toward him. Olivia cringed.

Interesting.

Todd seemed to have wrapped up his story, so Jamie said, “Those were the glory days, huh?” then slapped Todd on the back. “Come by the brewery this weekend and I’ll buy you a beer.”

He left Todd grinning with pride and headed toward one of the servers. Olivia’s wineglass was empty and she looked like she could use another. Just as he started toward her, she looked up and said something to the man as she gestured in Jamie’s direction. Surprise flickered briefly across the man’s face as he turned.

“Victor,” she was saying when Jamie walked up. “This is Jamie Donovan. Jamie, this is Victor. And Allison.”

“Great to meet you,” Jamie said, holding out his hand to Allison first, then Victor. Victor’s grip was tight as a vise.

“Victor Bishop,” the man said very clearly, hitting Jamie with the exact amount of shock he’d hoped for.

Bishop.

Jamie made his face stay neutral and pleasant. He didn’t aim an alarmed look at Olivia, even though everything inside him wanted to pull her aside and ask for some quick clarification.

“So …” Victor said, giving Jamie’s hand one last ridiculous squeeze. “How did you come to know Olivia?”

“I served her a few beers,” he said dryly.

“Beers?” Victor shot Olivia an incredulous look. “You don’t drink beer.”

“She drinks my beer,” Jamie offered with a smile. He finally dared a glance at Olivia. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hand white-knuckled around the stem of the empty wineglass. “I gave her a few lessons.”

She met his gaze and tried to smile, but the result was a tense grimace. “Jamie is part of the Donovan Brothers Brewery family,” she said.

“But I’ve got nothing against wine. Here, Olivia.” He plucked the empty from her hand and handed her a new one. He was tempted to ask Victor how he’d come to know Olivia, but Jamie figured he already knew. They had the same last name and the guy definitely wasn’t giving off a sibling vibe.

“Well,” Victor said. “It’s nice to see you dating again, Olivia.” His words didn’t quite sound genuine. In fact, they sounded pretty damned forced, not to mention patronizing as hell.

Jamie looked him over a little more thoroughly. Victor Bishop was older than Olivia by at least ten years, and he dressed as if he were trying out for the part of “stereotypical college professor” in a local theater production. Pressed slacks, gray button-down shirt, hound-stooth sport coat, brown suede shoes. But everything looked very expensive.

“So, Victor,” Jamie said into the uncomfortable silence. “I haven’t heard much about you.” He thought he detected a faint wheeze from Olivia. “I’m guessing you work at the U?”

“Absolutely. I’m a professor of economics.”

Jamie smiled. “And you, Allison? Do you work at the U or are you an innocent bystander like me?”

“Oh,” the girl said, looking up at Victor as if checking on the answer. “I guess I’m an innocent bystander now. I was a teaching assistant last semester.”

Victor’s teaching assistant, Jamie would guess. He didn’t need to rely on his years of bartending psychology to pick up on these undercurrents. He wondered exactly how long Olivia had been divorced. As if he’d attracted her attention with his thoughts, Olivia tucked her arm around his. Victor’s gaze darted down.

“We’d better go find Rashid,” she said with false cheer. “I haven’t congratulated him on his new position at Stanford.”

They strolled away as if they were searching for Rashid, but Jamie led her into the kitchen. There were some catering staff around, but no guests. As soon as they were out of sight of the party, Jamie let her go and stepped back. When he crossed his arms, she looked at the floor. “So,” he said.

She didn’t look up.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Her hands twisted together, but she said nothing.

“I’m guessing that Victor is your ex-husband?” She looked more than a little ashamed as she nodded, so he was confident he’d figured out the rest of it. “And he’s the reason you invited me along?”

Olivia swallowed. “I wouldn’t say that. I mean … it’s not …”

Right. Jamie felt more pissed off than he would’ve expected. His first real date in nearly a year and she was faking it. Shit. This was a new experience. “Well, I’m flattered, I guess.”

“Jamie—”

“Your ex-husband is playing the field with younger women. You thought you’d show off with a younger man—”

“It’s not that!” she interrupted. “Or … not only that. It’s more about me than you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She crumpled a little, her shoulders dropping, and Jamie realized it was the first time he’d seen her without perfect posture. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

He was a little embarrassed about how much that cheered him up. “You didn’t know he’d be here? Really?”

“No, not that. It was wrong. I know it was. I wasn’t playing a game, or I didn’t mean to, anyway. I only agreed to come to the party because he was supposed to be gone. I’ve got a new life now. I didn’t want to see him. When I found out he was coming … I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you.”

He didn’t bother to disagree.

Olivia took a gulp from her wineglass, then set her shoulders back as if she’d realized she was slouching. “I apologize. I just wanted to loosen up a little.”

“In front of your ex?”

“Yes, in front of my ex! He …”

Jamie saw the way she swallowed hard, her jaw clenching, and he worried she was about to cry. “Listen—”

“That girl he’s with. Allison. She’s not the first girl like that he’s dated. And marriage didn’t keep him from indulging.”

“Ah.”

“Predictable, isn’t it? But I’m not bitter anymore. I don’t hate him. I swear it’s not like that. I want to have a life that has nothing to do with him.”

“Except when it does?”

Olivia shrugged and finished her wine before setting the glass carefully on the counter. While she was still turned away from him, she murmured, “He told me I wasn’t any fun.”

Jamie ran a hand through his hair, wondering if it would be rude to leave right at this moment. He was probably justified. Surely she wouldn’t object. He’d be kind enough to drop her off at her place first. “What?”

She turned to face him. “When I caught him cheating, he told me it was because I wasn’t any fun.”

Jamie grimaced. “Jesus Christ.”

“And you know what? I’m not fun. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to be.”

“You want him back?” Jamie asked, his voice so loud that she blinked in shock.

“No! That’s not it at all! I’m just trying to enjoy my life. Figure out who I am. I was only twenty-two when I met him. I’m not that girl anymore. So who am I?” She met his gaze head-on and, for the first time, she let him see something of herself. Something warm and vulnerable. “Am I the kind of woman who goes on a date with someone like you?”

“Someone like me?” Jamie ordered himself not to feel primal satisfaction at the way her eyes warmed.

“You’re young. Handsome. Purposefully charming.”

“I like to think of it as naturally charming.”

“Oh, it’s natural,” she said, her mouth quirking wryly. “But you use it to great effect.”

“I like people.”

She smiled then, chasing the sadness from her face. “I know you do. And you’re the definition of fun. So I thought …” Color climbed up her cheeks.

Whether he was angry or not, Jamie couldn’t help his interest in this woman, and the color in her cheeks intrigued him. “You thought what?”

“I’m trying new things. Like the book club. So I thought …”

“You thought you’d try me out, too?”

She flashed a surprisingly wicked smile. “I thought I’d try a date with you. And, unfortunately, I thought I’d do it in front of Victor. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. It was a momentary impulse. I’d already changed my mind when you weren’t at the brewery, but then you walked in….”

He shrugged. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have shown him up. But I would’ve appreciated a warning.”

She touched his arm. “I really am sorry. Let’s leave.”

“I don’t know. You’re already using me. I’m all dressed up. We may as well make the most of it.”

“Jamie—”

“Hey.” He took the hand she was gesturing with and curled it against his chest. “Just answer one question. Are you interested in me or not?”

Her fingers squeezed his. “I’m interested in you. But I think—”

“That’s all I need to know right now.” He eased a little closer as she brushed her hair behind her ear. A nervous gesture. “Exactly how jealous do you want to make him?”

“I don’t want to make him jealous. I just want him to stop flaunting his girls in front of me. It’s rude.”

“Rude,” he said with a smile. “You know what? You’re right. It’s definitely not polite. So how deep do you want to drive the point?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“A kiss? Just to teach him a lesson in etiquette?”

“Etiquette, huh?” She laughed and the sound danced over his skin. But when she was done laughing, the question still hung between them, and she eyed him with a different sort of nervousness. “You mean out there in front of everyone?”

“No. Right here.”

“But … how will he know?”

He watched as she licked her lips, her tongue flashing just quickly enough to make him want more of it. “Oh,” Jamie said. “He’ll know.”

“Well, if you think it’ll work …”

“I know it’ll work,” he said softly, easing closer. She looked like she’d be easy to startle, and he didn’t want to do that. Just as he’d expected, she shifted a little, drawing her head back a fraction of an inch.

He smiled. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I just …”

But her words died when he touched his mouth to hers, a careful touch, barely a kiss at all.

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes closing. “Just a kiss.”

Jamie closed his own and kissed her again. A longer taste, but still soft. But this time when he drew away, she closed the space between them, and this was a real kiss. Her lips parted just enough that he could feel her breath and the warmth of her mouth. He kissed her top lip, then her bottom, touching his tongue to that plump, pink flesh.

She sighed again, whispering the sound against his skin, and Jamie couldn’t wait another moment to taste her. When he slipped his tongue into her, she was hot and sweet with wine. But he still held back, barely rubbing his tongue over hers, allowing himself time to enjoy it. They were in a kitchen at a stranger’s party. There’d be nothing more than kissing, and he wanted to feel every moment of it.

A few endless heartbeats later, Jamie drew back, slightly dazed as he opened his eyes to the glaring lights of the modern kitchen. Olivia looked dazed, too, blinking as if she was waking up. Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed, and her lips were red as cherries. Her ex wouldn’t be able to miss that, even if he wanted to.

“Wow,” she whispered. “You’re good at that.”

“I like kissing.”

“I think I do, too,” she said, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on. We’d better get in there before it wears off.”

“What wears off?” she asked, but Jamie shook his head. She couldn’t know how beautiful she looked like this. Warm and blushing and—for once—not the least bit rigid. It was almost like seeing her naked. Almost.

He took her hand and led her out to the party and all the stiff, bored people pretending to enjoy themselves. “You come to a lot of parties like this?”

“Not a lot. Not anymore. Now I get to choose which ones I go to, but unfortunately, they’re all like this. Everyone trying to impress each other. Everyone on their best behavior. What kind of parties do you go to?”

“I don’t go to parties. I work.”

“Not as glamorous as it seems?”

“Oh, it’s glamorous as all hell, Ms. Bishop, but the hours are long.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, smacking his arm.

“Come on. It’s totally hot that you’re my teacher.”

“Just barely your teacher,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.

“Just enough,” he corrected.

Olivia laughed, bumping her elbow into his ribs as they walked toward a wall of doors that opened onto a deck. Jamie had already scoped out Victor Bishop’s location, and the guy was definitely looking tense. Jamie offered him a smile.

“So why are you taking the class?” Olivia asked as they stepped onto the deck.

Jamie felt so relaxed that he almost answered honestly. Then he remembered that he was keeping a secret and snapped his mouth shut.

Olivia tilted her head. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just brushing up on business basics.”

“No, you’re hiding something.” They’d reached a railing that overlooked a spectacular view, but Olivia propped her back against it and faced him. “Why are you really taking the class? Seems like you’ve got the brewery thing down pat.”

He looked past her. “What a gorgeous view from here.”

“Spill it.”

Shit. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too early. I’m just starting to think it through.”

“Are you going to start your own business?”

“No!”

Her eyebrows rose.

“That’s not it. Honestly. It’s just that … I don’t know. I’m thinking more of expanding the current business.”

Her face remained neutral for a moment, then her mouth made a pretty O of surprise. “You’re going to add a restaurant!”

“Shh.” Jamie glanced around to be sure no one heard. “Not quite. And maybe not anything at all. I’m taking your class to explore the possibilities. That’s all.”

“Well, I think that’s great. What responsibilities do you cover at the brewery?” She turned to face the view, now that she’d wrung his secret from him.

“I manage the front room and we all have input into the brewing side.” Some more than others.

“Food service would be a lot more involved, you know.”

His neck burned with self-consciousness. Was she implying he couldn’t handle it? “Yeah, I know.”

“Well, let me know if you need help with anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She bumped her hip against him. “You’re right.”

Maybe she did think he could handle it. Maybe she saw something in him. “Am I?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “It is an amazing view.”

Ah. Of course. He leaned against the railing and took it in, aware of her arm only a millimeter away from his. When goose bumps swept up her skin, he had the perfect excuse to hook her arm into his and ease her closer. A whisper of a breeze swept her hair from her neck.

“I’m glad you brought me out here,” she whispered. “But we forgot to search out Victor.”

“He saw us.”

“He did? Do you think he could tell?”

He slid his thumb along her wrist. “Oh, he could tell.”

“But how?”

Jamie met her questioning eyes. She looked absolutely puzzled, and he felt simultaneously amused and dumbfounded. “Your mouth,” he said, letting his gaze fall to her lips. “Your eyes.”

She shook her head as if she didn’t understand.

Jamie smiled. “You looked aroused,” he clarified.

The muscles of her arm jumped as a blush washed over her face. “I don’t know … I’m sure that …” When she started to pull away, Jamie wrapped his fingers into hers and held her still.

“There’s nothing wrong with arousal, Olivia. Is there?”

“I just—” She shook her head again, and when she pulled away, he let her go. “I don’t even know you.”

Alarm sparked in her wide eyes. She didn’t seem to know that it was part of the excitement. Part of what had made her cheeks flush and her lips soften when he’d kissed her. “It’s chemistry,” he murmured. “Nothing to do with common sense. The opposite of it, in fact.”

“Chemistry,” she murmured. Her eyes flickered, traveling down his body, and Jamie felt those chemical reactions begin to burn again. Her mouth curved up on one side, before she shook her head and banished her smile. “Well, thank you.”

“For the chemistry?”

“For playing along.”

He was playing, all right, but it wasn’t a part. Still, if that helped her feel better about it, Jamie could let it go.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?”

“No, I think we can go now.” She winked. “Your work here is done.”

“Olivia—”

“Thank you again. For everything. But I think you should just take me home.”

Jamie sighed. That didn’t sound like an invitation. But at least he’d gotten a kiss. He’d bring her an apple on Thursday and see where it went from there.

CHAPTER FIVE

HE HADN’T CALLED.

Olivia lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling stupid for even thinking it. She’d known he wouldn’t call. She’d told herself she didn’t want him to. But now that she was faced with seeing him in class in a few hours, it felt awkward. On her part, at least. Jamie would probably just laugh.

At least she hadn’t invited him in when he’d walked her to her door. She’d left him with just one more kiss. One more slow, hot, body-tingling kiss.

She smiled. Maybe it was worth the awkwardness. She didn’t feel like a new woman or anything, but she definitely felt a few degrees brighter.

It was a good start.

Still, even if he was interested, she didn’t think she could keep walking down this road with Jamie. That man was potent. Hell, he’d been potent before he’d put his mouth on her, and then he’d gone from intoxicating to deadly. Olivia had no doubt she’d have a very good time with Jamie Donovan, but she’d be just one on a long list of women. She didn’t want to think what it would be like to watch as he walked away, taking his good time with him.

Whatever her intentions, it came as no surprise to her that when the phone rang, Olivia immediately thought of Jamie. More proof that she was already in over her head. She made herself walk slowly to the phone, then answered it without checking the ID, pretending she didn’t care who it was. “Olivia Bishop.”

“Oooolivia Bishop,” a friendly female voice crooned.

“Gwen?” she asked, just as she realized what was about to happen.

“So I talked to Marcie last night….”

“Oh, God.” Olivia put her hand to her eyes. Marcie was friends with one of Victor’s fellow professors.

“You naughty little witch,” Gwen drawled, obviously enjoying her secret. “You’re totally getting it on with Jamie Donovan. I don’t know whether to hate you or put you on a pedestal.”

“I am not getting it on with Jamie Donovan.”

“Liar.”

Olivia smiled as she shook her head. “I’m not lying.”

“Look, I admire that you’re trying to protect his modesty. It’s cute.”

“Gwen,” Olivia said, laughing. “Okay, I admit that I went to the party with him, but that is all that happened.”

“That’s all?” Gwen squealed. “Where the heck did this come from? You met him once. One time!”

“I know—”

“And you said you were trying to ease back into the dating world. This is like shooting yourself out of a cannon.”

Olivia collapsed onto her bed, laughing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.

“I need all the details,” Gwen said. “Please God, give me some details!”

“I’m sorry, Gwen, but I don’t have any!”

“Just any level of story then. Put me out of my misery.”

Olivia sighed. She wasn’t going to tell Gwen everything, but if she refused to speak it would look even worse. “Jamie asked me out, and I—”

“Now, hold on. Back it up, sister.”

This part wasn’t easy, and she wished she could get away with leaving it out entirely. Instead, she decided to fudge the details. “I saw him. On campus. He asked me out and I said no, but then I remembered the party….”

Gwen squealed.

“We went to the party, and that was it. End of story.”

“Oh, not by a long shot. What was he like? Did you make out? Did you see Victor? Oh, my God, please tell me you saw Victor.”

“Jamie was nice. No, we didn’t make out, but we definitely saw Victor. More importantly, Victor saw us.”

“Oh, my God, I wish you were here right now so I could high-five you.” Gwen had been an administrative assistant for Victor’s department for two years. She wasn’t a fan.

“I’ll admit, it was satisfying.”

“Oh, yeah? Just how satisfying?”

“Gwen. It didn’t happen. And it’s not going to happen. I had a great time, but that’s that.”

“He turned you down?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Boy, I wish you were here right now too. I’d high-five your head.”

“Come on, Olivia. Why aren’t you going to see him again?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Well, it is. And I have to go. I’m late for my run.” Really late, actually. Not only had she overslept, but she hadn’t thought once about running until that moment. That was a first. She’d even gone for her run right on time the morning after she’d found out her husband was cheating.

“This isn’t the end of this!” Gwen called as Olivia’s thumb hovered over the end call button. “Not by far!”

Olivia stuck out her tongue and hung up.

As late as it was, she didn’t immediately rise to change into her running gear. For a moment, she simply sat and savored this feeling. This strange new feeling of having a close female friend. It was almost as exhilarating as kissing Jamie, though the happiness confined itself to less interesting parts of her body. It was really … nice. And Olivia felt stupid for having ignored this need for so long. She would’ve been happier married to Victor if she hadn’t dedicated herself so completely to him.

And maybe she would’ve seen the truth about him before she’d wasted so many years.

Regret tried to rear its ugly head, but she slapped it down. She’d spent a year wallowing, and she was done. This year was going to be hers. The year of Olivia. And this summer would be the kickoff.

She was teaching two classes this summer to bring in a little money, but both were light on prep and time commitment. She’d taught both before and they were non-credit classes. Even the group of students she’d agreed to mentor this summer were pretty self-sufficient, so aside from office hours and class time, she was free to do as she pleased. But what did she please?

As she brushed her teeth and pulled on shorts and a top, Olivia considered the day’s options. Class only lasted until two. Afterward, she could go through the unpacked boxes still lurking at the back of her bedroom closet. Or she could go through the financial planning package she’d been meaning to review. But neither of those sounded like the actions of a woman jumping into life. Neither sounded like a day for the kind of woman who’d take a younger man to a work party and then make out with him among the kitchen staff.

Smirking as she tied her shoes, Olivia made her decision. Today she’d drive to Denver. She’d have dinner downtown by herself. She’d have a glass of wine with her meal. Or two glasses. And then she’d go to the art museum and take as many hours as she wanted to stroll through the galleries.

In addition to being fun, irresponsible and exactly what she needed, this trip would distract her from thoughts of Jamie. She’d had a great time with him, but she hadn’t been fair. She’d used him, and he wasn’t going to call her again. That was fine. She had a whole life to build. And now that she knew she had chemistry … Well, that opened up a whole world of possibilities, didn’t it?

But four hours later, her little pep talk had worn off and she was standing in front of him in the classroom, feeling as awkward as she’d expected. Jamie just smiled down at her.

She gave him one subtle nod and then tried not to look at him again as she began her lecture on start-up costs, financing and insurance. Dry stuff, certainly, and it likely didn’t apply to his plans, but he seemed to be taking detailed notes, if his flying fingers were any guide. Or else he was deeply involved in an online conversation. Hard to tell these days.

By the time she’d taken the last questions from the class and sent the students on their way, she wasn’t the least bit surprised when Jamie started down the stairs instead of up. But her heart still tumbled as if she’d just received the shock of her life. Ridiculous.

He set an apple on the corner of the table. “Good afternoon, Ms. Bishop. You look pretty today.”

Her face felt tight with self-consciousness. She’d thought of him when she’d chosen this dress. It was red. Too red for class, but the tiny white daisies gave her the excuse that it was perfect for summer. And she loved the way the fabric gathered along the bodice to make it look as if she had nearly average-size breasts. The padded bra helped too, but Jamie would never get her clothes off to prove any different.

“Do you want to get some lunch?”

She looked up sharply, tearing her eyes away from his ridiculous little gift. “It’s two o’clock.”

“All right. Do you want to get some coffee? A beer? Ice cream?”

“It was wrong of me to drag you into that situation. I do thank you for going, and I appreciate your not holding it against me. But … this isn’t a good idea.”

“That sounds like an awfully solemn declaration over an innocent little ice cream cone.”

The man made “innocent little ice cream cone” into a filthy promise. His green eyes danced.

She wanted to shrink into herself, so Olivia set her shoulders back and made herself stand taller. But her gaze still fell to rest on the apple. “That’s because it doesn’t feel innocent. Not to me.”

He shifted and her eyes rose, and now his face didn’t look amused at all. “Doesn’t that make it important then?”

It did. Too important. But she’d be damned if she’d say that. “I’m not an eighteen-year-old girl out spreading her wings. I need to be reasonable.”

“I’d say you’ve got more than enough reasonable. You said you wanted to be fun.”

“I do, but—”

“Try it, then.” She had no idea how his gaze could get any warmer, but it did. “I can make anything fun, Olivia … even you.”

Excitement leapt through her. She should’ve felt insulted, but she only felt the anticipation. The possibility. “You’re just a kid. You don’t understand—”

“I’m nothing like a kid,” he said, his voice suddenly low and quiet. And she knew he was right. She knew it. But there was something so bright and pure about him. Something that said he still enjoyed being in the world, unlike the rest of the miserable population just making their way through. That was what drew women like moths. It was certainly drawing her.

Olivia crossed her arms and looked to the side, sweeping her gaze over the empty chairs, the dark carpet, the sickly gray of the walls that glowed under fluorescent lights. This place was the biggest part of her life and the thing was … she’d never even wanted it. How sad was that?

“Coffee,” she said.

He raised one eyebrow. “Coffee? All right. Coffee’s pretty fun, but …”

“Just coffee. I have plans later.”

He conceded with a gracious wink. He didn’t even complain when she told him she’d meet him at the café. In fact, his smile implied that he knew exactly why she’d said it. Not because she was going to drive straight to the Denver art museum afterward, but because she was afraid of what would happen if he drove her home again.

In the end, she had a surprisingly nice time. Jamie was easier to talk to than she’d expected. Oh, sure, talking to strangers was part of his job, but when they dared to step into political waters, he was thoughtful and informed. And he made her laugh. They sat on a shady patio. Olivia had a skinny latte. Jamie had an iced caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream.

When he walked her to her car, she felt as nervous as a teenage girl. With good reason, because when she opened her car door, she was caught between the door frame and the car, and Jamie leaned close.

“Can I call you?” he asked.

“Jamie …” She couldn’t keep this up, but she couldn’t resist forever.

“Just say yes,” he whispered. And then he kissed her, and her mouth was too busy to say anything at all.

HE’D LEFT HER WITH A KISS. One damn kiss and nothing more. But even that made him smile. He’d never tell Olivia this in a million years, but dating her definitely felt more … grown-up than he was used to. Less like a hookup and more like time with an interesting woman. Not that he wouldn’t hook the hell out of her given the opportunity. That one kiss had left him hard as a rock. Granted, it had been a long, deep, wet kiss.

“Hell, yeah,” he murmured as he pulled into the brewery parking lot. He walked around the whole building before going in, to be sure all the doors and windows were secure and the sidewalks were clean, but when he walked through the front door, he was still lost in thoughts of Olivia.

“Where the hell have you been?” his brother, Eric, asked before Jamie’s foot was even across the threshold.

All the pleasant warmth suffusing Jamie’s muscles snapped to ice. “I told you I’d be in later on Thursdays from now on.”

“You said you’d be in at four. It’s almost 4:30.”

Jamie felt his blood swell. Heat rose to his skin. He wanted to snap back. He wanted to yell that he’d put in sixty-two hours last week and he’d fucking come in thirty minutes late if he felt like it. There wasn’t even one customer in the front room, for God’s sake.

But he couldn’t say that, because the last thing he wanted was for Eric to start asking questions about where Jamie had been, or why he’d suddenly decided to take Tuesdays off instead of Mondays, or why he needed to come in late on Thursdays. So Jamie used all his strength to hold those words in and simply muttered, “Sorry.”

Eric looked surprised. Maybe he’d been angling for a fight. But he gave in gracefully and said, “All right. Sorry I snapped at you.”

Was it really that easy? They fought like cats and dogs most of the time, which was why Jamie was keeping his ideas secret until he had them fully fleshed out. If he didn’t have everything in perfect order, Eric would shoot the plan down before the first words left Jamie’s mouth. In fact, he’d already shot this particular plan down once, but Jamie wasn’t giving up.

“Anything going on today?” he asked Eric.

“Wallace finally got in that Mexican chocolate he was waiting for. He’s going to try another round of the spicy chocolate stout.”

“Great.”

“He wants to call it Devil’s Cock.”

Jamie’s eyebrows flew up. “Devil’s Cock?”

“Yeah. With a rooster on the label.”

“And what did you say to that?”

Eric smirked. “I told him I’d think about it. After that Santa Fe show, I decided we could dare a bit more edginess. There’s not a lot of subtlety out there right now.”

“Well, consider me surprised. I think it could be a fantastic label. Maybe you could have it mocked up before you decide.”

“Huh. That’s actually a good idea. Maybe I will.”

Jamie ground his teeth at the shock in Eric’s voice.

“And the new menus are in.” Eric handed him a pristine laminated copy of the midsummer bar menu.

“Wow, this is a nice layout.”

“The new marketing company,” Eric said. “I guess it’s working out.”

“Where’s Tessa?” Jamie asked. His sister was a much more relaxed presence and Jamie would rather get his daily update from her, but she was off today, it seemed. That explained Eric’s mood. Tessa simultaneously calmed her brothers down and cheered them up.

“So.” Jamie checked the time. “Are you clocking out soon?”

Apparently, he was less than subtle. Eric actually threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll leave you alone. Chester prepped the bar. It’s all ready for you. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and Tessa said something about a special.”

Jamie groaned as Eric brushed past him. “Wait, what kind of special?”

His brother’s laughter was the only answer. It faded as he walked into the back and the doors swung closed behind him.

“Jesus.” Now Jamie was the one muttering. As much as he loved Tessa, she was driving him crazy with her Twitter mischief. She was in charge of social networking for the brewery. Unfortunately, Jamie knew nothing about the internet beyond Google and email. Even more unfortunately, Tessa used Twitter under Jamie’s name, and she enjoyed putting him in awkward positions. Two weeks ago, she’d organized a “Where’s Jamie?” campaign, wherein customers took a picture with him whenever they spotted him. That had been fine at the brewery, though it had slowed down his service. It had been less comfortable when he’d been at the grocery store or out for a bike ride.

He’d tried to go with the flow, but now he was feeling paranoid. He stuck his head in back. “Chester!”

he called to the part-time bartender. “Can you check Twitter on your phone? When you’re finished with the washer, see what Tessa is up to tonight.”

“Got it!” Chester called.

Jamie hurried back to ready the front room before the post-workday rush. Sure, Chester had already prepped, but no one else had quite the standards that Jamie did. He started with the tables so they’d be ready for the customers. He wiped down the tabletops, the chair seats and backs, and even the menus. He swept the whole room, then moved to the bar itself to get it ready.

“Hey,” Chester finally popped in to say. “Tessa offered half-price pints from five to six for anyone who tells you a joke. Doesn’t have to be funny.”

Jamie smiled as he polished the bar to a shine. He could handle a few jokes. Or so he thought. By six o’clock, his throat hurt from laughing. It also hurt from groaning in horror. He hadn’t thought so many bad jokes existed in the world, much less that he could hear them all in one hour. But he had to give it to Tessa, it had been a pretty great hour. He blazed through the whole evening in a good mood until he finally started shutting down at 8:45. At nine o’clock, he saw the last customer out with a friendly wave, locked the door and immediately pulled out his phone to call Olivia.

“Hello, Ms. Bishop.”

“Jamie?” She sounded sleepy. And soft.

“I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” He glanced at the clock in confusion. Did people go to sleep at nine?

“No, not yet. I’m reading in bed.”

“I was hoping you might come over for a game of pool.”

“Right now?” She laughed as if he were being outrageous.

“Maybe?”

“I’m already in bed in my pajamas!”

“Oh, yeah?” He dropped into a chair and propped his feet on a table. “What kind of pajamas?” She laughed again as if he were joking. Fine. Jamie decided to imagine her in a little silk button-down shirt and her black glasses. Hot.

“How was your night?” she asked.

“Well, you made me late.”

“You made yourself late.”

“No,” he corrected, “that hand up my shirt was definitely yours.” Jamie decided right then and there that he’d never get tired of hearing her laugh. He especially liked the crack in her voice when she got embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally so forward. Especially not in the parking lot of a coffee place.”

“You were overcome,” he said. “It happens to all of us. I promise not to report you to the dean.”

“Stop!” Her laughter was getting sleepier.

“What are you reading?” he asked, trying to keep her on the phone. She named a book he’d never heard of. Something that sounded dire and difficult. “My mom used to read a lot. She didn’t really pass that love on to me,” he admitted.

“Used to? She passed away?”

“She did. A long time ago.” Jamie didn’t like to talk about it. He really didn’t like to talk about. So he kept his mouth shut and made it clear that he had nothing more to say. Olivia didn’t take the hint.

“How long ago?”

“Thirteen years.”

“Oh, my God. You were just a teenager.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and tried to tell himself to be glad she hadn’t asked about his dad, because then he’d have to give the whole tragic story. Leaving out the details of his own involvement.

“Were you close to her?” she asked quietly.

“I was.” They’d all been close back then. His siblings and his mom and dad. He and his brother and sister were each distinct personalities, but they’d all been loved equally. It turned out that Jamie had been the one who didn’t deserve it. Big shock.

“I’m not close to my mom,” Olivia admitted. He heard the click of a light on her end and imagined her settling more deeply into bed. “She’s cold. Exacting. And … no fun.”

He smiled at the wry irony in her voice. “You’re not cold,” he said.

“No?”

“No. You’re lying in bed in your very short pajamas, having an inappropriate conversation with one of your students, right?”

Her laughter chased his sadness away. “You don’t know anything about my pajamas.”

“Shh.”

“And there’s nothing inappropriate about this conversation.”

“There could be,” he insisted, “if you stopped trying to correct me.”

“Jamie …” She sighed. “You’re … really amazing. You know that?”

“I love it when you whisper that in bed.” But her voice was getting quieter, so Jamie gallantly offered to let her go. He thought of his schedule tomorrow and winced. He had a full day in the office plus the bar at night, and on Fridays they were open until ten. Thank God it was only a tasting room, and not a regular bar open until the wee hours. “If you can stay up an hour later, I’ll tuck you in tomorrow, too.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered, and Jamie could practically feel her fingers drag down his neck.

“I’d like that, too.” What a strange affair this was. No sex. Plenty of pillow talk. And damned if he didn’t love it.

CHAPTER SIX

“WHY AREN’T YOU RETURNING my texts?”

Olivia couldn’t believe she’d answered the phone. She’d avoided talking to Victor all week, but getting out of the shower, she hadn’t been able to see the phone display, and now here she was with his disapproval in her ear.

“Victor, one of the reasons I divorced you was so I wouldn’t have to return your texts or phone calls or emails unless I wanted to. And I don’t.”

“Come on, O. What’s gotten into you lately?”

She wrapped her towel tighter around her. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re acting strange.”

Strange. Like dating-a-younger-man strange. For three nights in a row, Jamie had talked her to sleep. She could no longer deny, even to herself, that she was getting involved with him. Talking to a man for hours while in bed was apparently an effective tool for breaking down resistance.

“Olivia?” Victor’s voice sang with irritation.

“Yes?”

“Who was that guy?”

Well, the curiosity must have been eating him alive if he’d just blurted it out like that. Victor normally liked to weave in and out of difficult topics until she was too confused to remember her point. Olivia smiled. “What guy?”

“Damn it. If you want to play games—”

“Victor,” she interrupted. “I’m not playing any games. My life has nothing to do with you now. Everything’s final. It’s done. Utterly and completely over.”

“That’s not true. We’re still friends.”

“We most certainly are not! Where do you get this stuff?”

“O, just listen—”

“No. I have to go. We’ll talk another time. Or not. It really doesn’t matter. Goodbye.”

For the first time in months, she wasn’t the least bit stressed after a phone call with Victor. She simply, honestly, didn’t care. She had other things to worry about. Bigger things, hopefully.

Jamie had invited her to his place for brunch. Brunch, the most innocent-sounding of all the meals, but surely this brunch was just code for sex. They could just as easily go out to brunch, after all, but she was going to his place, alone, for an intimate meal.

She was terrified, yet one hundred percent ready. At least in theory.

Something had changed for her in the past few days. Dating Jamie was still dangerous and irresponsible and it would never lead anywhere. But screw it. She’d only been divorced for a year. Now was not the time for a long-term relationship. Now was the time for a sizzling-hot affair with a younger man who made her toes curl with the just the sound of his voice.

She’d been up for hours already, thinking about it. With Jamie’s job, he wasn’t exactly a morning person. He’d invited her over at noon, explaining that it would have to be brunch because breakfast was the only meal he could cook well. She’d occupied herself with running and showering and drying her hair. But now she was faced with the impossible task of picking an outfit. Standing in her closet, she stared helplessly at her clothes.

She would know what to wear if they were going out. A cute sleeveless dress, no question about it. But what if he lived in a dorm-style dump? What if he had a roommate?

Brunch sounded a little elegant, but was it possible that he considered breakfast foods to be nothing more than Toaster Strudels and Slim Jims? She imagined herself sitting at a tiny table in a dress, eating powdered donuts out of a box.

“No,” she scolded herself. He was twenty-nine, not nineteen. He had a real apartment with a real table and maybe even a stove he knew how to use. So she picked out a pretty yellow dress and laid it out on the bed, then turned to her dresser to face the more difficult task of choosing undergarments.

Boy, she was regretting that generously padded bra now. False advertising and potential daylight nudity did not mix. She looked down at the towel that lay flat against her chest, then back to the drawer full of pretty, delicate, unnecessary bras. Then Olivia sat down hard on her bed and faced a problem she’d been ignoring. A problem she’d tried hard to forget.

She wasn’t just inexperienced at irresponsible fun. She was inexperienced, period.

Victor was the only lover she’d ever had. Ever. If she slept with Jamie, he’d be her second. Not that she would ever, ever let him know.

She was, after all, a modern, educated woman. A divorced thirty-five-year-old with no moral objections to a healthy love life. As a young woman, she hadn’t been specifically saving herself for love or marriage or a soul mate. She’d just been a skinny girl in glasses who was too shy to willingly look beyond her books. And like so many quiet girls before her, she’d been struck with an awful crush on the smart teacher who’d tried to draw her out. He’d seemed so interested. In her, of all things. She hadn’t stood a chance.

That was all well and good. She’d been inexperienced. Victor had liked that. But being inexperienced with Jamie was a whole different issue. She’d just have to fake it. Which shouldn’t be too hard, really. She’d been having sex for over a decade now. One man couldn’t be so radically different from another. Same parts. Same process. And she had the same body. Which was her current worry.

When she’d asked, Victor had said he didn’t mind her small breasts. He didn’t mind them. But it had been impossible to miss the way he’d looked at other women’s cleavage. And of the three women she knew about, all of them had been fairly impressive in the size department.

But she was silly to worry. They were just breasts. Only one small part of what Jamie was interested in, hopefully. As for the other … she might be inexperienced, but he’d never know. She’d fake her way through it.

As pep talks went, it was lacking in enthusiasm, but Olivia had always been a logical kind of girl. She felt better as she made herself pick out her favorite bra. It was pretty lilac cotton edged in white lace. She pulled on matching underwear and tied on the bright yellow wrap dress, then put in her contacts and did her makeup.

The clock told her she had half an hour left, and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so Olivia simply sat on the couch with her hands folded in her lap. If she wanted to, she could just go to Jamie’s house and share a meal. She knew that. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to have him. She wanted to feel him on her and in her. So, scary as it was, she wouldn’t back down. Someone had to be the first after Victor, and it was going to be Jamie.

After thirty quiet, calm minutes, Olivia stood, put on her heeled sandals and left for Jamie’s place. She’d approach fun the way she approached everything: with logic and calm.

Logic, calm and a crazed, thundering heart. It seemed that fun wasn’t easy to trick, because by the time she reached Jamie’s place, she couldn’t hear anything past her rushing pulse.

She vaguely noticed that he lived in a beautiful neighborhood of large houses, and his place was no exception. The porch was split into two entrances, and she walked up to the left one and knocked. When she started getting dizzy, she made herself breathe, even when she saw a figure approach behind the frosted glass.

“Ms. Bishop,” he said, a smile spreading across his face like a warm, melting treat. “Thanks for coming.”

Hopefully he’d be repeating that same phrase later.

She fought back a nervous laugh as he opened the door wider and motioned her to step inside. She started to walk past him, then stuttered when he moved to kiss her. At the exact moment she realized he’d meant to kiss her cheek, she turned in to kiss his lips. It was too late then. Their mouths bumped awkwardly before she stepped away.

Damn it.

The door clicked closed.

“It smells good in here!” she said brightly.

“Thank you.”

“And …” She finally registered her surroundings and turned in a slow, awed circle. “It’s so pretty!” This was no dingy apartment. It wasn’t even a man cave. The tall windows were open to the breeze, letting sunlight fall across wood floors. The baseboards and doors were warm, polished wood against almond-colored walls. “How long have you lived here?”

“About eighteen months.” He led her toward the back, to a small kitchen done in dark granite and stainless steel.

“Beautiful. I didn’t expect this.”

“Oh, yeah?” he opened the oven and pulled out a pan. “What did you expect?”

She cleared her throat and didn’t answer.

“Neon beer signs? Posters taped to the walls?”

“No. I—”

“I save those for my bedroom. Then I know I’ll start the day off right.”

“Stop,” she said, slapping his arm.

Jamie snagged her wrist and pulled her into him. “I’ve been waiting to do this.”

His arms curved around her, his mouth touched hers, and the world crashed into them. She parted her lips and his tongue slid in, and though it started warm and slow, she was soon pushed against the kitchen counter while Jamie’s tongue worked her mouth and his hands clutched her hips. She clutched him right back, loving the way he smelled and tasted and felt. For three nights, she’d fallen asleep with his voice winding around her. She’d been waiting for this.

They’d shared kisses before, but this was something different. His whole body was pressed to her. She shifted, and his hips nudged her, and lust turned inside her like a screw tightening.

Maybe he’d take her right here. Maybe he’d just set her up on the counter, and push her skirt up and her panties down. She’d never had it like that before, hot and desperate in the kitchen, cold granite against her back. She was wet already. So wet she could feel it.

Something buzzed loudly, and Olivia jerked back.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “Excuse me for just a moment.”

When he moved away, her nipples peaked at the sudden coolness he left behind. She felt like she was about to burst, but Jamie still moved easy and calm as he leaned over to pull another pan from the oven. “Baked omelette,” he explained, as he set it down. “I hope you don’t have anything against bacon.”

“No, I tried being a vegetarian a few years ago. I was embarrassingly unsuccessful.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“On the fourth day, I was so desperate for meat that I stopped at a convenience store on my way home from lunch and bought a taquito. I ate it at the cash register while I was still paying.”

“That’s pretty bad,” Jamie said. “And here I thought you were so straitlaced.”

She smiled even though her laces had been measured with a level. “I can get pretty crazy, I guess. Whatever you do, don’t get between me and a tray of taquitos.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Despite her intense hope, Jamie didn’t return to her. Apparently there’d be no sex on the counter. The man was determined to feed her. He moved to the fridge and pulled out a bowl, and Olivia’s eyes trailed down to his bare feet. Everything about him made her mouth water, even his feet. He looked young and adorable in his ancient jeans and T-shirt. When he reached back into the fridge, his shirt rose, and Olivia caught a glimpse of his tight back, the curve of his hip bone standing out in mouthwatering relief.

She was going to do this. She really was. She was going to see him naked. Touch him. Wrap herself around him. What a damn strange idea. She almost felt like she was watching herself in a movie, acting out a part.

“Olivia, can you grab this?”

This? She’d grab anything he wanted. But in the end it was just a bowl of cut fruit, and she sadly followed him through the kitchen and past the table toward the back door.

He was being very sweet, making an effort, but she didn’t really need any of this. Did he always go to this much trouble for a simple round of sex? No wonder he was so popular. Service with a smile.

Her eyes on his ass, it took her a moment to notice where he’d led her. He set a carton of orange juice and a bottle of champagne on a round table. “Mimosa?”

“You have to ask? Does anyone ever say no to that?”

He frowned, but she was too distracted by her surroundings to worry. “What a great place, Jamie.” They sat on a wide deck outfitted with the table and chairs and one lounge chair. That deck dropped one step down to a smaller area that included a Jacuzzi half-hidden behind a trellis. But the rest of the yard was the amazing part. A stone path wound through gardens and rock formations. At the very back of the long yard, a little waterfall fell in a perpetual tumble over a six-foot-tall rise of boulders. “It’s so beautiful. Peaceful.”

“Thank you.” He gestured for her to sit down, handed her a mimosa, then disappeared back inside. He’d already set the table, and she found herself smiling down at her plate and the silverware, laid out with perfect neatness on a folded paper towel. Her coffee cup read, “My other mug is a pint glass.”

“Do you want help?” she called.

“Nope.” He stepped out, balancing two baking dishes, some serving spoons and one coffeepot. “If there’s one thing I can do, it’s serve a table.”

He stuck the spoons smack into the middle of each dish, which reminded Olivia of the folded paper towels. His attention to detail didn’t reach Martha Stewart levels. He was kind of adorable. Again.

She served herself some eggs and some coffee cake, and the combined smells were heavenly. Her stomach rumbled, but as she reached for her fork, Jamie reached for the champagne. She made herself wait politely while he poured champagne, and then the orange juice. Then he raised his glass. “To fun,” he said.

“And new things,” she added.

Five minutes later, Olivia was embarrassed to realize she’d already cleaned her plate. And emptied her glass. “Oh, my God, that was amazing.”

“Have more,” he said, already tilting the bottle. Golden liquid bubbled and sloshed. Olivia giggled and wondered if she was tipsy. Then she stole another dollop of cake.

“So did you always want to be a teacher?” he asked as he took another huge serving of bacon omelette.

“No, not really.”

“You just fell into it?”

“Yes.” She’d fallen into it, all right. Helped by the steady push of her husband’s hand. She tried not to sigh. “But it’s a subject I love. My parents were investors and entrepreneurs. There’s a lot of specialized knowledge that goes into the business side of food service. Stuff a restaurateur wouldn’t necessarily know. I like helping with that.”

He stared intently at her. “Yeah?”

“It’s a tough field. Starting a restaurant is risky and stressful and time-consuming. I like the idea of helping people with it.” In fact, she’d meant to become a consultant, not a teacher. She opened her mouth to say that, but then let the words fade away, unable to form them in a way that didn’t sound pitiful. She’d fallen in love with Victor. He’d wanted her time and energy invested in his career. And so that’s what she’d done. She’d taken a low-paying job at the university, because his career was important. Of course it was. Who could’ve argued with that?

Jamie stared at her, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to puzzle something out. Olivia wanted to shrink down and protest that she’d done what she’d thought best at the time. Yes, she’d been an idiotic twenty-three-year-old, marrying a man who’d played her perfectly, but she’d meant well. He’d been recently tenured, after all. He’d had a career to build.

“It’s not a bad job,” she said quietly.

“I have an idea.” He didn’t sound disapproving. He sounded … excited?

Olivia had trouble adjusting to this unexpected turn. “What kind of idea?”

“Maybe we could help each other.”

She cocked her head in question.

“You want to learn how to have fun….”

“Yes …?”

He smiled, but it didn’t hold quite his normal level of confidence. “And I want to learn how to turn the tasting room into a real brewpub.”

His plan wasn’t exactly a shock. She’d assumed he was heading in that direction. But it was a shock to hear him present their problems as an equal exchange. Was he proposing that she work for him in exchange for sex?

“Jamie, I … I don’t know.”

“What do we have to lose?”

“If I’m going to be working with your family, I’m not sure it would be appropriate to—”

“You won’t be working with my family. My family doesn’t know anything about this.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, reaching for her glass, grateful he’d refilled it.

Jamie leaned back and held his own glass loosely between his fingers, turning it as he stared down at the tilting liquid. “My brother doesn’t have a lot of confidence in me. Hell, nobody does. I guess I’ve brought that on myself. Let’s just say there’ve been some instances of questionable judgement.”

“With the business?”

“No, not exactly. Years ago, I sowed my oats fairly widely. And once you’ve cast yourself in the role of black sheep, it’s hard to shake it off.”

“Were there drugs involved? Anything illegal?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just that … my brother and I are nothing alike. He’s a paragon of responsibility. I could never compete with that, so I didn’t bother trying.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated. But in the end, it comes down to this. We’re equal partners in the brewery, so whatever I propose, I’ll have to convince both my sister and my brother that it’s a good idea. So I need help. All the help I can get.”

“Well, of course I’d be happy to help. But I don’t need you to—”

“No, that’s not true. You need help, too. And I happen to be a lot of good at fun. I cut my teeth on it.”

Her face was so hot it prickled as if she’d just fallen into a field of stinging nettle. “But sex? I can’t just—”

“I didn’t say anything about sex.”

Oh, Jesus. She pressed a cool hand to her cheek. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean fun. Staying up later than ten, for instance.”

“I like to—”

“Sleeping late. Getting drunk under the stars. Skinny-dipping. Going to a strip club—”

“A strip club?” she yelped.

He winked. “And maybe we could work in a little can’t-wait-for-it, gotta-have-it sex against the bathroom wall while we’re at it. Assuming you’d consider that fun.”

“I think …” Her face still burned. Her throat turned on itself until she couldn’t believe she could still draw breath. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how people went about things, not even older divorcées and younger men. Maybe she should be insulted that he wanted her to bargain for time in his bed. Or against his wall.

On the other hand, it made things easier, didn’t it? No worries that it was something special. Something deep. They were just … scratching each other’s backs. Exchanging services.

Now that she thought about it, maybe this was how it was done. Maybe she was a sugar mama, albeit a rather poor one.

Isn’t that how older men did it? Men like Victor offered guidance, stability, a wise hand along the way. Younger women offered tight bodies and simple needs.

“Well?” Jamie prompted, setting his glass on the table and sitting up straight. He looked right into her eyes, not the least bit embarrassed. How did he do that?

Olivia forced herself to sit straight, too. She’d wanted him anyway, hadn’t she? “All right,” she said, surprised at the conviction in her own voice. “You’ve got a deal. But I want my first lesson today.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I DIDN’T BRING a swimsuit,” she said, confused despite her earlier bold declaration.

Jamie tried to look serious, shaking his head as he slipped the last of the dishes into the sink. “Haven’t you listened to anything I said?”

He could almost see her reviewing his list of fun. In fact, her lips moved as she repeated it to herself. Her eyes widened. “But today … I thought we’d …”

“What?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know what she meant.

She stammered, her face pinkening again.

“Take it slow?” he prompted, letting her off the hook. But he knew exactly what she’d meant. She thought they’d just have sex, and apparently she welcomed it. Jamie’s blood pumped faster, filling his veins until his body felt tight.

She leapt on his words and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Take it slow.”

“But I’m trying to teach you how to jump in feetfirst. Starting with the hot tub.”

Her eyes slid toward the back door as she piled silverware in the sink. “But … people will see us.”

“Nope. The trellis keeps it private.”

“But … the walk …”

“I have towels, Olivia. Big, fluffy ones.”

She swallowed and stared hard at the bright rectangle of sunlight spilling onto the kitchen floor. “All right,” she said, looking terrified.

“Hey.” He walked over and nudged her chin up. “I’m teasing. Maybe we could go for staying up late as a first step.”

She met his gaze, and there was that vulnerability again. Jamie felt his heart turn. But then her jaw hardened. “No. You’re right. I’m not the expert here, am I? I should trust you.”

Her skin felt like silk when he traced the line of her chin. “It’s just a hot tub,” he said, because he’d be damned if he’d make her feel she was agreeing to anything else at this point. He wasn’t going to shame her into sex. “Just a swim. That’s all.”

“Right,” she said. “Just a hot tub.”

“I’ll leave a towel in the bedroom for you.”

He walked away casually, trying not to let her know how much he was anticipating this. If she thought he lounged naked in his hot tub with a different girl every Sunday, then so be it. He stuffed a couple of condoms into his pocket, slung a towel around his neck and laid one on the bed for Olivia. Then he walked right past her, grabbing the champagne glasses as he passed.

When she turned on the water at the sink, he paused. “Just to be clear, I’ll get the dishes later.”

“Oh, sure,” she said. The water cut off. He chuckled as he stepped outside and headed for the tub. He had set the timer to keep the water warm on the weekends, so it was already comfortably toasty. Jamie turned on the jets, dropped his clothes on the bench and stepped in.

It would take her a little while. He knew that. He could picture her perfectly, standing in the kitchen, her fingers wound together, jaw set tight as steel. She might be careful and serious, but she was strong as hell, and he had no doubt she’d work up to it.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes, picturing her walking slowly down his hallway, her heels clicking against the wood. When she reached his bedroom, she’d stare hard at the towel. Then at his bed. Her hands would hesitate over the knot that kept that wrap dress on. God, he’d give anything to be the one to untie it. To slide the sash free and watch that bright yellow fabric open. To see that first glimpse of skin. What was she wearing under there? Something sweet and modest? Something delicate and silky?

Jamie’s cock was aching by the time he opened his eyes and found her standing before him. He blinked in surprise. In his mind, she’d still been nervously undressing.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes sweeping down the wide white towel she clutched to her body.

Jesus Christ, she was naked under there. No doubt about it. Her eyes were wide and her knuckles glowed as pale as the cotton she clutched, but she stood straight and met his gaze.

“You’re sure no one can see in?” she asked.

“I’m sure. Too many shadows.”

“Could you …?”

Jamie closed his eyes again, but his ears strained to make up for that chivalry, as if he could possibly hear a towel being unwound over the sound of the rolling jets. He counted to ten, then twenty, sure that there’d be some global shift once she was naked in the water with him. At the very least, she’d splash a little.

“Can we even count it as skinny-dipping if you keep your eyes closed the whole time?”

That would be a tragedy, so Jamie opened his eyes immediately. And there she was. The swirling bubbles hid most of her body. All of it, really. He could see much more of her skin while he was sitting in class. But the few inches of her shoulders seemed startling bare above the water. Fascinatingly bare. Her dark hair just brushed along her collarbone when she moved. Water danced and dipped just an inch below that, teasing him with her nudity each time a little trough showed more skin.

Jamie forced his eyes up to her face, then realized it didn’t matter. She was too busy checking out his chest to notice. He slid up a little straighter in response.

“So,” she finally said. “I did it.” Her smile started small, but it didn’t take long for it to spread across her face.

“You certainly did. How’s it feel?”

“I don’t know yet.” She slid a few inches to her right, coming a little closer, though there was still two feet of tub between them. From this angle, she was looking right out into the yard. A breeze stirred her hair, and he watched her take a deep breath. “It’s like a cave in here. A secret.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Beyond the trellis walls, the day exploded in brightness and light. The people out there moved through their Sunday world. And no one knew Jamie and Olivia were tucked into these shadows, nude beneath the water. Her foot brushed his. He breathed very carefully.

When he’d dared her to skinny-dip with him, Jamie had felt in control. A little superior. Just as he should, as the man tasked with teaching her how to loosen up. But this wasn’t like a casual dip with a tipsy girl who’d tossed her bikini top away like an unneeded jacket. This was Olivia Bishop, whose nudity seemed a precious, guarded thing. And just the glimpse of her naked shoulders felt risqué. Now Jamie didn’t feel superior and calm. He felt nervous and so aroused that he was thankful for the shroud of bubbling water. Not cool to casually lounge around with a throbbing erection.

Not cool at all.

“Look at that,” she whispered, and for a moment, Jamie worried the waters had cleared. But she pointed out toward the sunlight, to the hummingbird feeder he’d hung on a small tree. Two green birds danced there, swiping at each other as they competed for the sugar water.

But Olivia was smiling, so he watched her instead.

“This is really neat,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he said with an irony she seemed to miss.

“I feel different.”

“Yeah?”

She turned and aimed that smile at him, and it tilted in a naughty way he’d never seen on her. “Yeah.”

Jamie shifted his leg so that it slid against hers, and there was no mistaking the excitement that sparked in her eyes. “I feel strange calling you Ms. Bishop when I’m supposed to be teaching you today.”

“That’s because you shouldn’t be calling me that and you know it.”

“Okay, I’ll call you Olivia then.” He reached for the champagne glasses and handed her one, taking the opportunity to slide a little closer. Now his calf rested naturally against hers. “Your name is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve met an Olivia before, and I meet a lot of people at the brewery.”

“It’s old-fashioned,” she sighed.

“It’s pretty,” he insisted, not adding that it suited her perfectly. She wouldn’t appreciate it, because it was old-fashioned, and that was exactly why it fit her.

Sighing, she ducked down a little farther in her seat and sipped champagne. Her expression was soft. Dreamy. And her cheeks had turned pink in the steam.

Jamie touched her temple, sliding back a strand of hair that stuck to her dampening skin. When she turned toward him, he touched his thumb to her lower lip, loving the soft give of her flesh.

She watched him, waiting, all her nervousness floating away on the steam. And hell if he could wait a moment longer.

He kissed her, very conscious of keeping his hand on her shoulder as he slid next to her. And it was strange, here in the heat, almost as if their whole bodies were part of the kiss. Every part of her was as hot and wet as her mouth at that moment. When her hand slid over his shoulders, it was as sensual as the lick of her tongue. When her knee pressed into his thigh, it slipped over him.

He tried to take it slow, but she slanted her mouth and wound her fingers into his hair. The buoyancy alone pushed him closer, and he had to brace himself to keep from covering her completely. His hand landed on her hip. His fingers naturally curved to hold her. And then his palm was sliding up her side, exploring her body, shifting her closer.

At first he thought it was only the push of water against him, but then he realized her knee was sliding between his thighs. Jamie tried to find an impossible balance between getting her closer and keeping his distance. But a moment later, his restraint had wound so tightly that it simply shattered and floated away. Olivia was trying to deepen the kiss, and now her thigh slid along his cock as her leg fit more snugly between his.

She made a little noise into his mouth. A murmur of surprise or pleasure, he wasn’t sure, because his mind was occupied with the sensation of her skin against his shaft and his hands spreading over her back. She was so very naked. Every inch of her wet and available. His hands slid up to her neck, then down … slowly down, following her spine all the way to the base, then he spread his hands out, shaping her ass, holding her hips.

This time she moaned more loudly, and he had no trouble interpreting the sound.

Jamie eased her back, loving that her breath came as hard as his. He dragged his mouth down her neck as her fingers clutched his head. He set her back and lifted her hips, forcing her to stand so that he could see her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and Jamie followed the trickles of beaded water that slid from her neck to her naked breasts. He kissed her collarbone, then followed the water with his mouth. When his lips closed over her nipple, Olivia gasped so loudly that he worried he’d hurt her. But then her fingers twisted into his hair and held him close, and he growled with approval.

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