Bad Boys Do

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.”