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Bad Boys Do
Bad Boys Do
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Bad Boys Do

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“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.”