Bad Boys Do

by Victoria Dahl

  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 show-off, 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 ke
pt 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 a
mong 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.