Bad Boys Do (8 page)

He couldn’t carry the heavy regret of his teenage years around anymore.

He was ready to grow up. To settle down and make something of himself.
Settle down,
he thought. Hell, maybe Olivia could help him with more than just his plans for the brewery….

S
HE’D ONLY TALKED TO HIM ONCE
since Sunday, and it had been a frightening conversation. Frightening because of the warm wave that had crashed over her at the sound of his voice. Frightening because it had been so easy to lie in bed and laugh with him, the phone pressed so tight to her ear that her head had hurt afterward.

Now as she walked down the hallway toward the classroom, her nerves jumped with adrenaline. This would be her first time seeing him since…since
then.
He wouldn’t be a fantastic memory anymore, he’d be right there watching her as she moved, his eyes everywhere his hands had been on Sunday.

“Olivia,” his voice said, and she nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun toward that low sound.

And there he was. His dark bronze hair a little messy as if he had run his hand through it every few minutes. His green eyes smiling at her, sharing their secret. And those narrow hips that she’d wrapped her legs around…

If she thought she’d been beset by adrenaline before, Olivia had been mistaken. It surged so hard through her now that it was almost fear. “Hey,” she managed to squeak.

“I’m sorry.” He glanced around. “I meant, Hello, Ms. Bishop. Can I help you with that?”

She glanced stupidly down to her laptop case and books. Get it together, she ordered herself.
Please.
Olivia finally managed a smile. “No, I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah?” He ducked his head, but she could still see the smile on his face. God, she wanted to touch him.

“Did you bring everything?” Olivia asked. “For after class?”

“I did. Should we—?” He gestured toward the door, but Olivia’s gaze caught the movement behind him and focused there. Another student walked past, nodding a greeting at Olivia. But that wasn’t the sight that made her mouth fall open. “Oh, crap,” she breathed.

“Are you avoiding me?” Gwen called from forty feet away.

“No!” Olivia said, though not to Gwen. She was calling no to Jamie, who was swinging around to look behind him. “Don’t!”

But it was too late. Gwen’s eyes turned into perfect circles. Her mouth opened wide enough for a dental exam. She stumbled to a halt.

“Hey, Gwen,” Jamie said. “How are you doing?”

“Ohmigod,” Gwen gasped. Her gaze jerked to Jamie’s laptop, then his face, then back to Olivia. “Ohmigod.”

Jamie straightened, the awkwardness of the situation finally overcoming his natural friendliness. “Um…I’m going to go find my seat. I’m just taking a little refresher course….”

Gwen had finally managed to close her teeth, and now she just stood there grinning like the Cheshire cat, eyes still wide and crazed.

“Goodbye, Gwen. Ms. Bishop.”

The door closed silently behind him, leaving Olivia alone with Gwen.

“Ohmigod.”

“Gwen—”

“Please tell me he calls you Ms. Bishop while he licks you like a damn lollipop.”

“Gwen!” Olivia rushed over to grab her arm and tug her to the side of the hall. “Hush!”

“Holy shit, Olivia. He’s in your
class?
I can’t take this. I swear to God, it’s too perfect.”

Olivia was trying to maintain her stern expression. A tiny part of her did feel stern, after all. Unfortunately, the other parts felt like putting on a dance number in the hallway, complete with high kicks and glitter confetti. “You can’t tell anybody,” she said, her voice halfway between an order and a squeal.

Gwen actually hopped up and down, her hands clasped together. “I should’ve known something was up when you didn’t return my call yesterday. You did it, didn’t you? You did Jamie Donovan. Oh, my God, I can see it all over you.”

Olivia felt a brief flash of alarm that she’d missed something in the cleanup. “What?”

“You look…
loose.
Your hair is even bouncier. And are you wearing eyeliner? To class? Oh, you cheeky, cheeky monkey.”

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“I won’t! I swear. No matter how many details you give me, I won’t tell.”

Olivia’s tension gave out a little, and she leaned her back against the wall, letting it hold her up. “He’s… He’s… Oh, Gwen.”

Gwen clasped her hands together and tucked them under her chin, as if she were a kid waiting for a Christmas present.

“He’s… Oh, damn,” she groaned. “I can’t tell you anything. It feels too wrong. Like we’re football players bragging about some chick in the hallway.”

Her friend’s face fell. “Aw! Come on!”

“No, I’m sorry. And I have to go. Class starts in less than a minute.”

Gwen waved a dismissive hand. “Bah. Summer class. If you won’t give me details—yet—at least tell me this. Is he everything I’ve spent hours imagining he would be?”

“Gwen!”

“I’m serious. Have my fantasies been well spent? He can’t possibly be that cute and still be good in bed, can he? The universe wouldn’t give so much to one man.”

Olivia shook her head in happy exasperation and pushed away from the wall. “I’ve got to go.”

But Gwen’s last mournful groan got to her. And Olivia really didn’t want to keep every speck of information to herself. She was bubbling over with what she’d done. So before she walked away, she leaned in close to Gwen’s ear. “The universe gave him a lot. A whole hell of a lot. Shameful amounts, really.”

“No!” Gwen screamed, sending Olivia into peals of laughter as she rushed toward her class. She remembered to choke back her laughter before she opened the door, but apparently the doors weren’t soundproof. Everyone in the class was looking at her when she stepped in, and Jamie looked just the slightest bit nervous. Though he mostly looked highly amused as she stumbled to a halt and straightened her sweater.

His eyes burned through her as she descended, passing within inches of his body. “Is everyone ready?” she called out.

“I sure am,” said one voice over the murmurs of assent.

“All right.” Olivia took her place at the table and looked out over the rows of students. But in the end, she met Jamie’s eyes. “Let’s do this.”

S
HE’D NEVER ENDED
a class feeling aroused before, but there was a first time for everything. Jamie was just so very
there.
Right there, oozing charisma all over the room. Every time her eyes touched him, he made her feel aware. He was either watching her intently or typing his notes with a crooked smile on his face. Olivia was beginning to wonder if an hour and a half of blushing could cause fainting. She was certainly starting to feel light-headed.

Finally, thank God, class was over. She almost groaned when she spotted two different students leave their stuff at their desks and come forward to ask her questions. A terrible response for a teacher, so she shook it off and made a conscious effort not to hurry through the spreadsheets they needed help with.

Ten minutes later, she was done, and Jamie still sat patiently in his chair, looking too big for the small space the school expected him to fill.

He raised his eyebrows and she blushed again, smoothing down her skirt in an effort to dry her damp palms.

“Finally ready for me?” he asked.

For a split second, she imagined climbing on top of him right there. Hiking up her skirt and re-creating their hot tub encounter right in the classroom. Maybe he’d rip open her shirt, sending buttons flying so he could put his mouth to her again.

Olivia swallowed hard and closed her computer. “Yes, I’m ready.”

She led the way to her office, her whole back on fire with awareness of him following behind her. She’d never felt this way before. As if her nerves were too close to her skin. As if the merest stroke of a man’s finger down her arm could make her cry out. But not just any man…

When they came to her office, Jamie reached past her to open the door, and his arm slid against hers. She sucked in a hard breath at the feel of crisp hair and hot skin brushing over her arm.

“God, you smell good,” he whispered. As he pushed the door open his front pressed against her back.

She shivered hard, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But when she walked around her desk, she saw that his gaze dropped to her chest. Her nipples tightened further, and she knew they must be visible even under the layers of her shirt and sweater.

Jamie wasn’t smiling now.

She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she closed and locked the door. Was he tempted? Did he want her again? He couldn’t possibly need this as much as she did, but he wanted her, at least. She could see that.

But as changed as Olivia felt, she hadn’t turned into an entirely new person. She couldn’t have sex in her office. She just couldn’t. Anyway, they were here for her part of the obligation, not his. Jamie could get sex anywhere he wanted. What he needed from her was advice.

She put her computer on the floor to leave room on her desk, then gestured toward the cleared area. “Show me what you have.”

For a moment, he seemed startled.

“Your plans,” she clarified.

“Oh, right. The plans. Sorry, my mind was somewhere else.”

She tried hard not to be thrilled at that. He was a man. Of course he thought about sex a lot. Probably the same amount he’d thought about it before he’d met her.

Jamie ran a hand through his hair and started to sit down, before rising again to reach for the door. “Do you mind if I close this? I still feel…”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

Once the door was safely closed, he sat down and began pulling papers from his bag. Lots of papers. Some legal-size sheets, some scraps that looked suspiciously like Donovan Brothers Brewery napkins. She didn’t realize how nervous he was until he fumbled half the stack and it spread out over the floor. “Sorry. It’s just…” He picked up the last of his stray notes and set them down, pressing them flat. “I’ve never shown these to anyone.”

Olivia flashed briefly on her worries about her flat chest, then had to go perfectly still to stifle her inappropriate laughter. Once it had passed, she nodded. “I know how personal it can be. People think of businesses as dry, money-making institutions. But they can mean just as much as any other form of expression.”

“Yeah. I guess.” He kept his hands flat.

She tilted her head toward the papers, and he finally relented. “Okay. Let me just say this up front. I don’t want to create a whole new place. I want to work with what we’ve already built. It’s intimate. I speak to every person who comes through the door. I don’t want to build an addition that’ll hold fifty more tables. In fact, if we can sell it to my family as a concept that’ll fit with what we already have, I think that would go over better.”

“Okay.”

“So…”

“Jamie.” She touched his hand. “You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“I know.” He nodded one time, just a dip of his head, and then he slid the stack of papers forward.

“First, just tell me what you’re thinking.”

His hands looked lost now without something to hold on to. “I’m thinking…” After a pause, he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m thinking every brewpub I go to has a certain kind of menu. Fries and sandwiches. Heavy dishes that feature sauces made with ale. Ice cream made with stout.”

Olivia barely managed not to grimace.

“The menus are massive. Even if I wanted to do that, we don’t have the kitchen space for it.”

“Okay.”

“So I was thinking…pizza. But not delivery kind of pizza. Artisan pizza, like Italian pizza with fresh mozzarella, basil leaves, homemade sauce. And instead of making food with beer, we could offer a pairing suggestion for each choice. Something spicy would go great with a pilsner. Something with lots of meat would pair with the porter. Feta cheese is great with India Pale Ale.”

He stopped talking suddenly, as if he’d caught himself going too far. But Olivia didn’t know how to fill the silence. She was shocked and couldn’t think what to say.

“But that’s just one idea,” he said on a rush.

“No, I… Wow.”

His eyes fell. He stared at his open hands.

“I think it’s an amazing idea. Honestly. It’s unique but approachable and comfortable. I think your current customers will love it, and it’ll bring in new people looking for a place to have a meal with their beer.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, and when she nodded, it spread to a happy grin. “You like it?”

“I do. And not only is it a great concept, but you wouldn’t need a giant commercial kitchen to pull it off.”

“Exactly!” He started sorting frantically through the papers, so Olivia tucked her hands out of the way to avoid being swept up. “Here.” He pulled out a page that he seemed to have ripped from a restaurant supply catalog. There were four different pizza ovens listed.

“Do you have a commercial cooler?”

“We have a big refrigerator, but I think we’d need something larger. And probably a small freezer as well, though I’d want the ingredients served fresh.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair and smiled at him.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do, but this is really encouraging. From what you’d said before, I thought maybe you had a general idea that you’d like to serve food, but you were still in the daydream phase. This is a real vision. This is going to be easy.”

“It is?”

“Well, easy for me, but still lots of work for you.”

He laughed, but she thought she saw a moment of stark relief cross his face. This seemed unsteady ground for him, and it was strange to see such a confident man struck by such uncertainty. She didn’t quite understand it. He was a co-owner of the brewery. He ran the front room with amazing skill. But something about this idea threw him into a tailspin.

“So where do you want to start?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Where do you think we should start?”

“You’ve already got a concept, not to mention a location. So, next up…competitive comparisons, equipment costs, design ideas and renovation costs, menu development, a public affairs campaign, the timeline, personnel plans, a budget…” She stopped when she realized how pale he was. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. I think I have some of that stuff in there. Or at least parts of it?”