Bad Boys Do

“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.”