Bad Boys Do. Victoria Dahl
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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