Victoria Dahl – Bad Boys Do (страница 10)
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Well, it is. And I have to go. I’m late for my run.” Really late, actually. Not only had she overslept, but she hadn’t thought once about running until that moment. That was a first. She’d even gone for her run right on time the morning after she’d found out her husband was cheating.
“This isn’t the end of this!” Gwen called as Olivia’s thumb hovered over the end call button. “Not by far!”
Olivia stuck out her tongue and hung up.
As late as it was, she didn’t immediately rise to change into her running gear. For a moment, she simply sat and savored this feeling. This strange new feeling of having a close female friend. It was almost as exhilarating as kissing Jamie, though the happiness confined itself to less interesting parts of her body. It was really …
And maybe she would’ve seen the truth about him before she’d wasted so many years.
Regret tried to rear its ugly head, but she slapped it down. She’d spent a year wallowing, and she was done. This year was going to be
She was teaching two classes this summer to bring in a little money, but both were light on prep and time commitment. She’d taught both before and they were non-credit classes. Even the group of students she’d agreed to mentor this summer were pretty self-sufficient, so aside from office hours and class time, she was free to do as she pleased. But what did she please?
As she brushed her teeth and pulled on shorts and a top, Olivia considered the day’s options. Class only lasted until two. Afterward, she could go through the unpacked boxes still lurking at the back of her bedroom closet. Or she could go through the financial planning package she’d been meaning to review. But neither of those sounded like the actions of a woman jumping into life. Neither sounded like a day for the kind of woman who’d take a younger man to a work party and then make out with him among the kitchen staff.
Smirking as she tied her shoes, Olivia made her decision. Today she’d drive to Denver. She’d have dinner downtown by herself. She’d have a glass of wine with her meal. Or two glasses. And then she’d go to the art museum and take as many hours as she wanted to stroll through the galleries.
In addition to being fun, irresponsible and exactly what she needed, this trip would distract her from thoughts of Jamie. She’d had a great time with him, but she hadn’t been fair. She’d used him, and he wasn’t going to call her again. That was fine. She had a whole life to build. And now that she knew she had chemistry … Well, that opened up a whole world of possibilities, didn’t it?
But four hours later, her little pep talk had worn off and she was standing in front of him in the classroom, feeling as awkward as she’d expected. Jamie just smiled down at her.
She gave him one subtle nod and then tried not to look at him again as she began her lecture on start-up costs, financing and insurance. Dry stuff, certainly, and it likely didn’t apply to his plans, but he seemed to be taking detailed notes, if his flying fingers were any guide. Or else he was deeply involved in an online conversation. Hard to tell these days.
By the time she’d taken the last questions from the class and sent the students on their way, she wasn’t the least bit surprised when Jamie started down the stairs instead of up. But her heart still tumbled as if she’d just received the shock of her life. Ridiculous.
He set an apple on the corner of the table. “Good afternoon, Ms. Bishop. You look pretty today.”
Her face felt tight with self-consciousness. She’d thought of him when she’d chosen this dress. It was red. Too red for class, but the tiny white daisies gave her the excuse that it was perfect for summer. And she loved the way the fabric gathered along the bodice to make it look as if she had nearly average-size breasts. The padded bra helped too, but Jamie would never get her clothes off to prove any different.
“Do you want to get some lunch?”
She looked up sharply, tearing her eyes away from his ridiculous little gift. “It’s two o’clock.”
“All right. Do you want to get some coffee? A beer? Ice cream?”
“It was wrong of me to drag you into that situation. I do thank you for going, and I appreciate your not holding it against me. But … this isn’t a good idea.”
“That sounds like an awfully solemn declaration over an innocent little ice cream cone.”
The man made “innocent little ice cream cone” into a filthy promise. His green eyes danced.
She wanted to shrink into herself, so Olivia set her shoulders back and made herself stand taller. But her gaze still fell to rest on the apple. “That’s because it doesn’t feel innocent. Not to me.”
He shifted and her eyes rose, and now his face didn’t look amused at all. “Doesn’t that make it important then?”
It did. Too important. But she’d be damned if she’d say that. “I’m not an eighteen-year-old girl out spreading her wings. I need to be reasonable.”
“I’d say you’ve got more than enough reasonable. You said you wanted to be fun.”
“I do, but—”
“Try it, then.” She had no idea how his gaze could get any warmer, but it did. “I can make anything fun, Olivia … even you.”
Excitement leapt through her. She should’ve felt insulted, but she only felt the anticipation. The possibility. “You’re just a kid. You don’t understand—”
“I’m nothing like a kid,” he said, his voice suddenly low and quiet. And she knew he was right. She knew it. But there was something so bright and pure about him. Something that said he still enjoyed being in the world, unlike the rest of the miserable population just making their way through. That was what drew women like moths. It was certainly drawing her.
Olivia crossed her arms and looked to the side, sweeping her gaze over the empty chairs, the dark carpet, the sickly gray of the walls that glowed under fluorescent lights. This place was the biggest part of her life and the thing was … she’d never even wanted it. How sad was that?
“Coffee,” she said.
He raised one eyebrow. “Coffee? All right. Coffee’s pretty fun, but …”
“Just coffee. I have plans later.”
He conceded with a gracious wink. He didn’t even complain when she told him she’d meet him at the café. In fact, his smile implied that he knew exactly why she’d said it. Not because she was going to drive straight to the Denver art museum afterward, but because she was afraid of what would happen if he drove her home again.
In the end, she had a surprisingly nice time. Jamie was easier to talk to than she’d expected. Oh, sure, talking to strangers was part of his job, but when they dared to step into political waters, he was thoughtful and informed. And he made her laugh. They sat on a shady patio. Olivia had a skinny latte. Jamie had an iced caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream.
When he walked her to her car, she felt as nervous as a teenage girl. With good reason, because when she opened her car door, she was caught between the door frame and the car, and Jamie leaned close.
“Can I call you?” he asked.
“Jamie …” She couldn’t keep this up, but she couldn’t resist forever.
“Just say yes,” he whispered. And then he kissed her, and her mouth was too busy to say anything at all.
HE’D LEFT HER WITH A KISS. One damn kiss and nothing more. But even that made him smile. He’d never tell Olivia this in a million years, but dating her definitely felt more … grown-up than he was used to. Less like a hookup and more like time with an interesting woman. Not that he wouldn’t hook the hell out of her given the opportunity. That one kiss had left him hard as a rock. Granted, it had been a long, deep, wet kiss.
“Hell, yeah,” he murmured as he pulled into the brewery parking lot. He walked around the whole building before going in, to be sure all the doors and windows were secure and the sidewalks were clean, but when he walked through the front door, he was still lost in thoughts of Olivia.
“Where the hell have you been?” his brother, Eric, asked before Jamie’s foot was even across the threshold.
All the pleasant warmth suffusing Jamie’s muscles snapped to ice. “I told you I’d be in later on Thursdays from now on.”
“You said you’d be in at four. It’s almost 4:30.”
Jamie felt his blood swell. Heat rose to his skin. He wanted to snap back. He wanted to yell that he’d put in sixty-two hours last week and he’d fucking come in thirty minutes late if he felt like it. There wasn’t even one customer in the front room, for God’s sake.
But he couldn’t say that, because the last thing he wanted was for Eric to start asking questions about where Jamie had been, or why he’d suddenly decided to take Tuesdays off instead of Mondays, or why he needed to come in late on Thursdays. So Jamie used all his strength to hold those words in and simply muttered, “Sorry.”
Eric looked surprised. Maybe he’d been angling for a fight. But he gave in gracefully and said, “All right. Sorry I snapped at you.”