Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“Oh, right! I’m so sorry. Every time a new group of students walks in, my memory for names sinks another notch. You came from Chicago, didn’t you? How are you liking it here?”

“I love it. The winter was great. And, hey, no humidity.”

Olivia smiled and ordered herself not to glance toward the stairs. She wanted to get up to Gwen’s office so she could talk about Jamie. She was bubbling over with him. She needed to—

“So, this is probably a bad idea since you didn’t remember me, but…would you like to grab coffee sometime? Or lunch?”

“I… What?”

“Coffee?” he repeated, his eyebrows rising. “Lunch? Maybe not?”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help but smile at his self-deprecating grimace. “Oh, I…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll try again another time.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m not very good at this whole…thing.”

“Are there people who are good at it?” he asked.

She thought immediately of Jamie, though she wasn’t sure if she should be thinking of Jamie or not. They weren’t dating really, they were just…having fun. It was temporary. They’d both been clear on that. Jamie was young, wild and, most important, he was free. This relationship would end in a week or two, and he’d move on. She’d

have to move on, too.

And yet…

Olivia swallowed, trying to clear the dryness from her throat. “Honestly,” she said carefully, “coffee might be nice. But I can’t right now. Maybe another time?”

“Okay. I can live with that. I’ll ask you again. Consider that a warning.”

“I will.”

“Nice to see you again, Olivia.” He offered a friendly wink before he walked down the hall.

Paul was cute. Educated. And very solidly in his thirties. He was the kind of guy she would date if she was serious. But in this arena, being serious seemed much scarier than being fun.

She’d think about it later if he asked her out again. But right now her hands were full with Jamie.

Snickering at the unintentional pun, she hurried up the stairs to Gwen’s office.

Gwen was standing in her doorway. “Holy crap, look at you,” she said, then gave an old-fashioned wolf whistle.

Olivia glanced down at her shoes. “I know. I saw them in the closet, and—”

“Not the shoes, though those are hot. I mean the whole thing. The shoes. The extra button you left open on your sweater. The take-me look in your eyes.”

“Gwen!” she gasped, nudging her into the office.

“It’s true. That man must be just as miraculous as he looks. Did you make him wear the kilt?”

“I did not.”

“Well, you should. And videotape the whole thing.”

Olivia shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She tried to hold back her laughter and failed. “You’re bad.”

“Yes. And horribly, painfully jealous. I wish I was walking around with that look on my face.”

“Do I really look different? Because a man just asked me out in the atrium.”