Victoria Dahl - Bad Boys Do

“Stop,” she said, slapping his arm.

Jamie snagged her wrist and pulled her into him. “I’ve been waiting to do this.”

His arms curved around her, his mouth touched hers, and the world crashed into them. She parted her lips and his tongue slid in, and though it started warm and slow, she was soon pushed against the kitchen counter while Jamie’s tongue worked her mouth and his hands clutched her hips. She clutched him right back, loving the way he smelled and tasted and felt. For three nights, she’d fallen asleep with his voice winding around her. She’d been waiting for this.

They’d shared kisses before, but this was something different. His whole body was pressed to her. She shifted, and his hips nudged her, and lust turned inside her like a screw tightening.

Maybe he’d take her right here. Maybe he’d just set her up on the counter, and push her skirt up and her panties down. She’d never had it like that before, hot and desperate in the kitchen, cold granite against her back. She was wet already. So wet she could feel it.

Something buzzed loudly, and Olivia jerked back.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “Excuse me for just a moment.”

When he moved away, her nipples peaked at the sudden coolness he left behind. She felt like she was about to burst, but Jamie still moved easy and calm as he leaned over to pull another pan from the oven. “Baked omelette,” he explained, as he set it down. “I hope you don’t have anything against bacon.”

“No, I tried being a vegetarian a few years ago. I was embarrassingly unsuccessful.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“On the fourth day, I was so desperate for meat that I stopped at a convenience store on my way home from lunch and bought a taquito. I ate it at the cash register while I was still paying.”

“That’s pretty bad,” Jamie said. “And here I thought you were so straitlaced.”

She smiled even though her laces had been measured with a level. “I can get pretty crazy, I guess. Whatever you do, don’t get between me and a tray of taquitos.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Despite her intense hope, Jamie didn’t return to her. Apparently there’d be no sex on the counter. The man was determined to feed her. He moved to the fridge and pulled out a bowl, and Olivia’s eyes trailed down to his bare feet. Everything about him made her mouth water, even his feet. He looked young and adorable in his ancient jeans and T-shirt. When he reached back into the fridge, his shirt rose, and Olivia caught a glimpse of his tight back, the curve of his hip bone standing out in mouthwatering relief.

She was going to do this. She really was. She was going to see him naked. Touch him. Wrap herself around him. What a damn strange idea. She almost felt like she was watching herself in a movie, acting out a part.

“Olivia, can you grab this?”

This? She’d grab anything he wanted. But in the end it was just a bowl of cut fruit, and she sadly followed him through the kitchen and past the table toward the back door.

He was being very sweet, making an effort, but she didn’t really need any of this. Did he always go to this much trouble for a simple round of sex? No wonder he was so popular. Service with a smile.

Her eyes on his ass, it took her a moment to notice where he’d led her. He set a carton of orange juice and a bottle of champagne on a round table. “Mimosa?”

“You have to ask? Does anyone ever say no to that?”

He frowned, but she was too distracted by her surroundings to worry. “What a great place, Jamie.” They sat on a wide deck outfitted with the table and chairs and one lounge chair. That deck dropped one step down to a smaller area that included a Jacuzzi half-hidden behind a trellis. But the rest of the yard was the amazing part. A stone path wound through gardens and rock formations. At the very back of the long yard, a little waterfall fell in a perpetual tumble over a six-foot-tall rise of boulders. “It’s so beautiful. Peaceful.”

“Thank you.” He gestured for her to sit down, handed her a mimosa, then disappeared back inside. He’d already set the table, and she found herself smiling down at her plate and the silverware, laid out with perfect neatness on a folded paper towel. Her coffee cup read, “My other mug is a pint glass.”

“Do you want help?” she called.

“Nope.” He stepped out, balancing two baking dishes, some serving spoons and one coffeepot. “If there’s one thing I can do, it’s serve a table.”

He stuck the spoons smack into the middle of each dish, which reminded Olivia of the folded paper towels. His attention to detail didn’t reach Martha Stewart levels. He was kind of adorable. Again.

She served herself some eggs and some coffee cake, and the combined smells were heavenly. Her stomach rumbled, but as she reached for her fork, Jamie reached for the champagne. She made herself wait politely while he poured champagne, and then the orange juice. Then he raised his glass. “To fun,” he said.

“And new things,” she added.

Five minutes later, Olivia was embarrassed to realize she’d already cleaned her plate. And emptied her glass. “Oh, my God, that was amazing.”

“Have more,” he said, already tilting the bottle. Golden liquid bubbled and sloshed. Olivia giggled and wondered if she was tipsy. Then she stole another dollop of cake.

“So did you always want to be a teacher?” he asked as he took another huge serving of bacon omelette.

“No, not really.”

“You just fell into it?”

“Yes.” She’d fallen into it, all right. Helped by the steady push of her husband’s hand. She tried not to sigh. “But it’s a subject I love. My parents were investors and entrepreneurs. There’s a lot of specialized knowledge that goes into the business side of food service. Stuff a restaurateur wouldn’t necessarily know. I like helping with that.”

He stared intently at her. “Yeah?”

“It’s a tough field. Starting a restaurant is risky and stressful and time-consuming. I like the idea of helping people with it.” In fact, she’d meant to become a consultant, not a teacher. She opened her mouth to say that, but then let the words fade away, unable to form them in a way that didn’t sound pitiful. She’d fallen in love with Victor. He’d wanted her time and energy invested in his career. And so that’s what she’d done. She’d taken a low-paying job at the university, because his career was important. Of course it was. Who could’ve argued with that?

Jamie stared at her, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to puzzle something out. Olivia wanted to shrink down and protest that she’d done what she’d thought best at the time. Yes, she’d been an idiotic twenty-three-year-old, marrying a man who’d played her perfectly, but she’d meant well. He’d been recently tenured, after all. He’d had a career to build.

“It’s not a bad job,” she said quietly.

“I have an idea.” He didn’t sound disapproving. He sounded … excited?

Olivia had trouble adjusting to this unexpected turn. “What kind of idea?”

“Maybe we could help each other.”

She cocked her head in question.

“You want to learn how to have fun….”

“Yes …?”

He smiled, but it didn’t hold quite his normal level of confidence. “And I want to learn how to turn the tasting room into a real brewpub.”

His plan wasn’t exactly a shock. She’d assumed he was heading in that direction. But it was a shock to hear him present their problems as an equal exchange. Was he proposing that she work for him in exchange for sex?

“Jamie, I … I don’t know.”

“What do we have to lose?”

“If I’m going to be working with your family, I’m not sure it would be appropriate to—”