Bad Boys Do. Victoria Dahl

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.”

      Just like last time, he made her name sound like something naughty. She cleared her throat. “Are you taking the class for the brewery?”

      “Yes, just trying to brush up a little.”

      “And the first session? Was it useful?”

      “It was great. Honestly, I was worried I’d be wasting my time. That it would be too esoteric for my needs, but … You were really amazing.”

      That brought her head up. “I was?”

      “Yes. You’re in charge, yet you’re warm. You give the information without being dry.”

      “Thank you.”

      “And …” he leaned closer “… you’re by far the prettiest teacher I’ve ever had.”

      Olivia dropped the papers she’d been straightening and stepped back. “Mr. Donovan.”

      “Yes?”

      “This isn’t appropriate.”

      “I know.” His smile became a wicked endearment.

      Olivia pretended she didn’t feel the shiver work through her. That smile had nothing to do with her. He’d likely trotted it out ten times today already. It was a tool, though she wasn’t exactly sure what he meant to fix with it.

      “Flirtation is extremely inappropriate.”

      “Extremely? Come on now. You’re just barely my teacher. You’re not even giving me a grade, so I think ‘extremely inappropriate’ is a stretch. But if you’re interested in being in a position of power …”

      Olivia gasped and drew her chin in.

      “Go out with me.”

      “What? No! Didn’t you even hear what I said?”

      “Didn’t you hear what I said? Give me one good reason we shouldn’t go on a date.”

      “You’re …” She waved a hand toward his body. “You’re just barely legal. What are you, twenty-five?”

      “I’m twenty-nine. What about you? Thirty-one?”

      “Thirty-five,” she bit out, her teeth threatening to break under the pressure when he gave a low whistle.

      “Thirty-five, huh? I’d get a note from my dad, but he died a while ago. I think he’d be okay with it though.”

      Olivia heard a soft growl and realized it was coming from her own throat. “No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get to my next class.” That was an out-and-out lie, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

      He shrugged, his body still perfectly loose and relaxed.

      “Let me know if you change your mind. You know where I sit.”

      He’d done that on purpose. She could see the mischief in his eyes as he turned to walk up the stairs.

      Olivia had thought she was safe from the temptation to ogle since he wasn’t wearing the kilt, but his ass was on a perfect eye level as he ascended the stairs. And what a prize-winning ass it was. Round and tight and lovely.

      If only she were a little bit younger. Or a little less careful. But she wasn’t.

      She was just Olivia Bishop, but … she was learning to be happy with exactly that. She didn’t need to be someone different. And Olivia Bishop would never sleep with a young man in her class. Even if he did leave her body buzzing with excitement.

      “Not in a million years,” she murmured as the door closed behind him.

       CHAPTER THREE

      OLIVIA SPENT THE REST of her day doing the responsible things she expected of herself. She cleaned her tiny office and filed away all the papers and notes from the spring semester. She called her dentist and rescheduled an appointment that conflicted with her summer class. Then she walked across campus to the library, her arms full of books and bound reports. It was a beautiful day, so this was one responsibility she didn’t mind. She was smiling by the time she dropped off the books, and instead of heading toward the nonfiction area, Olivia browsed the recent bestseller rack and paged through the fiction. Book club or not, she’d like to do more casual reading.

      But her little bubble of relaxation was interrupted by the ding of her text message alert.

      Hi, sweetheart. Are you going to Rashid’s farewell party tonight?

      Sweetheart? Her ex-husband sure had a lot of nerve. He’d cheated on her. She’d divorced him. And he still thought he could manipulate her with his little hints and endearments.

      Yes, she typed, assuming he’d ask her to pass along some message. Victor always left town as soon as his last spring class finished. Olivia was actually enjoying the quiet sunshine of the campus in summertime now that she wasn’t obliged to travel with Victor.

      Her phone dinged again. Do you have the directions?

      Olivia dropped the book she was holding and stared at her phone as the loud thunk echoed through the room. What the hell did he mean by that? The only reason she’d said yes to this party was because she was sure Victor wouldn’t be there with one of his recent graduates on his arm.

      No, she typed, hitting Send as if she were pulling the trigger in a game of Russian roulette. She held her breath until the phone dinged softly again.

      No problem. I’ll call Rashid. See you there, O.

      That bastard. What right did he have to hang around when he was supposed to be gone? Had he stayed just for this? She didn’t think she was that important in his life, but he certainly seemed to relish any opportunity to strike up a conversation with her while his arm was draped around another woman.

      She wondered which one he’d bring this time. Allison? Or was there a new one? It didn’t matter. Olivia could barely tell them apart anymore.

      He’d been the one to cheat. She couldn’t understand why he was having so much trouble letting go. He’d lashed out as if it had been her fault. You’re no fun, he’d said. You’re boring! What did you expect? But the girls he dated now … they were like trips to the circus, apparently. Nonstop entertainment and wild-animal acts.

      Olivia closed the text window without replying. She picked up the book she’d dropped and left the library in a much different mood than when she’d entered. The walk across the campus now seemed an impossible distance.

      She didn’t want to go to the party if Victor was going. She could handle seeing him. She saw him four or five times a week at school, after all. But it wasn’t fair that she had to watch him parade his toys in front of her. She wasn’t even jealous anymore, she was just pissed as hell that he was so damn rude.

      But Olivia never lost her temper. She didn’t cause scenes. She didn’t do anything emotionally impulsive. She was boring, just as he’d said. No fun. And the nice thing about having a boring ex-wife was that she never caused any trouble.

      Screw him for taking advantage of that.

      Jaw clenched in anger, she stomped across the green expanse of the lawn and thought of the last faculty party. Victor had brought a beautiful young woman and flaunted her with false modesty. He was a showoff, and sometimes Olivia couldn’t believe she’d been married to him. What