Bad Boys Do (12 page)

This was going on her permanent record. This would come up when the department assigned classes in the fall. Her hand shook as she scrawled her name on the line.

Lewis wouldn’t tell her who’d passed on this bit of nastiness, but Olivia didn’t need a name. She knew exactly who’d done it, and she rushed outside to stalk to his building.

The Department of Economics was in a beautiful, traditional building with high ceilings and tall windows. Olivia rushed in as if she were storming a castle. She hadn’t set foot in here for months, but she’d spent years walking up and down these stairs: meeting Victor for lunch when he’d asked her. Bringing him books he’d left at home. Rushing over a nicer shirt when he was called to talk to the dean. Speaking of instructors being used like assistants…

Olivia breezed past the department receptionist as the woman sputtered out an objection. Victor’s door was closed, so she gave it a perfunctory bang before opening it. She half expected to find him humping a student on the desk, but the desk was empty. The whole office was empty.

“Mrs. Bishop!” the receptionist called as she jogged up.

“It’s
Ms.
Bishop.”

“Mr. Bishop isn’t here today. He hasn’t been here all week.”

“Is he in town?”

“I don’t know, but you can’t just barge in here and—”

Olivia brushed past her, pulling out her cell phone as she walked. Her call went immediately to his voice mail, which could mean anything. One, he was on vacation with his twenty-three-year-old girlfriend. Two, he was at the racquetball court. Three, he was golfing with some important bigwigs from the university. Or four, he no longer had Olivia around to remind him to charge his phone.

Humiliated, mortified and violently enraged, Olivia knew there was no point in sitting down at her desk and trying to work. Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest.

How dare he? After everything he’d put her through, how dare Victor throw her to the dogs with such casual viciousness? She wasn’t protected by her career, as he was. She didn’t even have a contract, much less tenure. Given any doubt at all, the most prudent thing for the college to do would be to simply send her on her way.

By the time she gathered up her things and headed for her car, Olivia was near tears. If Victor made her cry at work, she’d ruin him. She’d destroy his world. And she could, which was why his pettiness was so shocking.

Luckily for Victor, she managed to hold her tears back until she got to the car, and by then the heat of her fury had burned out any desire to cry. The drive to Victor’s house—
their
house—passed in a blur. She pulled into the driveway, satisfied to hear her tires squeal against the cement. That had only happened one other time.

Smiling bitterly, she threw her car into Park and descended upon his door like the angel of death. That was what she felt like, at any rate. She probably looked more like a mildly irritated college instructor in a dress and heels. The sound of the doorbell echoed through her pounding head.

When there was no answer, Olivia was sure he was gone. He’d put in one little phone call that could ruin her life, and then he’d blithely hopped on a plane to Hawaii. That arrogant, selfish, no-good… Olivia jabbed the doorbell over and over again, as if that could defuse her fury.

“Hold on, damn it!” a male voice called from inside.

Olivia froze, her finger poised above the doorbell.

The door whooshed open. “What the hell do—?” When Victor saw her, his words died.

Olivia automatically took a step back at the sight of Victor wearing nothing but a towel. His short brown hair dripped water down his temples. “Oh,” she breathed.

“Olivia?” he gasped. “What’s going on?”

She gathered up her outrage like a slipping shawl. “I need to speak to you.”

“Right now?”

“Yes,
right now.
”

“Okay, fine. Come in. Is it all right if I put on some pants, or would you prefer me like this?”

She waved him away and stepped into the living room alone, aware of the horrid irony of being invited into her own home. She’d decorated this room, and every other room in the house. Now it felt strange to stand here with her arms crossed as if she were afraid to accidentally break something. And yet…there was no sadness. She might have decorated this house, but she’d done it according to Victor’s desires, not hers. It had needed to be a home where he could host parties and serious dinners. The rooms were designed to impress, not for comfort.

She heard Victor’s footsteps above her, and felt another wave of strange nostalgia. She’d lived in this house for so many years, and she knew all the sounds and quirks of it. But now she just wanted to leave.

Olivia crossed her arms tighter and felt a headache crawl up her neck and tighten around her skull. When she heard Victor’s step on the stairway, she turned to face him.

He’d put on pants and a shirt, but he’d left the shirt unbuttoned. Was he taunting her? Trying to tempt her? Granted, she’d told him often enough that he had a nice chest, and she’d meant it, but her definition of “nice” had changed in the face of Jamie’s body.

He dragged the towel across his hair one last time, then slung it over his shoulder. “What can I do for you, Olivia?”

“I can’t believe you,” she snarled.

“What?” His eyebrows floated high in innocence.

“Did you call my department chair?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To get me fired!”

Victor shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

What a damn liar. “Somebody called my department chair and told him I was sleeping with a student. Now, who do you think that could have been?”

“It wasn’t me. Why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you weren’t pissed about Jamie.”

Victor smirked. “I wouldn’t say I was ‘pissed,’ as you so delicately put it.”

Another lie. She’d seen the outrage in his eyes. “Really, Victor? How would you describe your feelings, then?”

“You really want to know? Fine. I think it’s embarrassing. A thirty-five-year-old woman hooking up with some stud muffin in his twenties. It looks desperate, and I feel sorry for you.”

Olivia took a horrified step back. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me.
You,
of all people.”

“I’m the only one who’ll tell you the truth, because I love you.”

She felt her mouth fall open, but she couldn’t make any words come out.

“You know I still love you. So why are you doing this?”

“You’re insane,” she finally managed to get out. “Completely certifiable. I should turn you in to
your
department chair.”

“I didn’t turn you in! Christ, you know I wouldn’t do that. I’d be the first one you’d suspect, and I can’t risk making you angry.”

“You’re damn right you can’t,” she snapped. “And how dare you call me an embarrassment. You chase after girls half your age like you’re trying to relive your youth.”

“I’ve never chased after any of them,” he countered. “Not even you.”

Olivia dug her nails into her arms and didn’t let him see anything but scorn on her face. He was right. He hadn’t chased after her. He’d
groomed
her. He’d turned her into the one willing to risk everything to have him.

She raised her chin. “Maybe someday you should consider taking on a challenge.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

Actually, it kind of was, but not in the way he thought. “I didn’t come here to rehash our problems. I just want to know why you did it.”

“I didn’t tell anyone your little secret, Olivia.”

“Then who did?”

Victor threw up his hands, spreading his shirt wide. “How should I know?”

“No one came to you about it?”

“Plenty of people wanted to talk to me about it after the party, so thank you for that.”

Olivia thought she felt a twinge of guilt, but it turned out to be the thrill of petty victory. “I’m pretty clear on how that feels, so I hope you’re not trying to make me feel bad.”

“There’s a big difference, you know. I never wanted this.”

“Victor—”

“I never wanted this and I still don’t.”

She wished she hadn’t come over here now. “Victor, you’re already on your second girlfriend. Give up the martyr act.”

“One mistake, damn it. You—”

“No,” Olivia said, turning her back on him to head for the door. “I’m not doing this. Goodbye. But if I find out that you were the one who called Lewis, so help me God, I’ll tell the dean everything I know.” She yanked open the door and stepped out, slamming it behind her.

He pulled it open again. “Olivia—”

“And charge your damn phone!”

Backing out, she left him standing there on the top step, his frown fierce as he watched her pull away. He’d dropped the whole “I didn’t want the divorce” crap a long time ago, so why was he resurrecting it now? It was sad, she supposed, wanting to have your cake and eat it, too, but she thought he’d moved on months ago.

Still, the state of Victor’s heart was no longer her problem. She had real problems to figure out. Such as who’d turned her in. Victor had been right about that one small thing. He wouldn’t have done it, not if he was in his right mind.

None of his coworkers knew the specifics behind the divorce: that he’d been sleeping with his teaching assistant. That Olivia had found out when she’d caught an early flight home from a trip to attend her grandfather’s funeral.

She’d agreed to keep the truth quiet, her last concession to Victor’s career. Still, she’d been shocked at how carefully he’d constructed his deception. That was when she’d realized how good he’d been at lying. As far as his colleagues knew, Olivia and Victor had broken up by mutual, civil agreement. Just a sad split of two people.

But if she told the truth, Victor’s reputation would be tarnished. He wouldn’t lose his position, but he’d no longer be the golden boy on a straight path to department chair. And there had been other women. Allison, for example, had once been in Victor’s class. Olivia was sure it must have started then, as it had with Olivia so long before.

By God, she’d been an idiot, thinking she was the only one. That she’d been special. The truth was that certain men liked the worship of young women. They liked to be the wise mentor, the sexual teacher, the position of authority. And some girls liked that arrangement, too, or once had, long before.

Olivia shook off the memories. That wasn’t her anymore, and hadn’t been for a long while.

So, if Victor hadn’t turned her in, then who? Who else knew? As far as Olivia could figure, Gwen was the only other person who knew both that Jamie was in the class and that Olivia was dating him. But it couldn’t be her. No way. So maybe it was circumstantial. Maybe a fellow student had seen them out and been concerned about favoritism. But why? This wasn’t a credit course. There wouldn’t even be a grade assigned.

Maybe, in the end, Victor was the one who’d called, and he’d simply counted on his ability to lie his way out of any confrontation with her.

When she pulled into her garage, Olivia’s mind was as muddled as it had been when she’d stepped out of Lewis’s office. She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. And she only knew one way to stop her mind from working, so she changed into her running clothes and set out for the trail.

“I
DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS
right now,” Jamie muttered. “I have a bar to run.” He hefted up the tray of clean glasses and headed for the swinging door, but Luke followed him all the way to the bar, wearing his official serious cop expression.

“There are only two people here. I think you can handle multitasking for a moment.”

“I’ve already told you everything that happened with Monica. There’s nothing else to tell.”

“I’m not asking you for information. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

Jamie tried to roll the tension from his shoulders. “What kind of heads-up?”

“She did it before.”

“Jesus, do I have to drag it out of you? She did
what
before?”

“Monica slept with a man so her brother would have a chance to break into a business.”

Jamie felt his hand tighten too hard around the glass he was holding, so he set it down before he cracked the damn thing. His stomach rolled, but he very calmly grabbed a towel and began polishing the bar. “Did she tell you that?”

“She hasn’t admitted to it, but we don’t need her to. It happened. She slept with the owner of a construction company after a Christmas party at his office. Five hundred social security numbers were stolen from his office the same night.”

Jamie polished harder. “Are you surprised?”

“I’m not. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t blind-sided by it if it comes out. We’re using the information to pressure her to set her brother up. We’ve warned her if she doesn’t cooperate the information could leak.”

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Luke laughed. “We finally untangled that mess of a so-called charity operation. Graham raised $435,000 with his last golf tournament. He donated exactly $12,275 to the cancer charity that was supposed to be the focus of the tournament. And that’s just a drop in the bucket compared to all the people he screwed over with his identity theft scam. She was part of that.”

“Yeah.” Jamie finally gave up on the bar and carefully folded the towel into a perfect square. “Was she getting a cut?”

“That’s the thing…. I don’t think so. I think it was the thrill for her. The rebellion. That family is screwed up.”

The thrill. Right. The
thrill.
Of deception. Of seduction. Of sex. Of power.

Jamie would’ve hated her if it had been worth it. Instead, he just hated himself a little more. “Well, thanks for the notification, but I’m fine.”

“You’ll tell Eric?”

“Sure.” That would be a fun conversation.
Hey, remember that woman I had sex with who was only using me to get the alarm code? Good news. I’m not the only idiot who fell for it!
That would go a long way toward regaining his brother’s trust.

“So, listen,” Luke said. “About Tessa. And the house…”

“It’s cool,” Jamie said.

“I know you guys gave Tessa the house, but she doesn’t think of it that way. She still thinks of it as the family home. I love her. I want to be with her. But I don’t want to do something that will make her unhappy.”

“Then don’t make her unhappy.”

“Jamie. You know what I mean. If you’re pissed about me moving in, she’ll be tortured about it.”

Jamie was having trouble holding on to his distrust of Luke, and shit like this didn’t help. “I’m willing to give you a chance, all right? I’ll tell Tessa that, too, if it’ll make her feel better. I’m happy for you.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. But I’m happy for her.”

Luke smiled. “Fair enough. I’ll see you at Sunday dinner then.”

“I can’t go.” He held up a hand to stop Luke’s protest. “It’s nothing to do with you. I have plans.”

“I’ll let Tessa know.”

“Thanks.”

Jamie was vaguely aware of the sounds that filtered from the back. He heard Tessa’s squeal when she saw Luke. Conversation followed, then the alarm beeped as the back door opened. Tessa was gone for the day. Soon enough, Eric popped his head into the front room.

“I’m on my way out. You’ve got everything under control?”

It was Eric’s standard line, but it made Jamie’s hackles rise. “Don’t I always?”

“You want a serious answer to that question?”

“Fuck off,” Jamie muttered, hoping it was loud enough for Eric to hear without catching any customers’ attention.

Eric stepped all the way in and crossed his arms. Apparently he’d heard it just fine. “Something going on that you want to talk about?”

“Nothing much. Did you see Luke?”

“He waved on his way out.”

Jamie rubbed a hand over his tight neck. “He had some news. They’re putting pressure on Monica Kendall to force her to help bring her brother in.”

“Perfect. What kind of pressure?”

“Evidently she’s acted as a diversion for him before.” Jamie busied himself with tweaking the pressure on one of the kegs, but when his brother didn’t answer, Jamie looked up.

Eric’s mouth had taken on a familiar flatness. “A diversion, huh? Wow. You can really pick ’em.”

Jamie’s stomach clenched. “I didn’t pick her, obviously. She picked me.”

“Yeah, well…I think you’re what’s referred to as an easy mark.”

“She did it on purpose. She came here, had a beer and asked me to drive her home. None of that had anything to do with my personality or my past.”

“You really believe that?” Eric asked. “That it wasn’t your fault? How do you think I would’ve responded if she’d come on to me?”

“Like an arrogant, self-righteous monk?”

Eric’s hands fisted. “I would’ve responded like a goddamn adult,” he growled.

Fury rolled through Jamie like fire, setting every muscle aflame with the need to lash out. But he only clenched his jaw. “I did respond like an adult,” he ground out.

“You acted like a mindless teenage boy, just like you always do.”

“You’re the one who’s in my bar right now, trying to start shit in front of the customers. Good job being the adult in the family.”

Eric let his head fall back. He took a deep breath and glared at the ceiling for five seconds. “I’m sorry. It just sets me off when you seem unconcerned with what you did.”

“I don’t need you telling me what I should feel, Eric. And I don’t need to prove
shit
to you, all right?” He caught the movement of someone approaching the bar and shot his brother a glare. “Now, get the hell out. I’m working.”

“Jamie—” Eric started, but Jamie was already turning away, offering a smile for the grandmotherly woman approaching.

“Jamie.” Eric tried again, but Jamie kept his focus on the customer.

“Are you ready to try the stout now, Maggie?”

“Oh, you,” she giggled. “No, we just need some more pretzels.”

Eric finally turned and left. A minute later, Jamie heard the beep of the back door and rolled his neck, trying to let the tension go.

Maybe his plan for this place was ridiculous. Eric was never going to give him a chance. He’d never listen to Jamie’s ideas. And in the end, Jamie was beginning to think he’d have to make some very different plans. He couldn’t live like this for the rest of his life, like some kid under his big brother’s thumb.

He’d give this brewery expansion idea a good try. He really would. He’d pour his heart into it. And then, if Eric chose to stomp all over Jamie’s plans, Jamie would make new ones, and they’d have nothing to do with the other Donovans.