She fired up the computer screen and started with statistics about the restaurant business in the real word. Jamie relaxed. This was exactly the kind of class he’d been looking for. He had plenty of ideas, but he needed to understand the practicality of it.
It was just an added bonus that Olivia Bishop was going to be the one to teach him.
He typed notes into his computer and only occasionally took a break to let his gaze wander over her tight calves. She wore black flats, but he could just imagine those legs in spike heels and a short black dress. Did she ever dress that way? She’d worn dark slacks and a sleeveless sweater to the brewery. Tight black dresses probably weren’t her thing. But there was something about her that made him itch to find out.
And when she finally looked up at him, when her eyes finally found him and widened, Jamie felt a sharp stab of interest. When she stumbled over her words and lost her place in the lecture, the interest grew into something more solid. It wasn’t the first time he’d flustered her, after all.
Maybe Olivia Bishop wasn’t as cool and calm as she thought she was.
HAD THAT DARK BEER he’d fed her damaged her brain? How else could she explain the vision of Jamie Donovan sitting in her classroom?
It’s not so strange, Olivia tried to tell herself as she swallowed hard for the tenth time in a minute. He’s a partner in a brewery. Why wouldn’t he be here? But logic couldn’t make her mind stop skipping like a scratched CD. It didn’t help that he was smiling as if he knew how flustered she was.
She should’ve noticed his name on the enrollment sheet, but she’d gone over it two weeks ago, before the trip to the brewery. So here she was, facing him with no warning at all.
Olivia smoothed down her sweater. She clutched the delicate cotton of her favorite dress, then made herself let go before she creased it beyond repair. “Um, so… Yes, on to first-year failure rates. You hear a lot of numbers thrown about, but they mean nothing unless we…um, unless we take a closer look at the causes of failure.”
She finally got back on track and made it through the full ninety minutes with a few shreds of dignity intact. Whenever she’d accidentally looked in his direction, he was diligently typing on his laptop, apparently taking the class seriously. That helped her relax, but that relaxation disappeared in an instant when she dismissed the class and Jamie started down the stairs instead of up.
There was no kilt for her to peek up, thank God. Today he wore ancient-looking jeans and another T-shirt. This shirt offered a faded Road Runner racing across his chest.
“Well, 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.”