The Guy Next Door (23 page)

He looked more than a little confused as she turned and rushed for the corridor. She wanted to reassure him, but she was panicking. Just a little. She told herself there was no reason. They’d arranged to have a glass of wine, not a make-out session. But she was shaking as she rushed past the crowd at the elevators.

She’d done it. Maybe. Certainly, there now existed the possibility of sex with Jamie Donovan.

Wow.

The tax seminar was in the same room her earlier session had been in, so Beth had no trouble finding it, even in her ridiculous state. She burst in, startling the four people who’d already taken their seats.

And when Beth found a seat for herself, she clenched her hands in her lap and looked down to see that she was still holding the fork in one white-knuckled fist. There was no pretending to be the smooth, cool sex-store manager now. He’d gotten a glimpse of the real Beth. He might not even show up for that glass of wine.

Right,
she told herself. No need to get too excited. He might not show. And if he did, that didn’t mean they were going to have sex. And even if they did have sex, there was no guarantee it would be great. Probably it would be just like the other disastrous times she’d tried to expand her sexual horizons.

Beth took a deep breath, filling every single cell of her lungs. Then she let it slowly out, willing all the
anxiety from her muscles. Annabelle always said that a woman determined the course of her life with her expectations. If Beth expected disastrous sex, she’d get it in spades. So tonight, she’d expect good things. Great things. Lovely, sexy-bartender things.

She raised the fork to her mouth and licked the last of the sticky caramel from the tines. And Beth thought she just might be tasting heaven.

T
HE LINE OF FERMENTATION
tanks gleamed behind the glass wall like works of art. Despite his nervousness, Eric spared the vats an affectionate glance as he walked through the utilitarian kitchen. Given a choice, he’d rather be the brewmaster than the business manager, but somebody had to take care of the business.

His sister, Tessa, was great at the accounting side of things and the paperwork involved with human resources. Jamie took care of the front room and most of the duties that called for time with the public. That left Eric with supervising…everything else.

At least he’d resisted the countless suggestions that they turn the brewery into a restaurant and take on all the extra work that would entail. He wanted nothing to do with that side of the business. Donovan Brothers was a true artisan brewery, focused solely on their product. They brewed in small batches and then bottled and kegged for distribution to restaurants, grocery stores, bars and liquor stores. The front was a tasting room, and the only food they served was pretzels and peanuts. Still, they needed a kitchen to prep for catered parties.

Eric dropped off a box of glasses next to the dishwashing station and headed for the front. He didn’t bother pausing to take a deep breath before he pushed
open the swinging door. He’d learned from long experience that it would do nothing to temper his irritation with Jamie.

Unsurprisingly, Jamie was delivering a round of beers to a table of attractive women. Also unsurprisingly, the women were laughing and chatting him up while they checked out his legs. Jamie usually wore a kilt while working, claiming that it honored their Scots-Irish heritage. But more likely than not, it was solely about the attention it drew.

Eric shook his head and checked the sales on the register. They were good even for a Friday night. It was spring break at the university, but the exodus had little effect on sales at the brewery. They’d designed the tasting room as an alternative to the other bars in town. It was quiet and comfortable. Celtic rock played over the speakers, and they hosted the occasional band. But the tasting room closed at eight, nine on the weekends, so they didn’t draw much of a party crowd. Their customers were grown-ups who just wanted to grab a beer with friends or play a round of pool before heading home.

And strangely enough, more than half their customers were women, not quite the norm for a brewery. Strange, yes, but no mystery.

The women at the table all burst into laughter at something Jamie said, and they made friendly protests when he started back toward the bar with a wave.

Jamie might be irresponsible and laissez-faire, but he was damn good at making the tasting room a place people wanted to be. That was a skill Eric would never acquire.

“Hey,” Jamie said as he came around the bar. “How’d it go today?”

He didn’t hesitate over the lie. “Nothing unusual. But that bastard Kendall is still leading me on. Maybe dinner tomorrow. Maybe not.”

Jamie grunted in answer and began washing pint glasses.

“And you?” Eric asked. “Any luck getting in touch with your friend?”

Jamie didn’t look at him. “No. But I talked to his roommate. Apparently Anthony was invited along on a spring-break trip to Cancun and decided he couldn’t resist.”

“Shit,” Eric snapped, grabbing a towel off Jamie’s shoulder to wipe down the bar. Not that it needed wiping down. Jamie was meticulous about that, at least.

“Unfortunately, my backup bartender is out of town, too. But Tessa is going to try to help tomorrow, so I can—”

“No. She’s been busy enough with tax season. Let her do her job.”

Jamie grabbed the towel back and dried his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. Shit happens, man.”

Eric met his brother’s eyes. Jamie’s green eyes looked nothing like Eric’s. That reminder was enough to make Eric look away, out over the tables of happy customers. It also threw cold water on his anger. “Yeah. It’s all right. We’ll deal with it.”

“I’d still like to come to the dinner. Maybe I can get away.”

Eric shook his head. “I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea. He’s not going to like you.”

“Everyone likes me,” Jamie said with a smile.

“God, you’re obnoxious. Which is exactly why this guy won’t like you. He wants to be the center of
attention. He won’t appreciate it when the waitress flirts with you and not him.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t see. You hold down the fort. I’ll take care of the distribution.”

For a moment, Jamie looked as if he might protest. His mouth tightened, his eyes narrowed. Eric was curious what he was about to say, but then Jamie just ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Did Henry work out?”

“Yeah, he was great.”

“I’ll take over the dish-washing while he’s working with you then.”

“Thank you. That’d be great.” A customer raised a hand at the far end of the bar, so Eric slapped Jamie on the back. “I’ll be in my office for a few minutes before I head out again. Are you okay here? You need a break?”

“I’m good.”

Eric was relieved he wouldn’t have to stand in at the tap. He’d had his share of socializing for the day, aside from one very specific person he wanted to see. He told himself he’d chosen the wine bar because it was quiet and they wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds at the hotel. The real reason was that it was quiet and they wouldn’t be
seen
by the crowds at the hotel.

And if he was really going to use Jamie’s name to pursue an unwise affair, the fewer people around, the better.

But was he truly going to do it? At this point, it would be more than awkward to correct her. But it would be irresponsible not to, and Eric was always responsible.

He was also always boring, serious and stressed out.
Jamie, on the other hand, seemed to have found the secret to eternal satisfaction: do what feels good.

Eric had no doubt in the world that Beth Cantrell would feel good.

He glanced at his watch. Just past eight-thirty. He had time to get a little work done before he headed out. He also had time to change his mind and tell her the truth.

For the next five minutes, Eric stared at the computer and brooded. Not quite the same as working.

He’d meant to tell her his real name. He really had. He was Eric, after all. The brother who always did the right thing. The brother who would never use falsehood as a seduction. Then again, Eric didn’t really engage in seduction at all. He dated. Sometimes. But with Beth it wasn’t about a date. He wasn’t hoping for the beginning of a relationship. There was something hotter than that between them. Something urgent. Wasn’t there?

Maybe if he hadn’t watched her eat that torte, he could’ve just let it go. But he
had
watched her eat it. She’d savored it. Moaned over it. Her eyelashes had fluttered and closed. Her lips had parted on a pleased sigh. Her tongue had darted out to moisten her mouth and capture his attention.

There’d been nothing good or clean about her then. Not one single thing. And she made Eric want to be dirty, too.

Maybe it was the wrongness of what he was doing that caused vivid excitement to awaken every nerve in his body. He felt…alive. Intrigued. Guilty and righteous all at once.

He rubbed both hands over his face and forced himself to open his email window. He deleted some
messages and scrolled through a few more. He reviewed a few invoices and signed off on the larger checks that needed two signatures.

By the time he finished up, it was nine. As he stood and grabbed a jacket, Eric knew he wasn’t going to tell Beth his real name. What the hell did it matter? Jamie was just a name to her, a reputation. Eric was real flesh and blood, and he wasn’t going to lie to her about that. No, that he could offer her with complete and utter honesty.

B
ETH HADN’T BEEN IN DANGER
of falling asleep during the seminar, at least. She’d been wide awake and anticipating this walk across the street.

As usual, a few steps down the path toward living out a fantasy and Beth was a nervous wreck. She paused on the sidewalk to close her eyes and visualize sexual success.

She believed with every fiber of her being that women needed physical fulfillment as much as men did. That women should feel free to seek out their pleasure as earnestly as men did, whatever that pleasure might entail. But she couldn’t seem to
discover
what hers was. She had trouble relaxing enough during sex to get off. She had no interest in group sex or spanking or other women. She wasn’t turned on by whips or latex or leather. Her only
kink
was preppy boys, for God’s sake, a desire so vanilla it couldn’t even be called a kink. There had to be something else that would get her engine running, something more interesting, something hot enough to distract her from her own thoughts.

But maybe it wasn’t some
thing,
but some
one.
Because Jamie Donovan made her warm in very special
places. And when she walked into the bar and saw him, those special places ratcheted from warm to hot.

Hands in his pockets, he leaned against a red-velvet banquette toward the back of the bar. She couldn’t see his expression in the dim lighting, but somehow she already knew the shape of his wide shoulders and the line of his bent head as he stared at the floor. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was mussed as if he’d run a hand through it more than once.

She was only five feet away when he looked up. His blue-gray eyes sent sparks down her spine. When the sparks reached low enough, lust exploded like fireworks inside her. The man looked for all the world like a furious, determined,
sexy
stockbroker forced to work overtime to address a financial crisis.

He looked like a preppy
god
.

And Beth was the troublesome financial crisis. Oh, wow.

A waitress brushed past her, but Beth was stuck, held to the ground as his frown edged up into a smile.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.”

“I got a booth…” He stepped back and gestured toward the deep circular booth. The only light provided was a flickering candle in a beaded lamp. As if he were reading her mind.

She slid into one side, and he slid in opposite, and they were cocooned in dark red velvet. Beth could just see the edge of the bar and a dark hallway beyond it.

“I forgot to get your number,” he said, flipping open his phone.

“Oh, right.” She scrambled to get her own phone out of her purse. Was this the point at which she told him
she wasn’t looking for a relationship? Should she type
BOOTY CALL
next to his name so he’d get the idea? She typed in a simple “Jamie Donovan” and tried to think of a diplomatic way to say “please don’t use my number after tonight.”

Her mind worked frantically as they exchanged numbers. Her hand trembled as he handed her the wine list. She had to say something, right? Or should she just let things take their natural course? “Jamie…” she finally blurted out—and a waitress appeared as if by magic.

“What would you like this evening?” the girl asked.

Good question.

He smiled. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Yes,
Beth thought.
How about the hottest sex I’ve ever had and not a peep out of you afterward?

The server rattled on, but Beth couldn’t concentrate. He had spread his hand out on the table, and she could only stare at it. That hand might be touching her later.

“Beth?” he prompted.

“Oh! What are you going to have?”

“The Shiraz, but I’m no wine expert. You might want to—”

“I’ll have that, too.”

He gave her a helpless smile and shrugged. “Okay, two glasses of the Shiraz.” When the waitress disappeared, he leaned closer. “We should’ve gone somewhere with beer. I’d feel much more confident and manly while ordering.”

Beth couldn’t keep up her worried monologue when he was smiling so close to her. And she’d been right about him. He did smell good. Like starched cotton and soap. As though he should be on the cover of a Polo
catalog. Beth’s heart shook with nervous joy. “You seem manly enough.”

“Oh, manly
enough?
”

“Maybe,” she answered with a grin. “Notice I qualified it with ‘seem.’”

“Ouch. I didn’t know you were into sadism.”

She laughed, but his smile slipped a little. “Um, you’re
not
into sadism, are you?”

“Oh, God,” she laughed, tears springing to her eyes in amused relief. He looked so
worried
. Did he only want her to be a normal girl? What a nice change. “No,” she finally said. “I am not a sadist. Or a masochist, if that’s your next question.”

“Good. I didn’t think you looked—I mean, not that people look a certain way. Or that I thought this was leading to a… That we would… Ah, shit.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion as Beth laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“Oh, no. I’m pretty sure I’m sorry.”

The waitress delivered their wine and he snatched his up with a muttered, “Thank God.”

If he was nervous, then maybe this was okay. Maybe she wasn’t a failure. Maybe this kind of sexual tension was
supposed
to make you nervous.

She suddenly felt so much better that she scooted a little closer while he wasn’t looking and clicked her glass against his. “Cheers.”

He opened his eyes and his gaze dipped to her mouth as she put the glass to her lips. “Cheers,” he murmured back.

“Mmm. It’s good. Your manhood is safe with me.”

He tasted the wine and his eyebrows rose. “That is good. How could you ever have doubted me?”

“I didn’t really. In fact, I’ve heard amazing things about you.”

“Oh.” A pink flush rose up his face.

“I’m sorry. Was that rude? It’s just that…”

“Beth—”

“Listen,” she interrupted. “I just…” She leaned even closer. Her arm brushed his, and the crisp hair on his forearm sent pleasure sizzling through her. “Jamie,” she whispered, “can I be completely honest with you?”