Gwen's eyebrow rose. "So, he's working on Saturday?"

"Yeah."

After Gwen's laughter died down, she nodded. "Sure, let's see a movie. And dinner, too."

Olivia smiled all the way to her office.

Was she brave? She didn't feel brave. At first she'd felt terrified, then overwhelmed. Now she felt exhilarated and slightly bewildered. But she also felt happy. Happier than she could remember feeling in a very long time.

Sex with Jamie Donovan was a miracle elixir.

It was also physically exhausting. As Olivia sat down at her desk, her thighs protested the effort. Another tiny moment to make her happy. He'd taken her again that morning. Twice. Missing her morning run had been a joy. And the workout had been just as intense.

She'd only decided to come into the office because she'd been horrified with her own behavior. After he'd left, Olivia had lain about with a wide grin on her face. That was a little too close to lovesick.

So she'd showered and dressed and slipped on her highest heels. And now what was she going to do with herself? Something responsible, like planning or research. But considering the way her mind kept wandering back to Jamie's hands gripping her ass that morning, she thought maybe she'd better start with something simple like email.

Olivia fired up her computer and opened her email. There wasn't much traffic during the summer, so she noticed the letter from her department chair right away. He wanted to see her in his office as soon as she was able to stop in.

Her heart dropped, wondering what he might want. As an instructor, she had no permanent position with the university. She could be terminated at will, at any time, for any reason, even though she was a workhorse. She always had been, but since the divorce, she'd taken on four classes a semester, plus two summer seminars, determined to prove herself invaluable. She could not afford to lose this position, and with her husband out of the picture, the university would feel no pressure to keep her on.

Any desire to grin faded away as she read the message for a second time and then a third. The department chair gave no hint of what he wanted, and Olivia tried to convince herself it was something routine. Maybe he wanted to put her in charge of department birthdays. It wouldn't be the first time an instructor had been used as an assistant.

Suddenly wishing she'd worn more sensible shoes, Olivia walked down the long hallway toward his office.

Lewis Anderson had an office in the main suite of the department. The biggest office, of course, but that meant little enough in the Department of Applied Business. They were one of the least prestigious groups in the college and the size of the suite reflected that.

His door was already open, and when she knocked softly, he looked up, his eyes momentarily confused. When Lewis registered her presence, discomfort flashed over his features.

"Olivia. Good morning. Come in. And, um, could you close the door behind you?"

Oh, no. Not good. Not good at all. The blood left her head so quickly that she felt momentarily dizzy, but she offered him only a somber nod as she closed the door. "Is there something wrong?"

"I'm not sure." He gestured toward the chair, and she slowly lowered herself into it. "I've received some information that I need to present you with, though it's of a personal nature and I'd rather not."

She nodded as if she understood.

"There's been an allegation that you're inappropriately involved with a student."

"What?" she breathed. All the blood that had left her head rushed back with ruthless force, and her skin burned like fire.

"Have you become personally involved with one of your students?"

"Who told you that?"

"Olivia, that's not the issue. Is it true?"

"I... No... That is to say, there's a student...a man in my current class who's a friend of mine. But I knew him before the session started."

Lewis winced. "Which class is this?"

"The continuing education session on restaurant start-ups. It's not a credit course, Lewis. He's not a university student. He's a restaurant owner in the community. It's not... I'd never..."

Lewis held up a hand and exhaled slowly, before taking a deep breath. "Okay. This is good news. I worried it could have something to do with the group of students you're mentoring over the summer."

"No! Of course not!"

He managed a small smile. "Of course, I didn't think you'd actually be engaged in an inappropriate relationship with a student under your purview, but even an intimation of that kind of conduct must be immediately addressed."

"Of course. Of course!" Her throat thickened with tears created by the awful mix of fear and relief. "I'm so sorry you were even put in this position. I don't know why anyone would imply such a thing."

"I'm sure the person in question was only concerned about the ethical implications."

Oh, of course. When hell froze over. "If you could tell me who contacted you, I could address his...or her...concerns directly. I'm embarrassed that it even got to this point. Of course, I don't want the college's reputation darkened."

"I can't give you the person's name, Olivia. But I'll definitely pass on the information."

She nodded. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Just a moment." He typed something up on his computer and printed it out. "If you'll just sign this, acknowledging the conversation?"

She glared at the paper he handed to her. When she glanced at Lewis, he winced.

"I'm sorry. I have to leave a record. I'm not asking for his name. I've no wish to probe into your personal life, but I need you to sign that to show that we had this conversation."

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-"