On one hand, she was shocked. On the other, she wasn't surprised at all. It had all been right there for so many years. Sit down and be nice so somebody will put up with you.

Be good. Be quiet. Don't cause trouble.

"Jesus Christ," she whispered, pressing her trembling hands to her face. They'd taught her to be an obedient daughter who didn't cause trouble, and now her mother held it up as a fatal flaw.

Though Olivia watched the phone nervously, her mom didn't call her back. She didn't want to have a deep, difficult conversation any more than Olivia did. So Olivia turned her eyes to the charts she'd printed out. The tables and graphs and lists. The future she wanted to build out of nothing.

You're not a shark.

Maybe she wasn't. She'd certainly given up all her dreams easily enough before. And hadn't it been a bit of a relief? Hadn't it felt like a burden had been lifted when she'd finally given in to Victor's plans?

The numbers blurred for a moment, turning into columns of sooty, shifting liquid. Don't let her under your skin, she told herself. That's what those chills had been. It had been her mother's doubt slipping beneath the surface of Olivia's body, infecting her.

Olivia pushed to her feet and walked out to the hallway to make her way to the little galley kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee that was alarmingly black, but steam coiled up from it, and that was all that mattered. She didn't add sugar or cream, she simply cradled the cup in her hands to warm them. When she got back to her seat, she took one sip and then another. She drank the whole cup, and by the time the coffee was gone, the chills had passed and Olivia felt better. Much better. She wasn't floating, but she wasn't stumbling, either.

She closed the online bank statement without looking at it again. It didn't matter how small her savings were. She'd build them up. She'd make a way.

Even the most docile pet could turn dangerous when it needed to survive, and everything inside her was filling up with the instinct to fight.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

OLIVIA COULDN'T REMEMBER much of class although it had ended only half an hour before. She'd managed a halfway decent presentation on staffing and hiring practices, but she'd been distracted by her frantically working brain. An urgency had overtaken her, a need to turn her plans into action. But as she'd broken the class into groups to work on a mock budget, she'd managed a few spare thoughts for Jamie.

A few X-rated thoughts, despite her fractured mind. She loved the way he moved. The way his hands shaped ideas as he brainstormed with the group. The way his mouth stretched into a smile when someone cracked a joke. His shoulders were so wide and straight. His stance so confident. Watching him made her sigh, and when Jamie caught her looking, she didn't even blush. She just stared straight at him and let him see her lust.

She wasn't going to be weak anymore, not if she could help it.

Their lunch plans took them to a restaurant that would serve as a good comparison for Jamie's ideas. But Olivia couldn't stop herself from floating an idea of her own. "I have a proposal," she said firmly.

Jamie looked up from the menu he was studying.

"I'd like to frame this in a different way. I'd like you to be my client instead of my student."

"You want me to be your...client?"

"For the restaurant! Not the...other stuff?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "Other stuff?"

She wanted to blush and stammer, but instead she held his gaze. "The sex will continue to be free."

He smiled so widely she could see his back teeth.

"What I mean is that I'm moving forward with my plans. I'm going to start this business, consulting with restaurateurs. Helping them with start-ups."

"Wow! That's great, Olivia."

"I'm moving slowly, but what I'd like to do is use you as a test client. At no charge, of course."

"I thought I already was. Isn't that why we're doing reconnaissance at this fancy Italian place?"

"Yes, but I've been teaching you. Helping you figure it out on your own. What I'm proposing is that I work it up for you, as if you were a client who'd hired me to do just that."

"Isn't that cheating?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not helping you with a class project. I want to help you make this real. I want to help me make this real."

He took her hand. "Absolutely. If you want to do this, it'd be a godsend for me. What do you need?"

"All your files. Everything you've put together. I'll turn it into a portfolio. A really glossy one with photographic mockups of the interior and exterior. Finished menus. Profit and loss reports. Budgets. All of it."

"And what will I do?"

"Work with me, of course. And maybe allow me to use your brewery portfolio as a selling tool for my consulting firm?"

"Absolutely."

Relief swept over her. "Thank you. This will be great. And it'll save you from having to do reconnaissance on the other brewpubs. I know you were uncomfortable with it, but now you won't have to do it. I will."

"That would be amazing. Although I'm not sure how I feel about you flirting with other bartenders."

She tapped his foot with hers. "I won't flirt with them."

"Promise?"

"Well...only if it means getting more information."

"But you're not going to give them some sob story about how you don't know how to have fun, are you? I still can't believe I fell for that."

"Hush," she scolded, holding back a laugh. "You know that was all true."

"Yeah, well, no one else ever managed to break the towel bar in my shower."

Instead of giving his foot another tap, she kicked him. "That was you!" she whispered.

"I was trying to brace myself against the force of your-"

She lunged for him and pressed her fingers to his lips. "Stop!" she gasped, laughing too hard to put any strength into the words. His warm eyes told her he was thinking of exactly what they'd done in the shower. How he'd pressed her against the tile. How she'd- His mouth opened and she jerked back from the feel of that heat.

"Naughty," she scolded.

Their pizzas arrived while Olivia was still blushing. They were supposed to be individual size, and they'd ordered three of them to get a good feel for the variety, but her eyes widened at the sight of them. "These are individual portions?" she sputtered.

The waiter laughed. "They're maybe a little more than one serving."

"We can handle it," Jamie assured her, sliding the first slice onto her plate before he served himself.

"You can take the leftovers home," she said. "I don't need the calories."

"That works out perfectly because I'm a growing boy."

She descended into laughter again. He certainly was a growing boy. He grew and grew every time she asked him to.

While she was still thinking dreamily about his body, Jamie turned serious. "Too much cheese," he said, pointing at his slice. "Now, normally, that's not a phrase I'd utter, but it's overwhelming the thin crust."

She took a bite. "Yes, it needs better balance."

"Too greasy. But it's good. I really like the crust."

"What do you think about having different kinds of crust?"

He nodded as he swallowed another bite. "We'll definitely need a whole wheat crust in Boulder. Maybe even a gluten-free." He frowned. "I'll have to find out what that means."

"You'll have to bring in a chef fairly early on," Olivia suggested. "He'll be able to provide a lot of input to the menu. You've got a great start, but keep an open mind for a chef's suggestions."

"Absolutely. I'm no expert. I just know what I like to eat."

"On that note...try the one with artichoke."

Jamie groaned-the veggie pizza had been Olivia's choice-but he agreed that the strong flavors were intriguing. By the end of the meal, she could see the way his mind was turning, ideas tumbling through his head. His eyes looked far away, so when her phone rang, she didn't feel guilty about slipping it from her purse.

"Do you mind if I get this? It's Gwen, and-"

"No problem."

Olivia walked toward the front door, already smiling as she put the phone to her ear. "Well?" she asked. Gwen could only be calling about one thing...lunch with Paul.

"Well..." Gwen drawled coyly.

"How did it go?"

"Okay, he's just as cute as you said he was. And I'm so glad we went to lunch, because if it had been dinner, I would've taken him home afterward and broken the first-date rule."

"Really?" Olivia squealed, pacing along the sidewalk.

"He was so funny! I swear I was laughing the whole time. Who would've thought a business-law guy could be goofy?"

"You mean goofy in a good way? Because I've known some who were fantastically nerdy."

"Yes, goofy in a good way. He's so smart, but he likes bad television and scary movies and great music. And his socks matched. And he smelled really, really good."

"Oh, yeah? Just how close did you get?"

"Not close enough. But he asked if I'd like to go out again, and he said he'd call...."

Olivia smiled down at a rosebush that was just starting to show buds. "Do you think he will?"

"God, I hope so. I think he will, but who can tell? Men are such teases sometimes."

"I bet he'll call. Men love it when women laugh at their jokes, right? You probably made him feel manly and powerful."

"Yeah? Well, let's hope he is manly and powerful. I could use a little of that in my life."

"Do you want me to call him and see what he thought?"

Gwen sighed. "I do, but you'd better not. Not until next week when he hasn't called."

"Got it. I've got to get back to my date now, but congratulations. I'm glad it worked out."

This was a novel feeling, playing Cupid. She'd never done it before, and she grinned like the Cheshire cat as she walked back into the restaurant. She liked Paul, and despite her new aversion to dating professors, he seemed like a truly nice guy. Just the fact that he was asking out grown women instead of students... Maybe Olivia's standards were low, but that seemed like a good place to start.

For herself, though...she wasn't even sure she wanted a nice guy. Jamie was a truly nice guy, and that was part of the problem. Everyone liked him. And he liked so many. Maybe she needed somebody grumpy. Somebody who would never cheat on her because he didn't have an ounce of charm in his body.

She was weaving her way through the tables when her neck prickled with awareness. She looked toward Jamie, certain he was staring at her, but he was making notes on a napkin. Curious, she glanced around at the other tables. When she caught sight of the person staring at her, Olivia jumped in surprise. It was Victor, seated at a table in the far corner. His eyes burned into her, until he was distracted by the movement of the woman with him. Allison stood, her movements jerky with anger as she tossed her napkin down and grabbed her purse. Victor made a halfhearted effort to reach toward her, but she pulled back and stalked away from him. Away from Victor, but straight toward Olivia.

Olivia tensed up, expecting a confrontation, but the girl only glared for a moment before storming past, her cheeks streaked with tears.

"Oh," Olivia murmured, at a complete loss. She looked helplessly around and caught Jamie's wide-eyed gaze. He grimaced in sympathy as she walked toward him. She did her best not to look in Victor's direction.

"Yikes," Jamie said. "What was that about?"

"I'm not sure. I guess we chose the wrong restaurant."

"I don't want to start anything, but did you notice-"

"Crap! He's coming over here."

"Victor?" Jamie glanced over his shoulder, then rolled his eyes. "Speak of the devil."

Olivia watched him approach, keeping her face as neutral as she could. There was no denying the small glimmer of satisfaction after witnessing that scene. The girl might be young, but she wasn't malleable, apparently. Not like you were, the voice of Olivia's mom whispered in her ear. She scowled.

"Victor," she said. "You remember Jamie."

Victor's smile was all false joviality. "Nice to see you again. Olivia, how have you been?"

"Wonderful. And you?"

"Great," he answered, as if his girlfriend hadn't just raced out in tears. "I've never seen you here before. I thought you weren't crazy about Italian."

"It's not my favorite, but I'm trying new things. Getting out of my comfort zone."