"Get out," he ordered.

She seemed to realize she'd gone too far. Her sneer disappeared and she shook her head. "I'm sorry. Really. I swear, I had no idea what he had planned."

"What is it that you want, Monica?"

Her gaze flickered down. She shook her head.

"Just say it so you can leave."

She reached for him, drawing one finger down his arm, her lower lip edging out a little as if she were a young girl in trouble. "They're trying to set me up, Jamie. If you would only tell them it wasn't like that. We had a connection, and I'd never have done anything to hurt you. Just tell them that. I know your sister is dating the lead detective. He'll listen to you."

Monica Kendall looked ridiculous playing this part. There was nothing soft and vulnerable about her, which was exactly why he hadn't been the least bit attracted to her. It was why he'd said no until he hadn't had a choice.

"I really care about you, Jamie."

He pulled his arm out of her reach and shook his head. "You're a lying, ice-cold bitch. I'm not the only man you played this way. There was that construction company Christmas party, right? Is that the only way you can get a decent guy to sleep with you? By tricking him?"

She reacted as if he'd just set a live wire to her nervous system. First her spine snapped straight, then her eyes went wide. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

He hated her with a fury that would've surprised him if he hadn't recognized the phenomenon. It was hate for her mixed up with hate for himself. "You're beautiful, Monica. There's no denying that. But there's something wrong inside you. I could see it right away."

This time when her mouth opened, plenty of sound came out. She screamed, "Fuck you!" and lunged for him, her bright red nails swiping toward his face. He pulled back just in time, but she kept coming.

"Hey!" he yelled, grabbing at her wrists to stop her attack.

"You loved it!" she screamed. "You loved every minute of it."

"Get out now before I call the cops."

The swinging doors burst open and Eric stormed in. "What's going on?" His eyes narrowed on Monica. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"She was just leaving," Jamie growled, straining to keep her hands away.

Monica was still raging, her lips pulled back from her perfectly white teeth. "You suck in bed, you know that? You didn't even make me come."

Yet another lie. The girl had screamed so loudly in bed she'd made his ears ring. "Yeah, sorry. I wasn't really into it."

She pulled her chin in, took a deep breath and spit right into his face. He let go of her in shock and one of her nails caught his cheek.

"Shit."

Suddenly the tornado of nails and screams was gone. Eric had wrapped his arms around her from behind and he dragged her toward the door. Jamie grabbed a rag and wiped his face before sprinting toward the door to open it. Eric pushed her out and Jamie closed the door as quickly as he could.

"Holy crap," one of the bikers said.

"Makes me glad I'm married," the other one muttered.

Jamie ignored them and wiped his face again, his hand feeling distinctly shaky. He noticed a smear of blood against the rag and pressed it to the spot on his cheek, which burned like acid.

"Sorry about that, guys," Eric was saying. "Those pints are on the house."

The men whooped, clearly untraumatized by the soap opera moment they'd witnessed. Jamie, on the other hand, felt on fire with adrenaline, and his lungs burned as if he'd just run five miles.

Eric turned on him. "Could I speak with you in the back for a moment?"

Jamie nodded, but on his way to the back, he stopped, drew himself a pint of pilsner and downed half of it in one gulp.

When he pushed through the swinging doors, Eric was waiting with arms crossed and eyes blazing. "What the hell was that about?"

Jamie dabbed at the scratch. "I have no idea."

"You'd better come up with an idea. You just had a brawl with a woman in front of the customers."

"That wasn't my fault."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Is there someone else to blame for the fact that you slept with her?"

"That's not the-"

"Is there someone else to blame for you leaving her alone in front so she could unlock the door? How about the fact that she got the alarm code because you were distracted by her tits. Who should I blame for that?"

Jamie slammed the glass down on the counter. "I've already apologized for that."

"A lot of good it does."

"Right." Jamie picked up the glass and finished the beer before setting it carefully back down on the metal table. "Right."

"I'll cover the bar," Eric said, his voice low and rough.

"No," Jamie answered. "You don't get to tell me that. I'm covering this shift and I'll work it whether you like it or not."

Eric paced away and then back. "What was she doing here? Did you call her?"

"No, I didn't call her," Jamie said dully. "She wanted me to tell Luke that she hadn't been playing me that night. I guess he's got her running scared."

They'd never really talked about that night, but Jamie could see all the disgust in his brother's face now. That was fine. Jamie was pretty damn disgusted himself. "I'm going to get back to work," he muttered. He didn't want to hear one more word about it. If he could take it back, he would, but there was never a chance to take back mistakes, no matter how much you regretted them.

But as he pushed open the doors, Eric's soft voice stopped him.

"Why can't you ever do the right thing?" his brother murmured.

Jamie looked at his own hand spread against the wooden door. He remembered how large his father's hands had seemed to him when he was a child. Now he had the same hands: large and wide and touching this same door in the same building where his father had worked. The worst kind of irony. He was nothing like his father. Nothing at all.

He pushed through the door without giving an answer. There wasn't one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

SHE OPENED HER APARTMENT DOOR so quickly that her hair whooshed forward. "Jamie! What happened to you?"

Hands in his pockets, Jamie grimaced. "Oh, nothing." One hand rose to touch a scratch on his cheek. "Just banged into something when I was tapping a keg."

"No, I meant, where were you today?"

"Sorry. I got called in to the brewery."

Though she'd been rushing around for days now, time slowed for a moment. Jamie filled her doorway, his shoulders wide, even when they curved down in weariness. His forearms were sculpted muscle. His mouth a wry quirk as he waited for her to say more.

God, she'd missed him, but she'd been too busy to realize it until this moment.

His gaze fell to his feet just as a breeze shook the night behind him. As his wild hair ruffled in the wind, he looked up, past his dark lashes, and the light from the entry caught the green beauty of his eyes.

"Come in," she urged, but before he could get past the threshold, she put her arms around him. "It feels like it's been weeks."

"You were too busy for me."

His arms came around her and she tried not to recognize how good it felt, even as she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. "I'm sorry," she said. Had he missed her? She flinched away from the foolish thought and let him go.

"But," she said, "all my time was spent on you."

"Odd. I didn't even notice you around."

She smiled and kissed his cheek just to have another chance to touch him. "Your plans for the brewery, silly. I've been working on them day and night, and I wanted to show them to you right after class. Oh, I've been so excited, Jamie. I didn't realize until I started just how much work you'd already done. All those napkins add up."

He offered a brief smile at her joke, but nothing more.

"You're not honestly angry, are you?"

Jamie sighed. "No, of course not. I'm just tired."

"You're too tired to look, then?" She tried not to sound crushingly disappointed.

"Tonight?" He cringed a little, so she kept her expression neutral as she nodded. "Sure," he finally said. "But is there something I can steal from your fridge for dinner first?"

"Of course." She started to turn away, but changed her mind. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's nothing. Just another argument with my brother."

"I'm sorry."

He managed a more sincere smile this time. "I'm fine. Just hungry and tired."

"I can make you a salad and a chicken sandwich."

"How about if you just put the lettuce on the sandwich and we call it good?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "You're such a boy."

"I'm glad you noticed."

He seemed easier then. Lighter. Olivia found herself smiling as she made him a sandwich with extra lettuce and sat down at her small table to watch him eat.

"You don't have to look at the plans tonight. Let's just go to bed. I mean...if you were planning on staying."

"No," he said and her heart shook. "I mean, yes, I was hoping to stay. But no, I'm not so tired that you need to tuck me in. Not right away."

Thank God. Now that she'd finally come up for air, she wanted him close. Wanted his hands on her. If he was too tired, she didn't know how she'd survive it.

Maybe she was the one who wanted to head straight to bed.

"All right," Jamie said, dusting off his hands. The sandwich seemed to have disappeared in three bites. "Let's see your plans."

Thoughts of going to bed burned off in a flash of excitement, and Olivia had to fight the urge to clap her hands in giddy anticipation. "Okay," she said. "Come on. I set up a chair for you in my office."

"Yeah? Can I start calling you Ms. Bishop again?"

She rushed ahead to arrange the chairs and tidy up the desk before he walked in. Then she sat down and put both her hands flat on the folder as she waited for him to get settled.

Her blood felt like it was shivering in her veins.

"Um, are you ready?" he asked after a few moments.

She took a deep breath and turned on the monitor. "We'll start with something exciting first. I worked with the photos you sent me. I'm no designer, but..." Olivia clicked open the first photo, which showed the front of the brewery as it was now, a white sidewalk laid along the base of a plain brick wall. "This is what the front looks like now. And this is what I was thinking for an outdoor eating space...." She pulled the next picture up, her eyes darting over all the details. The long wooden deck, the dark green table umbrellas, complete with Donovan Brothers logos, the casual tables and chairs that would allow Boulderites to relax with a beer in their favorite place: the outdoors.

"Outdoor space?" Jamie murmured.

"I know we didn't talk about that, but I thought it would be a great way to add more eating area during your busiest months. Not only does it give you room for six more tables, but it's like a living advertisement for the brewery."

"It's really nice," he said, nodding.

"Okay, let's go inside." She clicked to the photo of the interior. "Per your request, I didn't want to change much here, but..." She opened the mock-up picture of the front room. "I think square tables will let you add a few more seats, not to mention that it will offer the option of pushing tables together to make space for larger parties. But we can use the same chairs you have now, which will save money."

"Mmm. Good."

She dared a sideways look at him, trying to read his face, but for once, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Here's the menu. It's only a draft, of course. And I had to guess at the beer pairings, but..." She loved this menu. It had been so much fun. Who wouldn't have fun developing a pizza menu?

She'd used Jamie's ideas, and created some pies of her own. As he'd suggested, she'd added some salads, plus the option of a French onion soup. The soup could simmer on the stove all day, then the chef could simply add bread and cheese and run it through the pizza oven to toast it up.

After a few moments of grinning at her own creation, she realized Jamie hadn't said anything yet. She cleared her throat. "The menu is simple and small, so you can leave it right at the table with your beer menus. Or you could incorporate the two. Either way, your customers can sit where they like. You won't need a hostess."

"Good. That's great. I really like it."