The Guy Next Door - By Lori Foster, S Donovan, V Dahl Page 0,91

As she drew even with his booth, her skin warmed.

Part of embracing your sexuality was loving your body, and Beth wasn’t modest about her ass. It was her best feature. She loved the shape of it, and this skirt loved it, too.

So she didn’t bother lying to herself. She had no doubt he was checking out her ass, and her whole body tingled as she glanced toward the booth. Donovan Brothers Brewery, the sign read. Air rushed out of her lungs. She knew that place. It was less than a mile away from The White Orchid. She dared a second look toward the table. Jamie Donovan, proprietor, read the little cardboard stand on the table.

When she let her eyes rise to him, their gazes met, and she felt her cheeks turn hot as she looked away. He was watching her as she moved on, she knew it, and she could barely hear the echoing noise of the place as she continued down the row of booths.

Jamie Donovan. The name turned through her brain for a moment. She’d heard of him, hadn’t she? He was…a bartender. Of course. A notoriously flirtatious bartender who sometimes wore a kilt. Even the girls in the shop had mentioned him on occasion, so he must be something special. But maybe those were just rumors. He didn’t strike her as a playful ladies’ man. His face was serious and his eyes were cool, and he was obviously an owner of the brewery.

But if he was a ladies’ man…

An idea took form. A ridiculous thought that she immediately dismissed. But the idea was sticky and sweet and it stuck in her head despite her attempts to bat it away.

She could have a fling. With him. She’d be just one fling among his many, after all. She’d mean nothing to him, and he might be worth the risk.

Still, he lived in her town and worked only a few minutes away from her. “Bad idea,” she murmured to herself. If her coworkers found out, she’d never live it down.

Squaring her shoulders, Beth headed toward the first jeweler she’d noticed. But thoughts of Jamie Donovan persisted. Her brain, which was normally cool and logical, was preforming excuses in anticipation of her arguments.

Yes, Boulder was a small town, but it wasn’t that small. They’d never run into each other before, after all. And Jamie Donovan clearly knew how to navigate these treacherous waters. She’d heard him called cute, funny, sexy and adorable. She’d also heard some serious compliments about what he had going on under his kilt. But she’d never heard him called a dog.

A flush took her face as she honestly considered the idea of flirting with him, testing the waters. But that felt dangerous. Anytime it got beyond flirting, Beth was lost. When you worked at an erotic boutique, men expected something more. Something better. And there was nothing more or better about Beth the way there was about Cairo or Annabelle or any of the other bold women she worked with.

Beth was just…regular.

But if it was a fling, it wouldn’t matter if he ended up disappointed, not as it did during real dating. There’d be no awkwardness. No breakup. No painful winding down until they “decided to see other people.” It would happen and it would be done.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be the sexual adventure she’d been waiting her whole life for.

But surely that was a lot to pin on one poor preppy bartender. Her smile widened with amusement as she waved at the designer she’d come to hunt down. A little sexual fantasy was good for a woman’s soul. At least Beth knew her soul would be getting some great fortification tonight.

CHAPTER TWO

ERIC WAS STUFFED FROM the ten courses of so-called small-bite plates he’d been served at the tasting dinner, but he made himself finish the salted caramel torte that had been set in front him. One, because it was only polite, and two, because it was the most delicious damn thing he’d ever tasted. The only thing missing from the meal had been a good lager, but wine had been a nice change. Not that he’d ever admit that to the person who’d invited him.

“Thank you, Andrés,” he said, standing to shake his friend’s hand. “Amazing. But next time, don’t forget the beer.”

“Beer is for peasants,” Andrés replied with a wide smile. Eric might have taken offense if he hadn’t raised so many pints with him.

“I’ll remind you of that next time you stop