The elevator dinged and a crowd of voices suddenly filled the hallway.

Crap. What if someone saw her here, cozied up in this small space with Jamie Donovan and chocolate? It would look just as sinful as it was. Beth’s heart beat so hard, she wondered if he could hear it. Certainly his smile was slipping. Probably because she was just standing there, staring wide-eyed at him.

“I’ve got to go,” she finally stammered. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Of course—” he started, but she cut him off.

“Thank you for the torte. It was so good.” She thrust the box into his hands, mourning the last few bites she hadn’t eaten.

“So—”

“I’ll see you in a little while,” she interrupted then whispered, “Nine-thirty,” as she backed away from him.

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.

Chapter three

THE 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 dishwashing 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.