The Pregnancy Test (NY Girlfriends #1)(7)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Maybe she was embarrassed about throwing up under his desk. It had been an awkward first meeting, to say the least. Or maybe she had something wrong with her, like a phobia. But what the hell would explain her sprinting down the hall to get away from him, like he could swear he’d seen her do two days before? Fear of Technical Executives?

"Since you’re busy working for me, I’m telling you that you can take five minutes out of your task-filled schedule to come to my office."

"Mr. Sharpton, I need to leave for my appointment immediately."

That was the tone he had come to expect from Mandy, even if he never heard it in person. That sort of mildly reprimanding, prim and proper voice.

It kind of turned him on.

Damien shoved the sandwich away so he could rest his head on his hand. Man, oh man, he’d lost his mind. He’d thought that he’d held insanity at bay, but clearly it had snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking.

"Fine, I’ll just tell you what I want over the phone, then. I’m leaving next week for the Caribbean."

"Yes, I booked your flight last week."

"Get back on the phone and get yourself a seat as well. I need you to accompany me on this trip."

Not really. And he wasn’t entirely sure where the idea had come from, but it was brilliant. Whatever little secret Mandy Keeling was hiding from him would be revealed if they spent five days working in the Caribbean together. She couldn’t avoid him. There would be no high-speed Internet for her to rely on instant messaging. No maze of cubicles to dart around when she saw him approaching.

Nothing but sun and sand and rum. And Mandy in a bikini.

Damien tried to picture it, but he saw Mandy so infrequently, his mind couldn’t quite dredge up enough details to make the image complete. All he had was a cute upturned nose, wavy brown hair, and sheepskin boots.

"What?" she said, her voice squeaking as it hit the T. "I thought you won this trip for your productivity. It’s supposed to be a holiday."

He would go absolutely freaking crazy if he had to sit in a beach chair for five days and not work. His body didn’t know how to be idle, and his brain, well, too much time to think and there might be images of Jessica popping in there.

That was something he couldn’t let happen.

"I don’t need a vacation. But I can appreciate the sun and a dive into the ocean. So I’m planning on making it a working week, just at a slower pace. Only I need you there, with me."

"No, I couldn’t possibly!"

Was the prospect so horrible? He thought most employees would jump at the chance to hit the islands, all expenses paid for. He couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of his voice. "I’m not really asking you."

"I see."

There it was again, that disapproving schoolteacher voice.

He settled back in his chair, satisfied to have the upper hand again. "Do you feel our business relationship is working, Mandy?"

"I don’t have any complaints, Mr. Sharpton." She paused. "Do you?"

Only one. "I think it’s working well overall. I’d like to make a few adjustments, though, with the idea that we’ll be working together long-term." She really was a damn good assistant. He just wanted to see her more often.

Which sounded incredibly odd, like he was a mother neglected by her grown children. A mortifying comparison, to say the least.

"But we’ll discuss that on the trip." He’d already wasted the better part of a half hour accomplishing nothing more than forcing her to share the same space with him.

"Fantastic," she said, sounding so unenthusiastic that he hung up before she heard him snort in amusement.

Mandy dragged herself up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, wondering if her body realized that according to The Everything Guide to Pregnancy, she was supposed to have left first trimester fatigue behind. Someone upstairs hadn’t got the message, because she still felt like hell.

It was probably the stress of her new job. She had been working hard to make a good impression on Damien Sharp ton, worrying that any minute he’d fire her without notice or just cause. Besides, she was expending a lot of energy dodging him, popping into the rest room or behind a cubicle wall when he came out of his office, so she wouldn’t come face-to-face with him.

In the eight weeks since she’d started as his assistant, she’d stuck to that pattern of hide and never seek, but lately she realized her reasons for it were changing. First it had been because she’d thought he was a beast, capable of making her work environment hell, and because she had seen the wisdom of keeping her pregnancy from him until it was no longer possible. But to her surprise, she was finding that while Damien was arrogant and impatient, he wasn’t a bad sort at all.

He was demanding, but he also had a sharp wit and an intelligence that astounded her. It was obvious why he was good at his job – he was aggressive and a perfectionist, but she had expected that. What she hadn’t anticipated was the sense of humor that was lurking somewhere in that stodgy exterior. It showed up randomly in his e-mails when she was least expecting it and intrigued her.

The truth was she actually enjoyed the rapport they shared via technology.

And to her horror she’d been having incredibly vivid dreams featuring his blue eyes gazing at her as he performed all manner of sexual acts. To her. With her. Under her. Over her. In her.

The Everything Guide said intense dreaming was common and expected in pregnant women, with dreams about the baby and sex topping the list. She’d had a couple of dreams about holding the solid weight of her child in her arms, but mostly, pervert that she was, she was dreaming about her boss getting her off.

It was phenomenally embarrassing.

And a good cause for staying away from him. Any time in his presence might either fuel the fire of her lusty dreams or have her stammering, convinced he could read her mind.

Or worst of all, make her want him during waking hours, too.

That’s why this little trip to the Caribbean was nothing short of a major catastrophe.

Mandy grabbed the railing and took a deep breath, wishing for a little air circulation in the hallway. She was burning up. "Just two more steps, then we’re home. I can do this." She heaved herself up toward her front door and took a minute to rest while searching out her key.

Maybe it was time to read that Yoga for Mothers book Jamie had pressed on her about two minutes after the stick had turned pink. She felt like an anemic turtle.