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.

The door opened, and Allison walked out, wearing a hot pink sundress and heels that sent her over six feet tall. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she looked cool, classy, put together.

Mandy remembered feeling like that a long time ago. Well, she’d never rivaled Allison for that supermodel look, but she had been cute in a blowsy jean jacket kind of way, with a good complexion and high metabolism. Now she had zits and undereye circles.

Allison jumped. “Jesus, what are you doing lying on the wall? If you lost your key, you should have buzzed us.”

“I was just taking a minute to rest. I think I’m having triplets or something. There’s no reason why I should feel this tired.” Fifteen weeks into this gig and she already sucked at it. Other women were bouncing around looking adorable at this point—pink cheeks, shiny hair, showing off their little bubbles with low-waisted jeans.