But every few minutes, his gaze scuttled over to Mandy, sleeping peacefully, her pink lips parted on a sigh, her bangs tumbling down over her eyebrows.

Damn it. Damien slammed the lid closed on his computer. It was impossible to type when the thing was rocking back and forth, destabilized by his massive erection.

He let down his tray table and set the laptop on it, but he didn’t accomplish a whole lot.

Except give himself whiplash checking Mandy out every five seconds.

This trip had been a huge ass mistake, and if he had to see her in a bikini he was screwed.

The thought sent his tray table bouncing up enthusiastically as his cock swelled.

Chapter 6

Mandy lay in a chaise lounge and flipped through the parenting magazine she had subscribed to eight weeks earlier when she had thought educating herself about pregnancy would actually alleviate stress.

The weightier Everything Guide to Pregnancy was collecting dust in her beach bag. She had brought it, knowing she had to read the thing sooner or later so she didn’t miss the early signs of labor, or make an ill-informed circumcision decision. But she had discovered something about herself—she was a wimp. She just wanted to sit back and enjoy anticipating her baby—not memorize terms like VBAC and effacement, or create her Delivery Advocacy Plan to take to the hospital like Jamie kept insisting she needed to do.

There was just too much information flooding her brain cells, and she had decided to take a month-by-month approach to things. She would read up to the point she had reached in the baby’s gestation and no farther so she didn’t collapse under information overload. But she had thought glancing through the magazine wouldn’t hurt, since it had cute pictures of chubby babies and funny little essays on parenting.

Besides, she was bored.

Punta Cana was beautiful, a breezy eighty-five degrees and blue sunny skies, not a raindrop in sight. But Damien had been avoiding her, or at least it seemed that way to her. She hadn’t seen him since they’d arrived at the hotel forty-eight hours earlier. On her own, she had taken all her meals with total strangers, having been adopted by a nice British couple in their sixties who clearly felt sorry for her.

While they were a couple of dears, and she had gluttoned herself at the amazing buffets the hotel offered—not the least bit worried about unwashed fruit—it wasn’t the same as being on holiday with family or friends.

She wasn’t comfortable parasailing, speed boating, snorkeling, or scuba diving since she was pregnant. Though she had swum in the ocean a few times, played three games of water volleyball, and one round of shuffleboard. She’d entered an egg race on the beach with other hotel guests and had petted a monkey, perched a parrot on her shoulder, and sat on a donkey.