Jules hadn’t brought a change of clothes, but she’d worry about that in the morning. Vivian lent her a pair of pajamas as if they were having a sleepover, which Jules guessed they were. The second bathroom, she discovered, was fully stocked. It must have been Robert’s. Had Vivian simply left it alone, unwilling to touch it, or had she planned this?

Now didn’t seem like the time to ask, not when Jules was looking down at Vivian Carlisle’s bed with its plush mattress and zillion-thread-count sheets while Vivian gazed up at her. Jules still throbbed pleasantly between her thighs. She’d never had sex like that before, never been that turned on before. Not even close.

Vivian lay on her side, propped up on an elbow and with her hand beneath her cheek. If she’d been wearing a filmy wrap instead of silk pajamas, she could have been in a baroque painting. Judging by the little smile on her face, she knew it.

“Wow,” Jules said, frankly admiring the view. “You’re amazing.”

Vivian, as always, took praise as her due. “Thank you. Are you getting in? It’s cold.”

“Are you a cold sleeper?” Maybe talking would help Jules feel less out of place as she slid between Vivian’s sheets in Vivian’s bed in Vivian’s house. “I can’t sleep when I’m too warm.”

The little smile turned sour. “Tell me about it.”

Oh, right. Your body temperature was supposed to raise slightly during pregnancy. Jules turned on her side so she and Vivian were facing each other. “Your bed is nice.”

“I agree.”

“Sex with you is nice too.”

Vivian pursed her lips, and a troubled look appeared. “We’ll have to talk about this.”

Jules sighed. Vivian was right, but the boss/subordinate-having-sex issue was the last thing she wanted to unpack right now. “Yeah, but can we do it in the morning?”

“That’s why I used future tense. I thought you were an English major.” She rolled onto her back with a grunt.

“You majored in journalism,” Jules pointed out. “I’ve read some of your old articles in fashion magazines. They’re really good.”

“Editors thought so too. What’s your point?”

“I dunno.” Jules scooted closer until they were touching. Vivian’s body was indeed warm, and her silk pajamas felt great against Jules’s skin, even if the button-up top was tight over her breasts. “That’s why I majored in communications along with English. I’m just saying we have things in common.” Plenty of things.

“But you…” Vivian looked pensive. “You’re different too.”

“I am? How?”

She yawned. “That seems like a larger conversation than I want to have right now. I’ll just say it’s not a bad thing and leave it at that. Good night.”

“I want to be the big spoon,” Jules said, suddenly inspired.

Vivian merely glared at her before closing her eyes.