The Pregnancy Test (5 page)

M
andy finished washing her hands in the miniature sink in the airplane loo and smoothed her hair back off her face. She had been doing so wonderfully. Until the plane had taken off. Then her stomach had stayed at ground level while they’d shot straight up to thirty thousand feet.

She hadn’t waited for the seat belt sign to go off before rushing to the rest room and reacquainting herself with kissing the porcelain throne. Or in this case, stainless steel.

When she opened the door to stagger back up the aisle, Damien was standing there, his fist up as though he’d been about to knock.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward and studying her closely.

Mandy almost cringed under his scrutiny. The mirror in the rest room had not shown good things. Her hair was limp and her cheeks pale. So indignant at being sent hurdling back into morning sickness, Mandy gave no thought to politeness. This stupid trip was his idea, so it was his fault she felt as if she’d been tumbled in a hot clothes’ dryer.

“No, I’m not okay. I just threw up in an airplane loo, which means my face was hovering over a metal toilet. All of humanity deposits their filthy germs in an airplane rest room. It’s horrifying.”

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand. “But you’re starting to worry me…It seems like you’re always getting sick around me. Maybe I make you nauseous.”

Though it was meant to be a joke, ha ha, Mandy just wasn’t in the mood. “Don’t worry, it’s not just you. All men make me nauseous.”

His mouth dropped, and she suspected it was the first time Damien Sharpton had been at a loss for words.

Great. She sounded like a man-hating lesbian.

“I’m kidding. I’m just not feeling well. I get airsick.”

“You should have told me.”

“Then what? You’d have let me stay home? Taken a boat?” The plane bounced a little. “I need to sit down.”

“Of course.” Damien put his hand on her elbow, and they both froze. She ground to a halt first; then he did, clearly uncertain why she was stopping so soon after starting.

But his touch, such a simple meaningless gesture, seared through her flesh and lit a slow-burning fire in her belly. She had almost convinced herself that her fevered dreams had exaggerated his attractiveness. Then he’d met her at the gate before boarding, and she’d realized she hadn’t embellished a single thing. He was gorgeous. Tasty. Perfection.

“We’re not going to have a repeat of the elevator, are we? Because I don’t have any coffee this time.”

An embarrassed twitter escaped her lips. Here she was becoming a sex-obsessed nymphomaniac wanna-be, and his thoughts centered around capturing her vomit.

“I’m fine. I just lost my balance.” She hightailed it back to her seat, which was thankfully in first class and sporting a good deal of leg room. On the flip side, it was right next to Damien’s seat, which was mortifying and distracting.

He had taken the window seat on boarding, so she had to hover in the aisle while he eased past her. His leg brushed hers and she shivered like a ninny.

“This air-conditioning is too high,” she said to cover her movement.

He frowned at the sleeveless dress she was wearing. One she had chosen because it had no waist, which helped for comfort and camouflage.

“Don’t you have a sweater or something?”

She shook her head and sat down as he was clicking his seat belt back on. Damien was wearing black pants, sandals, and a white T-shirt with a black stripe. It was made of stretchy fabric that showed her quite clearly he managed to squeeze time at the gym into his busy schedule.

It just wasn’t fair that he was so hot and she couldn’t do anything about it.

Except sit there with beaded nipples.

Mandy looked up from fastening her own seat belt and realized Damien’s eyes were pinned on her chest. The chest with the beaded nipples.

His expression was inscrutable, but he said, “You need a blanket,” and pressed the button for the flight attendant.

Oh, dear, God.

She was mortified.

Yet her uncooperative body was gleefully warming up from the inside out, reacting to being so close to a virile man.

Virile? Where the hell had that word come from? Mandy crossed her legs tightly. She was pregnant! The last thing she needed was more virility in her life. Any more virility and she’d be having quadruplets.

The flight attendant smiled at them. “Can I help you?”

“We need a blanket.”

What was this “we” business? Of course, he was probably embarrassed and wanted to get her covered up. As the flight attendant searched the overhead compartment for a blanket, Mandy scrunched in her seat toward the aisle, away from Damien. She could smell him, a light masculine cologne intermingling with the scent of fabric softener.

He seemed like the type to be overenthusiastic with the fabric softener. His neatness was legendary around the office. In the bottom door of his desk he kept a dust buster, to suck up the crumbs from his lunch.

“Thank you.” She took the blanket being held out to her and peeled it out of the plastic bag.

“Thanks.” Damien nodded to the flight attendant.

The woman, attractive and
neat
, smiled at Damien. “You’re welcome. Is this your first trip to Punta Cana?”

“Yes.” And he smiled back.

He actually smiled. The man who never smiled to Mandy’s knowledge, not that she had much, she realized. It wasn’t as if she ever saw him, since she was usually hiding behind a cubicle wall or slipping into the copier room when she heard his voice approaching. But he wasn’t known for being the life of the party. Yet here he was smiling at the flirty flight attendant with the big breasts and sleek blond hair.

Mandy snapped the blanket open, aware that this woman was probably more Damien’s type than she was anyway. Not that she wanted to be his type. She was just hormonal and celibate and plagued by dreams of those stupid, freaky, blue eyes of his.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous there. You’ll love it.”

“I’m sure we will. We’re looking forward to it.”

Placated, yet simultaneously unnerved by the whole plural pronoun thing, Mandy curled her feet under her legs and snuggled beneath the blanket. Busty Blonde took Damien’s not-so-subtle hint and continued on down the aisle.

“She was flirting with you, you know,” Mandy said after a minute, unable to keep her mouth shut.

Damien glanced up from his
PC Now
magazine. “Was she?” The question was rhetorical—he clearly knew she’d been sending out flight attendant feelers.

“Yes. And don’t feel you have to restrain yourself on my behalf.” Well, that sounded incredibly stodgy.

He turned a page and glanced at her. “Don’t worry, I don’t restrain myself for anyone. If I had wanted to flirt back, I would have. But thank you for your permission.”

She’d just crawl under her blanket now.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his hand hovering over the seat pocket in front of him, ready to grab the airsick bag. “You still look a little…pale.”

“I’m British. I’m always pale.” Though offended, she realized immediately she had snapped at him, when he was actually being very solicitous. He’d come to check on her in the rest room, got her a blanket. “But thank you. I feel okay now.”

He just nodded and slapped his magazine closed. His leg jiggled. “Did they say we could turn on our laptops yet?”

They were twenty minutes in the air and he was already restless.

“No, not yet. I don’t think we’re at cruising altitude.” Only three more hours to go smothered up next to the object of her fantasies.

Maybe if she thought about work, the time would pass quicker. “Mr. Sharpton, what are we going to be doing on this trip, exactly?”

“I think you should probably call me Damien, Mandy. It’s the Caribbean, man. Things are casual.”

She grabbed her armrest so she wouldn’t slide to the floor in shock. He had used an
accent
. He wanted her to call him Damien. The changing air pressure must be affecting his sanity.

But then again, she’d always suspected he had a sense of humor behind his workaholism.

“I won’t be able to do as much as I’d like, because the Internet connection will be slow, so I can’t connect to the server. But I plan to get caught up on reviewing promotion requests and employee development plans.”

“What will I be doing?” And how far away from him would she be? She couldn’t imagine hovering in his hotel room with him.

“Clearing out my e-mails and submitting my expense reports for the last three weeks.”

“That won’t take me very long. Maybe a day.”

“Then I guess you can go to the beach when you’re finished.”

It was an appealing thought. New York had been gray and cool all spring, and the thought of lying in a chaise lounge and taking a twelve-hour nap sounded like paradise.

“You didn’t really need me to come on the trip, did you?” Mandy was curious why he had chosen to take his superfluous secretary when he could have taken a girlfriend or a buddy. Or his mother, though she had a hard time picturing a maternal influence on Damien.

He shrugged. “Maybe not. But think of it as a reward for going two whole months working for me and never once shedding a tear.”

Mandy laughed. “I can’t picture you making anyone cry. That girl must have been overly sensitive.”

“I don’t scare you?” he asked, his lip curving up at the corner.

“Not at all.”
You intrigue me. You stimulate me. You turn me on.
“I’ve enjoyed this position.”

His eyes locked with hers, and suddenly her words sounded vaguely suggestive. She was acutely aware of how close they were, surrounded on three sides by seats and the window, and of how her breath caught. Her already tender and swollen breasts ached painfully, and that tight pit of longing swirled in her belly and rolled down between her legs until she wanted to twitch.

“I’m pleased with my decision as well.”

Then his finger slid up to his mouth, and he bit his fingernail, before yanking it out and looking at it in disgust. “I haven’t done that in…”

Damien shifted on the seat, whatever comfort and intimacy that had been brewing between them gone in an instant. His shoulders were stiff, expression guarded, words polite. “I suppose I should have asked you if there was a reason you didn’t want to take this trip. Like maybe a husband or a boyfriend that doesn’t want you gone.”

Mandy didn’t even try to stifle the snort that flew out of her mouth. “No, don’t have either one of those.”

And she was grateful for it. If Ben had stuck around and given his half-hearted support to their relationship and their child, it would have been nothing but a burden. The clean break was better, and this baby was hers and hers alone.

“Good.” Then he frowned. “I mean, that it wasn’t a problem for you to travel.”

She smiled and adjusted her blanket, so the whole front of her was covered. “Not a problem at all.”

“I didn’t think about what it would look like, though. There are rumors running around the office now, and I’m sorry.”

“Rumors?” She touched the swelling bubble of her stomach, panic rising up into her throat. “What kind of rumors?”

“Some people seem to think I invited you because we’re having an affair.”

Damien hadn’t meant to bring that up. Ever.

Especially since it didn’t look like that thought had occurred to Mandy. At least he figured that’s why she was curling her lip back in horror.

“Who thinks that?”

“A friend of mine just mentioned it.” And Damien shouldn’t have. “It’s no big deal,” he said, trying to backpedal and reassure her.

Mandy was an enigma to him, a blend of prissy efficiency, sly humor, and intense vulnerability.

Damien was glad she had draped that blanket over her like a tarp, covering every inch of her from neck to ankle. He was ashamed to admit that when she had been shivering with cold, he had been painfully aware of the effect on her chest. He’d gawked at her nipples like a teenage boy with a Victoria’s Secret catalog.

It was disturbing, an uncomfortable awareness growing in his body again. Something he’d really and truly thought was dead was rising back to life, no pun intended.

He was horny.

For Mandy.

She licked her lips nervously. “That’s a little awkward.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in the office.” No, he hadn’t meant for that to happen. He had just wanted to corner Mandy, trap her into his presence, force her to look him in the eye.

Why, he wasn’t sure.

But she was here with him now, and he was sexually attracted to her, and intellectually attracted to her, and he now wanted to pursue both and yet knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t, because of his past. And he was acutely aware that she was his assistant and this was supposed to be a business trip.

The only person he’d backed into a corner had been himself.

Mandy had soft brown eyes, expressive and poignant, compassion sprinkled in them like the amber flecks around her pupils. “That’s okay.” She smiled, a sweet, secret, slightly wicked smile that did all kinds of riotous things to his gut. “Besides, they could be thinking worse things about me. I’d rather people envy me than feel sorry for me.”