Pregnant By My Boss

“Amanda,” I call. Even though it’s a Sunday, I’m at my office to send emails to contacts in Asia. And because I’m at the office, that means my assistant is here also.

Amanda appears by my door. “Yes, Mr. Moore?” She leans in, causing her low-cut blouse to show more cleavage than it should in a corporate setting. I barely register it; it’s not like I haven’t seen breasts before but at the same time, I’m not attracted. Amanda’s nothing compared to Katie, and I’m still distracted from last night’s feast.

“That event planner from yesterday,” I say. “Can you get me her phone number?”

Amanda looks puzzled. “Was there something wrong with the service?” Then she rolls her eyes. “I knew she wasn’t capable. I told her to do all these things, and she-”

“No,” I interrupt, “everything was perfect. Just get me her number. Thanks.”

Amanda stares at me for a moment too long, and I look at her expectantly, raising my eyebrows. She snaps out of it and smiles sweetly like she doesn’t care. “Yes, of course, I’ll get to it right away, sir,” she says before disappearing with a flip of her hair.

Halfway through my second email, Amanda comes back. “Here you go, Mr. Moore,” she says, handing over a slip of paper. On it are two phone numbers. “The first one is her business number and the second is her personal cell.”

I give her a quick smile. “Thanks, Amanda. That’s all for now.”

She gives me a stiff smile and pauses, clearly wanting to say more.

“Yes?” I’m impatient now, wanting to punch the numbers into my phone and call Katie right away.

“Nothing, sir,” she purrs. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Once I’m alone, I lean back, email abandoned. I stare at the numbers in my hand. I don’t want to call Katie too soon—she only just left this morning. In general, I never call on the same day I meet a girl because it looks too desperate, and usually I don’t even care enough to want to reach out. But strangely, I feel giddy and impatient, thirsting to hear Katie’s voice once again.

In a completely uncharacteristic move, I take out my phone and dial the second phone number. It rings once, twice, and then three times. I wait, drumming my fingers against my desk, as the phone continues to ring.

Finally, the rings stop and my heart seems to stop along with it.

“You have reached 7-7-3…”

My stomach drops as I hear the voicemail machine play. Damnit. I don’t leave a message, knowing I’d just fuck it up and sound like a total idiot. I end the call and contemplate dialing Katie’s business line. Maybe she’s working today? But this is definitely veering into desperation. I turn back to my computer, trying to focus on work.

Of course, my determination fails. Fuck it. I dial the first number and wait as it rings. Once again, I get a generic voicemail—a bit strange since it’s a business line. But then again, it’s a small business, so perhaps there’s no need to set up a wholly automated voicemail system like we have for my company.

I fight the urge to call her again, but spend way too much time staring out the window and wondering just when is appropriate to call again. This is such a new feeling for me—I’ve never been this obsessed with a girl in my life. It’s like the tables have turned and I feel like one of the hopeful girls at my parties. How can one female completely rewire my systems in just one night? I thought last night would just be another session of pleasure with a random woman, but it ended up being one of the most delicious and wonderful nights I’ve had.

It isn’t even because she’s the first intelligent girl I’ve been with—yes, most of my sexcapades have been with vapid women, but I have been with smart women as well. But the smart women irritated me sometimes too. They tended to be pretentious and arrogant about their intelligence and accomplishments, which is such a huge turnoff. Katie, on the other hand, is smart but humble. She’s a normal girl without a psycho side, quirky yet unique. God, she’s every good thing rolled into one sexy, curvy body.

I lean back in my chair with a sigh. I’ve become a hopeless, lovesick idiot. Tomorrow, I finally decide. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be able to reach her. The prospect of hearing her voice and maybe even setting up a date with her gives me hope and energy. Certainly enough conviction to finally finish that damn email.

Chapter Five

Katie

Two months later …

I sit on the cold toilet in my dark bathroom, staring at the stick in shock. This can’t be right. It’s just not possible. Is it?

These tests can be wrong, and in a flash, I grab the bag from the sink beside me and pull out the second box I bought. You can never be too careful when it comes to this kind of thing, so I figured I’d better get a backup.