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herself for a deluge of questions. None came. Feeling awkward, she swept her hand toward a brown pleather couch that was in dire need of being replaced or reupholstered. “Would you like to take a seat while you’re waiting?”
    “Mmm. No. What I mean is, I can’t wait.” She rested her hand on her extended belly. “I have an appointment with my obstetrician.”
    Afia experienced a pang of envy. When she’d asked Randy about children, he’d said, “
What’s the rush? We have time
.” He’d been wrong.
    Frank hadn’t been adverse to a family but seemed incapable of delivering the goods.
    “I just stopped by to give him these coupons.” Joni pulled a crumpled envelope out of her canvas backpack and handed it to Afia. “Will you see that he gets them?”
    Nodding, she tried to imagine Jake pushing a cart down the aisle of the local grocery store, stocking up on milk, bread, and disposable diapers. Instead, she envisioned him pumping iron in a gritty gym. Bulging biceps and rippling abs. His skin glistening with sweat. She imagined coming up behind him, smoothing her hands over his broad shoulders, kissing the nape of his neck and …
    O-ma-god.
    She blew her bangs off of her forehead, stunned by her prurient thoughts. Fantasizing about a man in the presence of his wife, girlfriend, or whatever. Celibacy was taking its toll.
    “Also tell him dinner’s at six-thirty and to bring ice cream.”
    Flustered, Afia sank in the chair and scanned the desktop for a notepad.
    Left hand supporting her lower back, Joni hedged around and opened the top right drawer. “Memo pads, pencils, pens, stamps, paper clips, and extra staples.” She placed a pad and pencil on the desk. “Always print. Jake hates deciphering flowery script, and always take down as many details as possible.”
    “What flavor?” Afia asked, concentrating on her penmanship.
    Joni laughed. “Not bad,” she said, while moving toward the door.
    Afia jerked up her head. “Wait! Do you need … can I … help?” She fluttered a hand toward the hall. What if she lost her balance navigating those steep stairs?
    “I may have balls, as Jake is fond of saying, but I’m not crazy.” She flashed her sole dimple. “I’m taking the elevator. Later.” Slinging her backpack over her shoulders, she exited and shut the door.
    Afia stared after the woman unsure as to what shocked her more—Joni’s language or the news that the Bizby had an elevator.
    She’d have to ask Jake about that mysterious elevator. She’d have to ask him about a lot of things. Like her hours, her salary. Maybe when she handed over the coupons and dinner message, he’d fill her in on his relationship to Joni McNichols. She hadn’t noticed a wedding band, but that didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t sure why she was obsessing over whether or not they were a couple. If they weren’t he was probably hooked up with someone else. Not that she cared. He wasn’t her type. Worse, he was her boss.
    An office affair. Like she needed another disaster in her life.
    She rolled back her shoulders and started arranging the folders alphabetically by last name. Next she’d transcribe the messages on the answering machine and then organize her desk drawers and the supply closet, if there was one. She’d also brought a tote bag of cleaning supplies. Hopefully, Blondie would depart soon giving her access to Jake’s office. The sooner she whipped this place into order, the sooner she could talk him into teaching her the trade.
    The sooner she’d catch a thief.
    Instead of crossing her fingers, she followed Rudy’s advice and chanted two of the affirmations he’d gleaned from his current read,
Creative Visualization
.
    “Infinite riches are now freely flowing into my life.
    “The more I have, the more I have to give.”
    She glanced at Jake’s door. “Blondie will hit the road.”
    She suppressed a gasp when the door actually swung open and Jake ushered the curvaceous woman across the