Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(42)

If he only knew.

“Let me tell you about my day. You know the medications I have to take to stimulate my follicles?” I ask. Then I look back at the entry to my office. “Can we walk and talk?”

He nods and holds out his arm. I reach out and even through his thick coat and the sweater he has on underneath I can feel the muscles of his bicep. I stifle a soft moan.

Get a grip.

“They’ve made me…angry,” I say.

He turns and raises an eyebrow in question. We start to walk down the block, past Zamir’s delicious smelling cart (he’s cooking an egg and cheese sandwich) and head toward Central Park.

“Angry? I doubt that,” Josh laughs. And his laugh sends sparks of pleasure through my abdomen.

“I threatened a database techie today over the last lime sparkling water in the breakroom fridge,” I admit.

“Well, I mean, that’s fair. You do like lime.”

I level Josh with a stare. “I told him that if he touched the water I would infect his computer with a virus so horrible that it would haunt his grandchildren. For your information, he’s twenty-five and doesn’t have any kids yet.”

“What?” Josh starts to laugh. Then, “But you got the water, right?”

I smile then say with a shrug, “Of course I did.”

“Good. Is that it? Because even on a normal day you do crazy things for lime.”

I do not. But… “I told the office intern that if he kept omitting SEO from his blog posts, I’d curse him with the pain of ten thousand paper cuts.”

Josh looks over at me and grins. “Ouch.”

He isn’t taking this seriously. Except, now that I’m telling him about it, neither can I. “The hormones are also making me cry. At work, I tried to put together a post with a kitten hanging onto a tree limb, and I cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes.”

He snorts and then coughs to cover the sound. I jab him in his side with my elbow. He pretends to be hurt but then starts to laugh harder.

“Is that all it takes for you to play hooky? Paper cut threats and kitten videos?”

We stop at the crosswalk at the southern edge of Central Park. A row of horses and carriages lines the other side of the street. A horse stamps his feet and blows out a long breath. Steam rises from his nostrils. I look at the horses, the art installation at the corner of the park, and a vendor with a table selling books. I completely and totally avoid looking at Josh.

Because...

“There’s something else?” he asks. I can feel him closely inspecting my face, but I don’t look at him.

The entire walk north, there were little zaps of pleasure down there, every single time Josh spoke/laughed/breathed, I felt a zing. I thought getting out of the office might make my predicament better, but it’s only gotten worse. Much worse.

The crosswalk light changes and the crowd of pedestrians flows around us, but I don’t move.

“What else?” Josh asks.

I flush and start forward. Once we’re across the street, I take a curving sidewalk into the park. I glance at Josh from the side of my eyes, he’s not watching me anymore. Instead, he’s making sure we don’t slip on a patch of ice. I grip his arm more tightly and take smaller steps. My zipper rubs against me and I let out a small moan.

“There’s a problem,” I tell Josh.

“What?” he asks. “You can’t do the transfer?” He looks over, and surprisingly he looks worried for me.

“No. That’s not it. I’m…”

He stops and pulls me aside so that the people behind us can pass. I look at his face. It embarrasses me even more to see how concerned he seems.

I look farther into the park, at the upcoming bridge where a man plays an erhu under the glittering stone archway. The two-stringed fiddle echoes and sends out a sweet, longing melody.

Josh squeezes my arm and looks down at me. “Hey. It’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t laugh.”

I let out a long sigh, then, “Okay. I’m…I’m…horny.”

At first it seems like he doesn’t understand. Then, suddenly, it’s like a dam breaks.

Josh snorts, coughs, then stifles a laugh.

I shove at him. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

He pushes his lips together and I can tell he’s trying his best to hold back his laughter.

“It’s not funny. Being horny isn’t funny.” I push away from him. His shoulders jerk with the effort of trying to restrain his laughter as he wipes at his eyes.

Unbelievable.

Finally, he gets himself under control. He puts on his “serious face” and says, “I’m sorry, did you say your problem is that you’re…horny?”

I cross my arms and try to ignore the party going on in my pants.

“Josh Lewenthal. You promised you wouldn’t laugh. And for your information, it’s torture being this horny.” I point across the sidewalk at one of the green benches that line the walkways of Central Park. “I’d dry hump that bench if I didn’t think I’d get arrested. Heck, I’d rub myself off on a tree this very second if you’d make sure no one was watching.”

For the first time in my life, Josh Lewenthal is speechless. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and then he just stares at me. Totally shocked.