I turn and scowl at her. “Are you kidding? The other guy swung it at him.”
Joy shrugs. “Yeah. But his head broke it.” She says this with utter seriousness.
I look back to Josh and I’m not surprised to see his eyes light up with humor. “In that case, I’m taking this baby home. I’ll hang it above my bed. I’ll call it Boy Toy and the Venus Fly Trap.”
I let out a shocked laugh.
Then Josh pulls out his wallet and tosses cash on the counter.
We leave the office, the large painting held between us. As we walk down the sidewalk, avoiding the crowds, I say to Josh, “You really did jinx us.”
He looks back at me and lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously, Gemma? Today’s the most fun I’ve had in years.”
He turns back forward and by silent agreement we keep walking toward my place. But all the while I stare at Josh’s back and think me too.
Which scares me.
A lot.
19
So, Josh and I are officially “friends.” He confirmed it when he left the other night. He made sure I got to my place safe and sound and when I said thanks he said, “What are friends for?”
“Friends?” I’d asked, like the idiot I am.
He just grinned at me and said, “What else, Gem?”
I scowl at my computer screen and put the finishing touches on the latest marketing campaign. What else is right.
The quote on the screen blurs together until the words are all jumbled up. It’s not yet eight in the morning, but I’ve already been at work for two hours since I need to leave early for my retrieval. I stopped all the medications and took my hCG nearly thirty-three hours ago for my 10:30 am retrieval, aka egg collection.
Or, as Josh dubbed it in honor of Dr. Ingraham, the Easter egg hunt.
I take a long sip of my decaf coffee and close my eyes. I’m not going to get any more work done, I may as well head out. Maybe Josh will be here early.
“You got coffee without me?”
I jump a little in my seat. Jeez. I’d thought the office was empty. I swivel my desk chair around.
“You scared me,” I say.
Ian is only a few feet behind me. He’s wearing a trendy suit and an open cashmere jacket dusted with melting snowflakes. “Did I?” he asks, then he gives me a smile full of simmering heat. “I was hoping you’d be here early.”
His long, elegant fingers stroke the open length of his cashmere jacket as he stares at the low vee-neck of my dress shirt. I get warm at the look in his eyes and wonder if he’s about to ask me into his office.
For some reason, the thought gives me a funny feeling in my stomach.
“Did you…want to talk about something?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow. “I always like talking to you. Do I need an excuse?”
“Um, no?”
He chuckles and tosses his head so that the last drops of snow spray out of his hair. For years, I’ve idolized Ian and fantasized about dating him. For crying out loud, he’s Ian. But now, when he’s standing in front of me, looking like a male cover model, giving me a look that could ignite wet wood, all I can manage is “um…no?”
It has to be the hormones, they’ve been so crazy all over the place that I can’t trust anything I think or feel anymore. Exhibit A, for the last two nights I’ve had erotic dreams about Josh involving weird combinations of shoes, flowers, and cosmic orgasms. Exhibit B, I’m not over the moon that Ian Fortune is pursuing me. I mean, I should be over the moon.
He’s a saint. He’s a superstar. He’s gorgeous. He’s kind. He wants me.
Okay, that one is a little weird. I’ve worked for him for nearly seven years, so why is it that he’s only noticed me now? Were my “juicy” breasts really that enticing?
“Why do you like me?” I ask.
But at the same time he says, “Will you go with me to the Hamptons for Valentine’s weekend?”
I stare at him in shock. “The what?”
He smiles his bright white smile. “The Hamptons. I have a little cottage there and I thought you might like a romantic escape from the city.”
Holy crap.
My stomach rolls and I grip the arm of my swivel chair.
“Did you just ask me to the Hamptons?”
“Yes.” He nods.
“To stay with you?”
“Yes.” He gives me a bemused smile.
“For Valentine’s Day?”
“Again yes.”
I stare at him, unable to think of an answer.
He lets out a low chuckle as he waits.
This isn’t just fancy dinners and coffees and heavy petting back at his place, this is serious. This is the next level.
“But why?” I blurt out.
Ian slicks his thick hair back from his face and gives the low vee in my shirt another steamy look. “Because the contents of your heart shine through, and I see beauty.”
Oh.
Ohhh.
He’s not looking at my breasts, he’s looking at my heart. That’s actually really sweet. Then, I remember what a good guy Ian is, how he’s been upfront about where he wants our relationship to head.
I think about Josh.
Josh.
My friend.
“What else, Gem?” he’d said. What else?
I don’t know about what anyone else thinks, but it’s pretty clear to me that Josh and I are meant to be friends. Maybe co-parents. But mostly friends.
Not more.
And that’s okay.
Really.
Haven’t I always said that I’m not interested in Josh Lewenthal? Hasn’t that always been true?
I sigh.
Life’s complicated.
“Well?” asks Ian. “What do you think?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’d love to go.”
It’s nearly time for my egg retrieval. Josh and I are in the waiting room at Dr. Ingraham’s office.
There’s a large rectangular space on the wall with slightly darker paint where the Georgia O’Keeffe painting used to hang. I’ve been staring at the wall for the last ten minutes.
For some reason I’m horribly nervous. Like, feel-like-I’m-going-to-throw-up nervous.
Joy is making phone calls behind the desk, completely ignoring us and the other patients in the waiting room. The TV in the corner is playing a survival show marathon. I focus on the wall and try not to fidget.
Josh leans over and presses his shoulder to mine. He dips his head close and says, “You okay?”