Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

The sight of Tasha’s car in the driveway of Lila’s house made his heart do this crazy double thump. One way or another, she would be reminded that he was waiting for her response. He raced up the stairs and only managed at the last second to be polite enough to knock.

Eager beaver.

Laughter poured out the door as it opened, and he smiled, expecting to see his cousin. Instead he found himself looking into the brown eyes that had been haunting his dreams for the past days, weeks, heck—years, if he was honest.

“Junior.” She clutched the door, her laughing face tightening into a frown, and he felt like a fool. Obviously his proposal had been so far out of line she had no idea how to turn him down. He stuttered for a second, disappointment and disillusionment sweeping through him.

“Tasha. Good to see you.”

They stood there for a minute, staring at each other. Then he noticed her blush, and hope fluttered back to life.

She jerked upright. “Sorry, come on in.” She opened the door and stepped back, and he slipped in past her, brushing as close as he could without making it noticeable to everyone in the room. He stood by her side and took a deep breath, her light perfume filling his head and making it spin.

“How have you been?” Tasha asked quietly as he looked around at the crowd gathering to play. She didn’t run off to hide, which he took as a good sign. Damn, he’d take anything as a good sign right now.

Optimist, that was him. Either that or he was a glutton for punishment.

“Anxious. Fretful. Hopeful?”

“Don’t…”

Max shrugged. “You asked. I was polite and didn’t even mention the physical reactions I’ve been having.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something?”

She sighed and walked beside him. “It’s going to sound pathetic, but nothing sounds good to drink.”

Right. Her self-imposed, chemical-free, all-natural, healthy-eating-and-drinking Operation Baby. After his stomach did a roll in sympathy for her, that spot inside him that made him want to go all protective and nurturing on her kicked into overdrive. “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

There were close to twenty people already wandering Lila’s place—family, friends. The same people Max had spent many a night with over the years. He waved and exchanged greetings with them as he ushered Tasha forward. There was a strange expression on her face as he led her to an island chair and seated her.

He clued in—she was checking to see if anyone was watching them.

“They’re used to seeing us together. You don’t need to worry,” he whispered in her ear before turning to the cupboard and helping himself to two glasses. He poured orange juice, topped it up with sparkling water, then returned to her side.

“I wasn’t worried.” She took the glass he offered, while yet another sigh escaped.

He raised a brow and sipped his juice.

“Okay, stop that. I haven’t made a decision, so yes, I am worried. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.” She spoke quietly. Her fingers fumbled with her glass as she greeted another family member moving past them to dig into the fridge.

Max patted her knee lightly, a teasing touch. “Relax.” Her gaze kept darting everywhere as people wandered in and out of the kitchen, grabbing what they needed. “Seriously, no one thinks anything of seeing us together—watch this.”

He turned to the couple leaning on the other side of the island. “Dave, Carole. You guys got your team together for the night?”

Dave grinned. “You offering to join us?”

Max winked. “Why not—my sis isn’t here yet, I might as well give you guys a hand kicking Lila’s butt.” He rose and knocked knuckles with Dave, ignoring Tasha where she now sat alone. About five seconds is all he figured he should have to wait.

Tasha fought to keep from frowning. He’d left her? Joined another team? Her sense of disappointment was as instant as it was shocking. She sat up straighter, trying to figure out what to say.

Carole turned from where she’d just given Max a big hug. “Oh, hey, Natasha. You have a team yet? You want to join us as well?” Carole stopped dead as if realizing something. “If that’s okay with you, Max. Did you have another partner already?”

Tasha gazed across the room at Max’s grinning face. The bastard raised a brow and grinned. “No partner. Tasha can join us. I don’t mind.”

Dave nodded once. “I’ll go nab us a spot, otherwise we’ll be crowded on that damn broken couch again. The springs are enough to kill me.” Carole grabbed their glasses and the two of them bombed out of the room.

Max leaned on the island across from her, his biceps pressing the fabric of his T-shirt. She dragged her gaze higher to meet his eyes. Laughter reflected back.

She glanced around the room, making sure there was no one near enough to overhear them. The kitchen had emptied, everyone else already congregating in the other room. “You’re such a wise-ass, aren’t you? Your point is everyone is used to seeing us together, without thinking of us as being together.”

He stared at her lips and she fought the urge to lick them. “Right now, that’s the truth. I’d love to have them see us a couple.”

Tasha sat up rigid in her seat. “Junior.”

“I’m being honest. The fact is moving this relationship forward is right, Tasha. It’s right for you, and me, and it’s perfect for the baby you’re going to—”

“Stop.” My God, he was driving her insane. There was a part deep inside that wanted to simply throw herself at him and accept his offer. The other part? Wanted to run far, far away. She obviously was having a split-personality issue. “Not tonight. I’m here to relax. Just—let’s go play and not discuss this right now.”

His expression revealed more than he probably wanted it to. She wished she had an answer for him, but sitting on the fence still felt pretty damn comfortable. He guided her into the living room, his hand warm on her arm. They sat next to each other on the love seat Dave had claimed, crowded together, his thigh tight against hers. Every brush, every twitch, brought a part of her body into contact with his, and every bit of contact caused a reaction. Her breath sped up, her heart pounded. As the game progressed, her ability to concentrate rapidly diminished.

The laughter filling the room echoed in her ears, hollow. She was too distracted by the warmth of his touch, the casual way he leaned against her as he laughed at Carole’s attempts to play. As another team groaned over being caught cheating. All her senses were on high alert, and every one of them wanted him to be deliberately using his considerable talent on her.

But it was only physical attraction. Damn the way her nerves tingled, it wasn’t enough to make forever happen.

Maxwell stiffened beside her when over an hour after the game had begun, his sister arrived with her date. Tasha did a double take, as did all the other girls in the room.

“Oh my, where did Maxy find him?” someone whispered.

The guy was gorgeous, with longish blond hair, face of an angel. Maxwell’s twin introduced him as Jamie, and as they joined in one of the groups, Maxwell’s head swiveled to watch them closely.

Even with Maxwell distracted, it wasn’t enough to interrupt Tasha’s obsession with his casual touch. Her mind raced, to the point that her attention span disappeared. She could barely play during their turn. She had trouble remembering to say polite goodbyes as the game broke up. People flitted around the room and began the trek out the door. All the while, the distracting warmth of his body hovered in close proximity.

It was like her brain had turned into some kind of Maxwell-tracking-device, to the exclusion of everything else. A trace of anger flared.

He smoothed a hand down her arm and she jerked away, deliberately stepping back a few paces to put some space between them. Surprise registered on his face.

“Can I walk you out?” Maxwell asked. Casual, friendly, just like always. No one around them even blinked, but Tasha held on to that flicker of heat. She was pissed at him, and at herself.

She couldn’t make this kind of decision based on the physical rush he gave her. It wasn’t enough—there were too many single moms to prove that fireworks in the sex department didn’t mean the guy would stick around.

“No thanks, I’m good.” She deliberately turned her back on him and grabbed Lila’s attention, hauling her friend off and asking some impulsive questions.

Lila eyed her strangely as the rest of the gamers poured out the door.

“Okay, girlfriend. Enough already.”

Tasha found herself dragged back into the kitchen once more and pressed onto one of the bar stools. Defensive instinct kicked in, and she started cleaning, stacking all the glasses within an arm’s reach.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lila asked. “I’ve seen eight-year-olds more with it the night before Christmas. You having troubles with a project or something? Because you’re certainly not here right now.”

Tasha shrugged, carrying a handful of glasses to the sink, wiping down the countertop. She grabbed at the excuse Lila offered. “Couple of projects on the go got me distracted. Sorry, I didn’t think it was that noticeable.”

Lila stared suspiciously. “Fine. Whatever it is you’ll tell me when you’re ready, I suppose. Now, can I get your opinion on a truly curious subject?”

Had Lila noticed something strange about all the attention she’d received tonight from Maxwell? “What?”

“Where the hell did my cousin Maxy find that guy, and do you think there are more lying around? I mean, I’m not in the market for anyone long term, but for a one-night stand? Holy moley, he was fine.”

A laugh escaped. “He reminded me of a swashbuckling pirate.”

They chatted for a short time before Tasha could make her escape. The evening hadn’t turned out to be the relaxing getaway she’d hoped for. The long drive back to her apartment was lonely and silent. The laughter of the evening dissipated like a mess of bubbles on the air.

When she checked her inbox one last time before heading to bed, the reminder of the next doctor’s appointment brought a fresh rush of tension to her shoulders, and crying herself to sleep seemed appropriate.

Tasha placed the enormous tray of cookies and chocolates she’d brought as her contribution on the table, dodged around a group of children playing on the floor and headed out to the porch where she’d seen the older cousins gathering. She’d had enough of hiding out in her house, trying to make a decision. Joining Gramma Turner’s birthday party seemed a safe alternative. Meeting Maxwell tonight was inevitable, but she figured there were enough people around she wouldn’t have to be alone with him.

He’d taken to emailing her. She refused to see him—she didn’t need the physical attraction between them distracting her as she reasoned this out. And yeah, that attraction was there, she wouldn’t deny it. But emails? Relatively safe, since she set the pace and could respond when she wanted.

She’d opened the first few out of curiosity to see what tack he would take. After the initial I’m-being-stalked sensation wore off, she’d decided to make it a game to see how he reacted to her responses. It had been amusing—a couple words or a smilie, and he’d do the same, then leave her alone for a while. A full sentence response or more on her part was matched. Light-hearted, random information she was sure he’d purposefully chosen to make her smile, and to cause her to wonder what he was up to.

He didn’t push for an answer, but he was always there, right in her face. One of the messages had shown up on her Blackberry when she was gown-draped and waiting in the doctor’s office for another intrusive test before the official AI steps could begin.

That had been a hell she had no words to describe.

The invitation to attend the party had been too good to turn down. Gramma was a legend in the Turner family, now a widow for fifteen years, but still a powerhouse in keeping the clan together.

“Tasha!” Lila greeted her with a hug and drew her into the mix of thirty-something’s mingling with the few older Turner clan who hadn’t been lured off into games or dinner prep yet. Tasha looked around quickly, but saw no sign of Maxwell. Someone passed her an ice tea, someone found her a chair, and she was dragged into their discussion. Happiness rolled over her as she set aside her worries for a while and just visited.

Somehow the group around her changed, and Tasha found herself neck deep in conversation with Lila’s grandmother, talking about everything from the hedges along the driveway to the summer’s wasp problem. The crowd dissipated as people headed into the house and out onto the lawn of the massive heritage home Gramma Turner occupied. Tasha smiled at the old woman’s expression—her pleased look as she surveyed her kingdom. It was a beautiful house, a part of the family legacy for years. The designer part of Tasha eyeballed the exacting bits that did work, and fiddled with the parts that didn’t. She loved the solid wood arch brackets on the porch supports and the gable wings on the peak under the eaves and tried to figure out how she could slip some of those designs into her own house.