Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

“Like, duh, of course I did. You’ve been interested in her forever.”

This wasn’t good, not before he actually spoke with Tasha to confirm exactly what she had in mind. “Look, I can’t talk right now, but I do want to visit with you. Soon. Let me call you tomorrow, and we’ll set up a time, okay? And don’t go telling anyone about my date yet. I’ll explain the next time I talk to you.”

Maxine shrugged. “Fine. I’ll chat with you tomorrow.” She kissed his cheek lightly, then held out a hand to Jamie. The man took her fingers in his and, without a word, waggled his brows at Junior and led her away.

Every instinct in him called for Maxwell to follow them and demand that coffee, right here, right now. And to demand that Jamie get his smirking grin and sticky fingers off his sister…but he had to let go sometime.

He stomped off across the lawn to where he’d tucked his car and pulled out cautiously, avoiding the rest of the family making their escape. It wasn’t just that he had Tasha waiting for him back at the house, it was time he let his sister make her own decisions. She wasn’t an idiot. Innocent maybe, but she was smart enough to be able to stop things that she didn’t want to happen. If Jamie got out of line, she’d been shown by a lot of the family how to physically defend herself.

It took most of the trip home to placate his guilt, but he managed, and by the time he parked next to Tasha’s fiery red Fiat, the only thing on his mind was her.

She’d opened the door carefully, walking into his house with trepidation. She felt like an interloper, someone coming in under false pretenses. She’d been in the tidy cottage before, any number of times, but never alone. Certainly never with the intent of being alone…with him.

She had to pull off her jacket, the heat that flushed her body enough to make the place rather warm. Junior had left music playing, and a rock beat pulsed through the house as she clicked on lights. For a guy’s domain, it wasn’t bad. She unashamedly snooped through the fridge, and around the living room. He didn’t even have dirty dishes in the sink. The toilet seat was up in the bathroom, but other than that, and the unmade bed, his place was probably cleaner than hers.

On the desk in the corner, she spotted a pad of paper similar to the type she used for jotting notes while designing a house. She grabbed it and a pen before curling up in the loveseat. There was no doubt in her mind anymore that she wanted to accept his offer, but she needed to make sure this was a totally rational decision.

That night at the party she’d been hit with a powerful picture of the unconditional love and support the Turners offered. The large clan was sometimes overpowering, but always entertaining, and the images of the many things she’d missed over the years flooded her heart and mind. She had no extended family anywhere in this part of the country, but she’d deliberately made her home here. Her mom was remarried, and didn’t seem to want her around. Natasha wrote a word at the top of the page, underlining it carefully. She desperately wanted to have a baby, but she needed to consider the best thing in the long run for her child.

Having a larger group of family around, including a full-time father—there was no way she could deny her child that part of an upbringing. Since she seemed to have no luck in having people love her for the long run, the temptation to make her child’s world as perfect as possible was too much to resist. She wrote quickly, all thoughts of the physical attraction between her and Maxwell pushed aside. This was too important to lose focus right now. It wasn’t about having someone permanently in her life, it was about providing for her baby.

She was concentrating so hard on her writing that when the door opened she jerked in surprise, her head shooting up to find Maxwell rapidly approaching, his coat and keys tossed haphazardly on the table. She scrambled to grab the notepad from where it had fallen on the floor, catching the edge of the paper the same moment he did.

They lifted it together and his eyes distracted her. The dark centers dilated wider as he stared at her, crouched low beside the chair.

“Hey.”

She swallowed hard. “Hey. You weren’t as long as I thought you’d be.”

He dropped the notepad to the side, his eyes hungrily tracing her face as he grabbed her hand. “I broke the speed limit. By a lot.”

She chewed on her lower lip. All the confidence she’d had back at the house when she’d told him she wanted to speak with him seemed to have escaped, fleeing into the night. “That’s not very responsible of you.”

“I’ll be responsible from here on, but if I didn’t hear you actually say it, I was going to go insane. Are you accepting my offer? Will you marry me?”

She pulled her hand from his and nodded slowly, reaching for the notepad. “Yes, but with a few conditions.”

Maxwell stiffened slightly. “What kind of conditions?”

“If you’re worried about not getting sex, that’s not it,” she joked, desperately trying to lighten the mood. She was one step away from freaking out as it was.

He rose to his feet in one motion. “This isn’t a gag, Tasha. Yes, I want to have sex with you, but I’ve damn well offered my life to you and this baby. I’m giving you everything I can think of that’s important to me, so I’d appreciate a little mutual respect. This isn’t about simply wanting to get into your pants.”

Shit. She popped up after him, shaking her head rapidly. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s what you said. That’s all I’ve got to go on.” He dragged a hand through his hair before pulling to a stop. “I’m sorry, I’m more on edge than I thought. You don’t deserve to be shouted at.”

She held the notepad to him. “If you’d give me a second I can explain. The only conditions involve us as a couple.”

He took the paper and rotated it to read. “A prenatal agreement?”

“It was the best I could come up with on short notice.” Fuck. Her voice quivered. She wanted to be in charge and in control, and instead the whole situation was making her weepy and morose. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders.

Max sighed, then held out his hand to her. He was far too astute. She slowly accepted his offered hand, let him pull her into his arms and hold her close for a minute. His heart beat strong against her chest, the brush of his lips against her hair a soft flickering breeze. He squeezed her tight before letting her go, tugging her instead to his side as he sat them on the couch.

“Okay, let’s look this over. I hope you don’t mind if I play with it a bit?”

“Of course not. I want this to work for you as well—it’s got to be fair and right for us both. I think we should probably get some papers drawn up formally.” She curled her legs up beside her, leaning against his side before she’d realized it. The warmth of his body helped keep her jitters away, and she gave in to the temptation to stay there. “I guess the main things are making sure that we’ve got this figured out financially, and with the family. If for some reason I can’t get pregnant, I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped into staying with me.”

Max hummed as he added notes to the paper. “If you can’t get pregnant, it could be my fault. We’ll deal with it if that happens. Worst-case scenario—have you thought about adopting?”

She shrugged. “I have, but that wouldn’t be anything for you to be concerned about.”

He twisted to face her. “You’re simply not getting it, are you? There is no difference between a child that pops from your body, and one you adopt. They both need family around. I’m in, for the long haul. If we make a baby, great. If not, we adopt and the Turner clan will grow that way.”

The lump in her throat was enormous. She was smart enough to bite back the words asking if he was sure. The expression on his face said he was.

“Tasha? Did you understand what I said?”

She nodded, and he crossed off one of her paragraphs on the prenatal agreement. The only out-clause she’d given him.

He pointed down the page. “You don’t have to worry about the money part. I’ve got a fair bit saved up, and this house can be sold. We can set up some accounts together and some apart—however you feel the most comfortable, but I can tell you right now I make enough to support us both.”

She pressed her hand over his mouth. “Junior, I’m not worried about the money. I trust you. My God, you’re a genius. If anything, you should have the papers drawn up so my business doesn’t suck yours under. That’s not what I want to tell you.”

He leaned back, twisting to the side against the arm of the couch so he could face her.

“I’m not in love with you.”

Max shrugged. “I didn’t say you were.”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m not planning on falling in love with you. I mean, I like you, and I admire you. But I want us to be there for this baby, and that’s the bottom line. This isn’t about roses and poetry. It’s a commitment to the family, and friendship. Nothing more.”

He didn’t even blink. “Okay.”

That easy? Tasha looked for even a glimmer of amusement or ridicule on his face. It wasn’t there. In fact, his expression was basically unreadable. “Okay?”

Max reached and cupped her chin. His thumb brushed against her cheek softly. “I said before that we were going into this by choice. I choose to be with you. You’ve made my motor run over the years, but I’ve also admired your work and your energy and your enthusiasm for life. That’s why I want to be with you. I don’t need any mystical emotional rush to convince me to entangle my future with yours.”