Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

He put down his glass, stood and held out his hand. The heat in his eyes let her know exactly what he had planned. “I do my best.”

And when their weekend was over, and they got back to reality to officially start their time together, it was soon clear that his best meant all-out concerted effort.

The first morning she woke and didn’t feel like getting out of bed, Tasha didn’t say anything. It was too frightening to consider if she was pregnant, and too heart-wrenching if it turned out she wasn’t.

Instead, she put it up to not being used to having a younger guy in bed with her. Confessing he could wear her out? The thought made her smirk—he certainly seemed to be trying hard enough, both in and out of the sack. Over the past month she’d lost five pounds from their newly established exercise program, not to mention all the sex. Combined with their decision keep junk food out of the house, for the first time in four years she fit into her favorite designer jeans.

It was like having her own personal trainer twenty-four/seven.

Progress continued on her house construction, contrasting with a notable lack of progress when it came to mending fences with Lila. Her emails went unanswered, and she knew damn well Lila had to be screening her calls. The hurt inside ached at times. Tasha still hoped that whatever had gotten into Lila would smooth itself out, but until it did, there wasn’t much more she could do.

She was surrounded by stubborn people. But at least when it came to Max, his ability to dig in his heels made sense, even when it drove her crazy. Ever since he’d moved in and they were forced into constant communication, there was no leeway given over things he thought were important. It made it tough to maintain emotional distance from the guy, because he always backed up his arguments with logic she couldn’t deny.

While the physical attraction between them was clear, and man was she ever enjoying the attempting-to-get-pregnant part, she wanted more space. Not only because it had been over five years since she’d had a roommate of any kind. She needed some privacy, and soon, before the lines of friendship got even more blurred than they already were. Waking up to find herself cuddled up tight to him, or opening her eyes to discover him staring at her, gently stroking her hair back from her face—no way. No freaking way could she let that continue.

It was too dangerous. Screamed of all those other times she’d trusted someone with her heart and they’d turned around and taken advantage of her. Maybe Max would be different, but all she would acknowledge right now was his commitment to the idea of family. Not to her. Not yet.

She had to guard her heart. Time for desperate measures.

Tape measure in hand, she eyeballed the second bedroom of the apartment. It was crowded with her exercise bike and the tables Max had set up to put his computer equipment on. “You know, I think if we got one of those Murphy bed things we could fit it in here.”

Max looked up from where he was working, confusion blurring his features for a second. “Are you expecting guests?”

“No, for you. Until we move into the house and you can have your own room. Here, give me a hand.” She held one end of the tape toward him and slipped toward the corner to measure the space between the closet and the wall. “I mean, once I’m pregnant, we don’t need to keep sharing a bed. We don’t even need to share a bed now. Except for sex.”

He nodded slowly as he took the other end of the measure and held it to where she pointed. “I see. Can I make a suggestion?”

He waited until she acknowledged him, then gave a sharp tug on the measuring tape. The end she held flew from between her fingers, slapping against his chest.

“Max, what the hell are you doing?”

He dodged around the computer chair and snagged her hands in his. He slowly wrapped the tape around both her wrists as he spoke, holding her firmly in spite of her wiggled attempts to escape. “My suggestion is—no. Moms and dads sleep together.”

“But—”

“Get used to it. I’m not having a separate room from you so down the road we need to come up with all kinds of explanations for our kids.”

“We could switch things up later.” Oh God, he’d said kids. Like it was real and would be happening.

“Nope. May as well start now. That will give us a spare room in the house.” He tugged her closer with her immobilized hands between them. “Does this mean that you were planning on giving up sex once you get pregnant? I don’t remember that in the prenatal agreement.”

Busted. “It’s not, but—”

“Because I don’t think either of us would enjoy that idea. If we’re honest. I like having sex with you.”

Max nuzzled her neck and she gave up. And gave in, refusing to think too hard about the warm feeling his stubborn response lit inside.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” she grumbled.

“Of course if you start snoring—then all bets are off and we’ll talk.”

He grinned, untied her, and went back to his project.

That was another thing that amazed her—the way the man worked. He could have four things on the go at one time, and seem to keep them all moving forward simultaneously. Tasha shook her head and went back to her own work, carefully double-checking her blueprints and not attempting to imitate his seemingly chaotic approach. Anyone who pulled details together as randomly as he could made her suspicious.

A couple days later he was the one looking at her with suspicion as she sat up carefully and maneuvered her legs over the edge of the bed. A groan escaped, one hand rising to cover her mouth.

“So…?” He wandered around the end of the bed to stare down at her.

The rising nausea in her belly made her move slowly. “So, that casserole your cousins pawned off on us wasn’t my favorite. I think it’s repeating on me.”

She stood and swayed. He grabbed on instantly, his strong arms supporting her as the room spun.

Concern wrinkled his brow. “I think the casserole was fine.”

No, no, it definitely wasn’t. Tasha pushed herself free and barely made it to the bathroom in time.

He helped, quietly soothing her even as he pulled her hair out of the way and tied it back with an elastic band. Gave her a cold facecloth and rubbed her back until the shakes passed. Handed her a glass of water to rinse her mouth out.

Then he handed her a pregnancy-test kit.

She swallowed around the horrible taste in her mouth, now half caused by nerves. After all her planning and plotting, he might have handed her a snake.

Her mind raced. What if it was positive? What if she’d managed to get pregnant? Suddenly this whole arrangement they’d pulled together would be permanent and she’d have to face that fact.

Or worse, what if she wasn’t?

“It’s too early to know.”

Maxwell raised a brow. “I’m damn sure you are, from all the other signs, but humor me. These things are supposed to be able to pick up within a few days of conception.”

Other signs? Was she stupid or did he really think he could spot this faster than she could? “Fine, but I’m not peeing with you in the room.”

He rolled his eyes and dodged her feeble attempt to hit him, pulling her close and kissing her cheek in spite of her protests. “Hey, don’t worry about it. If you’re not pregnant yet, we’ll keep trying. It’s tough work, but I don’t mind.” He snatched up his toothbrush before backing away. He waggled his brows and she blew a raspberry at him.

“Did you at least buy the easiest test to figure out?”

He nodded. “If you’d like me to help you—”

“No. Thank you, but I’m not ready to share that pleasure, okay?”

Maxwell paused at the door. “Once you’re done, give me a shout. I want to…be there, please?”

They stared at each other and a warmth rose inside that had nothing to do with being embarrassed and everything with appreciating how caring he’d been. She nodded, he left. It took a face wash in icy-cold water, followed by a thorough tooth brushing before she felt human enough to face the packaging. She opened the kit with shaking hands, followed the directions and laid the test stick on the counter.

Then she fled the bathroom.

Max stood in the living room, facing away from her, the muscles in his shoulders and lower back tight as he looked out the window. The early-morning sun shining into the room cast a homey glow over everything, and Tasha paused. They’d been enjoying each other’s company the past weeks, getting to know one another better. She closed her eyes and fought to find that dividing line—she had to keep her emotional distance, no matter how great they got along. He’d never said a word about love; it had always been about choice and friendship. That’s what she wanted, what she could rely on for the long run.

When people started tossing the love word around, that’s when every one of her past relationships had broken down. She didn’t want this to fall apart. It couldn’t fall apart, not if that stick lying on the counter showed there was now a baby involved. Admitting they found a great deal of sexual pleasure in each other was fine, and friendship was fine. That’s as far as she was willing to go.

She beat down the fluttering inside that questioned why she wouldn’t want more. There was no way she would jinx this, not now.

Tasha went for as bright and happy an announcement as she could. Unfortunately, it came out sounding scared. “Set your timer, two minutes and counting.”

Max enveloped her in a big hug. He rubbed her back in slow circles, and they stood there, waiting for the future to arrive.