Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

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.

“It’s good to talk with you tonight.” Gramma Turner eyed her with approval. “Although, you do seem soul tired.”

The children racing across the lawn caught her eye, and Tasha deliberately turned her chair to face the house and Gramma Turner more directly. “Life gets busy at times. I need a holiday, that’s all.”

“Oh, life does get busy, you’re right about that.” The older woman shook her head. “I’ve wondered what it would have been like to be rich, living in a fancy house like this one back in the days when the servant rooms were full and the master and mistress were waited on hand and foot.”

Tasha wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’d have liked that very much.”

“You and me both. Although it’s nice to be able to sleep in now that I’m not looking after babies and young ones. Maybe it’s part of being with this whole crazy family, but I kind of think I’d be lost without the chaos that’s always around.”

It was chaos. Happy, controlled chaos with a hearty dollop of joy stirred in. Tasha risked taking a peek at the yard, the youngsters gathered together all lying on their bellies examining something in the grass as their older cousins reined them in.

Gramma Turner leaned back in her chair. “Well, that’s enough of me flipping my tongue—see why they shouldn’t make me sit and not let me stay busy in the kitchen? I’d talk your ear off if I had half a chance.”

“It’s your birthday. I think they wanted to make the meal a surprise. And if you cook it, it won’t be,” Tasha teased.

The older woman squeezed Tasha’s hand again. “Just so you know—everyone here has a place in my heart, and that includes you, dear.”

“You’re amazing.” Tasha gave her a sincere smile, a bit of a lump in her throat. This was the grandmother she’d never had.

“Tosh. I’m a very ordinary woman who’s lived life as best I can. I love my family and work with my hands, that’s all.”

A bell rang in the distance, announcing the next portion of the evening was about to begin and Gramma Turner rose to her feet and took Tasha’s arm. “Now. They managed to make me stay away while they served up dinner, but that’s as long as I’m willing to sit on my behind like a lady of leisure. After supper, I’ll be doing my amazing work in the kitchen washing dishes, and I’ll be happy as a clam. It doesn’t take much to please an old woman like me, you know. Give me a little food and drink, a warm roof over my head, and let me have my family around me and that’s all I need.”