Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

“You’ve rebuffed me for a long time.” His dark eyes caught hers, locking her in place. A wave of his hair fell across his brow, hanging untended as he gazed intently at her. “Now that I’ve finally found something I can give you, I wanted to be sure you listened.”

“That you can give me… Wait a minute.” No. Freaking. Way. He was nuts. “Your health records? Are you offering stud services to get me pregnant? Because, buddy, that’s—”

He laughed and the lightness of it danced around the room, filling the open spaces with the sound of his delight. “I’m offering more, but that’s a damn good place to begin. You think you’re getting old enough you need to start a family immediately. Personally, I don’t think there’s any rush, but if it’s that important to you, fine. But artificial insemination? Why would you go with an anonymous donor? No matter how good the charts, you’ve got no guarantees. I, on the other hand, can provide complete health records, plus a family history with no inherent health risks. Long-lived grandparents, and a decent chance at a fantastically attractive kid.” Max waggled his brows and she groaned.

He was serious. Tasha shot to her feet, ignoring the stabbing pain it caused, and paced away from him. Her fingers twitched with the need to shred something.

“You forgot to mention the streak of insanity that shows up every now and again. Maxwell, you proposed to me. Now you’re offering to get me pregnant? Maybe I’m still too hungover to connect all the dots, but none of this makes sense.”

“You want the long version or the short?”

“Short, dammit,” she snapped. “Give me the short list and be done with it already.”

Max let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Surely if she was going to tell him to fuck himself, she would have by now. If she’d been completely uninterested, she could have cut him off back at the café. Ordered her own cab, or done something to stop their discussion from continuing. He grabbed at the chance to state his case.

“A list? You got it. Short, to the point. Number one, you want a baby. Two, you think the world of my family. Three, you said once a long-term relationship should be a matter of choice, not some emotional bleeding-heart impulse or sexually hormone-driven whim.”

She snorted. “Your freaky perfect memory’s going to get you in trouble someday.”

“I’m waiting in breathless anticipation. Am I right? Did I hit three truths in the short list?”

Her gaze narrowed as she nodded. “Why do I feel like I’m being set up?”

“Because you’re nearly as smart as me?” Tasha gave him the finger and he grinned. “Look, maybe I’m a bit out of line, but we’ve been friends for a long time. You’ve hung out with the Turner clan for years and gone to all kinds of family events with me around. I’m going to speak bluntly, okay?”

“And you don’t usually?”

“No, I’m far too polite and laid back.”

“Oh, Jesus , just get on with it.”

He rose to his feet and closed in on her. “I think if it’s at all possible, all babies should have both a mom and a dad to love and care for them.”

“If possible,” she retorted. “I’m single.”

“Not if we get married.”

She dragged her hands through her hair. “This isn’t happening. I swear it’s some kind of tequila-induced hallucination.”

He stepped closer, not giving her time to continue her protests. Last night he’d shown more control than any man should ever have to. Today his ability to manage the urges driving him grew a little shakier. “My family thinks the world of you and would be thrilled to be involved with your child—again meaning more love and attention. That’s not the biggest reason to marry me, but it’s a bonus.”

“Like a prize in the cereal box?”

Max laughed out loud, the expression on her face driving him crazy. Sarcastic wench. “God, you are so freaking cocky. I love that. And that’s the real reason this makes sense. I would definitely choose to be in a long-term relationship with you.”

She opened her mouth to speak then swung her hands in frustration, pacing away to stand in front of an empty window opening. Fists planted on her hips, she stared out at the backyard.

He waited patiently.

Tasha turned and shook her head. “You can’t know that. You’re too young to—”

“Don’t.” That was the one argument he would not accept. It made his blood boil. He rapidly crossed the room to her side. “Don’t you dare say something trite like ‘You’re too young to know your own mind.’ This is me , not some random person off the street. We’ve spent tons of time together over the years.”

“Not one-on-one, not in a sexual relationship.”

“Because you’ve never let us go there. I’ve been your friend. I’ve helped you move and fixed your car. We’ve played games together and watched bad movies. When I make a decision I stick to it. If I say I want to be involved with you, trust me, I’ve given it a ton of thought. I’ll not only keep my commitment, but be the best damn father possible.”

Her face grew redder as she waved her hands in the air and shouted at him, “You can’t propose to me just because I want to get pregnant.”

It was his turn to stare in disbelief. “This from a woman who plans on making a baby and having to deal with wet diapers and colic and all the rest of it alone for the next twenty years? Don’t talk to me like I’m the only crazy person in the room.”

They locked glares, neither one blinking or willing to back down. The wind picked up and blew in the open window, ruffling her hair around her face and something inside him tightened. Was he in love with her? Hell, yeah. He’d admired her forever, her body and her character, and love seemed to have snuck in as a natural progression, but that’s not what she needed to hear, not yet. She’d spent too long keeping him at arm’s length. He’d have to start somewhere they could agree. Max took a step closer, dropping his gaze to her lips. She licked them nervously, crossing her arms in front.

“What are you doing?” She shuffled backward, coming to a sudden stop against the raw wood of a two-by-six wall stud, flinging her hands out to catch her balance.

“Proving we’ve got a physical attraction between us.” One more pace put him in her personal space, their feet alternating on the floor, torsos brushing, hips close enough the heat of her body bled against his.

She leaned harder against the wood at her back, her breasts heaving beneath her T-shirt as she tried to widen the space between them, and he refused to give way. “What does that have to do— I mean, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Max sank his fingers into her thick mane of dark hair and let his satisfaction escape in a low moan. God, he’d wanted to do that forever, and last night refusing her sexual advances had taken him to the breaking point. He needed this so badly he felt raw inside, aching with need for a taste of her. He tugged until her face tilted toward him, the smooth curve of her cheek shining in the midmorning sunlight. “Just in case you get some screwy idea of accepting only part of my terms. I don’t want you to imagine for even a moment we’re going to use any kind of turkey-baster method to get you pregnant.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, probably to lambaste him. He took advantage of the opportunity and clamped their mouths together.

Stone cold sober.

Suddenly, that’s what she was—the blood pounding through her carrying more than enough oxygen to reinvigorate her dusty brain cells. He was kissing her. No, that was wrong. A kiss was something your granny gave you, something innocent and calm that made you slightly sleepy. This was a different beast altogether, like a flash fire rolling through and consuming everything in its path, and before she realized what she was doing, Tasha had wholeheartedly joined in.