by Vivian Arend
She did accept his hand out of the vehicle, only to stop in confusion. “Why are we…? Max, you brought me to my building site. I asked you to take me home.”
“And I will. But this is one of your homes, so strictly speaking I did what you asked.”
His grin was back and the urge to smack him one grew larger by the minute. “You are so annoying.”
Maxwell opened the trunk and pulled out two lawn chairs. “Come on, let’s talk.”
She followed behind as he paced toward the skeleton frame of what would eventually be her home. After years of working for other people, she’d finally gotten the chance to take her own dreams and put them down on paper. The architectural designs she’d created were slowly being turned into a reality. The foundation was poured, the weeping tile and backfill completed. The framers were hard at it this week with most of the outer walls up and the sheeting beginning to close it in so it actually looked like a house.
He unfolded the lawn chairs in the future living room and gestured to one. She shook her head. Standing would be better, especially when he arranged his long limbs into one chair. That allowed her to get the upper hand, right? Being taller than him for once?
“What did I tell you?” she blurted out. Oh, that was controlled and dignified. Not. He raised a brow and grinned wider, and she bit back a smart comment. “I mean, tell me what happened last night, please.”
Max crossed his ankles and placed his elbows on the armrests, looking entirely too relaxed and comfortable. He wasn’t suffering nearly as much as she was.
“You explained to me how stupid men were, and I had to agree since you were discussing the idiots you’ve dated over the past couple of years. Then you informed me this being the modern world there was no reason for you to try to find a Prince Charming.” He made quote-unquote motions with his fingers, his dark eyes fixed on hers as he spoke. “I agreed with you on that one as well, in case you’re interested.”
“I thought you liked to argue with me.”
“Only when you’re wrong. Most of your revelations last night were amazingly accurate.”
She dragged the second lawn chair farther from him and collapsed into it. “Last night… Umm, what else did I say? Or do? Because I was too drunk for you to think I was serious. It must have been the alcohol talking.”
He tapped his fingers together as he considered. “No, the alcohol-influenced bit came when you stripped off your clothes right after we walked in the door.”
Dear Lord, no. “You’re kidding me.”
Maxwell took a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll simply spit it out. Three sheets to the wind, you’re very chatty. You’re also very affectionate. Don’t worry, nothing physical happened between us. I carried you to your room, convinced you to put on your PJs and tucked you into bed. I did not accept your offer to fuck your brains out.”
Tasha opened her mouth but her vocal cords were frozen. She couldn’t have. Max dragged his chair back to its original distance from hers and grabbed her hand. His thumb traced slow circles on her knuckles, and that flutter of desire she’d kicked into the corner years ago woke up and stretched.
He spoke quietly, the deep tone smoothing over her skin like butter on hot toast. “You insisted you were not usually a drunk, and that’s true. I’ve never seen you lose control like that ever before.”
“And never will again.” God, she was so embarrassed. A tingling sensation stole up her arm from where he caressed her skin. He’d flipped her hand over to rub the tender inside of her wrist and tendrils of desire flew along her nerves.
She pulled her fingers free. “Stop that.”
He shrugged and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. Yup, definitely larger muscles—broader across the… No. No admiring the man. She had to get to the bottom of this puzzle so the insanity could be finished.
“Max…”
“You told me about Operation Baby.”
Tasha sucked for air. “No. Way.”
“Yup. No time like the present, there are plenty of opportunities for a woman like you to successfully raise a child alone. Damn if you’ll wait any longer for the right guy to come along. Artificial insemination will work fine.”
She buried her head in her hands with a moan as he repeated verbatim all the arguments she’d had with herself over the past year. Shit, shit, shit. She’d told him everything, while naked to boot. What the hell had come over her, and how could she possibly explain this away? Her face flamed red hot with embarrassment.
Confusion flooded her already overtaxed brain and she stared at him in dismay. No matter how dense she’d been, that still didn’t explain the ring he’d offered.
“Let me get this straight. I stripped in front of you and told you my plans for getting pregnant before I turned thirty-five. Your response was to set my alarm clock, give me your health records and propose?” Tasha scrubbed her temples in frustration. This was not happening. She grabbed the armrests of the lawn chair so tightly they creaked. “Junior, I may be a stupid drunk, but what’s your excuse? You were sober and you’re acting more insane than me.”
“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.
Chapter Three
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.
Maxwell Turner wasn’t only kissing her, he had his body so tight against hers there was no doubt remaining that various parts of his anatomy had increased in girth, and she wasn’t talking about his pecs anymore. His tongue swept into her mouth, the lingering hint of coffee vanishing as her taste buds switched to take him in. Clean, warm, and oh my God, the boy could kiss. Heat flushed from her core outward, her breasts grew hot and heavy, and damn if she remembered why she’d turned him away all these years. Strong fingers curled around her neck as he deepened their contact. She responded, her tongue brushing his, lips and teeth getting into the act. She grabbed his shoulders for support, digging into the firm muscles under her fingertips. He ate greedily at her mouth until her head spun, senses shifting to overload.
He snuck a hand around her torso, fingers spread wide as he slid under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her lower back. Warm palm in full contact with her body, he pulled her even tighter against his groin, and his rigid erection dug into her belly. Her breasts were crushed between them, nipples tight and aching. Max fastened onto her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, a flash of ecstasy shooting through her core and setting her on fire. How long had it been since she’d felt like this from simply kissing? She scraped her fingernails down his back and he dragged his lips from hers, groaning loudly. Air rushed back into her lungs, and she shoved her fingers into his back pockets and yanked him forward. The leg between hers nudged her knees farther apart before sliding closer to connect with her sex.
His assault on her senses continued as he worked his way along her jaw to press kisses and nips to the tender skin below her ear. The need inside escalated to the point she was ready to peel off her clothes and go for it right there. She was empty, and aching. Their combined breathing carried loud on the air, echoing in the hollow spaces of the unfinished room.
Max returned to her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the rocking motion of his hips, and she whimpered. It was too much and not nearly enough. He released his grip on her hair and cupped her ass instead, dragging her up his body until she rode the solid ridge of his erection. Tingling, flashes of heat, pleasure—all of it washed over her in waves and she clutched him tighter. Good Lord, she was going to climax like this, rubbing him like a cat.
He lifted her left leg higher and looped her knee over his elbow, forcing her back hard to the wall. Spread wide open, she was defenseless as he ground against her, the seam line of her jeans making contact with her clit through the thin layer of her thong and she panted hard. So close.
“Give it to me. Let me see…you…” He cut off and thrust, again and again. Muttered words drifted from his lips, his breath escaping in gasps. One more circular rotation with his hips, and she squeezed her eyes tight and tipped over the edge. Bliss bore down in rhythmic pulses, starting at the apex of her sex and spreading fingers through her core. She purred out her delight, accepting the orgasm and its continuing pleasure. He slowed his thrusts and recaptured her mouth, biting her lips, kissing her madly. Tasha leaned her head back to enjoy the aftershocks of her
climax, taking delight in the attention he lavished on her.
They clung together, hands softening, lips slowing their feverish contact. Time slipped away. A buzzing fly drifted past their heads and pulled her from the haze of satisfaction settling heavy in her limbs.
He broke off their kiss, easing her down his body until her toes landed. He supported her, waiting for her to stop wavering on her feet. His chest moved in shallow breaths, obviously as affected by their actions as she. She glanced down and spotted his erection still bulging the front of his jeans. Remorse and doubt crept over her. Oh shit, what had she done?
He lifted her head and she stared into his eyes. The centers were dark, pupils dilated with lust. “You are so damn beautiful.”
Max cupped her neck again, pulling her against his chest, and she’d never felt guiltier in her life. She listened to the pounding of his heart under her ear and let reality sneak back in. She had dry humped someone who she’d sworn to not get involved with sexually.
Who’d proposed to her thirty minutes ago and suggested he wanted nothing better than to get her pregnant.
Just as her mind protested vehemently, he cleared his throat. His voice when he spoke was deeper than usual, husky with lust. “I needed that.”
Madness. Sheer madness. Tasha pressed her palms against his chest in an attempt to separate their bodies. His arms were steel bands around her as he refused to let her go.
“You wouldn’t be planning on running, would you?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Oh God, I don’t believe I let—”
“Let it happen? Don’t lie. You wanted it as much as I did.”
Well, shit. This had gone far enough. “Max…”
“Don’t deny it. Don’t regret it, I sure the hell don’t.”
Tasha shivered at the intense expression in his eyes. He wasn’t going to let her make some flip remark and escape this time. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I won’t deny I enjoyed it, but we never should have started in the first place.”