Turn It Up

Chapter Six

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.”

Tasha led her into the house where Gramma was taken by the hand and brought by one of her grandsons to the place of honor at the head of the table. Tasha dodged back as bodies swirled around her, the voices on the air loud and happy, ringing with pleasure and the occasional childish complaint of who had to sit next to whom.

Tasha turned and found herself looking into a pair of big brown eyes. Maxwell smiled warmly as he led her to a chair, but he didn’t say a word other than to make sure she was comfortable before he left. Tasha twisted her head to watch him as he took his place at the children’s table with three of the other guys.

Lila passed the water pitcher down and nudged her, bringing her focus back to what was happening in front of her. “Got any plans for the rest of the weekend? You want to get together?”

“I’ve got a few projects I need to finish up, and I have to stop by the house to check the builder’s progress, but other than that, I’m free.” Tasha hid a smile as one of the children tried to escape from the children’s table. Junior caught him easily, pulled the boy into his lap and enticed him with a few tidbits of food, all the while maintaining his conversation with the other older men guarding the children.

Lila followed her gaze and laughed. “Best. Tradition. Ever.”

“Having the older Turner boys watch the little ones during dinner?”

“Hell, yeah. It almost makes up for having to have the Max in our names.”

Tasha smiled. “I have to say I’ve always loved seeing that. None of the guys seem to mind, either. In fact if anything it’s like they compete for the right to sit at the kids table.”

“That’s because sometimes it’s funny as shit.”

Tasha wasn’t just watching the humor in the situation, although it did seem there was more food-wearing than food-consuming happening at moments. The half-dozen Turner males in charge, aged from late teens to late twenties, had their hands full, but there were no screaming children complaining about the situation. There was laughter, and joking, and a heavy dose of camaraderie.

“I wonder if it’s like a test of knighthood—survive your family children’s table duty and you are now one of us. I’ve never noticed the girls having to do it.”

“They get enough watching time during the rest of the evening when the rugrats are free and on the run.” Lila snickered and pointed to the side. “I think they should include dates in the tradition. Maxy’s new beau looks horrified. I wonder how he’d handle the mashed-potatoes-in-the-hair trick?”

Tasha managed to keep eating, and chatting, but through it all that list of pros and cons she’d labored so hard over kept coming back to her again and again. And with every fleeting glance to see what Junior was up to, another one of her doubts slipped away. Across the room, laughter burst from a dozen throats at a time. Steady low conversations created a backdrop for the most erratic outbreaks of mirth. Gramma Turner’s aged tones carried through the room, her wisdom and patience a kind of binder twine—a bright ribbon of love weaving through them all, and Natasha had to wipe away tears.

There was no way she could deny this to her child. No way that she could be all and everything to them. Having been offered a chance to join into such openly offered love, she would be a fool to turn it down.

She peeked again in Junior’s direction, and this time caught him looking at her. There was hunger in his eyes, and a determination that switched immediately to a slightly cocky smile. He leaned back, acknowledging her, his hands holding firmly to the young child in his arms. Even as she watched, the little one wiggled around to plant a big kiss on his cheek, and suddenly Max’s attention turned, the delight on his face clear. It wasn’t a show for her sake, something to impress her with his goodwill. He was actually enjoying his time with the toddlers, and her final resistance stripped away.

He was a good man, and he had offered to make her dream come true. The fact he wanted to get married? It wasn’t her first choice, but considering everything, surely that was the one thing she could give in return.

Somehow, she had to find the courage to tell him she would be willing to go ahead, at least with part of his proposal.

“Can I talk to you?”

Finally. Maxwell turned to discover the object of his past hour’s search standing only a foot away. “I thought you’d joined the younger gang in playing hide and seek. You’ve been very elusive tonight.”

Tasha nodded slowly. There was something different in her body language, something restrained. The dark marks under her eyes proved she’d been struggling to sleep well, and it drove him mad. He didn’t want her to hurt like this. “I was staying away from you. That big window seat upstairs was a great place to sit and think for a while. I’ve come to a decision. You want to meet me somewhere?”

The knot in his belly tightened. “Serious, huh?”

“Very.”

“Damn, maybe we should do this in public, so I don’t lose anything vital if it gets messy.” Somehow, he needed to keep the conversation light-hearted. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to stop her from seeing how much this meant to him. It was one thing to fight for what he wanted, another to guilt the woman into a decision she didn’t want to make.

She rewarded his effort by smirking.

“I’m not kicking you in the nuts, Maxwell. But we do need to talk.” Tasha took a big breath. Looked around cautiously. “Maybe we could meet back at your house.”

Their gazes connected and he peeled away the layers of innuendo in a flash. Freaking A, could it be? “Holy shit. Really?”

She held up a hand. “Just to talk. We need to make a few decisions and I don’t want to… I mean, I don’t think we should… We need to talk.”

His brain and body fought a battle for which could react the fastest. She was accepting his proposal. He was going to be with the woman he’d longed for his entire life. They were going to have sex and start a lifetime together. And have sex.

Rational conversations were not high on his list right now.

The party was breaking up, there was no reason for them to stick around any longer. “I need to say good night to my Gramma, then I’ll meet you at my place.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and separated off the one for the house. “Here. If you beat me home, make yourself comfortable.”

Tasha bit her lip, cheeks flashing to red, and he swore.

“Shit, no, I didn’t mean that in the sexually loaded way it came out. I mean, you want to talk, we’ll talk. I get that. I promise I won’t…push you for anything else tonight.”

Although how he’d keep that promise he had no idea.

Someone called Tasha’s name and she raised a hand in acknowledgement. She stepped back a pace and let her gaze drop over him, the heat that rose in her eyes doing nothing to inhibit his anticipation. She turned to leave, her ass swinging from side to side as she walked. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, images of stripping her clothes off piece-by-piece filling his mind, only this time he’d indulge his every whim as far as it came to her body.

He tried to hurry, but while he cut his farewells short, there still were a lot of them to make. By the time he’d given his Gramma a kiss, hugged his parents, and extracted himself from the smallest of the cousins who clung to his ankles like burrs, his brain was feverishly repeating the images of Tasha, naked. Only this time she was in his bed, waiting for him.

His sister Maxine stepped in front of him.

“You haven’t had a chance to meet Jamie yet.” She gestured to the side. “I wondered if you wanted to join us for a coffee or something for a few minutes.”

The only thing that could pull his feet to a complete stop would be this guy. Jamie had hung around Maxine all evening, never getting involved or joining any of the games. And since Maxine had been in the thick of helping everyone as usual, that meant her date had been holding up a wall and being a lump. In the eyes of the Turner clan, his actions screamed loser.

Fuck. “I can’t go out, I’ve got a…meeting in a bit. But I do want to get together with you guys.” Maxwell eyed Jamie with suspicion. “Tomorrow afternoon might work.” Unless he was busy in bed with Tasha. His groin reacted to the mere thought, and he retreated to grab his coat.

“You’ve got a meeting tonight? After the birthday party?” Maxy sounded totally confused.

Shit—he wasn’t about to lie to her. Not now. He whispered in her ear. “I’ve got a date. I don’t want to visit with you and Mr. GQ right now, okay?”

She frowned. “You have a date? You didn’t tell me you’d given up mooning over Natasha Bellingham.”

Crap. Maxwell looked around the room to see if anyone had overheard. “I should have guessed you’d have spotted that.”

“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.