Table Of ContentCome Away With Me
Book One in the With Me In Seattle Series
By Kristen Proby
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mom, Gail Holien. Thank you for giving me the
love of reading a good love story and for being the best woman I know. I love
you, mom.
COME AWAY WITH ME – Book One in the With Me In Seattle Series Kristen
Proby
Copyright © November 2012 by Kristen Proby
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed
in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in
violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of
the author and your support and
respect is appreciated.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
The following story contains mature themes, profanity, and explicit sexual
situations. It is intended for adult readers.
Cover image used under license from Shutterstock.com Cover Design by Renae
Porter
Chapter One
The light this morning is perfect. I hold my Canon to my face and press the s
hutte r. Click. The Puget Sound is covered in color; pinks, yellows, blues, and
for once the wind is almost still.
Waves gently lap against the concrete barrier at my feet, and I’m lost in the
beauty before me.
Click.
I turn to my left and see a young couple walking along the sidewalk.
Seattle’s Alki Beach is pretty much deserted, aside from a few die hards, or early
morning insomniacs, like me. The young couple is walking away from me, hand
in hand, smiling at each other, and I point my lens at them and click. I zoom in
on their sneaker-clad feet and locked hands and shoot some more, my
photographer’s eye appreciating their intimate moment on the beach.
I inhale the salty air and stare out at the Sound once again as a red-sailed boat
gently glides out on the water. The early morning sunshine is just barely
beginning to sparkle around it, and I raise my camera again to capture the
moment.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I twirl at the sound of the angry voice and gaze into blue eyes, reflecting the
bright morning
water.
They
are
surrounded by a very, very pissed off face.
Not merely angry. Livid.
“Excuse me?” I squeak, finding my voice.
“Excuse me?” I squeak, finding my voice.
“Why can’t you all just leave me the fuck alone?” The handsome-really
handsome-stranger in front of me is shaking in rage and I instinctively step back,
frowning and beginning to get pissed right back at him. What the fuck are you
doing?
“I wasn’t bothering you,” I respond, happy that my voice is stronger with my
anger, and retreat back another step.
Clearly Mr. Beautiful Blue Eyes and Sexy Greek God Face is a looney toon.
Unfortunately, he follows my backward motion and I feel the panic start to take
hold in my gut.
“I have had it with you following me.
Do you think I don’t notice? Give me the camera.” He extends a long-fingered
hand and my mouth drops open. I pull my camera into my chest and wrap my
arms around it protectively.
“No.” My voice is amazingly calm and I want to look around for a means of
escape, but I can’t stop looking into his angry sea-colored eyes.
He swallows and narrows his eyes, breathing hard.
“Give me the fucking camera, and I won’t press charges for harassment. I just
want the photos.” He’s lowered his voice but it’s no less menacing.
“You can’t have my photos!” Who the hell is this guy? I turn around to run and
he grabs my arm, whipping me around to face him once again, grabbing for my
camera. I start to scream, not believing that I’m being mugged practically
outside my front door, when he lets go of me and braces his hands on his knees,
bending at the waist, shaking his head and I notice that his hands are shaking.
Holy hell.
I take another step back, ready to run, but with his head still down he holds up
his hand and says, “Wait.”
I should run. Fast. Call the police and have this whack job arrested for assault,
I should run. Fast. Call the police and have this whack job arrested for assault,
but I don’t move. My breathing starts to calm, and my panic recedes and for
some reason, I don’t think he’s going to harm me.
Yeah, I’m sure the Green River Killer’s victims didn’t think he’d harm them
either.
“Uh, are you okay?” My voice is breathy and I realize I’m still clutching my
camera to my chest almost painfully and I relax my hands and start to lower
them when his head snaps back up.
“Do not take my fucking picture.” His voice is low and measured, controlled, but
he’s still shaking and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.
“Okay, okay. I’m not going to. I’m putting the lens cap back on.” I do as I say,
not taking my eyes from his face and he watches my hands carefully.
Geez.
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head and I get a good look at the rest of
him. Wow. Beautiful face, chiseled, stubbled jaw and those deep clear blue eyes.
He’s got messy, golden blond hair. He’s tall, much taller than my five foot six,
lean and broad shouldered.
He’s wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and both hug that lean body in all the
right places.
Damn. He’d look fantastic naked.
Ironically, I’d love to get him in front of my camera.
He looks me in the eye again and he looks vaguely familiar to me. I feel like I
should know him from somewhere, but the fleeting recognition is gone when he
speaks.
“I’m going to need you to give me the camera, please.”
Is he serious? He’s still going to mug me?
I let out a short laugh and finally break eye contact, looking up to the now blue
sky and shake my head. I close my eyes then look back over to him and he’s
staring at me intently.
staring at me intently.
I find myself smiling as I say, “You are so not getting this camera.”
He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes again. Muscles low in my belly
clench at his sexy stare and I silently castigate myself. No getting turned on by
your sexy early morning mugger!
“You are not getting this camera.
Who the hell do you think you are?”
Now my voice is rising and I pat myself on the back.
“You know who I am.”
His response throws me and I narrow my eyes, staring back at him again, and get
the strange feeling once more that I should know him, but I shake my head in
frustration.
“No, I don’t.”
He raises an eyebrow, puts his hands on his lean hips, and he smiles, showing off
a perfect line of teeth. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Come on, honey, let’s not play this game. Either give me that camera, or delete
the photos, and we can get on our way.”
Why does he want my photos?
Suddenly it occurs to me that he must think I’ve been taking pictures of him.
“I don’t have any photos of you on here, honey,” I reply.
His eyes narrow again and his smile slips away. He doesn’t believe me.
I take a step toward him. I stare deeply into his widening blue gaze and speak
very clearly. “I. Don’t. Have.
Any. Photos. Of. You. On. My. Camera.
I’m not a portrait photographer.” I feel my cheeks flush and I look down for a
moment.
moment.
“What were you taking photos of?”
His voice is level now, and he looks confused.
“The water, the boats,” I gesture out toward the sound with my hands.
“I saw you point your camera toward me when I was sitting on that bench.”
He points to the bench behind me. It’s sitting near where I shot the photos of the
couple holding hands. I pull my camera in front of me again and I see him tense
up, but I ignore him, turn on the camera and start flipping through my images
until I find the ones he’s afraid are of him. I walk over to him and stand next to
him, my arm almost touching his and I feel the heat from his sexy body. I make
myself ignore it.
“Here, these are the photos I took.” I point the screen toward him and start to
page through them, showing him all of the images. “Would you like to see the
others I took as well?”
“Yes.” He whispers.
I continue to show him the images of the water, the sky, the boats, the
mountains. I can’t help but smell his clean scent as he intently looks at the
photos, scrutinizing each one while pulling his lower lip through his thumb and
forefinger. His brow is furrowed.
Sweet Jesus, he smells good.
I’ve taken over two hundred photos this morning, so it takes a few minutes to
page through each one. When I’m finished, he looks up into my eyes and I see
his embarrassment and I’m not sure, but he looks almost sad.
My heart gives a flip as he smiles, a true full-blown, no holds barred smile,
wiping away the sadness, and shakes his head slowly. He could melt glaciers
with that smile. End wars. Resolve the national debt crisis.
“I’m sorry.”
“So you should be.” I turn the camera off and start to walk away from him.
“So you should be.” I turn the camera off and start to walk away from him.
“Hey, I’m really sorry.”
“You must be awfully full of yourself if you think that everyone with a camera is
taking your picture.” I continue walking and of course he’s caught up with me,
matching my stride.
Why is he still here?
He clears his throat. “Can I ask your name?”
“No.” I respond.
“Um, why?” He sounds confused.
Hell, I’m confused.
“I don’t give my name out to my muggers.”
“Muggers?” He stops mid-stride and pulls me to a stop beside him, his hand on
my elbow. I look down at his hand and, raising my eyes back to his, pin him
with a glare.
“Let go of me.” He does immediately.
“I’m not a mugger.”
“You tried to steal my camera. What do you call it?” I start walking again,
realizing I’m heading in the opposite direction of my house. Shit.
“Look, I’m not a mugger. Stop for a minute, will you?” He stops again, rubs his
face with his hands and looks at me.
I face him, put my hands on my jean-clad hips, my camera hanging harmlessly
around my neck and glare at him.
“I don’t know who you are,” I say in my best no-nonsense voice.
“Clearly,” he responds and a smile tickles his lips and I can’t help but feel my
stomach clench, hoping he gives me that big grin again. My not knowing him
seems to make him happy, but it’s pissing me off. Should I know him?
“Why are you smiling?” I find myself smiling back at him.
He looks me up and down, taking in my dark hair, currently tied up in a
haphazard bun, casual red t-shirt that hugs my breasts, jeans, curvy hips and
thighs, and returns his deep blue gaze to mine. His smile widens and I lose my
breath.
Wow.
“I’m Luke.” He holds his hand out for me to shake and I look at it, still not fully
trusting him, then back up to him. He raises a brow, almost as a challenge and I
find myself putting my small hand in his big, strong one and clasping it firmly.
“Natalie.”
“Natalie,” he says my name slowly, looks down at my mouth and I bite my
lower lip. He inhales sharply and looks back into my eyes.
Fuck, he’s beautiful . I pull my hand out of his grasp and look down, not
knowing what else to say, and still confused as to why I’m still standing here
with him.
“I… I have to go,” I stammer, suddenly nervous. “It was… interesting meeting
you, Luke.” I start to walk around him toward my house, and he steps in front of
me.
“Wait, don’t go.” He runs a hand through his already messy golden hair.
“I’m really sorry about all this. Let me make it up to you. Breakfast?”
He frowns slightly, like he didn’t mean to say that, and then looks at me
hopefully.
Say no, Nat. Go home. Go back to bed. Mmmm… bed with Luke… All sweaty
bodies, tangled sheets, his head between my legs, my body writhing as I come…
Stop!
I shake my head, trying to push the fantasy aside, and find myself saying, “No
thanks. I should go.”
“Husband waiting at home?” he asks, glancing at my ringless finger.
“Uh, no.”
“Boyfriend?”
I give him a small smile. “No.”
His face relaxes. “Girlfriend?”
I can’t stop the laugh that comes.
“No.”
“Good.” He’s giving me that big smile again, and I want desperately to say yes
to this beautiful stranger, but my common sense kicks in and I remind myself
that this is not safe, I don’t know him, and as swoon-worthy as he is, he’s still a
stranger.
I, of all people, know about stranger danger.
So I ignore the clenching between my legs, give him another small smile, and I
say as politely, and as forcefully as I can, “Thanks anyway. Have a good day,
Luke.”
Of course, politely and forcefully sounds all whispery from me right now.
Crap.
I hear him murmur “Have a good day, Natalie,” as I walk briskly away.
***
I walk home quickly, feeling Luke’s eyes on my Kardashian-esque backside
until I turn the corner toward my house.
Why didn’t I wear a longer shirt? My heart is thumping, and I just want to be
safe inside, safe from sexy-smiled muggers. My body hasn’t responded to a man
like this in a long time, and while I admit it feels nice, Luke is just entirely too…
Wow.
I close and lock my front door then follow my nose to the kitchen. Jules is
making breakfast!
“Hey, Nat, get any good photos this morning?” Much to my delight, my bff Jules
is flipping pancakes and I smell bacon crisping in the oven. My stomach growls
as I place my camera on the breakfast bar and pull up a stool.
“Yeah, it was a good morning,” I reply. I wonder if I should bring up Luke. Jules
tends to be on the romantic side, and she’ll most likely have us married off by
the end of the conversation, but she is the one person I confide in about
everything, so, why not? “I got some good shots. Almost got mugged… pretty
standard morning.”
I smile to myself as Jules twirls around, dropping a pancake on my tile floor,
gasping.
“What? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I let out a snort. “Some guy was pissed that I might have taken his
picture.” I describe my encounter to her, and she smiles sweetly when I’m
finished.
“Sounds like he likes you, friend.”
I snort. “Whatever. He’s just some random guy.”
Jules rolls her eyes and turns back to the pancakes. “He might just be some
random guy, but if he’s as hot as you say he is, you should have gone to
breakfast with him.”
I scowl at her. “Gone out to breakfast with
the
hot
mugger?”
I
ask
ask
incredulously.
“Oh don’t be dramatic.” Jules flips the bacon in the oven then ladles more
pancake batter onto the griddle. “It sounds like he was really nice.”
“Yes, when he wasn’t trying to steal my obscenely expensive camera, he was a
perfect gentleman.”
Jules laughs and I can’t help but smile in return. “What do you have going on
today?”
Pleased
with
the
change
in
conversation,
I
walk
around
the
breakfast bar and start loading a plate with delicious food. “I have a session at
noon, and I need to make some deliveries this afternoon. I really need to try to
get in a nap this morning.”
“Couldn’t sleep again?” Jules asks.
I shake my head. Sleep never comes easily for me.
I reclaim my stool and take a bite of bacon. Jules is next to me. “How about
you?”
you?”
“Well, since it’s Tuesday, I guess I’ll go to work today.” Jules is a very
successful investment
banker
in
downtown Seattle. I couldn’t be more proud of my long time best friend. She’s
beyond smart, beautiful and successful.
“We gotta make a living,” I am devouring the delicious pancakes on my plate,
then rinse both our plates and load the dishwasher.
“I can do that.” Jules starts to come into the kitchen, but I wave her back.
“No, you cooked. I got this. Go to work.”
“Thanks! Have a fun session.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me and heads for the
garage.
“Have a good day at the office, dear!” I call after her and we both giggle.
I climb the stairs to my bedroom and strip naked. I really need some sleep.
My clients pay me very well to give them a fun, beautiful photo session, and I
need to be well rested.
My room is large, with floor to ceiling windows. This is the one room of the
house that has any pink in it. I love my soft pink duvet and fluffy pink pillows.
My bed frame is simple, but the headboard is an old barn door that I nailed to the
wall to give the room a rustic feel.
I fall into my king sized bed, the soft sheets hugging my naked body, and gaze
out the window to the ocean view. I love this house. I never want to move.
Ever. This view alone is priceless. The sapphire blue water outside calms me and
as my eyes get heavy I think of deep blue eyes and a killer smile and slip into
sleep.
