Come Away with Me (With Me in Seattle, #1)(45)

“What the f*ck is going on?!”

Brad and I both jump, startled at the angry shout coming from my front door.

“Luke! You scared the hell out of me!”

Brad immediately releases my leg, accurately assessing that he may have his money maker punched any moment.

“What the f*ck, Natalie!”

“Stop yelling at me!” I jump off the bed and stow my camera.

“Brad, you can go ahead and get dressed. We’re finished here anyway.”

Brad rises off the bed, letting the sheet fall and I avert my eyes. He saunters into the bathroom to get dressed.

“What the hell is your problem?” I hiss at Luke.

“What do you think? You were on a bed with a naked man and his hands were on you!”

I take a deep breath. “He wasn’t naked, Luke. I am not naked.”

“Close enough,” he mutters.

“Hey, this is why I told you not to freak out on me when I showed you this studio.”

“You didn’t tell me that you work with young naked men.” He’s pissed all over again.

“I don’t, usually. He’s a friend of a friend who needs images for his portfolio. Don’t be a jealous ass.”

“You led me to believe that you work with women or couples, Natalie.”

“Luke, I just told you, this is an exception.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It doesn’t matter if you like it.”

Luke glares at me like I’ve grown a second head and runs both hands through his hair.

Brad saunters out of the bathroom, fully dressed in jeans, t-shirt and sneakers.

“Thanks again, Natalie. I had a great time.”

I smile warmly at him. “Me too, and you’re welcome. I should have them edited for you this week.”

“Great. See ya.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I turn back to Luke to find his glacial blue eyes narrowed on me. He’s royally pissed.

“What, exactly, are you mad about?” I ask as I turn back to the bed and begin stripping the sheets.

“Natalie, I just walked into this studio to find my girlfriend standing in what would only be appropriate as nightwear over a naked guy on a bed, and he’s got his hands on her bare leg. What do you think I’m mad about?” His voice has risen several decibels, but I’m stuck like stupid on one word.

“Girlfriend?”

He stops his rant and stares at me.

“Yes, girlfriend. I thought after this past weekend that that’s where we are.”

Oh.

Wow.

“Am I wrong?” His voice is worryingly calm.

“Well, no, I guess I just hadn’t thought about it.” I finish with the bed and turn to face him again.

“Luke, this is my job.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It isn’t your place to tell me that I can’t do this.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That’s what you’re implying. I’ve done this for years. No one has ever gotten out of hand. Remember, I told you, I don’t have sex in here, and I don’t have sex with clients. Jesus, do you have so little faith in me?”

“No, it’s just…” He runs his hands through his hair again and paces back and forth. “I wasn’t expecting to feel the way I felt when I saw his hands on you.”

“How did you feel?” I tilt my head at him, my curiosity piqued.

“Like I wanted to kill him,” he growls.

“Oh.”

“Nat, think of how you would feel if I had to do a love scene in a movie. It would be work to me, but I’d still have to hold another woman, kiss her…”

“Stop right there.” I do not want to hear this.

“It’s the same thing for me.”

Jeez.

I take a deep breath and sit on the side of the bed, suddenly weary. “I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me. Honey, I haven’t had to explain my actions to another human being in years.”

“I know.”

“You were jealous.”

“Jealous is too tame a word for what I was feeling.”

Part of me wants to squeal and do a little happy dance, but I hold it in and gaze at him impassively.

“You don’t have any reason to be jealous. You’re all I see, Luke, even when I’m not with you.”

He closes his eyes tightly, as though some great weight has been lifted and I take him all in. He’s wearing another button down shirt today, in black this time, and black jeans. He looks young and impossibly beautiful.

And I’m his girlfriend!

I stand and move to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He puts his arms around me, linking his fingers at the small of my back and we just gaze at each other for a minute.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” I whisper.

“I’m not.”

“You were.”

“Yeah, I was.” He kisses my forehead. “Don’t you have any real clothes in here?”

“Yeah, it got hot in here, so I took them off.”

He narrows his eyes again and they go cold. Shit.

“Don’t freak out on me, it happens no matter who I’m photographing. I don’t have A/C in here.”