The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1)

The Sound of Consequence

S
usan
A
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W
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The Sound of Consequence

ISBN-13: 978-1494345419
ISBN-10: 1494345412

Copyright © Susan Ann Wall, LLC 2013

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a creation from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover

Foregound Image:  © Yuri Arcurs | Dreamstime.com

City Image:  © Susan Ann Wall

Design:  Susan Ann Wall and John Kalla

Dedication

To my husband for encouraging me to pursue my dreams!!

Acknowledgements

It takes a village to produce a book. I’d like to thank my editor, Micheline at Purple Pen Editing and Gayle Gross at 10 Day Book Club for getting us together. Also, to the fantastic group of beta readers who relentlessly tackled the many versions of Chapter 1 and the book as a whole. A big thanks to John Kalla for working his magic on the image of Seattle and to Blabpipe for allowing me to use their fantastic music. To all of you following me on Facebook, thanks for the ideas when I asked for them.

And finally, tremendous thanks to all the gals at NHRWA!

Best group of writers in the world!

And to you, yes, YOU! Thank you for reading and sharing
The Sound of Consequence
!

The hum of morning
traffic
woke her with a start.

Accustomed to living in a quiet neighborhood in Maine, it took Stacie Nightingale a few moments to remember that she was in downtown Seattle.

And that the warm body in bed with her was not her fiancé.

Correction! Ex-fiancé.

The weight of his arm was the first reminder of a nearly sleepless night. The ache between her legs was another reminder. She swallowed a chuckle, not wanting to wake the man who had her pinned to the bed. If only her best friend could see her now. Not only had Stacie had sex, something she rarely engaged in even with her ex-fiancé, but she’d actually enjoyed it, something she never did with said ex.

Stacie had intended to leave in the middle of the night, after the giver of multiple orgasms had fallen asleep. But here she was, exactly where she didn’t want to be…still in this man’s bed and unable to make a discreet escape.

A new relationship didn’t interest Stacie. She had been curious about her sexuality, which was the main reason behind her uncharacteristic promiscuity. She’d indulged in the one-night stand to prove that she wasn’t broken, that her inability to have an orgasm wasn’t her fault.

She’d never had one with her ex. Until last night, she didn’t know if she could have one. Now she knew better.

She could have multiple.

Orgasms.

With an s!

Now that that little mystery had been solved, it was time to get her new life started. She came to Seattle to write and paint. Leaving her stable teaching job and moving across the country to write children’s books was quite the coup. Her mother was likely fuming, once again disappointed in the middle child who never lived up to expectations. But Stacie knew the bigger revolution was having a one-night stand with a man she didn’t even know.

Memories of last night slowly seeped into her mind. The club. The cab. The elevator. Then…

The memories slammed her like a freight train at top speed. Their night had been better than fantastic. Their first kiss had exploded in a fiery dance, with Stacie’s last ounce of control turning to ash and being carried away like smoke on a windy day. She’d never been kissed like that before, so passionately, so thoroughly. It had awakened her senses in a dizzying sensation of lust and need. She’d never wanted anyone with such a reckless abandon. Nor had she ever been wanted so fiercely. Or taken. Yeah, she’d been taken last night, over and over again. She’d also liked it more than she ever could have imagined. 

Despite the lingering need, all good things must end, and she needed to get out before he wanted to talk. Conversation complicated things.

Pulling a technique from her past, one she’d used on her ex almost every night for the last six years, Stacie whispered, “You’re snoring,” hoping that was enough to get him to roll over and off her hair.

He licked his lips and moved his arm up to scratch his chin. “Sorry,” he murmured, rolling onto his back.

Stacie wanted to smile as she eased her legs out of the knot, but she couldn’t allow herself to get too confident. Just because this trick had worked on the only two men she’d ever slept with didn’t mean they were anything alike. Her ex could sleep like the dead. She couldn’t count on that being the case with this guy.

As she stood, the giver of multiple orgasms stretched his legs, kicking the sheet to the floor. It was obvious from the perfect curve of his pecs to the washboard ripples of his abdomen that he worked out. As Stacie’s eyes moved further down his body, she bit down on her lower lip, remembering how their bodies had moved together, how he had felt inside of her.

He was big. Scary big.

She’d taken one look at his naked body and wondered how he was going to fit. His incredibly delicious mouth had stretched into a smile before he promised he wouldn’t hurt her. It might have been some kind of sexual miracle, but he hadn’t. He’d hoisted her off the bed and found his way inside her before they’d even hit the sheets.

Looking at him now, she understood why her body ached. The intimidation of his size had faded as he penetrated her, stretching and filling her with long, slow strokes. Even though he was still sleeping, that one amazing part of his body was wide-awake and once again larger than life!

Stacie swallowed hard, the picture-perfect male form stirring memories, invigorating a new dose of desire. It wasn’t just the sex, it was the way he had looked at her. Whether it was the shape of his eyes or maybe the fire in them, she knew had been looking at her, not through her like she was accustomed to. He was a distraction though. That’s all. She couldn’t afford to get involved with someone who would keep her from achieving her dream. There were stories to illustrate, paint to put on canvas. Sex was great, she now knew, but it wasn’t the path to happiness.

She snapped out of the delicious daze and tiptoed around the large bedroom. She found her jeans near the door and stifled a laugh when there was no sign of her boring and practical cotton panties.

Leave ’em! Get the blazes out of here!

It was more important to expedite her departure than to leave with anything more than the essentials, so up went her jeans and with a button and a zip, she was officially commando.

Her shirt and bra were in the hall. Hastily pulling the black lace over her shoulders, she secured the front closure, not caring that the straps twisted. The memory of buttons popping flashed through her mind. There hadn’t been time last night to open her shirt with grace and since it was torn from that little event, there was no point collecting the buttons.

Gripping the ragged fabric closed, she scanned the apartment in search of her purse. It was amazing how much this place looked like the condo she had moved into just days ago, from the location of the master bedroom to the open kitchen and living room just down the hallway. Everything was opposite, though, like a mirror image, and the furniture was different. The stacked boxes in the corner next to the gas fireplace made her wonder who was moving in. Or moving out.

Stacie grabbed the purse she’d carelessly dropped on the floor near the door and stepped into the hall. She was about to close the door when she heard the deep Cajun voice call to her, “Wait! Baby, wait! Come back!”

“Crap, crap, crap,” Stacie whispered as she closed the door behind her. She couldn’t wait for the elevator in case he ran after her, so she looked toward the stairs. The door across the hall caught her attention. An ivy welcome wreath hanging on the door read ‘Live Laugh Love.’ The apartment number read 5-C in brass plating.

Holy Heart of Darkness! She’d spent the night right across the hall from her own apartment!

Stacie scrambled for keys and managed to get inside the door just before her sexy Cajun neighbor made an appearance. Peering through the peep hole to make sure he hadn’t witnessed her escape, Stacie’s gaze followed the taut skin of his abdomen down to where partially fastened button fly jeans teased her, the stark angles of his hips making just enough of an appearance to keep her glued, breathing heavily at the little peep hole.

He disappeared from view, heading toward the elevator. That was good. That meant he hadn’t seen her come across the hall. She steadied her breathing while waiting for him to reappear. Just one last glimpse and she’d get on with her new life.

It wasn’t long before he came into view again and when he did, he paused in front of his door and looked straight at her.

Stacie gasped and held her breath. Could he know he was being watched?

The tingle she’d felt at the back of her neck last night once again flowed to every muscle like an electrical storm, awakening the sensuality she hadn’t known she possessed. Need outplayed common sense as she continued to watch him, silently praying that he didn’t try to open the unlocked door or knock on it.

Her prayers were answered when he shook his head and turned back to his door, closing it behind him.

“Where have you been?” Jenny’s playful voice startled Stacie away from the peep hole.

Stacie turned the deadbolt and fastened the chain. Then she took a deep breath and turned to her friend, trying to get her heart to slow down. “Jeez, give a girl a heart attack, will ya!”

“A little jumpy?” Jenny Carter wore pajamas, a pink silk robe wrapped loosely around her petite body. The delicate slant of her Asian eyes narrowed as her full lips, a gift from her African-American father, angled into a coy smile.  “So, whatcha been doin’?”

As if Stacie really needed to answer that question. Standing there, hair tangled, her shirt missing all its buttons, and no panties - though that last bit wasn’t blatantly obvious to anyone else - not to mention the fact that she hadn’t washed last night’s make-up off. Well, it didn’t take a genius to know what she’d been doing.

It was a classic walk of shame, though she hadn’t heard that term since college and had never actually experienced one. Nope, ten years with Greg Johnson, the guy she started dating in high school, didn’t lend way to a walk of shame. Of course, he was out of the picture. Now, so was the guy across the hall. That reality didn’t keep her kiss-swollen lips from smiling, or her cheeks from blushing.

“If it was that good, then why are you home so early?” Jenny was always so perceptive. It was just one of her really annoying traits. Stacie wondered if all best friends were insightful and perceptive or if she was one of those lucky people whose best friend knew everything.

Making her way into the kitchen, Stacie glanced at the microwave clock. 7:15. Jeez, she might have gotten two hours of sleep. No wonder her head pounded. Releasing the grip on her shirt, she took a seat at the breakfast bar and watched Jenny get the coffee started. “I left before things got complicated.”

Jenny looked back over her shoulder, her left eye brow arching with suspicion. “You mean you snuck out?”

Stacie spun around on the stool as if she was Diana Prince transforming into Wonder Woman. “I came here to start a new life. The boring school teacher with the stable, loveless relationship and the controlling parents got left behind in Maine. The exciting and creative writer and painter living in Seattle isn’t interested in anything more than a one-night stand.”

It was quite the revelation, but it was all true. Stacie had been under everyone else’s control for far too long. It was time to take control of her life. Though having a one-night stand was a bit drastic, it felt good and in the moment, it was what she had wanted, so she wasn’t going to allow herself to have regrets or get sucked into anything more with her neighbor.

Once Jenny got the machine working its percolating magic, she leaned back and took in Stacie’s disheveled appearance with a crooked smile.

“Given the look of satisfaction on your face, I’d say you’re off to a good start. So, how many orgasms did you have?”

One, two, five… “Holy, Aphrodite! Too many to count. I never knew sex could be…” Stacie could use a thesaurus at the moment, but there weren’t any words to do her memories justice. “So amazing,” she finished.

“That’s because you’ve wasted the last ten years with Greg ‘I always tuck my shirt in’ Johnson,” Jenny chided. 

Wasted
was a bit brutal. Maybe Stacie had squandered the last few years. She was willing to admit to that before she’d own up to the entire relationship being a waste.

Though it probably was. Greg was the epitome of boring, from his five dollar haircut to his khaki slacks, tucked-in alligator shirt, and penny loafers. Jenny had him pegged and Stacie was glad she had left him behind.

“So gimme the deets…name, sign, length, girth.”

Stacie’s body warmed. “He’s got this incredibly sexy accent. Cajun, I think. He gets an A+ with extra credit on length and girth. I didn’t really have a chance to get his name or sign.”

“Holy shit!” Jenny’s eyes widened with surprise. “You really did have a one-night stand!”

Stacie smiled, realizing how out of character her actions had been. That wasn’t the only thing buzzing through her head though. “Last night wasn’t the first time I’d seen him.”

Combing fingers through her sex-tangled hair, Stacie hoped to free some of the knots and look at least half as put together as Jenny. Of course, the luxury of good genes was obvious in Jenny’s straight, silky black hair that had likely never seen a tangle or a knot. Sometimes Stacie really hated her best friend.

“You got into town two days ago and last night was the first time you left the condo! How is it possible that you’ve seen him before?”

“Starbucks.” Stacie gave up the battle with the relentless knots and folded her hands on the bar. “I spilled coffee all over him.”

“Classic,” Jenny laughed.

“Cliché,” Stacie corrected. That whole scene had been embarrassing. It was the day after she arrived and it had taken ten minutes and a conversation she could barely track to finally order some fancy latte. Then she turned and dumped half of it all over the guy’s white shirt. He seemed more concerned about her scalded hands than his shirt, but that didn’t keep Stacie from running away in sheer humiliation. Fortunately a couple shots of Jägermeister had helped her get over that last night when she’d decided to dance with him at the club.

Of course, at the café she’d also been dealing with another episode of vertigo. It had hit while she’d waited for the drink, right after that funny tingle traveled up the back of her neck.