Chapter 3

Halfway through Monday, any progress in regards to work was shot. Raven couldn’t get what happened with Noah out of her head.

Ten years they’d been friends, and she’d never once suspected. Never suspected his alter ego or his attraction to her. Worse, she couldn’t decide what to do about Friday. Should she go to his place?

She remembered when he’d bought the condo, right after his company took off, around the same time she started looking into investors for hers. She hadn’t been there since the first walk-through other than a handful of times. Noah knew she preferred the comfort of her apartment, and rendered her that small vice.

God. He was Hoan Dwell. Rich, mysterious, sexy Hoan Dwell. The man who captured women through his lens with innate skill. Noah had liked photography back in college. He used to carry a camera around wherever he went. It had been years since she’d seen him with one. So he could better hide what he was doing? Who he was?

The tight ball in her stomach clenched. He’d lied to her. For years. Part of her didn’t think she’d ever be able to trust him again. His reasons seemed valid, but he was so vague in responding that she couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. Just what or who haunted his past? And why were they so dangerous he was forced to lie to even her?

He was like two different people. The comfortable best friend who she could talk to about anything and the intense artist who showed up to dinner. The things he’d said, the way he’d said them…the letters!

Noah. All along. Her cheeks flamed even now. Heat pooled in her belly.

How strange that her mind didn’t question the shift from hands off to please touch. She didn’t even like being touched. It was illogical not to have a grace period when merging from friends to lovers. Right? Not her. He’d awakened something she thought dormant. And all he did was talk.

Typically, any kind of attention made her go into a full blown panic attack. When control was out of her hands, she couldn’t function. Though she was embarrassed, Noah didn’t make her afraid. He made her want. A temptation she never once risked. But for him, with him, could she let go? He’d said as much that night. He knew her hang ups. Most of them. It had been so very long since sex was enjoyable that she’d almost screamed yes when he presented the proposal.

Nicole strode into her office and set two containers on her desk. “Lunch is served.” She looked up and did a double take. “What’s wrong?”

Raven drew in a much needed breath and waved her hand. “Nothing. Let’s eat. Thanks for picking this up. I was going over my notes for my two o’clock.”

A new artist on the scene named Vincent Soreno had contacted Elements out of nowhere and wanted to set up a meeting. Raven had Googled him and came across an amateurish website where he claimed to be a photographer for hire. Weddings mostly. They didn’t do that kind of thing, but she’d give him a chance to show his stuff if he had anything worth viewing. His site said he was from the east coast in the lower forty-eight and a recent Alaskan transplant. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way, but damn if she could place what.

Probably just her nerves about Noah. Last Friday night had thrown her world off its axis.

“Are you ever going to tell me how the meeting with Hoan Dwell went? Are we doing an exhibit for him?”

Raven opened and closed her mouth, pushing her Cobb salad around in the container. “We didn’t get to discuss a lot of business,” she hedged. Noah had created a pen name and kept that person a mystery to the world for a reason. Even if she didn’t know why, she would respect that. Had to if it was a safeguard. Except Nicole was her friend and her assistant. If they did a showing for…Hoan, then Nicole was a big part of the process. “We have another meeting set up for later in the week.”

Perhaps she should keep the tentative date with Noah after all, if for no other reason than to discuss the showing. They never did get to that during dinner, too wrapped up in…other matters.

Nicole swallowed and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “What was he like?”

God. Now she felt like she had to lie to Nicole to protect him. This was spiraling out of control fast. “He was…not what I was expecting.” She almost laughed at the understatement.

Nicole’s eyes lit. “Is he handsome? Dark and broody? Eccentric? I’ll bet he’s Hemmingway crazy. Am I right?”

This time Raven did laugh. “Not crazy or reclusive. He’s just very private.”

“And handsome? Give a girl some hope here.”

Laughing again, she reached for a water bottle. “Very attractive, yes.” Understatement of the century right there, since she was on a roll with them. Nicole would die if she ever found out Hoan was Noah. They ran in the same circles, often hanging out together, but Nicole harbored a secret crush on Noah.

“Sigh,” she said and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “I hope I get to meet him.”

Raven bit the inside of her lip. Nicole was Noah’s typical romp. Pretty, curvy, and blonde. Noah didn’t bring his women around, but they talked about their trysts, and her assistant was exactly the kind of woman he attracted. Not her. So why his interest? Then again, Hoan wasn’t particular with his models. Thin, voluptuous, tall, short, dark, light…he didn’t discriminate. She wondered if he bedded all his models.

After lunch, she started playing with the promotional flyers for their next viewing in a week until her two o’clock arrived. Nicole sent him right up, so she closed the program and rose to shake his hand.

Vincent Soreno was easily six and a half feet tall, with a head shaved bald and muscles encasing muscles. Mr. Clean meets Hell’s Angels. He was younger than she expected. Early thirties, perhaps? A sleeve of tattoos ran up and down each arm. In one hand he held a leather jacket, in the other a portfolio case. A white T-shirt molded to his massive chest like second skin and his jeans were ripped. He certainly didn’t dress up for their meeting. This guy took wedding pictures?

Doubt niggled in the back of her skull but she gestured to a chair. A quick glance told her Nicole was helping customers on the show floor, so Raven was alone. Their security guard, Duane, was near Nicole’s desk, eyes watching both Nicole and the second floor.

Raven sat down and forced a smile. “So, you’re from the east coast. Where, exactly?”

When he spoke, she swore the earth shook his voice was so deep. “Queens, New York. My family owns a pizzeria. I do the wedding photos gig on the side.”

This guy was a walking contradiction. “What brings you to Alaska?”

“I vacation here every year. Fishing and whatnot.”

She nodded. “Our gallery only showcases Alaskan terrain, whether urban or scenic. If we were to do an exhibit, one of your pieces would end up in our book collection we publish yearly. It gets circulated around nationally.”

He nodded.

This was like pulling teeth. “Let’s see what you brought and go from there.”

She took the portfolio from his monstrously large hand and skimmed through. A sense of unease washed over her again when she noticed the vast difference between the event photos and the scenic ones. For one, the clarity and lighting was stellar in the journalistic style wedding portraits, but the edge was lost in the scenery pictures. Like snapped by two different people. Still, he had an eye.

Without looking up from her study, she said, “If we were to do business, we’d need you to sign off that all work is yours for copyright purposes. Will that be a problem?”

“No.”

Okay, he wasn’t getting the hint. “To be clear, there would be a lawsuit if any work wasn’t your own.”

He tensed and her heart stopped. Ordering herself to calm down, she sent him a level gaze when everything inside exploded in fear. He made no movement, other than a chilling glare that left her bereft of warmth.

Eventually, he nodded. “I took the photos.”

She let out a quiet breath. Talent or not, and that was up for debate, she didn’t want to work with this guy. But she went into this business to help struggling artists, so what did it say about her if she let silly feelings get in the way? And wasn’t she stereotyping him just based on appearance?

Sitting back, she chewed on her lip. “Let me be honest, Mr. Soreno. You’re much more intuitive and clean when you study people. I’m going to hold my decision and give you the opportunity to bring me some fresh shots. While you’re visiting our area, take some pictures and bring them back here. We’ll talk some more.”

His jaw ground, but he nodded. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be back.”

Trying to accept his words for what they were and not a threat, she rose and held out her hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you. We’ll talk soon.” With security in the room next time.

Unsure whether it was the uneasiness from her interview with Vincent Soreno or the bomb Noah threw at her feet, Raven was jittery the rest of the week. She had this urgent need to look over her shoulder wherever she went and she found herself triple-checking the apartment locks at night. Crazy as it sounded, she felt like she was being watched.

By the time she stood in front of her full-length mirror on Friday night to size up her appearance, she was about to crawl out of her skin. Back and forth she debated whether to head to Noah’s condo or skip it. To bail would send the message she didn’t want the offer of one month with him. They’d resume things how they always had been before, as close friends with mutual interests. To go meant…

She blew out a breath. “This is nuts.”

She wore her skinny jeans with knee-high black leather boots and a sapphire sweater that clung to her chest and dipped low in the back. Sexy, but not blaring. Casual, not too eager. Since when did getting dressed for Noah require five wardrobe changes?

Fisting her hair, which she’d left down, she turned from the mirror and paced. Hadn’t she been stuck in her routine? Sexually frustrated and climbing the walls? It had been two months since she’d stepped foot inside the bar club to study another partner for contact. Two months, no sex. No release from tension and no control.

Noah would cure that. He’d offered. They’d have to talk over logistics, but what would be the harm? He was right. The way they viewed sex was reciprocal. The friendship, as long as he held up his end of the bargain, would remain intact.

Screw this. She grabbed her purse and headed to the front door, shoving into her coat.

The drive to his condo was roughly twenty minutes. He lived in Anchorage in the wealthier area away from the ports, so she used the time to think some more. Not that arguing with herself solved much.

She sat inside her SUV for a few minutes and stared at Noah’s building, wondering why she had the suspicion everything in her orderly world was about to drastically change if she entered. Shaking her head, she exited the vehicle and stopped at the security desk to check in. She recognized the attendant from previous visits and smiled.

“Well, Miss Crowne. Long time no see.” The wrinkles around his eyes deepened when he grinned. Lyle, an elder black man and skinny as heck, couldn’t offer much by way of security, she assumed, but guests needed a key just to enter the building, never mind to use the elevators. He was probably there for appearances.

“Okay if I go up?”

“Yes, ma’am. Good to see you again.”

“And you, as well,” she called over her shoulder.

She keyed the pad to access the elevator and did it again so she could hit the button for Noah’s unit on the twentieth floor. The car delivered her to the very top with a swish and the doors dinged open. A short hallway stretched before her and then his door. She hadn’t realized she hadn’t moved until the elevator started closing on her.

“Stop being a baby,” she muttered and strode forward.

Instead of using her key, she knocked. The soft strums of jazz pulsed from behind the solid oak. She preferred blaring rock herself. Just as she was about to knock again, the door swung inward and Noah’s form filled the space.

His jeans were slung low on his hips. A black tee clung to his defined torso when he raised his forearms to the doorframe and leaned into them. In one fell swoop, his gaze raked her from head to toe, leaving her more exposed than if she were naked.

One corner of his mouth quirked. “I thought I said to wear the red dress.”

“When have you ever known me to follow orders? Besides, I may not be here for your…offer. Maybe I came to discuss Hoan’s showing for Elements.” Or maybe she could add lying through her teeth to her resume on Monday.

After a short but intense study, he grunted and stepped back. “Enter.”

Noah’s condo was excessively large for just one person. Two bedrooms were through the living room and down a short hallway. The master bedroom was in the opposite direction. She toed off her boots, walked through the foyer and past the ginormous stainless steel kitchen on her left, where something zesty was cooking.

She set her coat and purse on a stool by the high granite counter and glanced around while stepping down into the living room. There was mahogany hardwood throughout. His sofas were gray leather, the walls a stark white. Pictures hanging in an orderly fashion were the only pop of color. All were shots of his company, Gallivanting Adventure. Two were of his float plane flying low over the mountains, one of his charter fishing boat near a glacier, and several smaller photos of his ATVs and bobsleds.

The space spoke of wealth, but didn’t flaunt it. His company brought in a sizable amount without the commission from Hoan Dwell, yet he lived in a three thousand square foot condo instead of a mansion on the harbor. Maybe he was right in what he’d said at Salvatore’s last week. He was still the same guy who’d befriended her on their first day of college.

Turning, she found him staring at her from the kitchen. Palms flat on the counter and his gaze burning into her, he didn’t move so much as one tense muscle.

Wondering what he was thinking, she cleared her throat. “You haven’t changed anything since I was here last.” She was pretty sure it had been six months ago, when he’d had some of the guys over to play poker.

His expression gave nothing away as he took his time answering. Finally, he straightened and moved to the stove. “Why would I change anything? The decorator did a hell of a job.”

She climbed on a stool and crossed her arms on the counter. He looked strangely at home in a kitchen. Bare feet, forearms flexing as he stirred, he was rather sexy, too. His blond hair was carelessly disheveled, as if not bothering with it other than to finger comb. Heat flared in her belly, traveling lower as she watched him.

For ten years she’d shut off the part of her mind that allowed herself to think of him as anything other than just Noah. Now, she drank him in, considering. He was right about a few things. It would be so good between them. It had been too long since she felt this punch of lust.

Dizzying.

“You keep looking at me like that, Raven, and we won’t make it until dinner. I’ll chuck it and take you right there on that counter.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “No doubt you’d taste better.”

She sucked in a ragged breath through her nose and looked away, imagining them doing just what he said. There was a problem in his scenario though, and damn if she knew how to bring it up.

Stepping away from the stove, he poured her a glass of wine and slid it across the counter. “Drink. You’ve gone pale.”

Taking a healthy gulp, she didn’t even taste the wine as it traced a warm path to her belly. “What are we having?”

“Gumbo. My mother’s recipe.” He dished some into two bowls and walked them to the table in an alcove, where a basket of homemade bread sat between two placemats. A couple of candles were flickering in the dim light.

He’d gone all out.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“That remains to be seen. I followed the recipe, so we’ll find out.” He pulled out a chair, waiting for her to accept.

Crossing the room, she took a seat and he pushed her chair in, ever the gentleman.

He sat across from her and sipped his wine. The candlelight made his turquoise eyes darker, like the cusp of twilight. Shadows played over his face, the light scruff on his jaw and the angular edges of his features, and she could see the inner artist in him as if she’d been slapped. She didn’t know how she’d missed it before. His gaze took in everything at once, dissecting and analyzing, as if seeking the perfect shot.

The silence was uncomfortable, laced with everything unsaid. Nervous on how to begin, she picked up her spoon and took a bite. Spice exploded on her tongue, both full-bodied and rich. With only a slight after bite, it warmed her from the inside out.

“This is really good. I think you need to chip in now and again on our weekly dinners.”

Breathing out a laugh, he began to eat. “It’s not bad. Not as good as Mom’s.”

She couldn’t imagine his loss. They’d been together in his dorm room sophomore year when he’d gotten the call that his parents had died. He’d been understandably devastated. “Do you have a lot of her old recipes? I could make some of her dishes if you want.”

The look he gave her had all that old turmoil resurfacing. He blinked it away. “That would be nice,” he said roughly.

After a few more spoonfuls, she grabbed a slice of bread and shifted the conversation. “About Hoan. Did you really want to set up a show or was that just a means to…other things?”

He stilled, staring into his bowl before carefully setting down his spoon and meeting her gaze. “Those other things being me wanting you beneath me while I pound into you and having you scream my name? Those other things?”

The breath left her lungs and damn if she didn’t get damp between her legs. “You don’t mince words.”

“I don’t see the point. I told you what I wanted. I can finally be honest in my desire to have you. I don’t think you understand just how frustrating the past ten years have been.”

He shook his head and took a sip of wine while she focused on drawing in oxygen.

Setting his glass down, he pushed away his empty bowl. “I’m more than willing to do an exhibit at Elements any time you want, with the understanding that my agent represent me at the show. Hoan doesn’t do appearances.”

“You always come to my events.”

“As Noah, and I’ll be there on Hoan’s night. As Noah.”

She still couldn’t grasp what was so important about the secrecy, but she nodded, trusting him. “Okay. I’ll have Nicole check our schedule and see when would work for both of us. Do you have any pieces ready?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “Several.” The pause was lengthy and she could see he wanted to say more. Glancing up at the ceiling, he sighed and then returned his blue gaze to hers. “I want you to pose for me.”

“What?”

“I’ve imagined it in my head a thousand times. My ultimate muse. Your black hair against a snowy backdrop. I have several places in mind, several poses.”

She snapped her mouth shut. “I’m not a model.” She was attractive, sure. But sexy in the way he wanted from his girls? Not a chance.

“Most of my models weren’t professional when they posed. Some I stumbled on in my travels and went with it.”

“No, Noah. I’m not…I hate the idea.” To be the focus of all those eyes when the photos went public, to be the center of all that unwanted attention made a violent shiver tear through her body.

He shrugged. “I have a month to change your mind.”

And that was the other thing. But first…”Do you sleep with all your models?”

“Not all, no. The women I’ve been with, the ones from around here, were a one night only deal. I couldn’t risk anything long term to draw suspicion to them. You’re a friend and were around before…” He shook his head. “Hoan’s arrangements are different. The shoots take a week or two, and he’s under an undisclosed identity. I could be a little more lax with him.”

Her head was spinning and it wasn’t from the wine. “Lax, how?”

Frustration marred his brow, his patience waning. “They all signed confidentiality agreements and never knew me as Noah. When, if I took them to bed, I had the opportunity to have a week or two with them before parting.”

She nodded as if this all made sense. It didn’t.

He stood and collected their dishes. “Take your wine over by the fire. I’ll get this cleaned up and be right in.”

Manners had her wanting to argue and help him clear the table, but she wasn’t sure what to make of their conversation and needed a moment. Picking up her glass, she made her way over to the balcony doors next to the stone fireplace. The flames crackled and hissed, creating warmth to contrast the drafty hardwood floors.

Unable to sit, she looked out past the balcony at Mount Spurr’s range. From this distance and so high up, the appearance seemed like they were at peak level. On top of the world. Which just made it that much easier to crash down.

What in the hell was she doing here? With Noah, of all people? Solid, stable, perfect for her peace of mind, Noah. Had she ever really known him at all? Was everything they’d shared all these years just a means to sex? The kind of sex she couldn’t possibly give him.

A tight band squeezed her throat, making her head pound and her vision sway. Her chest constricted. She couldn’t draw air.

Then Noah was behind her, taking the wine from her hand and setting it aside. She leaned back into him, into his irresistible heat to stop the tremors. Solid hands dropped on her shoulders, kneading the tense muscles and easing the edges of panic from her body. His thumbs traced up the curve of her neck and into her hair.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her jaw. “Breathe, baby. It’s just me. Breathe.”

Yes, it was just Noah. Noah was safety.

But he’d called her baby. A pet name or term of endearment he’d never used.

She sucked in a lungful of air and held it precious seconds before exhaling. He smelled like cinnamon and a trace of spicy aftershave, the scent equally a turn on and a comfort.

His hand trailed over her ribs and around her body, drawing her closer to him. The hard ridge of his erection pressed into her backside and the realization of the past week caught up to her. In a daze, everything that happened seemed like a story in a book, not her life. Reality, her reality, never unfolded like this. Handsome billionaire artists didn’t sweep her off her feet, write her scorching secret admirer letters, and claim they wanted to ravage her body from top to bottom.

Not even when that person was her best friend.

Slowly, he turned her around and, with hands on her hips, backed her up against the balcony doors. The cool glass behind her and the heat in front was an electrifying contrast. He pressed in closer, trapping her with hard muscle and enough testosterone to melt her panties.

Never taking his gaze from hers, he went in for the kill. She let her lids drift shut, waiting for his kiss, heart pounding in anticipation. Her fingers clutched the soft cotton of his tee, bunching the material in her fists trapped between their bodies. She tilted her head, offering herself to him in a way she had never done for anyone else.

Seconds ticked by. When he brushed his nose with hers, she opened her eyes and knew he was patiently waiting for…something. What?

“Say yes, Raven. See that it’s me and say yes.”

As if there was any other option.

“Yes.”