Chapter 5

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.