Chapter 6

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."