Exposure - Kelly Moran Page 0,3

threw for her birthday a few years ago created a panic attack that Noah had barely managed to calm. The rest of the party had been nice, once she got over the shock.

Noah had found the letters amusing, claiming she should be flattered. Raven wasn't so sure. But then time passed and nothing more than letters came. Except now she knew who they were from and he wanted to meet.

Unable to take the suspense anymore, she lifted the flap of the pale pink envelope and drew out the embroidered card. The stationary was always the same, a cream-colored embossed card with a lace overlay. Simple and elegant. Feminine.

Miss Crowne,

The time has come. I've watched you from afar for many years. You are beauty personified and sexual desire emblazoned. I've kept my distance, imagining the day I could claim that clever mouth in a kiss and ravage you the way you deserve. I believe we're both ready. I know you, and now you will know me.

Ever Yours.

He always signed them that way. Ever Yours. There was never anything threatening about the letters, other than him blatantly stating he'd watched her. The sensual quality of his words washed over her, leaving her hot and aching. And embarrassed. They were just words on paper but, for someone like her, who hated attention, it was a rare treat to know she'd been desired by a man to this degree.

He was probably eighty years old and hideously scarred. Or had bodies buried in his yard. Hoan Dwell. What could she possibly have done, or how had their paths crossed, to enlist this kind of response?

Noah knocked and strolled in, closing the door quickly behind him. He chucked his coat and shivered. In his hand was a mountain bouquet of wildflowers, his customary birthday present. Where he got them in January in Alaska was a mystery, but with as much money as he'd acquired, he could afford the luxury.

A thick grey Henley stretched across the muscles of his shoulders and chest. His jeans were faded in all the right areas and low on his hips. He kicked off his boots and offered a grin, sexy as all get out with the light stubble on his jaw.

It really was a crying shame they never slept together when they first met. Just to test the waters. After all this time, though, it would be awkward. He never seemed interested in her that way, and her curiosity had been fleeting back then. Noah was the only man in existence she trusted. It would be unwise to focus on anything other than what they had. Soul mates in best friend form. She wondered what made her think of old memories now. Perhaps the manifestation of another letter. It always threw her off-kilter.

Shoving his sandy blond hair off his forehead, he walked deeper into her apartment, blue eyes scanning her kitchen.

"Happy birthday. Whatcha cooking?"

She accepted the flowers and buried her face in them, inhaling the bit of spring she missed. "These are perfect."

He shook his head. "Most women want roses and diamonds. You want wildflowers and pajamas. You're easy to please."

She wasn't easy to please, and that was part of her problem, why she'd been stuck in this rut the past few months. Or years. Nothing ever felt…satisfying. "We're not dating. If we were, you could buy me roses and diamonds. I'm happy with these. You can drain your bank account on the revolving door of women you sleep with." Grinning for effect, she reached for a vase and filled it with water, setting the flowers inside. "Seriously, I love them."

Ignoring her jab at his dating life, he peeked at the stove. "And I love your food. I repeat, what are we having?" The last part of his sentence was spoken in a whisper as his gaze landed on the letter she'd set on the counter. "You got another one." His jaw tensed.

She leaned against the counter. "I know who's sending them, too. Remember me talking about that photographer, Hoan Dwell? I have one of his earlier prints."

His gaze didn't meet hers. "Yeah. A bigwig who snaps pictures of women rolling in grass or fondling a tree stump. They're from him?"

His lack of surprise was interesting. From the moment the first letter arrived, Noah had been as interested in her response to them as the mystery of the notes themselves. He knew her well. They'd go to hell and back for each other. She'd told him things she wouldn't dare repeat