Exposure - Kelly Moran Page 0,4

to anyone. So he knew she needed control in most things, especially her private life and who she dated. But he didn't know how dark, how deep that control brought her at times.

The conversation she wanted to have with him about the matter would need to be treaded lightly. As much as she loved Noah, no way was she going in the metaphorical bedroom with him. She wanted, needed his advice, though.

"He wants to meet."

Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. Saying nothing, he picked up the letter and skimmed it before tossing it down. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm curious, I'll admit, but…"

"But what?"

She shrugged. "He could be a mass murderer."

Noah crossed his arms. "He's taken six years to initiate a meeting. Odd serial killer behavior if he was one." He took a step forward as if to touch her, but retreated quickly and braced his hands behind him on the counter.

For whatever reason, they didn't touch. They hadn't hugged or kissed on the cheek or even patted each other on the arm in all the years they'd been friends. If it was strange, she appreciated the oddity in it. Raven had the distinct impression they had this unspoken rule for her benefit, though it was never anything they'd discussed.

"What should I do?"

He studied her in that intent way she'd grown to be comfortable with. For all his banter, he'd had a serious side since his parents died shortly after sophomore year. "Are you going to do it? Meet him?"

She turned and pulled the roasted potatoes from the oven. "I said I would. I told his agent so when he came to the office today."

"Doesn't mean you won't back out."

"My word is golden, Noah. You know that." She lifted the steamer from the pan and placed the crab legs on a serving platter. When he didn't respond, she looked at him.

His jaw muscles were getting a workout. "I also know that anything that puts attention on you scares you to death. Whoever this guy is, whatever he ultimately wants, you should at least think about it." He paused a beat. "You can't keep the world at arm's length forever. Your depression is under control. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

She moved the buttered asparagus to the small kitchenette table, ignoring his words. He cared. She got that. But he had no idea how much every day was a struggle just to get out of bed. And all because of some long ago nightmare she didn't even remember, outside of small flashes in her memory.

With tense movements, she set the table. "As my friend, shouldn't you be scared he's going to chop me up into tiny pieces and feed me to the bears?"

He sighed. "No."

She turned to glance at him.

"My security team will drive you to and from wherever you're going."

His security team. Well, that was new. She'd never actually seen the men herself, other than Max, who'd been Noah's guard since…She scratched her head. Since forever.

Noah was an only child to a former New Jersey state senator who'd hit the wrong end of an ice patch doing eighty with his wife in the passenger seat. The family had left him money, but Noah accumulated more than he knew what to do with after college when his adventure startup took storm. His time and resources were valued. Some people took advantage of that. Plus, that much wealth brought out the crazies. Two years ago, Noah had been shot at over the watch he was wearing. As beautiful and scenic as Anchorage was, the drug abuse rate was near the highest in the country, as was the suicide rate. People were desperate.

He uncorked the wine and poured two glasses, handing one to her. "I'd never encourage you to do something that would put you in danger. I care about you." Before she could respond, he sucked in a breath and drained half his glass. "And as someone who cares, one of these days you need to let me take you out to dinner. It's really crappy you're cooking on your own birthday."

She smiled, moved by him. "Says the man who has his own cook."

"I do not. I have a housekeeper who occasionally cooks for me. And she's not as good as you."

She laughed as he tried to shrug it off. He could do that for her every time. Knock her from freaked out to that's better in three seconds flat. "Seven days a week is hardly occasional."

"Six days a