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,