Exposure (33 page)

Raven picked up the first shot, an
eleven-by-nine of her from behind while she sat on the boulder
halfway down the valley on their island. The mist in the background
gave the mountains a mysterious quality. It was the pop of color
that was most intriguing. Her black hair falling down her back,
white snow dusting the ground, the red blanket--all
mesmerizing.

She set it down and picked up another, the
one where she lay in the snow. From the top of the hill, Noah
captured her looking at the lens as if begging for a companion. The
next shot was a close up of her with her eyes closed, snow clinging
to her lashes as if asleep. Again, the photos were brilliant and
catching and…real.

There was something different about these
from his earlier work. She couldn't put her finger on what. She
looked at the other photos on the table. His agent had also sent
over two previous shoots.

In one, a woman with cocoa skin and huge
brown eyes gaily ran along a deserted beach. The sand was littered
with debris, the housing in the background crumbling to shambles.
Yet she had a wide, infectious smile and wore nothing but a
colorful sarong. A couple other shots showed her leaning against
one of the graffiti laden walls or kneeling next to refuse. As
intended, the ugliness of the backdrop was muted by the cheery
woman offering hope among chaos.

Picking up the other shots, her gaze took in
a woman with tats from neck to toe. Her blonde hair was short,
spiking at odd angles, and the tips dyed pink. One of her legs was
amputated above the knee and the only thing she wore was military
dog tags around her neck. She was laying in a field of dandelions,
arms widespread and eyes haunted by her past.

"He's good, isn't he?"

Raven turned to Max behind her and then back
to the photos. "He sure is. No one captures contrast, light, or
color like him. He can turn anything into beauty." Such raw,
amazing talent. A direct path into the soul.

With one finger, Max pushed the photos
around the table, the muscles of his forearm flexing, until he got
to the one of her supposedly asleep. "That's my favorite."

She faced him, this big bear of a man who'd
put himself in front of a bullet for her, and tilted her head. Max
had been Noah's quiet protector since before he'd met Raven. He
probably knew things about Noah that no one else did. He didn't
talk much, but when he did, it typically knocked her back a
step.

Studying the photo again, she bit her lip in
thought. "Why's that?"

His gaze never left the table. "I've been
with him at nearly every shoot, sometimes in locations at the
corner of the world, and with hundreds of models." He tapped the
photo again. "That's the first time he ever saw the woman and not
the shot."

Yeah. Forget knocking her back a step. He'd
knocked her on her ass.

Later that evening, Raven sat on the edge of
the bed and stared at her cell. Since Noah had left town, he'd had
Max staying in the guest room, just in case, but the company did
little for her loneliness. And Noah hadn't called. Not once. He'd
sent a few texts updating her on his location and to check in, but
damn it, she missed his voice. Missed
him
.

Swallowing hard, she connected and waited as
the other line rang.

Just as it was about to go to voicemail,
Noah answered with a curt, "Everything okay?"

"Yes. I just…" She sighed. "I wanted to hear
your voice."

He paused. "Did something happen?"

"No, no," she assured. "How's the shoot
going? What's your model like?" She stilled. Did that make her
sound like a crazy girlfriend?

"Fine. I'm at the ruins now. We're doing a
night session I wanted to attempt."

He didn't answer the question about the
model. Rubbing her forehead, she glanced at the ceiling. "I didn't
mean to disturb you. But while you're on the line, I saw the photos
for the exhibit. They look great. It was worth freezing my butt
off." She laughed nervously.
Really, Raven? Nervous with
Noah?

He took so long to respond she checked to
make sure they hadn't been disconnected. Finally, he answered in a
low, rough voice. "I should be back on Friday."

"But your show is Friday night."

"I'll be back in time. See you then."

She opened her mouth to say she missed him,
but he'd hung up. No
, I love you, Miss you
, or anything
resembling affection. Even before they were lovers, he'd been warm
and endearing in their friendship. What had changed? Why was he
suddenly so distant?

Tears burned her eyes. Had he concluded she
was a hopeless cause after all?

She froze as realization struck. He was
going to leave her. He was going to leave her because she wasn't
what he needed. The pain in her chest expanded, cracking ribs.

Laying sideways on the bed, she thought
about the conversation with her mom at lunch. After learning weeks
ago about how her parents had died, with her father right beside
her, she'd been able to rationalize her fear of intimacy and make
love in the missionary position. It had merely taken her knowing
what the problem was and taking steps to move past it.

But an incapacity to love wasn't an easy
fix. Her mom had summarized her early childhood years and puzzle
pieces were snapping into place. Yet how did she get from then to
now, from there to here? God. How would she even recognize if she
was in love?

Maybe Noah's distance was for the best.
Perhaps a clean break, before he got in any deeper and she hurt him
beyond repair, was the least likely path for pain. Except the
hollow, aching void inside her without him was cultivating.
Consuming.

Air trapped in her lungs, refusing to expel.
The room blurred in a haze of tears. Hot tracks traced down her
temple, absorbing into the sheets. Her insides shredded, torn apart
organ by organ. She wanted to dig her nails into her chest, claw
this restless, gutting sensation out of her body. It was terrible.
So damn terrible, the torture. Burying her face in a blanket, she
inhaled his familiar scent of cinnamon and safety. The agony only
intensified.

A wayward thought struck her through the
melee of emotion. A hammer at her brain.

If this was love after all, why was she
fighting to fall?

J
et-lagged, Noah
folded himself into the chair behind his desk and glared at all the
messages. When he'd started his business, it had been out of love
for the outdoors and being in the elements. Nature soothed. Took no
prisoners. Never pretended it was something it wasn't. Since all
the success, he'd spent more time behind a desk than out doing what
he wanted. Being Hoan on occasion allowed for reprieve, but it
wasn't the same. Maybe it was time to sell.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and
leaned his head back. Ten days away from Raven on his recent photo
shoot had done nothing to alleviate his need for her. He thought
some distance would clear his head or offer up some direction. It
hadn't. He still didn't know what the fuck to do.

For a decade, he'd lived in fear, had his
life whittled down to a skeleton and doing little more than going
through the motions of existence. The women, the cameras, his
company--nothing filled the void.

And then he'd had Raven. In his bed, his
home, his heart. The pain with her absence almost made him think
they could just carry on as they were. Having her, in any capacity,
was better than not having her at all. Except, shit. He didn't want
to be a skeleton anymore.

The past ten days had felt like the
reoccurring ten years of holding back. Hot beaches, hotter women,
and all he wanted was Raven and home. He shook his head. His baby
was his home.

It had been cowardly to leave the way he
had, not calling or telling her how badly he'd missed her. As in,
the whole shoot was a wash he'd missed her that fucking much. He
wondered what the absence had done to her. Did she miss him even
half the amount? Was she as wrecked as him?

Probably not. In the back of his mind, this
had been his last ditch attempt to push her over the edge. Selfish
and perhaps conniving, but it had to be done. If he didn't see
something in her eyes to note a change, they had to end the
relationship. He might never breathe normally again, but he
couldn't keep doing this.

Dropping his forehead on the desk, he fisted
his hands. When Veronica knocked on the office door, he issued his
assistant away as politely as possible without moving. Whatever it
was, he'd deal with it later.

"It's…me."

His head jerked up, greedy gaze landing on
Raven.

If possible, her skin seemed even more pale.
Or perhaps it was the shadows under her eyes playing tricks on him.
Had she lost weight? He knew every curve and dip of her body, would
recognize it was her under his hands even if he were blindfolded.
She
had
dropped a few pounds. Hell, she'd been thin to begin
with. She had her midnight hair up in a high ponytail, wore not a
stitch of makeup, and she was biting that pouty lower lip. She
wasn't dressed for work--not in her skinny jeans, purple sweater,
and peacoat.

Not that he'd moved, but his body froze just
the same. She looked like hell, which meant she'd been in hell.
Just as he had. Christ. Was that hope sparking after all?

His cock swelled and, damn it to fucking
hell, so did his heart.

She took a tentative step forward and
blinked the wary question in her eyes away, skillfully rendering
her expression blank. "How was your trip? Did the shoot go
well?"

Ten days and she asked about his travels.
Hope withered and died.

He straightened in his chair. "I scrapped
the shoot. Got nothing useful."

"Why?"

Because I couldn't stop thinking about
you
. "Wasn't feeling it."

She made her way around the desk and leaned
against it to stand in front of him. "I wanted to talk to you about
a few things."

His hands itched to touch, to stop the
longing. Somehow, he resisted. "I've got a lot to catch up on
before the show tonight."

Her mouth trembled open. Hurt flashed in her
eyes. "It's important."

Closing his eyes to the soft, tormented tone
of her voice, he drew in air. "Then I'll try to be home early
enough before we have to leave."

She bowed her head. Nodded. "Remember that
day you took me out on the island?"

As if he could forget. "What about it?"

"We stopped here to pick up the boat keys
and I got an idea." She looked into his eyes, and he swore it took
her a lot of effort to do so. Her gaze, for the first time in
memory, was wide open. Haunting and troubled. Seeking. "I pictured
you swiping the items off your desk, like you made me do to mine,
and taking me right here."

Her words belied her expression. She was
resorting to sex instead of whatever conclusion she'd reached in
his absence. She may have missed him, but she was diverting. As
usual.

When he said nothing, she glanced over his
shoulder. "How did you know?" Her soft voice hit him right in the
chest. Twisted. "How did you know you were in love with me?"

Raven had this uncanny way of dissecting
information. If she didn't have all the facts, she didn't invest.
If she was asking, then something had sparked the need to know. His
heart flipped and exposed its underbelly. "It's just something I
know. I can't explain it."

Slowly, her gaze slid to his. "Try."

His hands fisted the chair arms. "I look at
you and my heart pounds, when for years, I don't think it beat at
all. You fill the cracks and crevices, take away the emptiness.
When I think about the future, five years, twenty-five years down
the road, you're there. And when you're not by my side, the loss is
unimaginable."

Shit. He swallowed and looked away. He had
no idea where that had come from, but there it was. His truth.

"Noah--"

He shook his head. And because she was
trying in her own messed up way, he rose and placed his hands on
her hips. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead. "We do need to talk.
You're right. Let me get a few things out of the way and then I'll
be home."

Her eyebrows pinched together. She stared at
him for long moments, wavering on a cliff somewhere he didn't think
he'd reach, and then she flicked her gaze away. Finally, she nodded
and walked to the door.

"I missed you," she said over her shoulder
before she was gone.

He dropped to his chair. "Me, too,
baby."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he dove
into work to keep his mind off. He returned some calls, dicked with
the advertizing budget, and scheduled a maintenance crew to come
out to inspect the equipment before delegating the rest to
Veronica. By the time he sat back in his chair, he had an hour
before needing to be at Elements for Hoan's exhibit.

Which left no time for the talk with Raven.
Not that he knew what in the hell to say.

The condo was quiet when he returned. Too
quiet. He strode into the bedroom and found his suit laid out on
the bed, a note set on top.

You told me not to give up. I haven't, so
don't you dare. I'll see you soon. I'll be the one wearing red.
Raven, xoxo

Unsure what to make of the note, regret
settled like stone in his gut. He should've carved out more time to
get here before the show. Now he'd be forced to make nice until he
could have her alone again. He'd swear on his life she'd meant this
as an olive branch.

Hope resuscitated and held on for dear
life.

He showered, shaved, and dressed to arrive
at Elements in the knick of time. Hintz opened the door to let him
out of the backseat, and Noah caught McCannon's unmarked car right
outside. His security team manned the front door and were spread
around the gallery keeping watch. Soreno wasn't getting to her
tonight.