High Passion

by Vivian Arend

  “Not those types of games.” His buddy flashed a smirk, and Devon forced a laugh. It wasn’t as amusing as usual. He didn’t enjoy fawning women, but he disliked even more that he was being used by his supposed friends. “Fine, trade on my good name if you can’t get pussy any other way, but I’m good for tonight.”

  His friend saluted, then strolled over to the table with a greeting for the ladies. Devon hid his annoyance and paced over to talk to Luke instead.

  “The mighty hero has decided to grace us with his presence.” Luke tilted the mouth of his bottle at Devon. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your superhero suit.”

  “Fuck you, too,” Devon said blandly. “What are we playing tonight?”

  “Nothing serious. Had a hell of a day, so it was nice to hear you could join us.”

  They racked up the balls and fell into an easy camaraderie. It was damn annoying how often he reached to check his phone to make sure it was still on. In case Alisha decided to call him.

  Pathetic.

  Kyle soon had the ladies smiling, joining in around the table and generally getting in the way. Luke took his shots with one arm around the woman who’d picked him out. Devon had to work like a maniac to avoid the clutches of the brunette who insisted he should teach her to play.

  The arrival of his Lifeline teammates had never been so welcome, even if it seemed strange to see Lana as a part of the group. Devon acknowledged their wave before handing his pool cue to the pouting brunette. “You can take over my spot. Gotta chat with the team for a bit.”

  “I could get you a drink,” she offered, pressing her breasts against him before he backed out of groping range.

  “Thanks. I’m good.” He twisted away, ignoring the woman. He gave Luke a frustrated glance before descending on Xavier and Lana. “Tell me you’ve got room to hide me.”

  “Awww, are the dulcet darlings on the prowl again?” Xavier slid behind the table and shrugged. “No objections from me. Tripp’s joining us in about an hour—Lana wanted to do the wing thing, and I said I’d show her around.”

  Devon waved at one of the servers to get their attention. “The wing addiction already reared its head, did it?” he teased.

  “I fought valiantly as long as I could, but some cravings are too strong to be denied.” Lana sighed dramatically before grinning at him. “Only, if I’m going down, I’m taking the lot of you with me.”

  “It’s an honest way to go.” Devon ordered a round. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he scrambled to pull it out. It wasn’t Alisha’s number on the screen, but his sister’s. He offered a quick apology to Xavier and Lana, then turned to the side to answer it. “I thought I’d made this number unlisted. Damn, how did you find me?”

  His sister’s familiar laugh carried over the line. “You’ll never escape. Face it, little boy, we have ways to track you down.”

  Devon accepted a glass from Xavier. “What’s up? I can’t talk right now.”

  “Short and sweet. Two weeks from now you’re expected for Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday. I’ll be nice—you don’t have to bring anything if you bring a girl.” Sandy hummed. “Or, if you plan on showing up solo again? Check the list of wines Dad posted on the family Facebook page. Shouldn’t set you back too much.”

  The constant taunting from his siblings to grow up, get a real job, and find a one and only hadn’t diminished over the years. Gotten worse, in fact, as they’d partnered off with true loves and started producing a copious number of rug rats. He loved his family, he really did, but there was no way he was bowing to the god of marital bliss even if they had all fallen victim.

  It was his life, dammit. None of them seemed to have realized that yet. To them, he was still the little boy. The one who couldn’t figure out what needed to be done.

  The one who couldn’t be trusted.

  Frustration washed over him before inspiration hit hard enough to brighten the bleak prospect of an extended family dinner. This time he might pull one over, especially if it meant not having to put out for the outrageously expensive wines his father liked to try at holiday dinners.

  He pictured Alisha’s bright smile and the way she could work a room. The woman was seriously talented when it came to public speaking—he bet he could persuade her to come home with him and pacify them all. “I’ll raise the stakes. I bring a woman to face the lot of you, and you have to make pecan pie.”

  Sandy paused. “You’re not serious. Are you seeing someone?”

  Devon didn’t comment. “You set the rules. I’ll talk to you in a couple days. Gotta run. Later.” He hung up feeling damn good about the possibility of hanging out with Alisha and pulling a fast one on his perfect family.

  Beer and wings had arrived, and the look of ecstasy on Lana’s face as she licked the sauce off her fingers brought a reluctant smile to his face.

  She moaned happily, slipping her tongue over her lips. “Whoever came up with the idea of coating wings in sauce should be canonized. My mouth is in heaven.”

  “It was probably someone in the heart and stroke profession.” Xavier leaned in and nudged the basket of teriyaki closer. “Try these. They’re my favourite.”

  She pulled one out, chatting easily with Xavier as the paramedic slowly decreased the distance between them until he was right next to her. Devon watched in amusement as Tripp arrived, and Xavier took total advantage of adjusting the chairs to place Lana’s within crowding distance.

  Lana smiled and flirted, her cheeks brightening as the evening continued. She twisted toward Devon, a huge grin shining out. “I like working with Lifeline. Three hot guys to hang out with in the evenings? I could get used to this.”

  She bumped her water glass and it tipped toward Devon. He caught it before it completely went down, about half the water sloshing over the table edge and into his lap. He swore under his breath but kept his smile in place.

  “I’m so sorry.” She had her hands in his lap, mopping up the moisture with her napkin.

  Devon caught her wrists, pulling her fingers off his groin and back to the top of the table. “No harm done. It’s only water.”

  “Good thing it wasn’t the beer,” Tripp teased before changing the subject. “Lana, tell us about yourself. Marcus introduced you and all, but I don’t remember him saying specifically where else you’ve worked?”

  She gave Devon another apologetic glance before facing Tripp. “I was on a few volunteer search-and-rescue squads before I went to school. Haven’t been able to find a full-time team yet, so I thought doing the call-out desk for Lifeline would be a good change of pace. I can still be involved in an active group and maybe . . .”

  Xavier nodded knowingly, glancing at Devon and Tripp. “Maybe get a shot at joining the team down the road?”

  Lana hid behind her glass for a moment. She lowered it, smiling brightly. “Well, not right off, you know. You’re a pretty amazing act. I need to do a lot more training to match your skill levels.”

  “If you ever want to join in, let us know,” Xavier offered.

  Devon resisted giving Xavier a kick under the table. Not only was Xav pushing it way too hard to try and impress Lana, now he was dragging the rest of the team into it? Like hell. She might have been hired for call-out duties, but that was a far cry from working a rescue. He already had Alisha to double-check on for a bit; he didn’t need to babysit anyone else.

  Unfortunately, Lana latched on to the suggestion like Velcro. “Anytime. I’m available, and I’d love to join you.”

  Tripp was making peculiar faces. Devon had to look away to avoid bursting out laughing. Instead he tried to turn the conversation to more generic topics than the meet-up times and workout suggestions Lana pushed forward in an attempt to pin them down.

  Xavier topped up everyone’s glass. “Important topic of discussion. I want to know. If Erin is getting a bigger bird, what equipment improvements are we getting?”

  “My vote is for a hot tub at HQ. Or maybe a flat screen,” Tripp said.


  “For what? You want to hang around HQ and watch movies?” Devon shook his head. “Get a life.”

  Tripp lifted a wing and shook it at Devon. “I heard a rumour Marcus was considering setting up housing for us. Now tell me you wouldn’t enjoy that as a bonus? Rent-free living.”

  “Hell, no.” Devon shook his head. “Maybe the price is right, but I already train with you, eat with you, and hang out in the evenings with you when I can’t find anything better to do. Why would I want to sleep with you as well?” Not to mention that would totally make the current list of activities he wanted to go through with Alisha a hell of a lot harder.

  “You’re afraid that you’ll have to stop hauling home all the women.”

  Good grief. “Yeah, I use a bucket truck to scoop them up on a daily basis. Give it a rest, guys.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Lana objected on his behalf. “You’re a type of shining prince in knightly armour. The kind to sweep the princess off her dragon and kiss her until she falls asleep.”

  Devon blinked in confusion, attempting to sort out her words. He peeked at Tripp, who had his jaw slightly open, eyeing Lana with distrust.

  Sometime in the past couple of minutes everyone had shifted positions, and instead of having plenty of room beside him, Lana was right there, her thigh tight to his. She’d been watching the banter, her gaze darting back and forth.

  Devon spotted the empty glass about the same moment Lana laid her hand on his thigh, out of sight of the guys. God, the woman obviously couldn’t handle her alcohol. He grabbed her wrist, again, and lowered it to her lap, quickly bringing his hands above the table.

  Fortunately, no one else noticed. Xavier laughed at her confusing statement. “That sounds like a mash-up of TV tropes. Perfect.”

  The instant Lana’s hand touched down again, Devon shot out of his chair. “Well, thanks for the company. I think I’ll be going.”

  He really didn’t want to spend his night fending off someone he had no interest in. As a distraction, the evening had been good on a temporary basis. Other than that, it had turned into a reminder that he’d have much preferred to spend the time with Alisha, in bed or out of it.

  He’d enjoyed the sex, he’d admit that, but he also liked her. Strange how easy that was to confess now, when he’d had a steady offering of no-strings hookups running rampant around him.

  Tripp waved him off. “See you in the next couple days?”

  Devon nodded, not ready to make specific training plans in case Lana took it as an invitation. She was tipsy enough to either not notice or take more offense than she should. Xavier had her laughing madly about something, and Devon took the chance to point at her secretly. Tripp rolled his eyes but nodded. She’d be babysat, but not by him this time, thank God.

  On his way out of the bar he had to dodge three more groups of women whom he’d turned down or not dated in the past while.

  What a damn mess. Women everywhere, except for the one he was truly interested in. And she was busy being wined and dined by her not-hot date.

  The temptation to go and casually stroll through the Banff Springs was huge, but he didn’t need to add pitiful to his evening. Devon gave up and headed home, a gut full of unexplained irritation swirling inside next to a lot of sexual frustration.

  The best thing that could happen tonight would be to get called out on a rescue.

  CHAPTER 11

  The valet took Alisha’s hand and assisted her from the car, passing her off to a black-and-gold-suited doorman who had obviously been hovering in anticipation of her arrival. “Mr. Monreal is waiting for you. Right this way.”

  The doorman escorted her as if she were royalty, and Alisha held her frustration in check. The fawning attention was more than she wanted, but getting mad at the hotel employee would be unfair when his over-the-top courtesy was probably mandated from on high.

  “How is your evening so far?” she asked him.

  He blinked, as if surprised she’d noticed he was a real human being. “Um, very well. It’s been quite busy.”

  He evaded all further conversation.

  Her irritation rose another notch, and she hadn’t even reached her dinner partner yet. The games that were played in the upper echelons of society pissed her off more now than when she’d been immersed in the lifestyle and had to toe the line. It was simply another reason she was thankful to have put that part of her life behind her. Hopefully for good.

  A quick glance across the grand foyer placed Vincent in an oversized wingback chair on the far side of the wide expanse. The glitzed table beside him held an enormous bouquet made of dozens of pure white roses. As he rose to his feet, the contrast between the snowy white and his dark hair and suit was stark—mischief made her picture the devil fleeing from the gates of heaven. He’d switched to an even more formal suit, and she was glad she’d dressed up. Not that she wanted to impress Vincent, but the turquoise silk encasing her was like armour to counter his possible attacks.

  The high-necked, long-sleeved outfit also covered the more scandalous marks Devon had left behind during their enthusiastic sex.

  As Vincent approached, the reminder of Devon only made her more determined to hold her ground. She had a good idea why Vincent was here. She wasn’t going to give in, though. She had far too much to lose by simply giving up and going back to being her father’s little girl.

  He took her from the doorman, his gaze slipping down her torso and taking in every inch from top to bottom. Calculating, judging. Smiling as she passed whatever approval rating he’d set.

  “You look beautiful,” Vincent breathed. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

  “Thank you.” She stood motionless, hoping her lack of enthusiasm could be considered sophisticated restraint.

  Vincent paced around her slowly, “Come, let me take you to dinner.”

  As he turned her toward the main dining hall, his hand stroked her lower back, where the dress had an open keyhole in the fabric. His fingers were cold, and she shivered.

  Even with the heels she wore, he towered over her. She rested her hand on his arm and attempted to create a space between their bodies as they walked, but it was impossible. He kept a tight grip, creating an illusion of intimacy that had passersby examining them with curiosity.

  He seated her, ordered for them, then folded his hands together and stared for so long, even her determined attempt to remain indifferent was rocked. “Do I have something on my face?”

  Vincent shook his head. “You are a blindingly beautiful woman, especially when you make a bit of effort.”

  Alisha fought her first instinct. She’d obviously been hanging around the rougher-edged SAR team long enough that she’d lost some of her polish. In her society days she would have ignored a compliment/insult like that. Now she wanted to bite back and at least flash him a fuck off.

  Instead she forced herself to smile. “Thank you.”

  His gaze continued to burn over her. “I hope you’ll have many more opportunities to shine like this in the future.”

  “Why would I—?” She slammed to a stop. Rethought her wording and deliberately didn’t ask him a question. “There’s not a lot of call for full makeup and silk when I’m involved in rescues.”

  “Then I appreciate it all the more that you went all out for me.” Vincent caught her off guard and folded his fingers around hers. “Thank you.”

  So far the night was everything she’d expected it to be. Awkward, unintentionally headed in the wrong direction. Alisha attempted to pull it back to the right path. “You and my father are good friends. I’m happy to spend an evening with you.”

  He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, and she cursed her choice of words. With anyone else they would be considered innocent, but not with Vincent. Well, Devon would have totally turned that slip against her as well, but his type of sexual aggression didn’t scare her nearly as much as Vincent’s smoldering gaze.

  Whoever had said smoldering was a sexy thing w
as wrong. The look didn’t cause her to be lit on fire with desire like she had experienced with Devon, all energy and excitement and wild passion. Smoldering was a piece of kindling being held under a reluctant squatter until the billows of smoke and noxious fumes forced them to move.

  Their drinks arrived, appetizers. Alisha poked at the oysters without much appetite, nodding politely as Vincent told her about the latest changes at Bailey Enterprises. She’d been gone for four years. He talked about people and deals as if she should know what he was referring to, all of it positive and flattering toward himself, of course.

  All the while she waited for the bomb to fall—for the moment when he’d turn into her father’s mouthpiece and start asking about her return plans for the following summer.

  When it finally came it was almost anticlimactic.

  “I have a friend who is selling his condo.” Vincent paused as the waiters whisked away their appetizer plates and brought a soup course. “It’s in a fabulous location, and I thought of you. I know you won’t need a place for a number of months, but it would make sense to buy now in anticipation of your return.”

  Alisha shook her head. “You’re working under a false assumption, Vincent. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I have no intention of returning anytime soon. I have a wonderful job and a great career here in the mountains that I love. It’s valuable work, being the best search-and-rescuer I can be.” Her enthusiasm rang out strong. “It’s thrilling to make a difference in people’s lives.”

  “I understand that.” Vincent slipped his chair closer, and she twitched in her seat. “I’ve always known how much this mattered to you. It’s why I didn’t fight it when you announced you wanted to go away to school.”

  Why would he have fought it? “It wasn’t any of your concern, not then, not now.”

  Vincent leaned in. “Of course it is. After all, I was the one who convinced your father to give you the time to yourself.”

  His cheek was close to hers, but without tilting so far to the side that she’d fall out of her seat, there was no chance to retreat. Besides, she was still trying to make heads or tails of his last comment. “You convinced my father . . . of what?”