High Passion

by Vivian Arend

  Alisha was sound asleep by the time he pulled into his parking space. He left the engine running with the heat blowing on high while he unloaded their bags. When he finally came and tugged her arm to wake her, she didn’t move.

  Devon hesitated. Something was off. He reached in and took her pulse, his fingers warm against her cool skin.

  Low heart rate—lower even than hers should be in sleep. “Alisha?” He stroked her cheek. “Wake up. You can curl up in bed and be much more comfortable.”

  Nothing. No eye flicker, no complaint about being woken.

  “Shit, Alisha, wake up.” Louder this time, plus he reached in and pinched her. When she didn’t respond to that stimulus, he swore and flipped into action. Jumped into the car and headed for the hospital emergency room.

  He hauled out his phone and called Marcus. “I don’t know what’s up, but Alisha is out of it. As if she’s been drugged, or something.”

  Marcus swore. “In the fifteen minutes since you left? Take her to the hospital.”

  “I’m halfway there. Will you meet me?”

  “On my way.”

  Devon glanced to the side, hovering his hand over her mouth to allow the faint stroke of air escaping her lips to brush his skin and reassure him she was still breathing. “What the hell is going on?” he asked.

  The answering silence nearly killed him, and he pressed his foot harder to the floor, racing to reach the hospital.

  * * *

  The smell of antiseptic wrinkled her nose. A warm hand touched her arm, and she rolled over to look into Devon’s noticeably tired blue eyes.

  “Hey.” She leaned up on an elbow, and that was when she noticed she wasn’t in his bed, or her own. “Why am I in the hospital?”

  Devon took a deep breath, sitting back in the chair resting beside her bed. He kept hold of her fingers. “You were drugged.”

  Panic shot through her in a rush. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. They had you hooked to an IV for a bit to help flush your system, but pretty much sleeping it off was the best option.”

  She still couldn’t believe it. She clung to his hand as she tried to make sense of his words. “Drugged? How did that happen? What kind of drug? When did I get it?”

  “We’re still trying to find the answers to some of those questions. They’ve tested you, now they’re looking through things back at HQ. I told them you had a hot drink while you were waiting for me.” Devon dragged his hand through his hair, and even through her confusion and upset at waking in the hospital, she noticed again how tired he looked.

  She also realized she had to get up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  That pulled a smile from him. “This way. I’ll escort you.”

  She might have slept, but the mirror didn’t hide the evidence of her exhaustion—she should probably crawl back in and sleep for an entire week. Alisha stretched, finding her balance and strength returning even though she still felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. The low-grade nausea remained, the headache.

  Devon waited for her outside the door, leaning on the wall as he looked around wearily, and she smiled sheepishly. “Don’t tell me you were here all night.”

  He shrugged. “I was worried.”

  He led her back to the curtained cubicle, her mind awash with curiosity at his comment. She waited to ask him anything, doing a physical check first. Trying to connect the information she could remember with where she currently was.

  It still made no sense, but she couldn’t seem to panic. First because she was far too exhausted, and then because . . .

  She glanced away from Devon before he read her mind and figured out how much it meant to her that he’d obviously been at her side all night long.

  “You know what’s up? Who do I need to see to get released?”

  Devon nodded. “I’ll go get the nurse. Marcus talked to the doctor last night. I think you get to go pretty quick.”

  Alisha sat on the edge of the bed. “Marcus was here?”

  “Tripp called as well. And Erin this morning.”

  She was touched to hear that but didn’t quite know how to react. “I’m good to go as soon as possible.”

  She was pretty much rubber-stamped out of the hospital, Marcus having done all the paperwork necessary. She was grateful for Devon’s arm as he guided her out. “Does Lifeline know I’m out of commission for a few days?”

  “Marcus knows. He said with both you and Tripp knocked for a loop, he’s screening call-outs hard. He doesn’t want you to worry—if it’s not a three-man job, or something he can help with, he won’t accept it. Not to worry.”

  “I’m too tired to argue.” Alisha leaned on the headrest, twisting to watch Devon as he eased the car out of the parking lot. The tension in his jaw was visible even from the side. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Some. In the chair.”

  “Great. So comfy.”

  He shifted his body, easing into a better position. “I’ll live. Once we’re home I’ll sleep for the next twenty-four hours.”

  She wanted to ask more details about what was going on, but he’d already told her everything he knew. The police would come talk to her later—they were already going over Lifeline to figure out if there was anything there to explain what had happened.

  She accepted his hand and let him guide her into the house. Didn’t complain as he helped her out of her clothes, but stopped him before he pushed her toward the bed. “I need a shower. I feel as if I’ve been rolling in filth for days.”

  He nodded and took her into the bathroom. When he stripped, she was torn between protesting and being grateful for the support of his strong arms. Leaning against him gave her a rock-solid place to rest, her hands spread on his muscular chest. “I wish I had the energy to take advantage of you.”

  “Some other time. Right now, let me take care of you.”

  When they’d fooled around in the shower before, sexual tension and high passion had driven them. It was different this time as he swayed with her under the heated deluge, the fat showerhead dropping a torrent on them like a heavy rainfall in a tropical country. Devon stroked her shoulders. Her back. His strong fingertips eased muscles that ached without a reason.

  She closed her eyes and fought the rolling in her stomach, aftereffects of the drug. Devon turned them, soaking her completely. Brushing her hair off her face. Another twist, and the scent of pears filled the shower.

  The slow scrub of a soft washcloth and soap drifted over her skin as Devon washed every bit of her. He supported her with his body, leaning her back and soaping her breasts, tenderness in his touch. Not lingering, but moving on to her stomach, between her legs. Smoothing up the sides of her waist and teasing the edges of her breasts. Intimate, yet his caress so natural her breathing remained relaxed and peaceful, the hint of sexual pleasures lingering, but mainly it was the caress of a friend.

  Everywhere he touched tingled briefly as he chased the lingering fear from her, his touch constant and careful.

  When he pulled the seat down from the wall and placed her on it, she sighed. “Decadent.”

  “Hmm, I’ve never been so happy to have this place.” He rubbed his fingertips over her scalp, washing her hair, bringing up the lather as he kept the suds from slipping into her eyes. He tilted her head and directed the water to rinse the shampoo away, the side of her head resting against his firm abdomen.

  Alisha felt cosseted. Pampered beyond belief. Devon used conditioner on her, working his fingers through the long strands and laying them over her shoulders before rinsing again. Water soothing and warm, her stomach settling as everything conspired to bring her ease.

  The thick towel he wrapped her in appeared out of nowhere. Her eyelids refused to cooperate and open fully. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, about all she had the energy for. “I’m ready to pass out again.”

  “Sleep is the best thing right now. Don’t fight it.”

  But by the time he’d
dried them both off, slipped one of his T-shirts over her head, and pulled on boxers, she wasn’t nearly as drowsy. She stared at him as they lay in bed and he stroked her hair, his blue eyes suspiciously dark.

  “You okay, Devon?”

  He nodded. Paused. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  That made no sense. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I didn’t keep you safe, though.”

  Alisha cupped his face, the shadow on his chin rough against her palm. “The police will figure it out. I’ll be fine.”

  His gaze darted over her face. “I hope you know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  Alisha jerked upright, the shock of his words sinking in hard enough to wake her. “Of course, you wouldn’t. Who the hell said otherwise?”

  “Shhh.” He attempted to ease her to the mattress, but she was having none of his soothing. She pushed on his chest and he reluctantly allowed himself to be pressed to his back as she glared down.

  “Did you get questioned by the police?” He wasn’t going to answer her. His refusal was clear in his eyes. “You did. When you brought me into the hospital.”

  “It’s standard procedure,” Devon said. “I’m not upset. And Marcus showed up a few minutes later to clear me, but I wanted to . . .”

  He trailed off, catching hold of her face. Cupping her cheeks tenderly and drawing her toward him.

  What followed was exquisite. A bare, brief caress of mouths before he let her go. More intimate even than the touch of his lips was the expression in his eyes. “I was so scared,” he whispered. “I never want to see you like that again. It nearly tore me in two.”

  Alisha swallowed hard, retreating from the intensity of his confession. Everything she’d experienced blurred together—not only her drug-induced hospital visit, but the rescue the day before, the trip to visit his family, and the hovering menace of Vincent’s demands.

  He smiled. “Sorry. A little out of the blue, right? It’s been a roller coaster around here lately.”

  She nodded, stroking his skin like a worry stone, the smooth heat under her fingers reassuring her. “I do trust you. I always have, even when we were fighting to be top dog at school. I didn’t want to get involved with you, but that wasn’t because I thought you were terrible.”

  “You thought I was a man-whore,” he teased, doing his own stroking, his fingers firm on her thighs as he caressed her under the quilt. “I wasn’t really. Lots of talk, not much action. I was too exhausted trying to keep up with you.”

  “That makes two of us, and we’re still working hard.” She arranged herself against him, resting her head on his chest and getting comfortable again. He had tempted her enough in spite of his man-whore status that she’d had to work to refuse him. That confession wasn’t needed anymore, but she did have something else to share. “Thank you for taking care of me these past days. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I think that says a lot about how much I do trust you, and I’m not the only one. You’re a rock, Devon. People know what to expect with you. You might tease a lot, but your work ethic and decision-making skills have never been in question. Not by me. Not by the team.”

  Devon stroked her hair, his heart rate solid under her ear. “It’s strange. How there are so many different circles in our lives. Family. School. Work. Friends. All of them see us as someone different.”

  She was fading again, the drugs still affecting her, but even washed by waves of fatigue she clued in on his issue.

  Maybe the drugs loosened her tongue when she should have held it, but she laid her head on the pillow so she could look him in the eye as she spoke. “When one out of four of your circles is clearly in the minority? I’d say your family must be a bunch of idiots for not seeing what a great guy you are.”

  A smile appeared at her bold proclamation. “Go to sleep. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Go to sleep yourself. I bet I can sleep longer than you.”

  “Always with the damn contests,” he mock-complained. Then a fake snore escaped him, and she giggled as she gave in to exhaustion.

  CHAPTER 20

  It was Alisha who pulled herself from bed only a few hours later, bleary-eyed but awake. Incredibly, she was hungry.

  Loud pounding on the door brought her hurrying from the kitchen to stop the noise before it woke Devon. She tightened the belt of the robe she’d pulled on, then peeked through the side window.

  Shock froze her in position for an instant before she yanked the door open. “Stop making that racket,” she ordered, glaring at Vincent. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He loomed in the doorway, and she jerked the door between them.

  Vincent paused, as if shocked by her actions. “Enough. I’m through waiting for you to realize you’re in over your head. I’ve come to take you home.”

  Alisha snapped her mouth shut from where she’d been gaping in surprise at his words. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone you have any control over. I can take care of myself. Go away, and don’t bother to come back. Ever.”

  Vincent rubbed his forehead for a moment, took a deep breath, then held up his hands in surrender. “Listen to me. You were in the hospital. How is that taking care of yourself?”

  “How did you hear I was sick?” An even more concerning thought stuck, and she wrapped the robe front closer. “And how did you find me? What are you doing here?”

  Vincent stood straighter, looking over her shoulder into the house. “This is your lover’s place. He gave me his card, remember? When you left your apartment you had to have found somewhere to live, and here you are.”

  “Here I am, and here I stay,” Alisha retorted. “Thank you for your interest in my health. I’m fine. Now go back to Toronto, and don’t expect me to change my plans. I’m not marrying you, and I’m not leaving Banff. You need to accept that.”

  She moved to close the door, but Vincent moved faster, shoving his foot into the gap and stopping her from locking him out. He lowered his chin and stared hard, his dark eyes glittering in the afternoon light. His voice softened, but the words came out brittle like shards of glass. “No, you need to accept that you will be returning. The sooner you get that through your head, the less traumatic this will be for all of us.”

  “Do I need to go to the police, Vincent? Because if I have to, I will,” Alisha warned. “You’re threatening me.”

  “Of course not.” Vincent took a far too intense perusal down to her bare toes and back up, lingering on her chest. “Why would I threaten the woman I love, and intend to—”

  “The woman you love?” Alisha blurt out. “Damn you to hell, that’s bullshit.”

  Vincent clicked his tongue. “Such language.”

  His scold broke her meager control. Alisha was furious with him, and upset that he’d attempt to order her around. She spoke clearly, enunciating every word. “You don’t like my fucking language? Get your fucking foot out of the fucking door, and you won’t have to fucking listen to me anymore.”

  He scowled harder. “That’s so mature.”

  Her limbs were trembling and she rocked the door, hard. “Get. Out.”

  “Why are you making this so difficult, Alisha?” Vincent leaned on the door frame, pushing himself farther into the room. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been supportive. Be reasonable.”

  She came close to stuttering. “Be reasonable?”

  His tone was nearly parental. Judgmental. “You have no home anymore, or won’t in a few weeks’ time. You’re sponging on others’ goodwill. Sleeping with one member of your team after the other to simply have a roof over your head. You don’t need to whore yourself like this, Alisha.”

  This time words escaped her. She couldn’t form complete sentences, let alone coherent ones.

  Maybe the steam escaping her ears or the furious rage causing her face to heat tipped him off because he caught hold of her wrist just before she slammed a fist into him. “Don’t even try. You wanted to play your little ga
mes, and flaunted your ability to turn your back on your family, and I allowed it. But that’s over. Get yourself to Toronto by Christmas or you’ll regret it.”

  “The only thing I regret is opening the door in the first place.” She narrowed her eyes and stepped back, going for her phone.

  “It’s a dangerous business you’re in, Alisha. I’d hate for something to happen to anyone who works with you.” He stepped fully onto the porch. “Someone close to you. It’s not impossible to influence a person’s destiny. Just a tiny nudge at the right moment can make all the difference.”

  “Alisha, who are you talking to?”

  Alisha twisted to the side to discover Devon in the hallway, blinking hard as he pulled to vertical. She glanced at the front door only to find that Vincent was gone.

  Warm hands wrapped around her as Devon closed the distance between them. He tucked his head in close and kissed her neck, the heat of sleep wrapping around them both as she made a quick judgment call. Devon didn’t need to know everything about the visit from Vincent. She’d just . . . downplay it.

  “We had a visitor, but he’s gone.”

  Devon jolted upright. “That’s what you called your vampire friend the other day.”

  He stormed toward the entrance, her hands falling aside unheeded as he hauled the door open. They were in time to see the red taillights of Vincent’s rented Ferrari head away down the back drive.

  Devon turned, fully awake now. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “He didn’t do anything except make his usual demands for me to stop this independence charade and return to my place in the big scheme of things. As his arm candy.”

  Devon glanced out again before firmly closing the door. “How did he know you were here?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You gave him a business card.”

  He shook his head. “No, how did he know you were here, in my house?”

  Alisha frowned. “He also talked about my trip to the hospital. And he mentioned something that makes me think he knew I spent a night at Tripp’s.”