High Passion Page 6

  “Sorry for dragging you into it. I never intended to make life miserable for anyone.”

  “It . . . was an accident.” He caved that far. She was right; the situation had been over the top and incredible. And her willingness to take responsibility meant a lot. It was also typical—she never gave herself a break. That Alisha he was familiar with even if the package was usually tied up tighter in cocky arrogance. “Okay, we’ve established what happened. What are we going to do about it?”

  “You’re not telling Marcus?”

  He shook his head. “Not this instant. If we can come up with a way to test your boundaries that doesn’t endanger you, me, or the team, we’ll be okay. But if we can’t, then I expect you to tell him yourself.”

  * * *

  The bitter taint of disappointment stroked the back of her tongue. He was right, of course, in insisting she be the one to confess, but considering it made her nearly as ill as the idea of being crushed again by the river . . .

  Devon caught her wrist, taking a firm grasp. She didn’t bother to ask the question forming on her lips when she noticed he was eyeing his watch.

  Taking her pulse. He’d probably check her pupils next. “There’s nothing physically wrong with me, Devon. I had a panic attack.”

  “Humour me,” he drawled. “You were there and then you were gone, and since we didn’t let Xavier know anything happened, I’m your medic for the next few hours.”

  Alisha snapped her lips together to hold in the protest, because again, he was right. “Ways to test my boundaries? Can you think of any?”

  Devon fell silent as he pulled out a Leatherman with a light attachment. Sure enough, he checked her pupils. “Have you had inklings of panic like this before? Do you have any specific triggers? I mean, you did manage the rescue by the falls.”

  She thought back. “I didn’t have issues. Not then, or when we were by the Bow River. Today was a freak event.”

  “Maybe, but we need to logically eliminate what we can. I know you haven’t had trouble with water before, but we could start at the simplest situation and work through them one at a time.”

  Alisha refrained from rolling her eyes. “You want me to hit the swimming pool to prove I’m not afraid of water?”

  Devon nodded. “Hey, it’s a place to start. We’ll hit the pool, do a few laps, try a few rescues. You know the drills—you did all the same training at school I did. Well, you weren’t nearly as fast as I was, but still.”

  His momentary attempt at lighthearted humour was appreciated but also put her back up. “I wasn’t an ex-swimmer jock. I came far closer to kicking your ass than I should have a lot of the time.”

  Devon shook his head as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. “In your dreams, girl. In your dreams.”

  His skilled examination was over quickly, but the sensation of his hands on her scalp and neck lingered far too long. She didn’t want to talk about the things that had been invading her dreams, since most of them involved him. “Fine. We can hit the pool. And then are we going to jump in a lake? Dive into a waterfall?”

  “You have told me to go jump in a lake a few times.” He flashed his grin, the high-voltage one that should come with a warning label. “Now I get to return the favour.”

  She rose from the couch, escaping because the heat from his body was far too distracting. “I don’t want to quit the team. Maybe that’s selfish, or stupid, but it’s a reality. I’ve worked so damn hard to prove I can do this, that to have my career ripped away is . . . wrong.”

  “Your career is not over.” Devon was on his feet. “But psychoses can be a bitch. So you need to trust me. Let’s deal with this and then we can get back to happily working for Lifeline for years to come.”

  Alisha stared past him out the window as his words shot another blade into her. Frustration at her current dilemma and fear of her long-term predicament blended into an impassable morass.

  The microwave buzzer went off, and Devon stepped around her without a word. He moved through her small kitchen area with a confident stride, filling two plates high.

  Usually that was her. Full of confidence in herself. In her abilities.

  Now? Having to prove she wasn’t one step away from a panic attack was more than annoying—it made her want to scream.

  He was back too quickly, pushing her toward the couch. “You’re upset, and I’m starving. Eat, and after we’ll come up with some other solutions.”

  She took the plate with fingers that had gone numb. “Right. You’re right.”

  He laughed. “See, if you’d simply acknowledged that sooner, we’d have gotten a lot further in this conversation already.”

  Devon rested his plate on the couch arm, then ignored her and strode toward the television. He grabbed a DVD and had it playing within moments, the volume turned up loud as James Bond filled the screen.

  Even with the confusion in her brain, her body had no trouble telling her what she wanted—starting with the food he’d served. Between the demands of the rescue and the adrenaline overload and its lasting effect, she was ravenous. Devon ignored her, settling on the couch and diving into his meal. The wild action of the movie was distracting enough that all she saw was her plate and the screen.

  Until the one urge was satisfied. With the hunger in her belly sated, it was harder than before to ignore that Devon was in her apartment. No matter that he’d come over to give her hell, he was still there. He wasn’t going to tell Marcus about her issue.

  He wanted to help her.

  For years she’d fought her attraction to him, but today, she wondered how many of her reasons for avoiding him had been valid. The actions he’d taken so far today weren’t those of a mindless, inconsiderate playboy.

  She put her plate on the coffee table and snagged the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over herself. Devon rose and refilled his plate.

  She turned down his offer for more food. “I’m full.”

  Full and getting sleepy as she finally relaxed off the rush that had flooded her system. She was going to crash hard in a bit.

  Without a word Devon dropped beside her.

  It was crazy. The heat in her body rose as the food fueled her and the blanket trapped it in. She caught her eyes closing a few times as she fought to stay awake.

  Watching the movie caused problems of other sorts as a love scene filled the screen. She hadn’t thought it possible to become even more aware of Devon at her side.

  In her peripheral vision his hands were far too noticeable as he placed his plate next to hers. His strong fingers and muscular forearms. She could picture him touching her, running his fingers over her body with the same confidence with which he seemed to do everything.

  Alisha jerked herself upright, blinking to change the mental paths she’d started down. She tucked the blanket around her shoulders and faced him straight on. “Sorry, I’m nearly falling asleep and that doesn’t help matters.”

  He examined her again, an intense gaze that seemed to dive into her soul. “One step at a time, Alisha. This isn’t a moment we need to rush into anything.”

  Patience. The first of the team rules. “Right. You’re right.”

  He laughed, following her into the kitchen with the dirty dishes. “I’m going to assume you have a concussion, or are seriously injured, if you keep agreeing with me so easily.”

  She pushed him from the room. “I’ll deal with those later. I should let you go.”

  “Still waiting to hear if you think you have any triggers that caused your attack in the first place,” Devon reminded her. “You were fine during our years at Banff Search and Rescue. I seem to remember doing open-water training a few times, and you never had any issues.”

  They’d gone over this. “I don’t know of any. I mean, when I was little I had nightmares about the dark, but that’s kid stuff.”

  He paced away, over to the window, and stared out for a while. When he turned he looked more impressed than pissed off. “Well, it
was dark down there.”

  She nodded.

  “Are you afraid of the dark now?”

  A shrug was her only possible response. “No more than the average person. If I hear strange noises at night, sure, but otherwise, it’s not as if I sleep with a night light or anything.”

  “Maybe this isn’t as big a deal as we think.”

  Now that was an unexpected outlook. Alisha moved closer. “Really?”

  He held up a hand. “Now, I’m not saying you’re scot-free, or that I’m not still pissed off as hell, but there was a lot going on today. Maybe it was a bad combination.”

  “I don’t think—”

  He laughed. “How come all of a sudden I’m the one reassuring you everything will be fine? Today was enough to freak anyone out, Alisha.”

  She stood motionless, now shocked for new reasons. “I am surprised. I thought for sure I’d have to tie you up and hide you in the attic crawl space so I could keep my job.”

  He raised a brow. “Tying me up? We are getting somewhere. You never told me you had those kinds of fantasies. I would have loved to know that sooner.”

  Her mouth went absolutely dry, not only because he’d gone there, but because the idea of tying him up and getting to take advantage of him was a hot dream she’d partially had once.

  Devon hooted with laughter. “God, you should see your face. No, Alisha, I’m not really propositioning you. At least not right now. You’re dead on your feet, and I’m still cold from the rescue. I’ll save the seduction for later.”

  He didn’t seem to think she was psychotic anymore. She could tell by the way he was back to his normal, flirtatious self. “You’re being way too reasonable.”

  “I now have food in my stomach. Does wonders for the average male.”

  She had to smile. “We’ll play Test Alisha’s Limits tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing.” He paced across the room, and suddenly she was wrapped in a firm hug. Nothing sexual or demanding, just a forceful, breath-squeezing embrace that he ended within a couple of seconds when there was a loud knock on her door. He grinned as he stepped back. “I’ll sneak out of your way for a minute.”

  He ducked into the kitchen. Alisha stood for a moment, amazed at the turn of events. Things were going to work out fine. Miracle of miracles.

  She peered around the edge of the door before opening it. The glass she held in her hands fell unminded to the floor. The plastic bounced once and rolled toward the kitchen, but she ignored it, far more disturbed by the man standing on the stoop.

  So much for her day taking a turn for the better.

  CHAPTER 6

  It wasn’t proper to eavesdrop, but Devon didn’t care about niceties at the moment. Her gasp of surprise had stopped him at the kitchen door and swung him into the small entrance to stand at her side.

  “Problem? You got a collection agency tracking you down or something?”

  “I wish,” she muttered. “Just, don’t be rude to him. But don’t be too nice, either, okay?”

  What the hell kind of comment was that? Curiosity rose in a flash, but he stepped back as she swung the door open to reveal a dark-haired businessman in an outfit that probably cost as much as Devon’s truck. Maybe midthirties, the stranger smiled at Alisha and reached to give her a hug, pulling to a stop when he noticed Devon.

  “Vincent. What are you doing here?” The genuine shock in her voice matched the shock on the man’s face at seeing Devon standing next to her.

  The devil on his shoulder made him move in a tiny bit closer, just to jerk the guy’s chain, whoever he was.

  Vincent dragged his attention back to Alisha and adjusted his expression, but it was too late for any of them to not have noticed his astonishment. “Hello, sweetheart. I came to surprise you.”

  Sweetheart? Fuck. Devon backed out of the way as Vincent strode forward.

  “Well, I’m surprised. Very,” Alisha admitted. “You didn’t think you should call, or let me know you were in town?”

  “That’s what a surprise usually means.” Vincent loosened off his jacket, turning to take in Devon. “And you are?”

  “I work with Devon,” Alisha cut in, slipping between them and tugging Vincent toward the living space. “We did a rescue this morning and needed to grab some food to refuel. He was just leaving.”

  Oh, really? Devon didn’t remember that part of the conversation. “I don’t mind staying.” He extended his hand toward the other man, waiting to see what response he’d get. “Devon Leblanc. And you are Vincent . . . ?”

  From that little sweetheart comment, this wasn’t an insurance adjuster for Alisha, or something.

  “Vincent Monreal. Old friend of the family.”

  Alisha cringed, her face tight in a grimace. Aha, someone who actually knew the elusive Bailey family? Wild horses couldn’t drag Devon away now. Not to mention there was unfinished business between him and Alisha. They had to spend time together to check that she was clear for duty, and he wanted the first time slot nailed in place before he left.

  “Can I get you anything, Vincent? A drink, something to eat?” Maybe it was out of line, but Vincent pushed all his buttons. Acting as if he knew his way around Alisha’s place a hell of a lot better than he did seemed the right thing to do.

  Alisha gave him a dirty look behind Vincent’s back and tilted her head toward the door. “Devon, you should go. I’ll call you later to go over . . . the training schedule.”

  Good try. He got ready to argue—nicely, of course—when Alisha’s expression switched to pleading.

  Damn it all.

  Fine, he wouldn’t stick around when she obviously wanted to be alone with Vincent. “Don’t forget we have a session first thing in the morning.”

  They didn’t, but this Vincent dude didn’t know it, and like hell would Devon let the situation drag on even if Alisha now had a guy in the picture. Or in the picture for the first time ever, as far as he knew.

  She picked up on his clues and nodded. “At the pool, right?”

  Vincent watched them like a hawk, his coat now draped over a chair back and his suit jacket undone.

  The man was wearing a goddamn suit and tie in Banff, for fuck’s sake.

  Devon had no idea why he was sticking around. Anger and frustration made him lash out the only way he could think of on the spur of the moment. If she’d planned on a lovely relaxing morning sleep-in with Mr. Suit, forget it.

  “Yes, the pool. Six A.M.” He ignored the flash of dismay in her eyes and turned to give Vincent a quick send-off, grabbing a business card from his pocket. “Vince. Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need a guide while you’re in town.”

  “Devon,” Vincent intoned, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’ll give you a call.”

  Devon grabbed his coat from the hook on the wall but didn’t bother to put it on as he escaped down the stairs. His irritation only grew when he spotted the shiny rental Ferrari parked behind his junker.

  Figures. Right when he finally got a break on getting to know Alisha better, it was probably too late. First time he’d ever been in her apartment, even if it was for a sucky reason, and she’d shoved him out the door as soon as some rich visitor from out of town called her sweetheart.

  Devon kicked the tire of his truck before throwing his bag into the back and crawling into the cab. There was only one way to deal with frustration like this. He ignored the turn toward his house and headed to the gym. Lifeline wouldn’t get called out on another rescue for at least a day. One more bout of pain would be a good way to exhaust himself before he figured out exactly how to deal with the evasive Miss Bailey.

  * * *

  Alisha stood to one side, fighting to calm herself and not jump to conclusions.

  The apartment seemed smaller than ever as Vincent paced through the living room, his dark head inclined slightly as he paused to stare out the window. It had been years since she’d seen him last, but he hadn’t changed a bit. She wasn’t a young, fascinated child anymore, b
ut even as an adult she had to admit the aura of power that had always clung to him was still there.

  “Vincent. You have surprised me. Bailey Enterprises has business in Banff?”

  His smile made him even more handsome. “Some business, but more importantly, I wanted to say hello. It’s been too long.”

  “Two Christmases ago, I think.” Alisha had no doubts about the timing. She’d taken a rare trip back to Toronto and spent the entire visit avoiding the attempts from her parents to set her up with Vincent.

  She wasn’t interested, not then, not now, but as long as he didn’t try to act on her parents’ behalf and force the other issue regarding their supposed deadline, she could be polite.

  He glanced around the small apartment, then cleared his throat. “It’s . . . homey.”

  “It’s more than enough room for me,” she stated plainly.

  “For now, I suppose. You’ll find something bigger when you return to Toronto.” He pulled out a chair and sat gingerly, as if he’d get cooties from her thrift shop furniture.

  “My job is based in Banff. Kind of hard to live in Toronto and commute all the way across the country for rescue calls.”

  “Right.” Vincent tapped the chair next to him. “Sit.”

  She was about to fall asleep on her feet. She wasn’t looking for a long conversation. “I’m actually really tired right now, Vincent. If you’d like to get together in a couple days, I can—”

  “Sit.” The word snapped out, before he coughed and spoke softer. “Please.”

  Alisha edged the chair out and farther away before she lowered herself into it, uneasy at his strange behavior.

  He smiled again, leaning back in his chair and looking her over carefully. “I’m impressed, you know, that you haven’t come running home sooner.”

  A flash of anger hit, and she lowered her eyes to the table to hide it. “I’m good at what I do, and I enjoy my job.”

  “Your father insists it’s a hobby. A whim. Something you’re doing to get it out of your system before you return to where you belong.”