Vivian Arend - High Passion

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

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, but 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.”

Oh God, she could as good as hear her father say the words. She lifted her head and forced herself to look Vincent in the eyes. “That’s his opinion, but I don’t agree. Did you come all the way from Toronto just to upset me?”

He reached for her hand, capturing her before she could safely pull out of reach. He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I started all wrong. Causing you distress wasn’t my intention. I’m interested in what you’re doing here. And I’ve missed you.”

Okay. That one was off in a new direction. “There’s nothing to miss, Vincent.”

“There should be.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand and hummed gently. “You’re so soft considering what you do for a living.”

“I’m not made of iron. I’m trained to deal with situations.” She tried to free her hand, and he let her go. Alisha took advantage of the opportunity and stepped away from the table under the guise of being hospitable. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Please. Just water.”

Vincent rose and paced her apartment while she ducked into her kitchen and found him an actual glass glass and ice cubes.

Because just water meant something far different to Vincent than when Devon said it, and she knew it.

She paused in the door of the kitchen area, resting her head on the door frame as she looked around for him. Vincent had vanished—she could only wish it had been out the main door to leave her in peace. She didn’t have much more to give today, not between the rescue and the shock and Devon and . . .

Alisha dragged in a deep breath and fought for control. Maybe she shouldn’t have chased Devon out so quickly, but old habits of keeping secrets were hard to break.

When Vincent didn’t reappear, Alisha stepped cautiously down the short hall, disturbed to discover him in her bedroom. “I have your water in the living room.”

He turned from the window and nodded, stepping past her without pausing, brushing close enough their bodies touched.

She stared at the street and dug deep for the strength to deal with this. Deal until he left, and she could finally collapse.