She raised her eyes to his as she trickled to a stop.

He nodded. “I figured out who you are, if that’s your hang-up. I spotted the high-society roll call with your name, and the shining tiara hovering over your head.”

“I’m Alisha Bailey, member of Lifeline and a top-ranked SAR member. That’s who I’m proud of, and that’s who I want to be.” The words came out firm and strong.

He clapped, and the tension on her face lightened. “Good for you. And you’re right. If you don’t want to do the family thing, then you shouldn’t feel obligated. Especially if they’re not firing on all pistons.”

She nodded slowly. “I feel bad about my mom at times, because I think if it were up to her, she’d give me more leeway.”

“Dad’s in charge, is he?” Devon knew the answer before he saw her nod. “Figured.”

“And Vincent is worse than my father, if you can believe that. He’s definitely not going for Mr. Congeniality.”

Devon picked up her foot and lowered it into his lap, rubbing his thumbs along her insole as he pondered. “If he goes home and leaves you alone, that would solve all your problems. You hoping that’s what will happen?”

“Not much else I can do. He hasn’t directly threatened me, and . . .” Alisha hesitated. “Okay, the reality is right now if I go to the RCMP, I’m not sure what good it would do. The ways he could use the media to twist things in his favour are scary to think about. Police reports notwithstanding, it’s my word against his, and I’m a lot lower on the political totem pole. The people who would use a police report against him aren’t necessarily my friends, either.”

“So you’re trapped into not going to the media because you’d lose.” He shook his head. “You live in a damn weird world.”

“Lived,” she snapped. “Which is why I wanted out so bad. That, and because I really do love what we do.” She groaned happily, wiggling down farther. “I’m going to melt into the floor if you keep rubbing my feet. Can we not talk about Vincent anymore?”

“Last question. Would calling your father and letting him know any of this help?”

She considered for a moment, but the misery on her face only grew stronger. “If I mention anything about Vincent wanting my shares that’s going to open up the whole marriage issue. My dad would more likely ignore the suggestion it’s about taking control, and insist Vincent’s goal is to make a strong, political marriage—like the family suggested years ago. He’d join in to convince me Vincent was the catch of the century. He might even start his own media blitz to push us together. Those are the positive possibilities.”

“Shit. Worst case?”

“Worst case, he figures out some way to make you look bad—as if you’re the one who came between true love and financial happiness.”

“Hmm.” He exchanged her right foot for her left. “I’d be the other man, would I?”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds. You don’t need to be shredded in the media for something you didn’t do. I doubt Marcus and Lifeline would appreciate it, either.” She leaned back, glassy-eyed as she watched him strip off her second sock and start all over again. “I want Vincent gone, and I want to go on with my life. Poor, but contented.”

She sighed unhappily, then pulled out her cell phone. She stared at it as if it were a snake.

“You calling your father?”

“I . . . should. You’re right. He deserves a warning, and if he can help get Vincent back to Toronto, that would make me blissfully happy.”

She sounded so miserable his heart ached. “You don’t have to, but maybe your father will surprise you and pick door number three this time.”

Devon waited as she put through the call, concentrating on massaging her feet and distracting her from the wait as it took forever for her father to come on the line.

Alisha got straight to the point. “Vincent Monreal is in Banff, and acting very strange. I wondered if you knew anything—Well, of course, I’m certain. I saw him myself.”

She rolled her eyes as she listened to his response, frustration clearly rising. Obviously door number three didn’t involve her father accepting information with open arms.

“I don’t care if he’s supposed to be in Vancouver attending a symposium. He was in my apartment uninvited last night and . . .” She broke off, and glared at the wall. “Dad. Stop interrupting. I called because I’m concerned about Vincent, who is still here in Banff whether you believe it or not, but I’m also worried about you. Is everything okay with Bailey Enterprises?”

Her father answered.

Alisha’s forehead creased. “No, I’m not trying to be insulting. I heard . . . a rumour there might be some—”

She was cut off and remained silent for another thirty seconds. By the time she’d hung up Alisha was swearing lightly.

Devon sat silently, rubbing her calves as she slammed a fist against the floor. It took her a surprisingly short time before she let out a long, slow breath and pulled her arms into a yoga position of peace.

He smiled in spite of the frustration. “I take it that went well.”

“Vincent is in Vancouver, you know.”

“That wouldn’t be hard to disprove,” Devon pointed out.

Alisha waved a hand. “You know what? I tried. My father doesn’t want to believe me, and I’m not going to force the facts down his throat. We’ll deal with Vincent together for the few days before he has to return to Toronto. Not even he can pull off a magic trick that puts him in the Bailey Enterprises head office and Banff at the same time.”

She shook her head, sadness clear in her eyes.

Devon leaned over and caught her before she could escape. He kissed her softly, brushing his lips over hers in a tender caress. When he pulled away, she was smiling a lot more than the moment before.

“What was that for?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Because you’re the bravest woman I know. Because I’m honoured you trusted me enough to share your concerns. Because your heart is in the right place.”

Alisha beamed at him. “Oh, you are so getting lucky tonight.”

“Well, if you insist.”

She laughed and scrambled forward, and suddenly words were put aside, and the sexual tension that was always present between them raced back up to full. Devon enjoyed the way she crawled into the middle of the room, then knelt with her chin slightly lowered so she gazed through her lashes.

* * *

His lips curled upward as he looked her over, the kind of smile that promised all sorts of naughty things.

She shivered, trying to decide what she wanted tonight, but the first and only thing that came to mind was that she didn’t want to decide. After everything that had happened, after her father had basically accused her of outright lying, she wanted to shove all of that bullshit aside and concentrate on what she knew was good and right in her world.

Concentrate on the way that Devon could make her feel desirable and wanted and passionately alive. “So you had a list of things to try with me. What’s next?”

Devon raised a brow. “You’re serious?”

Alisha waited. Took a deep breath. “Looks like you’re in charge, Mr. Leblanc. What’s the protocol for this rescue?”

His eyes lit up as he figured out her somewhat awkwardly worded suggestion. “What’re your limits?”

“No means no. Beyond that?” She shrugged. “Unless you’ve got extreme kinks you’ve managed to keep secret from me during school and the time on the team, which isn’t likely, I can handle and enjoy anything you want to hand out.”

Devon got to his feet and stepped closer to where she knelt. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “The only one on the team who’s keeping secrets is Erin. The rest of us are pretty up front about what turns us on.”

He stroked her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear before striding away to the bathroom. Alisha checked out his ass as he went and, when he returned, the bulge rising at his crotch. His comments and the visual indulgence before her were enough to distract her from wondering what his plans were. “Erin has secrets?” Alisha asked.

“Let’s focus on right here and what we like instead of wondering what kinks rev our pilot’s engine.” The condom he’d gone to grab waited on the coffee table. He stepped in front of her again and palmed his erection, fisting himself through the loose fabric.

Alisha swallowed hard.

Devon hummed in approval even as he continued to stroke, his wrist twisting as he worked. “I love your expression. It’s somewhere between panic and full-out lust. Take off your shirt, Alisha,” he ordered.

She grasped the bottom and stripped the soft cotton over her head, working to slow her breathing now that there was barely anything to hide how excited she was.

Devon strolled around her slowly, giving her ample time to admire the flex of his muscles, the firm cuts of his abdominal muscles and strong curves of his biceps. “You’re so delicious to look at,” she breathed softly.

He trailed his fingers over her shoulders. “Delicious? I like that.” His voice lowered a tone. “Lose your pants and get back on your knees.”

A shiver took her as she hurried to follow his directions. She had an aching need in her core, wetness growing between her legs as she scrambled into position. Her outer clothing was abandoned on the floor by the couch. “I should have taken off my panties.”

Devon lowered himself slowly as he deliberately stroked his fingertips down her torso. Over her collarbone, along the edge of her bra. Her skin tingled as he carried on all the way past her belly button. “Your panties are fantastic. They’re going to come in handy.”

She held her breath as he circled the tiny bow at the front of the silk covering her mound. Tiny motions that inched down so slowly, she was shaking with anticipation before he pressed over her clit.