Still, returning to Banff after he’d been discharged from the hospital had been a no-brainer. Setting up a private rescue company had always been the fallback plan for when he decided to get out of working for others. He’d recruited the best, trained them hard, and now they were the go-to squad called in for high-risk and impossible rescues.

The sight of one of that elite team Z-clipping during a routine training exercise and potentially killing more than the rescue attempt flashed into his brain again, and he growled in frustration. “If this is what becoming famous does, I’m keeping my squad in the dark from here on. I should have told that reporter to take his damn camera and shove it up his ass.”

“Don’t blame Nathan for writing the article. Blame Sports Illustrated for publishing it and making the theme for the entire magazine a salute to your ‘death-defying gods and goddesses of the wilderness.’”

“Stow it. We’ve established what caused the problem. My team has gotten fat and lazy sitting on their laurels.”

“So, increase their regular training. We’re between skiing and hiking season. With the school on semester break until June first, you’re welcome to access any of the equipment. Perfect time for some intense workouts to get their act together.” David sneered. “Maybe you should consider joining them instead of teaching from the sidelines.”

Bastard. David was the only one brave enough to taunt him. “You implying I’m out of shape?”

“If the tire fits—”

Marcus threw a pen across the room, his brother deflecting it easily. “I’ve been coordinating, not flying rescues. Plus dealing with office work. I’m still in shape—I’m not too weak to beat your ass.”

“Fine, you’re in decent physical shape, but you’re nowhere near as technically qualified as before.” David lifted his chin in challenge. “And don’t give me the excuse you only have one arm, because you told me from day one you’d never let that hold you back.”

“Goddammit, you are a son of a bitch sometimes, aren’t you?”

His brother grinned. “I know very well that you were the inspiration behind a lot of those kids wanting to sign on with Lifeline. If the legend can let himself go soft . . . Think about it.”

He had been. Marcus pulled out a file folder and tossed it across his desk. “Fine. You win. ASAP the team is back in basic training.”

It only took a few minutes for David to flip through the pages, swearing softly. He dropped the file to the floor, one page clutched in his hand. “You tricky bastard, you already had a plan organized even while you were bitching at me. When did you get this in place?”

Pulling a fast one on his brother felt damn good. “Your school secretary has been amazing. I’m thinking of stealing her away.”

“You can’t afford her.” The single page David had pulled was shaken in his direction. “You don’t have anyone listed for rope training.”

Marcus shook his head. “Your lead instructor said he’s got plans for the semester break. You have any other ideas?”

A grin broke across David’s face so quickly it was frightening. “It’s funny you ask. I just brought in an expert to plan some specialized classes. She’s going to join the school next semester as a general instructor and overseer.”

“She?”

“Rebecca James.”

His brother said her name so casually. As if she weren’t the one woman everyone in the mountain community knew. David must have been itching to share his good fortune in nabbing her for a job.

A shot of adrenaline flared through Marcus’s body in direct opposition to what David was probably expecting. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Becki James.

He determinedly copied David’s nonchalance. “She’s going into teaching?”

David nodded slowly. “Her contract with the U.S. Parks Department in Yellowstone was up anyway, and she said she wanted to take a little time off, so I issued an invitation.”

For one brief second a kind of panic hit as Marcus wondered if this was a setup, if his brother had arranged this to jerk him out of his gloom. The sensation faded as rapidly as it arrived. As far as he knew, the long-ago sexual escapade between him and Becki was still a complete secret. The chances that David would remember he’d visited the school while she was a student were slim. If he was going to keep it that way, he needed his alarm to remain hidden.

“You have a funny idea of time off if you asked her to come teach. Wasn’t it you who suggested I go somewhere like a deserted island for my next holiday so I didn’t feel the need to keep rescuing people?”

“Face it, bro, you’re just a big old Saint Bernard.”

Right. “Tell that to the team who fucked up their rope climb yesterday. I doubt they were calling me a Saint Bernard last night. Pit bull, asshole, scary son of a bitch—those were more likely the names crossing their lips.”

David grinned. “Gee, I wonder why. . . .”

Marcus stopped for a moment and considered. He might have an ulterior motive in asking the question, but it was a legitimate one. “Is Rebecca any good as a teacher? I mean, we got the media reports last September, and that’s it. She may have been involved in a high-profile rescue, but fieldwork isn’t teaching. You know that.”

“One of the best. She trained here, you know.”

“Really? Why didn’t you mention that sooner?” This conversation was going nowhere fast. David seemed pleased to have scored such a high-ranked instructor.

Marcus changed mental tracks. Would having her around be an issue? So what if he and Becki had a slight sexual history?

Although calling it slight turned it into the biggest bullshit of the day yet.

“She’s a BSR grad, and she’s in town?”

David nodded. “Staying in the school dorms. I offered her a hotel room until the teachers’ apartments are done being renovated, but she said she was happy to use a student space while the kids are on break for the next three weeks. Why don’t you go see her? Take her out for lunch.”

A sneaky suspicion stole over Marcus. “Why?”

David blinked. “What do you mean? So you can ask her to train your squad.”

“Maybe we should let her settle in. Enjoy the break before semester begins.”

“Look, if you don’t want the best for your team, that’s fine. I’m not telling you to fuck her. Just be nice to her. Make her feel welcome.”

Marcus choked on hearing fuck her.

David must have thought his reaction meant something else. He glared across the room. “Goddamn, Marcus. If Sports Illustrated had heard about her before Lifeline, they’d have forgotten you completely.”

“Fine. What room is she in?”

David flipped him off. “So glad you’re willing to make the sacrifice. Three-oh-five. I know she arrived this morning, but I can’t guarantee she’s there. And she said she needed to pick up a new cell phone today rather than use her U.S. one, so I don’t even have a number for you to call.”

Marcus waved it off. “Details. I can track her down.”

“Hey.” David gave him a dirty look, and suddenly it was twenty years earlier, and Marcus was being warned by his more cautious sibling. “Don’t be an ass to her. I want her to stay, and I don’t need you mucking around.”

Oh, Jesus. Mucking around was totally off the agenda for so damn many reasons. “When am I an ass?”

“Lately? Most of the time.” David reassembled the file and returned it to the desk. “You are the best at what you do. I mean it, Marcus. But you’ve also gotten cold over the past year. Try to lighten up, okay? I know we’re in a tough business, and there are moments we’ve got to be serious, but you’re not the same guy you used to be. I kind of miss him.”

Marcus thumped his brother on the back and walked him to the door. “Hopefully he’s still around. Maybe I’ll find him as I polish up my technical skills.”

And maybe pigs would fly.

He didn’t need to be all light and sparkly to be good at what he did, but there was no reason to argue that point right now. And walking back into Becki’s life after seven years—hell of a way to try to lighten up.

* * *

Becki closed the closet, a sense of déj�� vu hitting as her clothing vanished behind the familiar wooden doors. Even though the fabric on the other side of the door was a lot more expensive than when she’d first walked into the school, the garments were pretty much the same. Comfortable, easy to wear. Except for the single fancy dress she’d brought along on a whim, Mountain Equipment Co-op was still her designer of choice.

She strolled to the window to reacquaint herself with the surroundings. Set on the hillside, the dorms had the most spectacular view of Mount Rundle, its distinctive jagged top cutting an angled line against the pastel-blue Alberta sky. Small, pale-green buds trembled in the light breeze. The trees were slower to leaf out here than in nearby Calgary, the higher elevation and cooler nights of the mountains holding back the spring.

The window was already open. Fresh air flooded the room and swirled over the queen-size bed. Beyond the increased size of sleeping arrangements, not much else had changed from when she’d been a student. A desk. A bulletin board on the wall with a single motivating quote painted across the top: I am the captain of my soul.

It was like going back in time, and a shiver raced up her spine.

She’d agreed quickly enough when David Landers asked her to accept a teaching position, then gotten to ponder the why of her rapid decision at leisure the entire trip from Jackson, Wyoming, to Banff. She wasn’t twenty-three anymore. She wasn’t the headstrong, dynamic leader admired and hated in turns by her classmates.