Vivian Arend - High Risk

Yes, Marcus knew how to time things, whether deliberate praise as to Alisha, or the perfect moment and method he’d used the previous day to coax a climb out of her.

To coax a climb, a kiss, and a grope—oh, the man had no issues with timing whatsoever. Becki still wasn’t sure what to think about it.

Passion was a good thing. Enjoying sex was fine—she wouldn’t even consider it an indulgence. But she was old enough to want everything she did to be for more reasons than it felt good at the time.

She needed her mind engaged as well as her hormones.

Becki was still pondering her current dilemma an hour later when the exercise was done and everyone had turned to relaxing. The guys took off without a word, leaving Becki with Erin and Alisha at the staff headquarters.

“Lunch?” Becki asked.

“Boys are bringing food back. You can pour me a juice,” Erin requested as she made her way to the couch. She threw herself down and propped her feet on the coffee table. “I’d ask for something with a kick, but I swore off the rotgut until boot camp is completed.”

“Nothing for me,” Alisha called. “I want to finish this chapter before lunch arrives.”

She grabbed a book from her backpack. Becki filled two glasses with orange juice and brought them over to where Erin was sprawled. “Keeping yourself on your toes?”

“Damn right. Plus now I don’t trust Marcus not to call and get me out of bed five minutes after I collapse from a binge.”

“He would, too.” She sat across from Erin and shook her head. “Tough session?”

“Wind kept shifting. Flying March to May around here is a whole lot more exciting than the rest of the year put together. Did you hear it’s supposed to snow tonight? The mountains and the changing temperatures make me doubly glad there’s not a lot of people on the trails this time of year.” Erin closed her eyes, head back against the couch. “Still, wouldn’t trade it for anything. The adrenaline rush is like crack.”

If anyone would understand the thrills she missed, and her continuing confusion, it was another SAR member. The one extra component was what added to the intricacy of this situation. Becki swirled the last of her drink against the ice and considered whether discussing her uncertainty with Erin would be totally out of line.

She stuck with a safer query. “You like working for Lifeline?”

Erin sat up slowly, as if considering as she pulled her hair into order, the thick black mass of it barely contained in her ponytail. “Lifeline rocks. The team is great. They don’t drive me totally mad, only partially. I get to fly and usually have enough spare time to indulge my bad habits. What’s not to love?”

“Bad habits, huh?” She looked Erin over with curiosity. Becki bet it would be interesting to discover what Erin, so poised and confident, considered an indulgence. After reading the team files Becki knew they were nearly the same age, and having someone she could talk to about more than work was definitely on the list of things needed in her life.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been silently pondering when Erin laughed. “You’re twitching like you’ve got something on your mind. Ask or don’t. No skin off my back. But if you want to talk, I’ve seen more than the little blonde girl in the corner.”

Becki smiled, glancing over at where the young woman in question was curled up on one of the couches on the far side of the room. Alisha was totally engrossed in her book, eyes going wide every now and then as she read. “She is sweet, isn’t she?”

“Like honey on an ice cream cone. Gets everything around her sticky and messy as well.” Erin shuddered. Becki laughed. “Well, it’s true. She talked me into going to see some Disney release the other day.”

“Hey, they aren’t all bad.”

Erin sniffed. “I know, and I won’t even lie—I had to break out the tissues at one point. God, I hate that.”

Alisha stood with a jerk, slipped her finger between the pages to hold her spot, and left the room without a backward glance.

“And . . . countdown to Devon entering our view in three, two, one . . . On schedule.” Erin mock-bowed as the blond young man crossed into their line of vision. He stared after Alisha’s retreating back as he dropped to the couch, his expression clearly one of frustration. “You know, I can hardly wait until those two get this twisted foreplay out of their system and just fuck each other stupid. It’s getting old putting up with their weird dance.”

“Really?” Becki looked Devon over again, this time armed with Erin’s suggestion, and thought through all the interactions she’d seen between Alisha and Devon. “I suppose that makes sense, in some weird way.”

“See? Twisted.”

Becki smiled. “Well, I might be nearly as twisted. What do you think of Marcus?”

“My Marcus? Like the guy who pays my salary so he’s allowed to shout at me and demand all sorts of insane things from me? Like making me stand on a platform in the dark and practice recognizing which direction the wind is coming from?”

Becki couldn’t stop her laughter. “Where does he get these ideas from?”

“You should talk.” Erin grimaced. “Are games some kind of obsession with you? Because the next time you set up orienteering, I’m calling in sick.”

“What are you complaining about? You did great.”

Erin shook her head, “Oh no, you’re not distracting me anymore. What’s got your knickers in a twist? We already established the who as Marcus, which, hello, no surprise there since you’ve been working with him for a week now. Some guys just have a way of getting under your skin like nobody’s business.”

“Yeah.” Becki considered carefully, making sure Devon was still out of earshot on the far side of the room. At what point was she sharing too much? “We had a fling once.”

“Oh really?” Erin raised her glass in salute. “Nice. Not that I want details, but I always imagined he’s the type to know what to do under the sheets.”

And against the wall. On the floor. Becki smiled. “Decisive is . . . an understatement.”

Erin nodded. Waited. Finally made a face and laughed. “So, let me guess. You’re considering another round?”

“Considering, then thinking no. Considering, then thinking yes. I’m like some weird sexual yo-yo, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Is it because you’re working together?” Erin shrugged. “Because I don’t think what you’ve got going is a big deal. It’s not as if you’ll be running rescues together. That’s the time when relationships get freaky.”

“I was sleeping with my climbing partner,” Becki confessed.

Erin twisted her mouth to the side. “But you worked search and rescue in Yellowstone, and he didn’t, right?”

“No, but . . .” Yeah, she saw the point. “It’s still Dane I’m thinking about.”

The other woman sat quietly for a moment. “How long ago is it again? Eight months or so?”

Becki nodded.

“Oh hon, you’re tying the knots tighter and faster than you can untie them. You miss him?”

Guilt and confusion made lousy analytical tools. “Maybe? We were comfortable. We weren’t in love.”

Erin sat back and sipped her drink for a minute. “I had a guy once. We were close, same kind of thing—good together in bed, enjoyed each other’s company to a point. It wasn’t perfect, but it was . . . there. A constant. Like you said, comfortable.”

Becki gazed over at Erin curiously. “What happened to him?”

“It got uncomfortable. Not sure if it was him or me that changed. I decided I had to move on. Did I miss him for a while? Hell, yeah. There’s nothing like a guy you’ve trained to know what you like in bed.”

She wanted to laugh at Erin’s blunt comments, but Becki’s mind was racing. “I do miss Dane. Miss the company. I feel guilty, like there was something more I could have done, and I’m not talking about the missing pieces of what happened that day.”

“Like you should have loved him more? If only you had . . . Oh, girl, don’t do that to yourself. And more importantly, don’t go thinking what you had means you can’t ever have again.”

Becki paused. “What does that mean?”

Erin sat forward, fully focused. She lifted a finger at Becki. “What if you had been in love with Dane? Head over heels, rings on fingers, bells on toes, all of it. And he died. Don’t think how, just think—he’s gone. Would you really put on sackcloth and sit in the ashes for the rest of your life?”

“Of course not.”

“Would you ever think about getting involved with another person?”

“You’re making this sound simple.”

“It is simple.” Erin shook her head. “If you’re not ready to fool around, then you’re not ready. Get a fresh set of batteries, or invest in a movable showerhead, whatever turns your crank. But if you are interested and you’ve got a guy who’s pawing at your door, don’t go tacking some self-imposed timeline to the grieving process. You can miss the hell out of one guy while you’re boning the hell out of another.”

Becki lost it. She laughed so hard she ended up gasping for air. Erin sat and silently observed, one brow raised high, a smirk on her face. “Glad to be of service. I’ll be here all week, try the veal.”

Something had changed. Marcus eyed Becki closely, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

She’d run the team through the most creative exercise that morning that required them to climb the peaks beside the hoodoos and lower the “bodies” they’d found. The light layer of snow that remained from last night’s fall had turned everything to sheer mud by the time the sun had come out to bake them for a couple of hours.