Vivian Arend - High Risk

“You want me to take a test? Submit a training program? Anything like that before you offer me a position?”

Marcus smirked. “Nope. Rule three.”

It was the last thing she’d expected him to toss her way. Instant heat flushed her. His words took her back to their weekend fling. To the rules that were burned into her flesh as deeply as they were etched into her brain. “Trust your team? How does that fit into this situation?”

“My brother says you’re the best. He enticed you to join him, and if that picky son of a gun wants you, then I want you, too.”

Oh, the places she could take that comment.

She gathered her things together as she thought it through. “Full squad?”

“Yes. Pilot for basic refresher only—she doesn’t need a full workup on ropes, but she needs to remember people are working like hell on the other end when she’s in the air swinging them.”

Okay, that was impressive. “She? Your pilot is a woman?”

He pushed open the gym door and held it for her, his grin firmly back in place. “Erin’s the best.”

She blinked as she stepped into the sunshine. Deep breaths filled her lungs with more than the crisp mountain air. Filled her soul with a familiar peace she’d been missing ever since the accident.

“Becki?”

His tone had dropped a notch, and she turned to face him.

“I didn’t mean to rush you. I know it’s something you probably need to think about, but the offer is there.”

“I wasn’t expecting work right away, but I’ll seriously consider it.”

He nodded. “Great.”

They were already halfway back to the dorms, her footsteps following the familiar path from so long ago. “You live right in town, then?”

“Found a great place. Big backyard that’s nice and private. Wide-open deck with a hot tub . . .”

His voice died away, and suddenly her sticky sweaty self was back on the sweating for a different reason track. Thoughts of hot tubs and Marcus were not on the current agenda.

He cleared his throat again. “I’ve got an idea. Come out tonight and meet the team. No pressure in terms of the training, but since you’ve moved back to Banff, they’re a great group of people to spend some time with.”

She snatched greedily at the change of topic. “That sounds fun. Anywhere in particular?”

“You know our usual stomping grounds.” He chuckled. “I think you were the one who started the tradition.”

No. Way. “Rose and Crown? The pub is still around?”

“Yeah, and they continue to throw out David’s students on a regular basis, but if you promise to behave maybe you can get away without being arrested this time.”

Drat, it seemed her school–days sins were far too well known. There was no use in wallowing in doubt, though. “I’d love to, only I’ll warn you, I’m not as big on the jalapeño-eating contests as I was back then.”

“Oh God, no. We’ll stick to wings and chips.”

She groaned, her mouth instantly watering like some damn Pavlovian dog. “We should have done ten hill repeats if we’re going to eat that crap.”

He stepped back, full grin in place. “Meet you at six?”

“Perfect.”

Marcus was gone before she’d made it through the dormitory doors. Her body screamed for a shower and a rest, her mind filled with a morass of questions and scattered images of the time she’d spent in the school in her past.

Including shockingly detailed memories of the most intense sexual experience she’d ever had in her life.

Returning to Banff was turning out to be far more complicated, and far more interesting, than she ever expected.

She was removing her bottle holder before she realized that other than when he’d attempted to joke about it, she’d never once thought of Marcus’s missing limb.

The music volume as she pushed open the bar doors at the Rose and Crown was perfect—loud enough the intoxicating rhythm pulsed in her veins, low enough voices were clearly audible without shouting. Becki took the long staircase two steps at a time, pausing on the second-floor landing to look around, pleased to recognize familiar decor. The dartboard still hung in the same place, there were comfortable chairs gathered in groups, and the scent of smoky barbecue and dark ale filled the air.

The sensation of coming home grew stronger.

Across the room Marcus rose to his feet and waved, and another shot of high-test lust drilled through her. The faded blue cotton shirt that stretched over his broad chest looked soft. Dark hair that was longer than in her memories framed his strong features, while the slight wave still made her itch to drive her fingers into the thick mass and drag their mouths together.

Oh boy.

She reined in her libido and turned her attention to the group sprawled in the overstuffed chairs. She guessed their ages anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Two women and three men not counting Marcus. They looked so completely at ease with each other, they had to be part of his team.

The young blond man taking up an entire loveseat by himself leapt to his feet and scrambled forward, thrusting out his hand. “I didn’t believe Marcus when he said the Rebecca James was in town. I am so fucking excited to meet you—”

“Good grief, Devon. Can you not go ten seconds without putting your foot in your mouth?” The petite woman seated beside Marcus rolled her eyes. “Hi, Rebecca. I’m Alisha. Excuse the puppy, he’s not housebroken yet.”

Becki grinned at the pretty blonde. “Hi, Alisha.” She wrapped her fingers around Devon’s and returned his sturdy handshake. “Devon, nice to meet you, too, only please, call me Becki.”

He winked cheekily, then tugged her toward the loveseat, giving her room to join him. “That is the more familiar name. The one we’ve seen plastered all over the record boards at school. At least until they had to take them down to put up mine.”

Across the table Alisha groaned loudly. “You did not just say that. Someone tell me he didn’t say that.”

Devon shrugged. “It’s true. Well, only the swimming records. Your name is still listed for a few things.”

He twisted to grin at Becki, one hundred percent cocky attitude and self-importance, and she had to fight from laughing out loud.

She could see her younger self so clearly in the young man it was scary.

“You’re such an ass, Devon.” Alisha leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

He tossed a snarky comment in her direction. Becki ignored their continuing banter to answer the touch on her arm on the other side.

A muscular, dark-haired man offered his hand. “Welcome to the madhouse. Name’s Tripp.”

“One of the Lifeline team?”

“Since day one. Ropes and avalanche are my specialties. If you’re going to be in town for a while, I’d love to do a climb with you.” He pointed across the table. “In the meantime, I’ll introduce the rest of the motley crew. Erin Tate flies the bird. Anders there beside Marcus is our winch man.”

Anders waved. Erin raised her glass in the air. “Let us know your poison. We already ordered wings, so they should be here shortly.”

Becki was impressed all over again. The dark-skinned woman who’d greeted her seemed far too young to be the pilot. The woman had to be a rock star.

A quick head count proved the numbers didn’t add up. “Is one of the team missing?” Becki asked.

“Xavier. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough. He’s easily recognizable—picture Spider-Man on Red Bull. By the way, don’t mind Devon,” Tripp confided in a softer tone. “He’s been vibrating with excitement since he heard you were going to show up tonight. The bragging is just his nerves talking.”

Becki couldn’t help but laugh this time. “I’m not offended. I’m surprised any of my records stand after this long.”

Tripp pointed to the young woman across the table still in heated debate with Devon. “Alisha’s lead on ropes for Lifeline—she managed to beat your freestyle climbing time her final year in the school. She and Devon are the only ones who were trained here in Banff. The rest of us worked around the country before Marcus hired us.”

The mention of his name made her glance up to discover Marcus staring intently at her with something dangerous and wild showing in the depths of his eyes. Her nipples tightened, and she was damn glad she was wearing both a dark shirt and a bra with enough material to it that her involuntary reaction wouldn’t be noticeable.

She covered the rest of her response by putting in her drink order before turning to pull Devon from his teasing into a rational discussion.

Over the next three hours she consumed more teriyaki and buffalo wings than were strictly necessary, laughter and conversation flowing around her. People changed position to chat with others, but it wasn’t until nine that she finally ended up with Marcus at her side.

It wasn’t as if she’d been avoiding him—not really—but it was easier to sneak glances at him when he was directly across from her.

He offered her another serving of wings. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, but, oh God, take that plate away. I’m going to explode if I eat any more.”

He chuckled as he put the platter back on the table, where Tripp and Devon instantly claimed the remaining contents. “Just so you know, we don’t do this every day. More often we go for something moderately healthy, or do a potluck at someone’s house.”

“A little excess once in a while is fine.”

“Agreed.” He leaned back, which put his body close enough that heat caressed her. “What do you think? Could you handle spending a few weeks helping work them over? Devon especially?”