Vivian Arend - High Passion

Devon blinked in confusion, attempting to sort out her words. He peeked at Tripp, who had his jaw slightly open, eyeing Lana with distrust.

Sometime in the past couple of minutes everyone had shifted positions, and instead of having plenty of room beside him, Lana was right there, her thigh tight to his. She’d been watching the banter, her gaze darting back and forth.

Devon spotted the empty glass about the same moment Lana laid her hand on his thigh, out of sight of the guys. God, the woman obviously couldn’t handle her alcohol. He grabbed her wrist, again, and lowered it to her lap, quickly bringing his hands above the table.

Fortunately, no one else noticed. Xavier laughed at her confusing statement. “That sounds like a mash-up of TV tropes. Perfect.”

The instant Lana’s hand touched down again, Devon shot out of his chair. “Well, thanks for the company. I think I’ll be going.”

He really didn’t want to spend his night fending off someone he had no interest in. As a distraction, the evening had been good on a temporary basis. Other than that, it had turned into a reminder that he’d have much preferred to spend the time with Alisha, in bed or out of it.

He’d enjoyed the sex, he’d admit that, but he also liked her . Strange how easy that was to confess now, when he’d had a steady offering of no-strings hookups running rampant around him.

Tripp waved him off. “See you in the next couple days?”

Devon nodded, not ready to make specific training plans in case Lana took it as an invitation. She was tipsy enough to either not notice or take more offense than she should. Xavier had her laughing madly about something, and Devon took the chance to point at her secretly. Tripp rolled his eyes but nodded. She’d be babysat, but not by him this time, thank God.

On his way out of the bar he had to dodge three more groups of women whom he’d turned down or not dated in the past while.

What a damn mess. Women everywhere, except for the one he was truly interested in. And she was busy being wined and dined by her not-hot date .

The temptation to go and casually stroll through the Banff Springs was huge, but he didn’t need to add pitiful to his evening. Devon gave up and headed home, a gut full of unexplained irritation swirling inside next to a lot of sexual frustration.

The best thing that could happen tonight would be to get called out on a rescue.

The valet took Alisha’s hand and assisted her from the car, passing her off to a black-and-gold-suited doorman who had obviously been hovering in anticipation of her arrival. “Mr. Monreal is waiting for you. Right this way.”

The doorman escorted her as if she were royalty, and Alisha held her frustration in check. The fawning attention was more than she wanted, but getting mad at the hotel employee would be unfair when his over-the-top courtesy was probably mandated from on high.

“How is your evening so far?” she asked him.

He blinked, as if surprised she’d noticed he was a real human being. “Um, very well. It’s been quite busy.”

He evaded all further conversation.

Her irritation rose another notch, and she hadn’t even reached her dinner partner yet. The games that were played in the upper echelons of society pissed her off more now than when she’d been immersed in the lifestyle and had to toe the line. It was simply another reason she was thankful to have put that part of her life behind her. Hopefully for good.

A quick glance across the grand foyer placed Vincent in an oversized wingback chair on the far side of the wide expanse. The glitzed table beside him held an enormous bouquet made of dozens of pure white roses. As he rose to his feet, the contrast between the snowy white and his dark hair and suit was stark—mischief made her picture the devil fleeing from the gates of heaven. He’d switched to an even more formal suit, and she was glad she’d dressed up. Not that she wanted to impress Vincent, but the turquoise silk encasing her was like armour to counter his possible attacks.

The high-necked, long-sleeved outfit also covered the more scandalous marks Devon had left behind during their enthusiastic sex.

As Vincent approached, the reminder of Devon only made her more determined to hold her ground. She had a good idea why Vincent was here. She wasn’t going to give in, though. She had far too much to lose by simply giving up and going back to being her father’s little girl.

He took her from the doorman, his gaze slipping down her torso and taking in every inch from top to bottom. Calculating, judging. Smiling as she passed whatever approval rating he’d set.

“You look beautiful,” Vincent breathed. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Thank you.” She stood motionless, hoping her lack of enthusiasm could be considered sophisticated restraint.

Vincent paced around her slowly, “Come, let me take you to dinner.”

As he turned her toward the main dining hall, his hand stroked her lower back, where the dress had an open keyhole in the fabric. His fingers were cold, and she shivered.

Even with the heels she wore, he towered over her. She rested her hand on his arm and attempted to create a space between their bodies as they walked, but it was impossible. He kept a tight grip, creating an illusion of intimacy that had passersby examining them with curiosity.

He seated her, ordered for them, then folded his hands together and stared for so long, even her determined attempt to remain indifferent was rocked. “Do I have something on my face?”

Vincent shook his head. “You are a blindingly beautiful woman, especially when you make a bit of effort.”

Alisha fought her first instinct. She’d obviously been hanging around the rougher-edged SAR team long enough that she’d lost some of her polish. In her society days she would have ignored a compliment/insult like that. Now she wanted to bite back and at least flash him a fuck off .

Instead she forced herself to smile. “Thank you.”

His gaze continued to burn over her. “I hope you’ll have many more opportunities to shine like this in the future.”

“Why would I—?” She slammed to a stop. Rethought her wording and deliberately didn’t ask him a question. “There’s not a lot of call for full makeup and silk when I’m involved in rescues.”

“Then I appreciate it all the more that you went all out for me.” Vincent caught her off guard and folded his fingers around hers. “Thank you.”

So far the night was everything she’d expected it to be. Awkward, unintentionally headed in the wrong direction. Alisha attempted to pull it back to the right path. “You and my father are good friends. I’m happy to spend an evening with you.”

He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, and she cursed her choice of words. With anyone else they would be considered innocent, but not with Vincent. Well, Devon would have totally turned that slip against her as well, but his type of sexual aggression didn’t scare her nearly as much as Vincent’s smoldering gaze.

Whoever had said smoldering was a sexy thing was wrong. The look didn’t cause her to be lit on fire with desire like she had experienced with Devon, all energy and excitement and wild passion. Smoldering was a piece of kindling being held under a reluctant squatter until the billows of smoke and noxious fumes forced them to move.

Their drinks arrived, appetizers. Alisha poked at the oysters without much appetite, nodding politely as Vincent told her about the latest changes at Bailey Enterprises. She’d been gone for four years. He talked about people and deals as if she should know what he was referring to, all of it positive and flattering toward himself, of course.