Vivian Arend - High Passion

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.

All the while she waited for the bomb to fall—for the moment when he’d turn into her father’s mouthpiece and start asking about her return plans for the following summer.

When it finally came it was almost anticlimactic.

“I have a friend who is selling his condo.” Vincent paused as the waiters whisked away their appetizer plates and brought a soup course. “It’s in a fabulous location, and I thought of you. I know you won’t need a place for a number of months, but it would make sense to buy now in anticipation of your return.”

Alisha shook her head. “You’re working under a false assumption, Vincent. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I have no intention of returning anytime soon. I have a wonderful job and a great career here in the mountains that I love. It’s valuable work, being the best search-and-rescuer I can be.” Her enthusiasm rang out strong. “It’s thrilling to make a difference in people’s lives.”

“I understand that.” Vincent slipped his chair closer, and she twitched in her seat. “I’ve always known how much this mattered to you. It’s why I didn’t fight it when you announced you wanted to go away to school.”

Why would he have fought it? “It wasn’t any of your concern, not then, not now.”

Vincent leaned in. “Of course it is. After all, I was the one who convinced your father to give you the time to yourself.”

His cheek was close to hers, but without tilting so far to the side that she’d fall out of her seat, there was no chance to retreat. Besides, she was still trying to make heads or tails of his last comment. “You convinced my father . . . of what?”

“I suggested there was no harm in your coming to the school here in Banff. That a chance to try something different would do you good, perhaps help you work your unhappiness out of your system. You’ve done well during your time away, and I’m very proud you—I even gave a donation to your school to prove how much I respect what you’ve done. Only now it’s time for you to make plans to move on. Put this childishness behind you, and return to where you belong.”

Her shock at one part of that announcement made it tough to comprehend the rest of what he’d said. “You gave what?”

Vincent smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “They supported you while you spread your wings, but now that it’s time for you to return home—”

“I’m not a bloody pigeon you can call home to the roost.” It hadn’t been her father, but Vincent who’d interfered? Anger replaced her confusion. “This is my life, Vincent. You had no right to try to organize, or suggest, or do anything in it.”

“I was giving you a chance to have time to yourself. Five years wasn’t a long time to wait in the big picture.” He stroked the silky fabric covering her arms, the back of his knuckles causing a warning shiver to race along her spine. “Five years to sow your wild oats before returning to where you belong. Although I do hope you haven’t taken the old interpretation of that phrase too literally.”

Around them the tinkle of wineglasses and gold flatware on china plates combined with the live piano music playing delicately in the corner of the room. Waiters stood at discreet intervals, but she couldn’t seem to catch one’s eye with the invitation to interrupt, and soon.

She and Vincent must have looked far too intimate to interrupt, which was so not what she wanted.

This entire conversation was off the tracks and headed for a cliff, and she’d had enough. Alisha lifted her chin and went for broke to regain control. “It’s none of your business if I’ve fucked my way through half of Banff. I am not going back in a year’s time. I have a home here. I have a job. I . . . have a boyfriend.”

Tossing the lie out was reckless and wrong, but it felt necessary.

Her fib partially worked. For the first time since the evening had begun, Vincent retreated.

“You do? One of your co-workers, perhaps?” Vincent poured her more wine, settling back in his chair.

“Again, none of your business.” Alisha hauled in the last dregs of politeness she could in one final attempt to halt the confusion between them. “Vincent, I feel as if you’ve gotten the mistaken idea that you and I are some kind of couple, or headed that way in the future. I’m not interested in a relationship with you other than as a family friend. I came out with you tonight to be polite. Now that this conversation has crossed into far too personal territory, it’s time to stop.”

Her outburst took him by surprise, and he seemed to reconsider, taking time to look around the room as he rearranged silverware and fussed with his place setting. Another change of plates occurred, their main courses arriving. Alisha calculated how much longer she needed to stay, or if they had reached the point where she could simply get up and leave.

Vincent’s long sigh kept her in place for another moment. He nodded slowly before carefully lowering his voice. “I had planned on waiting until you returned because I didn’t want to burden you, but if you truly are planning on staying in Banff, you’ve left me no choice than to broach this now. I’m worried about your father.”

She blinked, but the puzzle pieces refused to fall in the right direction. “What does me staying in Banff have to do with my father?”

Vincent cut into his steak, the edge of the blade slicing through the thick flesh smoothly, red-tinged juices rushing from the cut. “You know your father has controlling interest of Bailey Enterprises. He’s been making unwise decisions lately, Alisha. I’m concerned for the future of the company. If he continues this way he’ll end up destroying everything he’s worked so hard to achieve.”

Well, not a way to motivate her to change her plans. “So?”

He pulled back in undisguised shock. “Your father could lose everything. You couldn’t possibly want that.”

“I couldn’t care less.” Her father had done the cutting off up to now, not her. “I have a roof over my head, and a job. I don’t need the millions that seem to be all that keeps him happy. If he can’t make the right business decisions, then he’ll have to lose it all.”

Vincent’s jaw hung open for a second before he pulled himself together. “Those are the words of an ungrateful little girl.”

She shrugged. “While I’m thankful for the benefits I received from my family when I was young, since I left home everything I’ve done has been on my own merits. Calling me ungrateful isn’t a threat.”

His dark eyes flashed, this time with something more like anger, and Alisha paused as she realized if the company failed, her father wouldn’t be the only one to lose.

“Oh, Vincent. I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider the impact Bailey Enterprises going under would have on you. You’re serious? It’s gotten that bad?”

He nodded. “Within the year if his mismanagement continues.”