High Passion

CHAPTER 5

Marcus was waiting at headquarters to debrief them. Usually this part of the process excited Devon—a way to celebrate their victories and learn for the future.

Today he’d had enough. He was cold to the bone, even after a shower at HQ, but worse was the guilt at keeping silent regarding Alisha’s strange behavior. Keeping up the façade of lighthearted bantering they were known for, and accepting taunts in return, was pushing him to his limit.

He wanted answers, dammit, and now.

It seemed like hours later they were finally headed out of the building, with orders shouted after them to get a load of calories and a good sleep.

“Next time I’ll pack flippers for you,” Xavier teased, the door closing on his words.

Yeah, yeah. Devon caught Alisha by the elbow as she attempted to sprint away.

“My place or yours?” God, he’d wanted to ask her that before, for far better reasons than the current ones. What a fucked-up situation.

She paused. “Now?”

“Now.”

Alisha nodded slowly. “I have a lasagna in the freezer. We can eat. Follow the boss’s orders regarding carb loading.”

He wanted to say he wasn’t interested in food, but his stomach gave up that lie too easily. “I can’t beat that.”

She snorted, and he had to join in, their history of never-ending contests raising its head again.

Within minutes they were at her place and up the stairs. She cleared her throat, flushing a little. “Lasagna is in the freezer, if you want to get it in the microwave. I’ll deal with my wet stuff.”

Retreat, obviously, but Devon let her go, struggling not to stare at her ass as she walked away. He’d done it so often over the years it was now instinctual. The time apart wasn’t a bad thing—it gave him a few minutes to cool off further before he gave in and simply shouted at her, which would get them absolutely nowhere fast.

He got the food heating and dug into her fridge for something green to accompany it. Normal, everyday things, made all the weirder by the fact it was her apartment and they were about to have some kind of come to Jesus discussion.

All of it was so fucked up, he didn’t even know where to start.

She was back before he’d managed to calm himself, but also before he’d worked himself into more of a frenzy. The normally confident woman he’d worked with for many years stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, twisting her fingers together.

“You want to talk?”

He followed her into the living room and took the easy chair. Not looming over her was the only concession he could make, his annoyance wanting to push her hard.

Alisha continued to pace. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “We’re way past sorry. I’ve now compromised my job by not telling the team that you freaked. What the hell happened back there?”

Her fingers had gone white-knuckled, she was squeezing them so tight. “I don’t know. I’ve never . . .”

Devon bit back the urge to growl. “Dammit, Alisha, we’ve known each other for four years, and I’ve never seen you cringe away from anything. You were scared fucking shitless, weren’t you?”

A crease formed between her brows. “Stop swearing at me. This isn’t easy to figure out.”

Oh hell, no. “It’s not going to be easy to tell Marcus I fucked up and didn’t report you, but if I have to, I bloody well will—”

“Yes, I was afraid,” she shouted, cutting him off. She wrapped her arms around her torso as if putting up a barrier between them. Blocking herself off. “When the water hit, it was as if I weren’t there anymore. I panicked, but it was only for a moment. I got over it, Devon. You can’t tell me being plunged into a subterranean river is a normal, everyday experience. Not even for us with our record of twisted rescues.”

A shiver rolled over her hard enough that he saw it. He was on his feet in a flash, stepping in closer. She lifted her gaze to his, sheer misery in the depths.

He didn’t know if he should hug her or shake some sense into her. “You panicked. While you did snap out of it, we work in search and rescue. Don’t you think this might be a bit of a problem?”

Her pause answered that, a second before she straightened and pulled on bluster like a coat of armour. “We work in the high Rockies. We climb and hike, and in the winter we ski. I’ve never had a lick of trouble in those settings. So, no, I don’t think it will be a problem again.”

“You don’t think—Goddammit, Alisha. That about sums it up. You’re not thinking. At any time we could be called to do a water rescue. What will you do then? Put up your hand and ask to be excused? When people’s lives are on the line? Hell, when your teammates’ lives could be on the line?”

“I can get through it,” she insisted. “I just . . . today was all kinds of wrong. That wasn’t a normal situation, Devon, and don’t tell me it was. We’ve done water rescues before, like that rescue at the falls last year—I didn’t freak out then, did I?”

Frustration and fury mixed like a horrid poison in his veins. The fact that she had managed the rescue she’d mentioned calmed him slightly. “Fine, so you’re not going to kill us all the first chance you get. You’re still a walking time bomb.”

She reached for him, laying a hand on his arm where he’d crossed them over his chest. “Then give me time to prove I can deal with this. You can’t tell anyone on the team.”

Devon tore himself from her, dragging a hand through his hair. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“Please, Devon.”

Shit. He confronted her again. “We’re taking over coastal rescues. How the hell will you cope with that?”

Her hands balled into fists. “What part of Let me prove myself do you not understand? You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

He laughed. “Right. Bullshit on that.” Spots of colour returned to her cheeks. It didn’t make her look happier, though, not with that death glare she directed his way. “Look. Your problem is now my problem. When I skipped out on telling the team how you went unresponsive in the cavern, I made myself have to worry. Which means either I go tell Marcus what happened and hope he doesn’t fire us like he should, or I keep worrying alongside you.”

“Telling Marcus doesn’t do either of us any good at this point.” She spoke softly this time, body still rigid but the fight fading from her eyes. “I don’t want to give up my position with Lifeline, but I’m not stupid, Devon. If it turns out I’ve got a major problem I will be the first to admit it.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Devon mentally sifting through all sorts of catastrophes that could come crashing down on them at any time. Tension was more than a wall between them; it was a living thing. Swirling like a wind in the room, chasing away the physical attraction he’d been fighting until all that remained was them. Two people, one huge disaster to deal with.

The beeper on the microwave went off, and they both jerked in surprise. Devon laughed in spite of the tension. “Ten more minutes.”

She nodded, collapsing onto the couch and burrowing her head in her hands. When she spoke it was toward the floor. “I mucked up hugely.”

“Hey, I’m not even going to argue with you on that one.”

She snorted. “Great. We’re finally in agreement about something. I’m an idiot.”

Devon paced over, looking down as she leaned on the sofa. He took in the utter misery in her expression, the defeat in her body language. This wasn’t the overconfident cocky woman who’d been driving him crazy for years. This was someone on the edge of breaking.

“Dammit, Alisha. I want to stay pissed off, but I can’t.” He joined her on the couch, figuring that looming over her wasn’t helping matters. She had screwed up, but if they were going by protocol, so had he. “We’re now officially in this together.”

“Sorry for dragging you into it. I never intended to make life miserable for anyone.”

“It . . . was an accident.” He caved that far. She was right; the situation had been over the top and incredible. And her willingness to take responsibility meant a lot. It was also typical—she never gave herself a break. That Alisha he was familiar with even if the package was usually tied up tighter in cocky arrogance. “Okay, we’ve established what happened. What are we going to do about it?”

“You’re not telling Marcus?”

He shook his head. “Not this instant. If we can come up with a way to test your boundaries that doesn’t endanger you, me, or the team, we’ll be okay. But if we can’t, then I expect you to tell him yourself.”

The bitter taint of disappointment stroked the back of her tongue. He was right, of course, in insisting she be the one to confess, but considering it made her nearly as ill as the idea of being crushed again by the river . . .

Devon caught her wrist, taking a firm grasp. She didn’t bother to ask the question forming on her lips when she noticed he was eyeing his watch.

Taking her pulse. He’d probably check her pupils next. “There’s nothing physically wrong with me, Devon. I had a panic attack.”

“Humour me,” he drawled. “You were there and then you were gone, and since we didn’t let Xavier know anything happened, I’m your medic for the next few hours.”

Alisha snapped her lips together to hold in the protest, because again, he was right. “Ways to test my boundaries? Can you think of any?”

Devon fell silent as he pulled out a Leatherman with a light attachment. Sure enough, he checked her pupils. “Have you had inklings of panic like this before? Do you have any specific triggers? I mean, you did manage the rescue by the falls.”

She thought back. “I didn’t have issues. Not then, or when we were by the Bow River. Today was a freak event.”

“Maybe, but we need to logically eliminate what we can. I know you haven’t had trouble with water before, but we could start at the simplest situation and work through them one at a time.”

Alisha refrained from rolling her eyes. “You want me to hit the swimming pool to prove I’m not afraid of water?”

Devon nodded. “Hey, it’s a place to start. We’ll hit the pool, do a few laps, try a few rescues. You know the drills—you did all the same training at school I did. Well, you weren’t nearly as fast as I was, but still.”

His momentary attempt at lighthearted humour was appreciated but also put her back up. “I wasn’t an ex-swimmer jock. I came far closer to kicking your ass than I should have a lot of the time.”

Devon shook his head as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. “In your dreams, girl. In your dreams.”

His skilled examination was over quickly, but the sensation of his hands on her scalp and neck lingered far too long. She didn’t want to talk about the things that had been invading her dreams, since most of them involved him. “Fine. We can hit the pool. And then are we going to jump in a lake? Dive into a waterfall?”

“You have told me to go jump in a lake a few times.” He flashed his grin, the high-voltage one that should come with a warning label. “Now I get to return the favour.”

She rose from the couch, escaping because the heat from his body was far too distracting. “I don’t want to quit the team. Maybe that’s selfish, or stupid, but it’s a reality. I’ve worked so damn hard to prove I can do this, that to have my career ripped away is . . . wrong.”

“Your career is not over.” Devon was on his feet. “But psychoses can be a bitch. So you need to trust me. Let’s deal with this and then we can get back to happily working for Lifeline for years to come.”

Alisha stared past him out the window as his words shot another blade into her. Frustration at her current dilemma and fear of her long-term predicament blended into an impassable morass.

The microwave buzzer went off, and Devon stepped around her without a word. He moved through her small kitchen area with a confident stride, filling two plates high.

Usually that was her. Full of confidence in herself. In her abilities.

Now? Having to prove she wasn’t one step away from a panic attack was more than annoying—it made her want to scream.

He was back too quickly, pushing her toward the couch. “You’re upset, and I’m starving. Eat, and after we’ll come up with some other solutions.”

She took the plate with fingers that had gone numb. “Right. You’re right.”

He laughed. “See, if you’d simply acknowledged that sooner, we’d have gotten a lot further in this conversation already.”

Devon rested his plate on the couch arm, then ignored her and strode toward the television. He grabbed a DVD and had it playing within moments, the volume turned up loud as James Bond filled the screen.

Even with the confusion in her brain, her body had no trouble telling her what she wanted—starting with the food he’d served. Between the demands of the rescue and the adrenaline overload and its lasting effect, she was ravenous. Devon ignored her, settling on the couch and diving into his meal. The wild action of the movie was distracting enough that all she saw was her plate and the screen.

Until the one urge was satisfied. With the hunger in her belly sated, it was harder than before to ignore that Devon was in her apartment. No matter that he’d come over to give her hell, he was still there. He wasn’t going to tell Marcus about her issue.

He wanted to help her.

For years she’d fought her attraction to him, but today, she wondered how many of her reasons for avoiding him had been valid. The actions he’d taken so far today weren’t those of a mindless, inconsiderate playboy.

She put her plate on the coffee table and snagged the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over herself. Devon rose and refilled his plate.

She turned down his offer for more food. “I’m full.”

Full and getting sleepy as she finally relaxed off the rush that had flooded her system. She was going to crash hard in a bit.

Without a word Devon dropped beside her.

It was crazy. The heat in her body rose as the food fueled her and the blanket trapped it in. She caught her eyes closing a few times as she fought to stay awake.

Watching the movie caused problems of other sorts as a love scene filled the screen. She hadn’t thought it possible to become even more aware of Devon at her side.

In her peripheral vision his hands were far too noticeable as he placed his plate next to hers. His strong fingers and muscular forearms. She could picture him touching her, running his fingers over her body with the same confidence with which he seemed to do everything.

Alisha jerked herself upright, blinking to change the mental paths she’d started down. She tucked the blanket around her shoulders and faced him straight on. “Sorry, I’m nearly falling asleep and that doesn’t help matters.”

He examined her again, an intense gaze that seemed to dive into her soul. “One step at a time, Alisha. This isn’t a moment we need to rush into anything.”

Patience. The first of the team rules. “Right. You’re right.”

He laughed, following her into the kitchen with the dirty dishes. “I’m going to assume you have a concussion, or are seriously injured, if you keep agreeing with me so easily.”

She pushed him from the room. “I’ll deal with those later. I should let you go.”

“Still waiting to hear if you think you have any triggers that caused your attack in the first place,” Devon reminded her. “You were fine during our years at Banff Search and Rescue. I seem to remember doing open-water training a few times, and you never had any issues.”

They’d gone over this. “I don’t know of any. I mean, when I was little I had nightmares about the dark, but that’s kid stuff.”

He paced away, over to the window, and stared out for a while. When he turned he looked more impressed than pissed off. “Well, it was dark down there.”

She nodded.

“Are you afraid of the dark now?”

A shrug was her only possible response. “No more than the average person. If I hear strange noises at night, sure, but otherwise, it’s not as if I sleep with a night light or anything.”

“Maybe this isn’t as big a deal as we think.”

Now that was an unexpected outlook. Alisha moved closer. “Really?”

He held up a hand. “Now, I’m not saying you’re scot-free, or that I’m not still pissed off as hell, but there was a lot going on today. Maybe it was a bad combination.”

“I don’t think—”

He laughed. “How come all of a sudden I’m the one reassuring you everything will be fine? Today was enough to freak anyone out, Alisha.”

She stood motionless, now shocked for new reasons. “I am surprised. I thought for sure I’d have to tie you up and hide you in the attic crawl space so I could keep my job.”

He raised a brow. “Tying me up? We are getting somewhere. You never told me you had those kinds of fantasies. I would have loved to know that sooner.”

Her mouth went absolutely dry, not only because he’d gone there, but because the idea of tying him up and getting to take advantage of him was a hot dream she’d partially had once.

Devon hooted with laughter. “God, you should see your face. No, Alisha, I’m not really propositioning you. At least not right now. You’re dead on your feet, and I’m still cold from the rescue. I’ll save the seduction for later.”

He didn’t seem to think she was psychotic anymore. She could tell by the way he was back to his normal, flirtatious self. “You’re being way too reasonable.”

“I now have food in my stomach. Does wonders for the average male.”

She had to smile. “We’ll play Test Alisha’s Limits tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.” He paced across the room, and suddenly she was wrapped in a firm hug. Nothing sexual or demanding, just a forceful, breath-squeezing embrace that he ended within a couple of seconds when there was a loud knock on her door. He grinned as he stepped back. “I’ll sneak out of your way for a minute.”

He ducked into the kitchen. Alisha stood for a moment, amazed at the turn of events. Things were going to work out fine. Miracle of miracles.

She peered around the edge of the door before opening it. The glass she held in her hands fell unminded to the floor. The plastic bounced once and rolled toward the kitchen, but she ignored it, far more disturbed by the man standing on the stoop.

So much for her day taking a turn for the better.