Kitabı oku: «Her Amazing Boss!: The Daredevil Tycoon»

Her Amazing Boss!
The Daredevil Tycoon

Barbara McMahon

Lights, Camera … Kiss the Boss

Nikki Logan

At the Boss’s Beck and Call

Anna Cleary

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Daredevil
Tycoon

Barbara McMahon

To John Wright,

who shared so much about hot-air ballooning

it makes me want to take a ride.

Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE

AMALIA Catalon set the coffee tray down on the low table between the sofa and the visitor chairs. The two men were in deep discussion, hardly noticing her. She stepped back, wondering if her boss needed anything else. A quick glance out the window showed the storm that had been threatening had arrived. Sheets of rain slid down the windows. It was so overcast it looked like dusk, though it was only late afternoon. She could hardly see the sea. Sighing softly, she regretted the wet walk she would have to take to get the bus and then again after her stop for the three blocks to the flat. She’d be soaked and cold by the time she reached home tonight.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. She had an umbrella, but the way the wind was driving the rain, she knew it would offer little shelter.

“Ha, in your dreams,” Stefano Vicente said, laughing sardonically at something his business rival had said.

Amalia turned to look at Rafael Sandoval. What had he said to cause her boss’s outburst? Not that Stefano Vicente was the most complacent man. She’d worked for his firm more than seven years, and the last three of those for the head man himself. She knew how quickly he flew off the handle if aggravated.

“Care to wager fifty grand on it?” Rafael asked easily. He leaned back casually in the chair, watching his rival with calculating eyes. Amalia moved back a bit, preparing to leave, watching Rafael Sandoval warily. Despite being a trust-fund baby, Rafael had developed a thriving import-export business that was a major player in the Mediterranean area and was now moving globally, with offices around the world. He worked hard and played hard. Young to have achieved so much, he had the arrogance that went with amazing success. When he walked into the office, she always felt a bit in awe. He wasted no time with chitchat with a lowly employee. He knew his worth, and his time was valuable. Still, twice over the past several months she’d caught him studying her. When she’d met his gaze, he’d winked and looked away.

She watched him every chance she got—he was mesmerizing, fascinating. But if ever he caught her staring at him, she would be mortified.

“You’re on. And I’ll delight in taking your check,” Stefano replied with an arrogance equal to Rafael’s. Amalia shifted her gaze to her boss. In his late fifties, he was always looking for new challenges to prove to the world he was still in top form. What was it about men that they had to constantly be in competition with each other?

“You’re mistaken, it’s I who will delight in taking yours,” Rafael retorted. Mid thirties, and gorgeous to boot, Rafael Sandoval had risen in the ranks of important men in Barcelona with meteoric speed, which was why she’d seen him numerous times over the last three years. The only men her boss dealt with were the city’s high rollers. She would also bet her last Euro that Rafael had never paid enough attention to her to recognize her on the street. A quick glance, eyes trailing over her trim figure, and then he’d move on.

Stefano picked up a cup of the hot coffee and poured cream in it, stirring gently. When the small ritual was complete, he looked at Rafael.

“You have only been ballooning a couple of years. You’re a fool to think you can outrace me. I’ve been doing it for more than a decade.”

“I’m a quick learner,” Rafael said.

His easy grin captivated Amalia’s attention. What would it be like to have him smile at her that way?

“Or is that your way of trying to get out of the wager we just made?” Rafael taunted.

“I’m not trying to get out of anything,” Stefano protested. “It’ll be easy money.”

“As will the deal we’re about to sign. You are signing, are you not?”

Stefano looked at the contract that lay on the low table in front of him. “Should I have my attorneys review it once more?”

“They’ve had it for a week. Nothing’s changed.”

“So you say.”

Rafael’s easy manner dropped in a heartbeat. He narrowed his eyes as he studied Stefano. He said slowly, “So I do say. Do you doubt my word?” The silky tone of his voice belied the anger that showed in the clenched jaw, the flashing dark eyes. He would not be an adversary Amalia would want.

Stefano shrugged and sipped his coffee. After a swallow that had Amalia wondering if he was playing with fire to delay his answer, he deliberately put the cup back on the saucer.

“I do not doubt your word. It’s not a small deal that can be brushed away if it fails,” Stefano explained.

“It will not fail,” Rafael replied.

Stefano stared at Rafael for a long moment, then nodded. He took his pen and signed both sets of papers with a flourish.

Rafael wasn’t quick to relax. Amalia almost held her breath as the drama played out before her. Both men had forgotten she was in the room. She dare not move for worry of drawing their attention. She wished she could just ease out the door and be gone.

Tossing his pen on the table, Stefano leaned back in his chair. “How about we make the challenge a bit more interesting,” he said.

“By?” Rafael asked, calmly reaching for the pen to sign his own name to the contracts.

“We’ll limit people on board to ourselves and one guest—a nonballooner—chosen by the opposition. I choose who rides with you, you choose for me. We each have a man on the chase team to keep the records in conjunction with the chase team. We compete in the daily events at the festival and then begin our long jump.”

Rafael considered the suggestion for a moment, then with an obvious change in demeanor, relaxed, leaned back and smiled. “That works for me. You’ll be so far behind by the fourth day of the festival you’ll concede without the long jump.”

Stefano looked at Amalia. “What do you think?”

She glanced at her boss’s longtime rival and regretfully shook her head. Stefano wasn’t one to concede defeat in anything. “It’ll never happen.”

“Spoken like a true PA, loyal to the end,” Stefano said with a grin. “You’re my choice.”

Amalia stared at him in shock. “I know nothing about hot air balloons!” Only that they looked lovely when quietly sailing by, far overhead. And that it made her sick to even think about being so high above the ground.

“The purpose of the bet is to pit Rafael’s skill, such as it may be, against mine. By each having a novice, we’ll equalize the competition. One on one, so to speak,” Stefano said.

“The Barcelona Balloon Festival will be four days of races and events. For us after day four we make a long jump and see who can get the farthest in a week. Are you up to that?” Rafael asked her.

She looked at him, feeling the full force of those dark eyes as he regarded her. She shivered. Spend eleven days with him in the confines of those little baskets that dangled beneath the balloons? Not likely.

“No. I can’t do that. Pick someone else,” she said to her boss. She knew nothing about the sport, but she knew she feared heights. To spend days in the air was more than she could deal with. Not to mention spending that time with Rafael Sandoval.

The man was beyond gorgeous—tall and masculine, his dark hair shone beneath the artificial light. At thirty-four he had no gray marring the rich mahogany color. His dark eyes mirrored his emotions—when he wanted them to. Moving from amusement to anger in a split second, he fascinated her when she was around him—which wasn’t often, thank goodness. He drew her involuntary interest like a flame drew a moth. And she would expect the same results if she let herself be drawn in—instant annihilation.

He was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen, everyone thought so. Especially the society photographers who loved to have him on their pages—usually escorting a beautiful woman to some high-society event. Of course they also captured him racing his yacht last summer and when he won the single-engine airplane race from Cadiz to Barcelona two years ago. He participated in a wide and wild range of sports. She had seen the spreads in the Sunday newspapers and read with fascinated interest, since she could claim a brief acquaintance with him because of his dealings with her boss.

But she had no desire to spend even an hour in his company. He was far too dynamic and flamboyant to have anything in common with her. He’d find her boring and predictable and probably amusing.

With all the adulation he received, he was undoubtedly self-centered and self-focused. Did he ever approach life like a normal person—with worries and concerns? Probably not. Having the Sandoval fortune behind him didn’t hurt, either.

“Yes, Vicente, pick someone else,” Rafael agreed, turning away from Amalia.

“Like the woman you’re dating now?” Stefano asked sardonically. “Maybe I should. You’d lose track of even the basics with the charm Teresa offers and I’d win easily. But I’d rather have a challenge.”

“Teresa would dislike the early hours and the discomfort when it’s cold. How do I know a person of your choice wouldn’t sabotage the race?”

“I would never do such a thing!” Amalia exclaimed, incensed. How dare he impugn her integrity!

He shrugged and took one of the contracts, putting it into his briefcase. “Second choice?” he asked Vicente.

“I’ll get back to you.”

“I think I’ll ask my PA to join you. Helena at least follows the sport, though she has never participated in any events. I gave her a ride last year and she liked it.”

“Send me her name and phone number and I’ll talk to her,” Stefano said. “And I’ll have one of my chase crew contact yours. There will be no sabotage. He’ll help as a regular crew member—only be there to verify the times and distances.”

“Do we get rights of refusal?” Rafael asked.

“If both agree,” Stefano replied.

“Then start writing your check,” Rafael said, deliberately goading the other man.

Amalia thought about the report that still needed finishing. She didn’t have time to stand around and listen to two very wealthy men talk about a silly hot air balloon race. The fifty thousand Euros they bandied around so easily would make a world of difference in her life. To most people’s lives. To these men it was chump change. Betting on a balloon race seemed frivolous in the extreme.

“Maybe we should sweeten the pot a bit. Loser has to present to winner in front of the Barcelona Business Alliance at the next quarterly meeting,” Rafael suggested.

Amalia looked at Rafael, seeing the devilment in his eyes. He was wild and daring, and she strongly suspected he loved every moment of this. It was obvious he never expected to lose; he rarely did. Not only did he have pots of money, he had the best luck in the world, if the newspapers could be believed. From learning to fly a few years ago, to deep sea diving, to this newest hobby of hot air ballooning, he loved to challenge himself—and anyone involved in the sport with him.

Stefano gathered his copy of the contract and held it out for Amalia. She stepped closer to take it and then retreated to the door of his office.

Standing, Stefano held out his hand to Rafael. “May the best man win, and I intend to!”

Rafael stood, as well, and shook his hand. “Prepare your presentation speech for the BBA’s meeting. It had better be good, to wipe out the sting of humiliation.”

Amalia opened the door for the departing man. When Rafael drew level with her, he looked at her again. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he said. “Find out what working with a winner is like.”

“My boss will win,” she said loyally.

He shook his head and winked at her before walking past. She could smell the expensive aftershave lotion he used—something fresh and woodsy. Perfect for him. She felt the attraction that seemed like an invisible aura around him and for a split second she wished that wink had meant something special.

When Rafael Sandoval left her anteroom and walked toward the elevators, she turned and looked at her boss. While not as notorious as his competitor, he could still claim outrageous behavior and daring escapades that made the papers. How his wife stood it all these years was a mystery to Amalia.

She looked at her boss. “Can you win?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said easily. Walking back to his desk, he looked at her. “But I need your help. I want you to go with Sandoval.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid of heights. Besides, what would I talk to the man about?”

He laughed. “No need to worry about that. He’ll be too busy trying to outmaneuver me. Don’t worry about receiving a pass from the man, you aren’t his type. He likes luscious, sophisticated prima donnas, not hardworking businesswomen. The intent is to make sure he isn’t getting help from a ringer.”

Amalia shook her head again. She couldn’t go off on a hot air balloon ride. Even if she didn’t have a phobia about heights, she had work to do. Her brother to take care of. She’d have to find a way to convince Stefano it would be a mistake. He was too focused on the need to one-up Rafael Sandoval to worry about a mere personal assistant’s reasons for refusing.

“I need to get the Tunisia report finished. And you need to think of another choice. I really can’t do it.” Turning, she headed for the door.

“Then call Teresa Valesquez for me, will you?” he asked. “I might get her interested. Maybe she would distract Rafael long enough for me to have an easy triumph.”

Amalia nodded and kept walking. Teresa Valesquez was Rafael’s latest girlfriend. Amalia had recently read about them attending a reception together. The accompanying picture had captured the worldly look of his latest. Her sleek, short blond hair contrasted so well with her dark eyes. The gown she’d worn was the latest fashion and had looked fabulous on her figure.

Except, would she still be around by the time the balloon race began? The one thing Amalia had noticed was how frequently Rafael changed companions. The balloon race was still a couple of weeks away—plenty of time for him to find a new woman and for Teresa to be old news.

She sat at her desk and looked up the phone number for Ms. Valesquez. When she was on the line, Amalia clicked her over to Stefano’s phone. She could finish the report if she had no more interruptions before close of business.

Just before five, she finished the last set and put them in the envelopes for different staff members. That was a major project completed. The rest of the week should be a breeze—or as much as it ever was working for Stefano Vicente. She liked her job well enough; she found it interesting and fulfilling. Which was good, since she’d likely be at it for another four or five years. Once her brother was out of college and on his own, she’d give a thought to returning to school to work for her own degree—interrupted barely months after she’d started university by the death of her parents.

Amalia’s goal remained to become a graphic designer—working with multinational corporations to develop and maintain Web pages. She loved playing around on computers. She’d streamlined many of the office functions through technology. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She wanted new horizons. She dabbled in Web design for friends, but looked for more challenges and a monetary reward for her work.

When she’d expressed that interest to Stefano a couple of years ago, asking if she could switch divisions, he’d refused. He hadn’t wanted to break in another new PA. Maybe she did her job too well, but it wasn’t in her to do less than her best.

At least she had a good position that enabled them to live in a modest flat. After their parents were killed, there had been more debt than assets. Once everything had been sold, there was nothing left for extras. Amalia could still remember the panic she felt knowing that Jose depended entirely on her. She’d only been nineteen, Jose a mere eight. She’d floundered those first couple of years until she began to work for this firm.

Promotions had moved her up, and her current job now paid enough to save a bit for college for her younger brother. One more year of public school and he’d be off to university. He wanted to be a physicist. He’d probably be over the moon with a chance to ride in a hot air balloon. She dare not tell him; he’d badger her forever to take advantage of the opportunity.

She shut off her computer, tidied her desk and donned her serviceable raincoat. She was already planning the evening meal she’d prepare for herself and Jose.

Stefano stepped into her office.

“I need you to renew my order of weather schedules first thing in the morning.” He handed her a piece of paper on which he’d written down the Internet addresses. One was from a local weather forecasting service in Barcelona. The other two covered other areas, including the eastern part of Spain and parts of southern France.

She nodded. “Anything else?”

“Not right now. I’ve got to prepare for the flight, though. There’s more to it this time than casual fun. I can’t wait to see Rafael’s face in front of the BBA giving me the winning check.”

“The entire plan sounds scary,” she murmured. She had gone to the Barcelona Balloon Festival the first time it had been held after she joined the firm. She hadn’t stayed after the first wave of balloons lifted into the air. The small wicker baskets were dwarfed by the huge balloons, dangling by incredibly thin ropes that connected the basket to the balloon. Imagine rising above the earth dependent solely on hot air in a large nylon bag. She shuddered just thinking about it. The entire venture looked precarious and dangerous. She preferred to keep her feet on terra firma.

“It’s perfectly safe and a lot of fun. There’s nothing like soaring a couple of thousand feet above the earth. Watching the landscape drift by below, going where the wind takes you.”

“Unless you get tangled in power lines and get zapped, or go down in the Med and drown before rescue, or—” Or just fall from the basket and splat on the ground. She shook her head at the horrible image that popped into her mind.

“That happens, like, once in a lifetime.” Stefano laughed.

“It could be your lifetime, or the end of it!”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t had even so much as a near miss in all the years I’ve been doing this. Anyway, you’re off the hook. Teresa Valesquez is delighted to be going with Rafael. I think she expects a ring on her finger by the end of the trip. Doubt he’ll ask, though, because he hasn’t so far. He strikes me as the perpetual playboy bachelor who’s having far too much fun to get tied down. See you in the morning,” he added, turning and reentering his office.

She grabbed her umbrella, wondering if that or her raincoat would be much protection against the deluge that continued.

Stepping outside a few moments later, Amalia paused beneath the building’s portico debating whether or not to dash to the bus stop without her umbrella raised and hope she didn’t become soaked, or give in to the inevitable and use the umbrella until the wind turned it inside out.

A sleek black sports car drew to a stop at the curb in front of her. The passenger window slid down.

“Need a lift?”

She leaned over a bit to peer in. Rafael Sandoval looked back at her.

“Get in, I’ll drive you home,” he ordered.

Normally Amalia would object to his imperious tone, but she was pragmatic enough to appreciate a ride in the storm. She quickly got into the car as the window slid up.

“Why?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.

“To get to know you, of course.”

As the car pulled back into traffic, Amalia sighed softly. The luxurious leather interior even smelled like wealth. The seat cushioned her lovingly, and she surreptitiously rubbed her fingers against its softness. “There’s no need. Stefano got Teresa Valesquez to agree to accompany you on the balloon race. I won’t be going.”

Would he let her off at the next corner now that there was no need to become better acquainted?

“Damn, I don’t know which is worse, you or Teresa,” he said, moving to another lane as traffic began to get heavy.

“Thanks a lot,” she murmured, not feeling kindly toward the man. She fervently hoped he lost the race to her boss just to take him down a peg or two!

“They say ‘better the devil you know,’ but I’m not so sure. I do know Teresa and the spin she’s sure to put on this. You’re an unknown, but at least I know you have no ulterior motive.”

“I’m not going, so there’s no more to say,” Amalia said firmly.

“Still, I’m not dumping you in the rain. Where to?”

She lived in an older section of town, with lots of flats and small markets, winding streets and little parking. Nothing like the palatial home he must live in surrounded by gardens and giving a stupendous view of the city and the Med.

“It’s off Via Estrada,” she said.

“So what’s Vicente’s game plan?” he asked a moment later, easily driving in the rainy evening twilight.

“He wants to win,” Amalia pointed out dryly.

“So do I,” Rafael said.

“He thinks you’ll be distracted by Ms. Valesquez and that will give him the edge,” she said, hoping to startle him.

Rafael glanced at her a second. “Honest. Hmm … unusual.”

“Then you must hang out with the wrong people,” she snapped. First he considered she would sabotage his race, now he seemed surprised to find her an honest person. The nerve of the man! She clutched her purse tighter, hoping she could hold on to her temper until she reached home.

“Touchy, too. I bet there’s temper in there somewhere,” he mocked. “But being the perfect little personal assistant to Vicente, I’m sure you’ve damped that down a lot.”

She wanted to say something pithy to knock him off his high horse, but nothing came to mind. She hated that!

“Do you think Teresa would distract me?” he asked, turning onto Via Estrada.

“I have no idea,” she replied stiffly. His affair with the beautiful woman was none of her business. She refused to speculate based on the innuendos of the press. “If you and my boss have to have a stupid race, I suspect one distraction would be equal to another.”

“So maybe I should find a beautiful woman to ride with him.”

Amalia said nothing. Rafael had to know Stefano was married. Did he think Stefano would be unfaithful to his wife for a balloon race?

“No thoughts?” he pressed.

“None you want to hear,” she murmured. “Turn at the second traffic signal, right. Then three blocks to Via Escondito.”

“Maybe I do want to hear,” he said.

She hesitated a moment, but knowing she was almost home, she felt reckless. “It’s that stupid bet. Don’t you think the two of you could find better use for that much money than betting it against each other? There are hungry children, sick people, homeless in the world who could benefit.”

“I give to charity,” he protested.

He couldn’t see it; his type never would. She shook her head. He lived so differently from the masses.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll turn over my winnings to your favorite charity. You just name it and I’ll sign the check right over.”

She looked at him in astonishment. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Why not? The money isn’t the important part of the wager, the winning is.”

Amalia turned to look out at the street. She couldn’t imagine carelessly dismissing fifty thousand Euros.

When he reached her apartment building a few minutes later, he stopped in front and looked up through the windshield. The building was old, but still interesting, with stonework embellishments and tall windows.

“Is the inside also old, or has it been renovated?”

“The building is almost a hundred years old, so of course the inside has been renovated.” About fifty years ago, but Amalia saw no need to tell him that.

He looked at her. “I’m sorry you won’t be going with me. I love a challenge.”

Amalia frowned. “I’d be no challenge.”

“Getting you on my side would be the challenge. Teammates should share the goal. Would you throw your heart into my race, or hamper it at every turn?”

“We’ll never know, will we?” she asked. He was so close she could see the faint lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. See the deep-brown irises that almost melded into the black pupils.

He rubbed a finger lightly down her cheek. “Seems a shame.”

She jerked back. “Thank you for the ride,” she said hastily, throwing open the door and scrambling from the car. She made a quick dash to the front door and hardly felt the rain. She was churning with the emotional onslaught of his touch that had her insides turning to mush. He was wrong—she’d be no challenge to him at all if he ever turned his attentions on her!

She turned and watched as he tooted the horn and drove away, puddles splashing from the wheels. Long after the tail-lights had merged into traffic, she gazed after the sleek black dream machine. She didn’t even own a car. Not that she needed the expense as the bus served her perfectly well. She and Jose had a nice flat, nothing like the home she’d grown up in, but the best she could afford. Her job was good, and in only a few years she’d be able to return to her own education.

Opening the door to the flat, she saw she’d beaten Jose home, probably because of the ride Rafael had given her. She’d start dinner then change. Afterward, she would read up on what she could find on the Internet about hot air balloons. She knew only the rudimentary facts about the sport, which she’d gleaned from Stefano’s enthusiastic discussion when he returned from some ballooning event.

She did know long jumps meant trips beyond the one-to three-hour ones near a festival site. They were rarer than the gathering of balloonists in favorite spots like Barcelona or London or Albuquerque, New Mexico, in America. Those races followed some prescribed activities, like waves of balloons in the morning flights or just before sunset. They also required a chase crew to pick them up when they came down. If there were competitions, it was usually dropping beanbags in target sites. Points went to those who dropped the closest to the center or who dropped earlier rather than later.

Once in comfortable and warm sweats, Amalia turned on her computer. She told herself she was learning about the sport to talk more knowledgeably with her boss. But she also searched for what would fascinate a dynamic man like Rafael Sandoval. Doing a search on his name, she began to read about his life. Some aspects she knew, other items were new. A complete dossier online. Did he know people could find out so much merely by tapping a few keys on a computer?

Despite her own reservations about flight, she wondered a bit wistfully what it would be like to sail soundlessly over the countryside, going where the wind blew, seeing farms and towns from the air with a man who made life seem more exciting than anything she’d experienced.

His own parents were divorced. According to one source, he maintained “cordial relationships” with both, whatever that meant. She missed her parents all the time. She couldn’t imagine having mere “cordial relationships” with them.

“Hola, I’m home,” Jose called.

So much for dreaming about hot air balloon rides and sexy millionaires who took to the air! Reality returned: she had dinner to finish.

* * *

Rafael let himself into the empty house from the garage. It was raining like a monsoon outside. The house was dark and a bit chilled. He flipped on the switch to illuminate the mudroom, then stepped into the hall. Turning on lights as he walked back to the kitchen, he considered the bet he’d made. Then he almost laughed remembering the outrage of Vicente’s prim PA when he’d suggested she might sabotage his flight.

He didn’t know what had made him drive back by Vicente’s office building at the end of the working day. He had wanted to talk to Amalia to see if he could glean any information to explain why Vicente had suggested she be part of his crew. It made even less sense now that he knew Teresa was going with him. What was Vicente’s thinking? He couldn’t seriously suppose that Teresa would distract Rafael from his goal of winning the race?

The short car ride with Amalia hadn’t given him much insight except he now knew she deplored the bet for altruistic financial reasons. But she didn’t seem to have a special interest in Vicente’s winning. Or his losing.

But she intrigued Rafael for other reasons. She seemed as jumpy as a cat with dogs baying. He’d caught her watching him the few times he’d actually gone to Vicente’s office. Rafael was used to that from women, but she never flirted with him, never acknowledged any interest besides the looks he’d feel from time to time. If he glanced her way, her eyes would already be moving away.

What made her tick? He’d given her even more reason for Vicente to lose by promising his winnings to her favorite charity. An offer which she had not jumped on. That puzzled him as well. Most people he knew would instantly come up with a name or cause to gain that much money.

Stefano Vicente had long been a thorn in his side, ever since he’d made a rather underhanded maneuver five years ago that had cost Rafael time and money. Rafael would delight in showing up the man in front of the Business Alliance. Stefano had been the only ballooner in the group until Rafael took up the sport. Vicente liked to brag, but those bragging rights would be curtailed when Rafael beat him—especially since he was the newcomer to the sport.

The bet presented a new personal challenge as well—piloting a balloon farther afield. The trick would be with the weather and getting an ongoing reliable way to indicate the wind factor. How much fuel could he carry to keep airborne longer, without being too much weight for lift? The logistics suddenly seemed daunting enough to fire up his determination not only to beat Vicente, but to try for a new record.

Rafael smiled. He loved pitting his own resources against others. He could already see himself standing in front of the BBA and accepting Stefano’s check. That he’d now promised to turn it over to charity didn’t bother him. The entire bet was not about the money, but about proving to Stefano Vicente that he wasn’t the only one in Barcelona with the cojones to venture into the unknown. Their balloons could end up over the Pyrenees, or over the Med. He briefly wondered if they could get to Africa. No, that was unlikely, as this time of year the prevailing winds blew north and west.

Opening the oven, he savored the aroma of the casserole his housekeeper had prepared and set in the oven before she left for home. It wouldn’t be done for another half hour. He was home earlier than usual, having left work to get to Vicente’s building early enough to catch Amalia.

The phone rang and Rafael picked up the kitchen extension.

“Sandoval,” he said.

“Hola,” Teresa said in her sultry voice.

“Teresa,” he acknowledged. He wasn’t expecting to hear from her tonight. Was she calling about the race?

“It’s raining and I’m bored,” she said. “It’s too wet to go out, and there’s nothing on television. No friends want to venture forth to visit me.”

He could hear the pout in her voice. Picture her lush red lips in a moue that invited kissing.

“Unless you do,” she finished.

He liked Teresa. They had fun together when they went out. But he did not relish becoming a frequent visitor at her home. That led to ideas that he was definitely not pursuing. She knew that.

“Not tonight. It’s pouring and I just got home. Besides, I need to start planning for the race. I heard Vicente called you and you’re going with me.”

“Won’t that be delightful, just the two of us in the gondola of the balloon, riding high above the crowds?”

“Delightful,” he replied sardonically. Did she have any idea what was involved? If she thought they’d enjoy a tryst, he had better explain the facts of balloon racing.

“Ohhh, I could come there and plan the race with you,” she said, as if it were a sudden idea.

“I thought you didn’t want to go out into the rain,” he said, loosening his tie. He wanted to look at maps covering all the possible directions the balloon might go on the long jump, get a head start on preparing for the event. He didn’t have time to entertain anyone.

“If I get a taxi there, I won’t get very wet,” she almost purred.

“Not tonight, babe. I’ve got work to do.”

“Honestly, Rafael, you need to slow down a bit and enjoy all that money you make.”

Or let you enjoy it, he thought cynically. He knew the women he dated were attracted to his money and his notoriety. Normally it didn’t bother him but tonight it did. If he were a pauper, would Teresa even look at him? Not in a million years. Much less invite him to her home.

Unexpectedly the image of Vicente’s PA flashed into his mind. Amalia would probably do more than look at him if he were a pauper, she’d try to help him find a job and a place to live. Get money from the rich to help out the poor.

Great, he was either a charity case or a meal ticket, which didn’t paint a very complimentary picture of him either way. Had that been what his father faced? He hadn’t stuck with marriage for long. Unlike his mother who reveled in the state, if five husbands to date were any indication.

Rafael didn’t like the way he was thinking. Reminders of his parents always fed his frustration. He had felt the odd man out in his family from the first time he’d been sent away to boarding school. His father was too busy to care for a child, and his mother was always concentrating on attracting her next husband to devote much time to her two sons. They would have done better not to have had children in the first place.

But then he wouldn’t be here, nor his brother, so maybe it hadn’t been all bad. But he had no plans for marriage for a long time—if ever.

“I’ve got to go. How about dinner tomorrow night?” he offered, to placate her.

There was a pause, then Teresa accepted. She wanted to talk longer, but he soon ended the conversation.

He had time to change into casual clothes before the casserole would be ready. He wanted to begin his study of the weather patterns and wind flows he might expect to find when making the long balloon trip. He liked planning strategy almost as much as implementation. But he did enjoy the flights he made with the balloon. Work kept him busier than he might like during the summer months, yet when time permitted, he’d take a sail in the balloon. He had several friends who volunteered for the chase team, in exchange for rides.

It occurred to him as he climbed the stairs that spending every day for a week or longer with Teresa might be more than he could take. She was fun an evening at a time, but how would she hold up to hours in the basket with the harsh sound of the burners going on and off? Or with the unexpected accommodations they’d have to make for the nights when they touched down who knew where? It wasn’t like a normal holiday trip where they could phone ahead for reservations. Or festivals, where they knew where they were to put down each day, with the chase team already on-site.

They’d have to bed down wherever the balloon landed and be up early to get the dawn sky. He planned to beat Vicente, and there would be no time to look for the amenities she was used to.

He couldn’t picture Teresa lasting. Was that Vicente’s hope—rather than Teresa distracting him, she might abandon him? What would Rafael do if Teresa didn’t stay the course? He would not forfeit, that he knew, even if he had to tie her to the gondola for the race. Or take Vicente’s PA as a substitute.

As he changed into dark jeans and a dark sweater, Rafael thought about Amalia. She lived in an old building in an older section of town. She hadn’t gushed about him giving her a ride. He almost smiled. Instead she’d berated him for squandering all that money on a bet.

And she’d looked outraged when he touched her cheek. The skin had felt warm and soft, and he bet she was warm and soft all over. Though she hid it behind a prickly exterior, she was a very feminine woman.

She still hadn’t said which charity she’d like the payment to go to. He’d have to contact her again to find out. Not that he needed an excuse to call most women, but with this one … it would probably be wiser.

CHAPTER TWO

AS THE day of the Barcelona Balloon Festival drew closer, work became totally chaotic for Amalia. She had a dozen things to do each day in preparing for her boss’s part in the event. In addition to the normal business of the company, she had to line up the chase team, verify that the balloon was in top shape, work out various logistical scenarios to try to anticipate where the winds would drive the balloon each day on the long jump and field a dozen calls from Mrs. Vicente, who was enjoying all the social activity associated with the Balloon Festival.

She was tired each night but, oddly enough, also exhilarated. For once all aspects of the race were of interest. She listened more than she had for other events, soaking up every bit of information. That she knew two of the participants spurred her on.

“Amalia, where are today’s weather reports?” Stefano called out, two days before the festival started.

“I put them on your desk, left-hand side,” she yelled back, not leaving her desk as she tried to finish the last of the meal planning. The four members of the chase team would require a lot of food as they followed the balloon from the ground. No time to stop for meals or they’d lose sight of it and then have to rely on communications from Stefano in the balloon to find it again before it touched down.

She knew her boss would want some snacks to eat while airborne each day and bottles of water to drink. She hadn’t met Helena Marisol, but the two of them had spoken on the phone several times. She seemed excited about the trip and talked glowingly of her boss. A couple of times during the week, Amalia almost regretted she wouldn’t be going with him. But the mere thought of being that high with nothing but air beneath her had her nerves fluttering.

The trick was to get good food that required little preparation. The only fire on the balloon would be the burners. Suddenly she stifled a giggle imagining the immaculate Ms. Valesquez toasting a hot dog in the flames of Rafael Sandoval’s balloon burners.

It was far more likely he’d arrange for caviar and champagne for a snack.

She stopped for a moment, trying to picture Teresa even in the balloon. It was mind-boggling. From what Stefano said, the balloonist had to pay attention to the wind to get the maximum speed. Adjusting the height of the balloon to take advantage of different wind speeds took concentration. Stefano’s rival would not be available to flirt with Teresa. Not if he was serious about winning. Did she realize that? Amalia knew Rafael would focus absolutely on winning the race rather than on the dubious delights of his passenger.

Amalia shook her head. That was not her problem.

It was Thursday. Saturday morning was the first event of the festival. Even as early as Tuesday, she’d begun seeing hot air balloons drifting by as balloonists from all over the world came to compete, show off and enjoy themselves. Foreigners were trying to get a feel for the locale and the winds before the festival officially opened.

Twice she’d stood at her window for long moments watching balloons drift lazily over the sea. If she didn’t have a fear of heights, would she enjoy taking a ride in one?

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Stefano asked, joining her at the window late in the afternoon. “You’ll have to come to see us off.”

“Helena called a little while ago. She wanted to know if she should line up anything special for the long jump.”

“I think I’ll thank Rafael’s PA at my acceptance speech when I get his check,” Stefano said thoughtfully. “She’s committed to being the perfect passenger. I wonder how Sandoval is faring with Teresa Valesquez?” He laughed at the thought.

“You’re pretty sure you’re going to win. What if you don’t?” She would not relish working the week or so after such a loss. Her boss was not fun to be around when in a bad temper.

“I will. I never even consider defeat.”

“Helena says Rafael is saying the same thing.”

“Ha, he’ll eat my dust.”

Amalia didn’t operate that way. She always had a plan B in case plan A didn’t work.

“You and Jose come to the field on Saturday to see us off. Check in at the gate to find out where we’ll be,” her boss said.

She looked up at that. “Do you need me there?”

“No, but I thought you might like to see us fill the envelope and lift off. Marguerite says that’s her favorite part,” he said, mentioning his wife.

“The envelope,” she repeated, remembering the explanation she had read on the Internet.

“The balloon. The nylon part is called the envelope. Then there’s the basket or gondola and the burners. It’s not rocket science, but I enjoy it.”

“If the weather’s nice, we might come. I know Jose would love it. Of course, he’ll be explaining to me all about the physics that makes the lighter-than-air balloon fly with the added weight in the basket.” She loved her younger brother, but sometimes he left her in bewilderment discussing how things worked.

* * *

Saturday was a beautiful day. A bit on the cool side but perfect, as there were no clouds and only a brisk cool breeze blowing in from the Mediterranean Sea. Jose had been talking about the balloon festival ever since Amalia had told him they would attend. Stefano had instructed her to arrive at dawn as the balloons would be taking off very early. There were special buses from Barcelona to the festival, running on a frequent schedule.

Once she got to the large field a few miles outside of Barcelona, Amalia was caught up in the excitement. She and Jose checked in at the gate and received a map of the field, and the grid where her boss had his balloon. She and her brother set off down the area between the balloons. There were well over a hundred, all in various stages of being inflated. Fans pumped air in the inflation process. Once the balloon was more than half full, the burners began. The noise from the burners was surprisingly loud as they were fired up to heat the air in the envelope. Men and women were working, talking, laughing.

“Come to see me off?”

Amalia looked to her left and saw Rafael Sandoval. His balloon was halfway inflated, the bright red and stark black striking in the early-morning light. The basket lay on its side, two people at the opening of the envelope holding it wide for the fan to pump in air.

His attire matched the balloon, an all-black jumpsuit with a splash of red traversing his chest on the jacket. The colors suited him. The suit would keep him comfortable at the higher elevations and he could shed the jacket as the day warmed.

“Actually I came to see my boss off,” she said, her eyes taking in all the activity around his balloon.

“A man can pretend,” he said, flashing a smile at Jose. “I’m Rafael Sandoval,” he said, extending his hand.

Jose shook it, introducing himself. “This is great. Can I see your balloon and watch how it inflates? I read up about the entire process.”

“Sure, come on over.”

Amalia stared after the two as they walked away. Jose should not be asking Rafael a dozen questions, the man was the competition. Stefano would surely be glad to give Jose answers to anything he could come up with.

She started after them to rein in her brother, but they quickly outdistanced her, and before she caught up, Jose was actually at the side of the gondola, studying the burner apparatus with Rafael right at his side instructing. Members of his chase team joked back and forth, the atmosphere growing more festive.

She watched, glad, despite her misgivings, that Rafael was taking time to explain everything so thoroughly. Stefano would have probably glossed over the details. Jose missed their dad more than anything. He had been a wonderful father, and the wound his loss had created would never be completely healed. With work and keeping their apartment and all, Amalia didn’t date seriously. She had to wait for any permanent commitment until her brother was no longer her responsibility. So there was not a steady male influence in Jose’s life. Had that been a mistake? Should she have tried to get married earlier to provide him with that adult male exposure?

She looked around her. The noise level was growing. There were five long rows of balloons all being inflated, and the roaring sound the burners made filled the air. The bright colors were highlighted slightly by the flames, appearing to glow in the early dawn light.

Looking back, she drew on her patience to wait until Jose had enough information so they could continue to Stefano’s balloon, still another half dozen farther along.

Suddenly a long flame shot out of the burners of Rafael’s balloon, the noise startling. Jose was grinning, Rafael by his side, watching as the flame shot into the balloon, the two helpers holding the mouth of the balloon wide. As she watched, the envelope began to tilt upward.

Rafael carried on pointing out things to Jose. Her brother looked as if he was in heaven. Amalia studied Rafael. He showed no impatience with the teenager. In fact, she thought it was a great kindness he let Jose even be there, much less try the burners.

Glancing around, she didn’t see anyone looking like the picture she’d seen of Teresa Valesquez. Hadn’t she arrived yet? There was still time, as the balloon was only half-inflated. But Amalia would have thought the woman would have been there first thing.

Amalia wondered what it would be like to be Rafael’s girlfriend. She suspected he was lavish in his gifts when first squiring someone around. Did he send flowers, chocolates, gifts of jewelry? She’d love to be wined and dined as he did it—always the best places in town. The theater, opera, sailing—all gave the women in his life a wonderful glimpse into his world. Those relationships always ended, but until they did, Amalia thought it must be magical.

Feeling awkward and in the way, Amalia stayed to one side, watching the activity going on around her. As the balloon rose, the basket was gradually tipped up until it sat square on the ground, the fire now shooting up into the envelope that soared overhead. The flame looked to be twice as long as Amalia was tall. Jose and Rafael stood in the basket. It wasn’t that large—four or five people might be able to travel in it—if they stood. The sides were high, made entirely of wicker. How safe was that?

The balloon looked fully inflated to her when Teresa sauntered into the area. One of the chase crew replaced Rafael in the basket and he walked toward his passenger. She was wearing high heels! Amalia wondered what Rafael would do. Anyone would know high heels were not suitable for a wicker basket. The skintight pants and open top looked stylish and more suitable for a walk along the beach than the early-morning chill.

As Rafael realized what the other woman wore, he took a second look. Amalia laughed at his stunned expression. He swung around and narrowed his gaze on her. She shrugged her shoulders and looked back at his girlfriend. A second later he stormed over to Teresa, his hands on his hips.

“What the hell are you made up as?” he asked.

Teresa was made of sterner stuff than Amalia expected. She merely smiled and trailed one finger down his cheek.

“I’m ready for our ride. Your assistant told me to dress warmly and in layers. This top comes off.”

The men in the crew stopped their work and stared. Amalia noticed several men from other balloons were watching, as well. Teresa didn’t seem to care.

“It should, it’s hardly there to begin with. What were you thinking? It’s cold at the higher elevations. We’ll be going up a couple of thousand feet or more!” Rafael snarled.

“You can keep me warm.”

He turned away in disgust. “I don’t have time for this. Julio, give me your jacket.”

The slender young man on the chase crew shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to Rafael. He in turn threw it to Teresa, who barely caught it in her surprise.

“Put that on and find some suitable shoes. We will be lifting off in less than twenty minutes. I’m not missing my time slot for you.” Rafael stormed off, leaving Teresa looking after him with a suddenly angry expression.

Jose came over to Amalia. “Wow, do you see? I got to fire up the burners. That was awesome. I want to go up in one of them someday.” He looked at Teresa, still standing with the jacket in her hand, glaring after Rafael. “Do you believe that woman? She’s supposed to go with Rafe today, but if I were him, I’d find someone else.”

“Rafe?” Amalia echoed in surprise.

“He said I could call him that. It’s what the men on the crew call him. Come on, let’s go find your boss’s balloon. I want to compare the two. If Mr. Vicente can give me the specs, I might be able to calculate who really has the better chance of more distance given the wind velocity and direction. If I factor in the air volume and guesstimate the weight each would be carrying, with passengers and propane canisters and …”

He continued talking but Amalia had lost the thread. She looked back once, wondering how the situation was going to play out. Teresa had shrugged into Julio’s jacket, but she had made no move to find other shoes.

Stefano Vicente’s balloon was fully inflated and straining the ropes that held it to the earth. Her boss and his wife were sharing a cup of coffee. Helena must be the woman standing with them. Amalia crossed over to greet them.

“Have you met Helena yet?” her boss asked.

“Only on the phone. Nice to meet you in person,” Amalia said, noting the practical attire the woman wore. Her salt-and-pepper hair was tied back. Her fleece jacket covered a warm shirt. The jeans and rubber-soled shoes would be perfect for the flight.

Amalia almost told Stefano about Teresa, but thought it would just go to his head. He must know her. Surely the Vicentes went to the same functions as Sandoval. She suspected Teresa would prove a lot more distraction than even Stefano had hoped for—not all in a positive manner.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Marguerite Vicente said. She also was dressed warmly. Her hair was blowing in the breeze, but she didn’t care.

Jose greeted everyone, then went to the gondola and began talking with one of the men.

“We lift off in ten,” Stefano said, checking his watch once more. “Last chance for a pit stop for a few hours. I’d better take advantage.”

Helena agreed and both hurried away.

“Do you usually go with him?” Amalia asked Mrs. Vicente.

“Often, not always. There are always friends who like the flights. He hasn’t taken you yet. After the festival, maybe he can give you and your brother a ride. Jose looks enthralled—I hope he doesn’t get bitten by the bug.”

Amalia smiled and said nothing. She couldn’t imagine anything compelling enough to have her get in one of those things. And they could never in a million years afford a hot air balloon, even if Jose did become smitten.

When Stefano and Helena returned, they went straight to the basket and climbed in using the step halfway up the wicker side. Testing the burners once, Stefano gave the thumbs-up to his ground crew.

A cheer was heard from the beginning of the row. Amalia turned and saw the first balloon slowly ascend. Two minutes later the next in line began to rise. In no time she saw the black-and-red one belonging to Rafael rise. Moments later the official walked to their site and gave the release order. Slowly Stefano’s balloon began moving upward.

Jose came over. “I calculate the chances are even. The balloons are matched in size and weight carried. Though Rafael has one extra canister, Stefano is heavier than he is and has more stuff on the side pockets.”

“So the race will depend on the pilot’s skill,” Amalia said.

“Yeah, and if he has a competent helper—but I think Rafe got shafted with that woman.” Jose shook his head. “Why didn’t he get someone else?”

“It was part of the bet.” She did not tell her brother she’d been first choice. Or that Rafael had offered to donate the money to charity if he won. Jose would have loved to crew for one of the balloons. And loved to go up in one. Maybe she’d ask her boss if there was a place for him with the chase crew at the next outing. She wasn’t as complacent about asking for a ride for her brother. What if Jose fell out?

“I’m returning home. Can I give you two a lift?” Mrs. Vicente said.

“You’re not staying?”

“The second wave will begin soon, then the third. Once all the balloons are gone, this is just an empty field. There’ll be more fun at the end. But that won’t be for a couple of hours, so I’ll go home and await the chase team’s call.”

Amalia accepted. It was much easier getting home by car than bus. Walking back to the parking lot, she looked at the balloons, the black-and-red one standing out against the more colorful ones drifting away. She wished she could at least hear how Rafael was coping with his passenger. She grinned at the thought of what was going on. She almost felt sorry for the man.

The rest of the weekend, Amalia was kept up to speed on how the races were going by Jose’s involvement. He scoured every Web site and local newspaper for updates on the events and reported every fact at dinner each night.

Stefano was ahead the first two days in two drop events. Rafael surged ahead on the third day. Had Rafael been able to do all he wanted with his teammate? Or had Stefano suspected it wouldn’t work out and deliberately chosen her? Would Rafael do better if he had competent help?

Amalia thought that perhaps she could be doing Teresa a disservice. Maybe she’d caught on instantly and was of immense help. After all, she was dating Rafael, surely she’d want to do all she could to help him win.

Amalia didn’t expect her boss back in the office for more than a week. Once the festival ended on Tuesday, he and Rafael would begin the long jump to see who could go farther in their own private race. It was quiet at the office, and she relished the lack of distractions to get caught up on nonpriority tasks.

But on Tuesday afternoon Amalia got a call at work from Rafael Sandoval.

Without any greeting, he spoke in clipped words. “You have to fly with me starting in the morning. We leave at dawn. Pack light, and for heaven’s sake bring sensible clothes.”

“What are you talking about?” Amalia squeaked.

“The bet, what else? The festival ended at noon today. Vicente and I are almost equal in points. The rest will be decided on the long jump.”

“I’m not going. You have your teammate,” she protested.

“It’s you or Teresa, and she’s made it clear she won’t step foot inside the basket again. I’m not forfeiting this bet because of some collusion between you and Vicente. You’re the other candidate Vicente allowed me, so I say you will come. Be here no later than five-thirty. Your bag goes with the chase team and you come with me.”

“No!” Amalia exclaimed.

“I’m in no mood to argue. Be there!” He hung up before she could respond.

She quickly called her boss’s cell phone. He answered on the second ring.

“Amalia, is there an emergency? Have Benito handle anything that comes up.”

“Rafael Sandoval just called and said I have to go with him for the next stage because Teresa won’t. I can’t go, Stefano. I have Jose to think about and work to do here and—” She hated to harp on her fear of heights, because that would make her seem foolish. But it was real.

Stefano laughed. “Hot damn, I may win after all. Either you go or he has no assistant in the basket. Automatic forfeiture. Man, I can’t wait to have him give me that check at the BBA.”

“Find someone else to pair him up with.”

“Hey, I did. Teresa Valesquez. If she can’t stay the course he’s out of luck. He had two choices, and I only got one. He can’t complain.”

“Just so you know, I’m not going.”

“If you say no, so be it. It’s good news for me.” He rang off, leaving Amalia feeling odd. He didn’t care how he won, as long as he did. It seemed unfair that if Teresa refused to go, Rafael would have to forfeit the race—and the money for a charity of her choice.

Amalia felt restless all evening. Even Jose picked up on her fidgeting and challenged her to a video game. She agreed, mostly to take her mind off Rafael’s reaction tomorrow when she didn’t show up in time for the liftoff. He’d be mad. She shivered. Furious, more like it. Still, what could he do to her? She didn’t work for him. If her boss hadn’t suggested the insane idea, Rafael Sandoval would probably not even know her name or be able to recognize her on the street.

It wasn’t her fault. She had never agreed to the stupid plan her boss had devised. Rafael couldn’t expect a stranger to drop everything just to accompany him. She had her own responsibilities.

Still, it was hard to fall asleep. Finally dropping off, she felt she slept for ten minutes before there was a banging on the front door to the flat.

She sprang out of bed and raced down the hall, almost colliding with her brother when he came from his room, both scrambling to don robes.

“Is it a fire?” he asked, following her to the door.

“I don’t know. Maybe a neighbor needs help.”

Throwing open the door, Amalia stared in astonishment at Rafael Sandoval. He appeared to loom over her, dressed in the black-and-red jumpsuit, his hair tousled and his eyes flashing.

“You’re not dressed and, I expect, not packed. The shuttle buses stopped running now that the festival is over. I came to get you.”

Jose greeted Rafael as if his awakening them in the middle of the night was a normal occurrence.

“I told you I’m not going,” Amalia reiterated stubbornly.

“Going where?” her brother asked.

“Ballooning—on the long jump,” Rafael said. “And yes you are. I’m not losing this race on a technicality. Get your stuff.”

“Wow, how cool. You get to go with Rafe in the hot air balloon?” Jose said, turning a beaming face to Amalia. “You’re so lucky.”

“I’m. Not. Going,” she repeated slowly. Were they both deaf?

“Amalia, you have to. What a great chance this is. Tell me all about it when you get back. How many people get this chance? You have to go.” Jose was clearly excited. Why couldn’t he be the one to go, instead of her? Perhaps she could suggest that to her boss?

“Yes she does have to go. If you convince her, I’ll give you a ride when we get back,” Rafael said, checking his watch. “You have ten minutes before we leave. Unless you want to travel the next few days in your pajamas, you’d better get going.”

Amalia studied his implacable expression for ten seconds, then turned and walked back to her room. She was not going! Slamming the door behind her, she switched on her light and sat hard on the edge of her bed. If her boss and Rafael Sandoval thought she could be ordered about to fit into their feud, they were wrong.

“I can’t leave Jose,” she yelled.

She could hear the two of them talking in the living room. Didn’t her brother think it totally crazy that a man would show up in the middle of the night to abduct his sister? She looked at her clock. It was almost five. Rafael had better get to the launch site or he’d miss takeoff himself.

She crossed her arms over her chest. Dare she go back to bed with him still in the flat? Not that she could sleep. Her blood pounded. Her heart raced. For one insane moment she actually considered going off for a week with Rafael Sandoval. Ha. It was likely, if she didn’t die of fright on ascension, she’d deck him the first chance she got. She was amazed Teresa had lasted all four days without injuring him!

Jose knocked on her door. “I brought you one of my duffel bags and a backpack,” he said. “And I can manage myself while you’re gone. I’m almost eighteen. Besides, Rafe said he’d have his housekeeper come to cook my meals. How cool is that!”

“I can cook your meals,” she said, annoyed Rafael seemed to think he could get everyone to jump to his commands by a snap of his fingers.

The door banged open and Rafael stood in the opening, seeming to fill the space. Jose stood beside him. Both looked at Amalia.

“I’m serious. If you don’t come willingly, I’ll bring you however I can. You will be on that balloon for the next seven days,” Rafael said levelly.

She glared at him. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that,” Jose said.

“So sit in the bottom of the basket and keep your eyes shut. You now have five minutes left until we leave.”

CHAPTER THREE

AMALIA fumed as she sat in the passenger seat of the sports car. Rafael ignored her as he quickly sped through the almost empty streets. She wasn’t at all happy—with either Rafael or Jose. Why did men band together whenever it suited them? She’d expected better of her brother.

“There will be coffee and food at the launch site. I don’t want to stop before that,” he said at one point.

She ignored him. Hunger was the least of her worries. The closer they drew to the field, the more anxious she became. He could not be seriously planning on her joining him.

Of course he was. She wouldn’t be in the car if he weren’t.

“What happened to your girlfriend?” she asked, surreptitiously wiping her palms against her pants. Her fear increased. She could not go up in a balloon. For heaven’s sake, she had trouble going above the fifth floor in high-rise buildings! And there she was encased in glass and steel. Yet Rafael expected her to dangle from a large balloon in a flimsy wicker basket high above the earth? She couldn’t do it.

She glanced at him when he didn’t answer right away and saw the anger simmering. With a flick of his eyes her way, he replied, “She wanted a golden band on her finger. That was not in the cards, so she bailed. Good riddance, I say. She complained more than anyone I know. I need someone I can count on. If she’s that unreliable, what would happen if she ditched me halfway through? At least this way, I was able to get you.” He glanced at her. “You don’t have to do anything but go along for the ride. A lot of people would love the opportunity.”

Amalia cleared her throat. “I can’t go. Truly. I really am very afraid of heights. I’m likely to faint or throw up or something that would impede your flight. You have to explain that to Stefano and get someone else.”

“If you faint, do it in a corner so you won’t be in my way. If you throw up, do it over the side. I can think of nothing Vicente would love better than for me to have no one to accompany me. Instant forfeit.”

She stared at him. He couldn’t be so coldhearted as to ignore a truly serious phobia!

“It’s just a stupid bet,” she muttered rebelliously.

“You wouldn’t say that if it was your reputation and money on the line,” he returned.

“I wouldn’t have made the bet in the first place.”

A flicker of amusement flashed on his face, replaced almost immediately by the fierce concentration she was growing to know.

“I bet there a lot of things I do that you wouldn’t,” he said.

A short time later Rafael turned into the road that led to the field. Dawn was just a lightening of the sky in the east. The sun wouldn’t rise for another half hour or so. Amalia looked at the startling difference from when she was here before. There were only two balloons, both glowing from their burners in the darkened sky. As they were almost fully inflated, she knew she didn’t have much time to convince this man she really couldn’t go.

“You should have taken Jose,” she said, staring in horror at the gleaming red-and-black balloon.

“Terms from your boss were clear. You’re my fall-back choice. Though, if you’d just accepted in the first place, you’d already have four days of experience.”

“I’ll just hold you up.” She was desperate. What could she say to convince him?

He stopped the car next to a small truck and two other cars. Turning to face her, he reached out and caught her chin, turning her face to his.

“Sabotage this race and you’ll regret it.”

She pulled away and glared at him. “I was insulted the first time you suggested such a thing. I don’t need to sabotage anything. But I don’t have to help. That’ll be enough detriment to let my boss win.”

“I doubt it. The balloon only needs one pilot. I’m it. Let’s go.”

She sat in the car when he got out, wondering if she could open her door and run down the road to escape. No, almost certainly he’d just follow and pull her back again. As she stared at the balloon, her heart pumped like a piston.

He opened her door and unfastened her seat belt. She slapped his hands away. “I’m not some child,” she said, getting out and judging the chances of her getting away in the darkness, which was quickly fading into daylight. Not good.

He took her arm firmly in one hand and walked toward the group of people working around the balloon. Did he suspect her thoughts?

Two men near the balloon saw them and called a greeting.

The rest turned and also called out.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it back in time,” one man said.

“Her case is in the back of the car. Get it. Amalia, this is Manuel. That’s Julio and Maria and Paolo. Paolo is your boss’s man. Amalia will take Teresa’s place. Maria, do you have a jacket she can wear?”

She knew he suspected her frantic plan to escape when he didn’t release her. In only a moment Maria returned with a black jacket slashed by the red band. Rafael handed it to Amalia, releasing her at last.

“Put it on, it’ll be cooler the higher we go. You can take it off later when it grows warm.”

Stefano Vicente came into the light. “Want to call it off?” he asked Rafael, grinning maliciously.

“No need, I have my passenger,” Rafael said, nodding to Amalia.

Stefano turned and saw her. “Oh, you’re kidding. Amalia?” He laughed.

The tone made her look at him. “What does that mean?” she asked angrily.

“Nothing, Amalia. Only that it’s in the bag now.” He lifted his hand in a half wave and turned to walk back to his own balloon. “Liftoff in fifteen minutes,” he called back.

Maria walked to the gondola, carrying a couple of soda cans and a small bag. Leaning over the side, she handed them in to Manuel, who was operating the burners. He stowed them in small pouches affixed to the side of the basket.

“You have two blankets in the large bag, water, snacks, and Julio double-checked the fuel supply, so you’re good to go.” She frowned at Amalia. “You don’t look ready. Last chance for a toilet break for the next few hours. Come on, I’ll show you the loo.”

Amalia protested, but there was no help for it. Whether she liked it or not, and she did so not, it looked as if she was going up in a hot air balloon.

Fourteen minutes later Amalia placed her foot in the small step built into the side of the gondola and scrambled over into the basket feeling as if she would be physically sick. If she’d had anything to eat, she knew it would have come right back up.

The basket sat on solid ground, so it didn’t move, but the loud noise of the burners and the ringing shouts of the ground crew fed her nervousness. A second later Rafael jumped in, exchanging places with Manuel. When Manuel climbed out of the gondola, they were ready to go.

“Keep up,” he shouted as he fed the fire, and the flames leaped high into the large balloon overhead.

Amalia cringed and looked for a corner to sit in. The basket was not exactly spacious, and valuable space was taken up with large propane tanks, all connected to interconnecting hoses that fed the burners.

She backed to an area against the side next to one of the tanks and sat down. Keeping her knees bent, she stayed out of Rafael’s way.

“There’re blankets in that side pouch if you want to sit on them,” he said, pointing to a flap covering a canvas basket affixed to the side. She pulled both out. Neither was large, but at least it beat sitting directly on the wicker. Wedging her back against the corner made by the basket and tank, she closed her eyes. When the basket lurched, she gripped the edge of the blankets and began praying. She knew her last moments on earth were about to end.

Another lurch, the burners roaring, and suddenly the sounds of voices faded. She could only hear the burners. Two minutes later there was silence.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Rafael stared down at her.

“You weren’t kidding about being afraid of heights, were you?” he asked. He had one hand on the control knob of the burners, but they were not shooting flame up into the balloon. There was only silence. The basket was slowly swaying, almost like floating in a pool. Or a cloud. She unclenched her hands, flexing her stiff fingers. It was cool up here, but not unpleasantly so. The sky around her was growing lighter.

“We’re floating?” she asked.

“Yes. If you’re serious about getting sick, stay where you are. I don’t want that.” Then he opened the burners and a roar sounded as loud as a motorcycle as the flames leaped. Five seconds later he shut off the burners again.

Silence.

For a long moment Amalia sat where she was. She stretched her legs out in front of her. Rafael was less than six inches away. Glancing around she noted how cramped the basket seemed. Due, no doubt, to the large propane tanks. Several people could ride as long as they stood, as there was space at each side of the basket. Storage pouches lined the walls. The tubes from the tanks were tucked under the covering at the top edge of the basket. Looking up, she saw the burners above Rafael’s head, still a good distance from the huge balloon that filled her sight.

Curiosity flickered. “How high up are we?” she asked.

He looked over the edge of the basket and her heart skipped a beat. What if he fell out? She’d be alone in the sky. She caught her breath.

“Don’t do that!” she said sharply.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Lean over the edge like that. What if you fall out?”

He laughed, looking around and then up at the balloon. “I’m not going to fall out. I’d have to climb up on the side to do so. But you’d feel better if you know how to operate the balloon. Come and I’ll show you.”

“I’m not moving,” she vowed. He was right, it was unlikely anyone would fall out. The high sides were almost chest high for her. Still, freak accidents could happen.

“You’re missing a great sight, Barcelona from the air. No truck or car noises. No pollution. Only the beauty of the city as it wakens against the blue of the Med. You may never have this opportunity again.”

She definitely would not do this again! She was tempted to peek. But the thought of looking down from so high caused a wave of nausea to sweep over her. She dropped her gaze to Rafael’s feet. She could do this as long as she didn’t move. She drew a deep, slow breath.

The basket swayed and she grabbed the edge of the blankets. Looking up, she saw Rafael right over her.

“Get back in the middle, you’ll dump us both out!” she yelled.

“It’ll never happen. Really, come see this view. You’ll regret it forever if you don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“Stretch yourself, you’ll be amazed what you can do if you just try.” He almost lifted her to her feet by his grip on one arm. Once standing, she pressed closer to him, her theory being he’d done this before and was less likely to fall than she was.

“Look.” He stretched out his right hand, his left still holding on to her. “See Vicente’s balloon? It’s lower than ours, he’s following a different air current. Still going pretty much the same direction, but not moving as fast as we are.”

Slowly she moved her gaze across the edge of the basket and looked. She could see her boss’s balloon, not too far distant, but definitely lower. She swallowed hard. How high were they?

“Now, look over there, you see the Serra de Collserola?” he asked, pointing to the high ridge that enclosed Barcelona on the northwest. “Beautiful.”

She jumped a second later when he casually reached up and depressed the lever to the burners. Flame shot up. A few seconds later he glanced at one of the gauges near the burners and released the lever.

Silence once again. Peaceful and amazing.

The sun had risen enough to illuminate the top edge of the ridge. Slowly the light moved down the slopes and toward the city. Amalia watched, moving her gaze slowly down until she saw some of the spires and buildings lighted by the rising sun. Forgetting her fear of heights, she leaned against Rafael’s solid strength and watched mesmerized as the city she’d lived in all her life was wakened with light from the sun. The white buildings began to gleam in the early light. Windows looked as if they were on fire as they reflected the early rays. She could see the grid pattern of the streets and the large yachts and boats in the harbor. It was breathtaking.

She looked around, still feeling as if any movement beyond her eyes would plunge her over the side and several thousand feet to the earth below. But she couldn’t resist. The sea was a dark blue, stretching to the curvature of the earth.

It was hard to tell in which direction they were traveling. In fact, there was no sensation of movement at all except for the gentle swaying of the basket.

“Are we still rising?” she asked.

“We’ve leveled off a bit. I’ll need to heat the air soon to stay with this current.”

“But we’re moving?”

“Sure. When the sun is higher, you can watch our shadow move across the land, judge how fast we’re traveling.”

“How fast?”

“Depends on the air current. We’re just along for the ride.” He let her go and depressed the burner lever again. The roar of the flame startled her. She was afraid to move a fraction. She had her balance, but could she drop to the floor and crawl back to her corner without making the basket tip?

“Relax, Amalia, you won’t fall out.” His voice was warm, right beside her ear.

“Don’t we have to balance the weight or something?” she asked, slowly turning to face him. He was so close she blinked. Granted, the basket wasn’t that large, but he didn’t need to be so close. She felt her nerves tighten with an emotion other than fear.

“The ropes holding the basket to the balloon are evenly spaced. They support the weight. Even if we are both on one side, the basket is not going to tip.”

She nodded, trying to calm her nerves with the rational tone of his voice. Trying to ignore the attraction that flared, and remember she was on this ride under protest.

She could do this. She had to, what choice did she have?

Slowly taking a deep breath, she looked out again. She might as well savor every experience to tell Jose. He’d certainly pepper her with questions the next time he talked to her.

There was no feeling of movement, but the competing balloon seemed to drop away. Amalia knew they had to be rising, but she had nothing to gauge their height. Not as high as an airplane, she knew that. But higher than she’d ever been.

She looked at Rafael. He was studying her.

“Shouldn’t you be watching where we’re going? What if we crash into a plane or something?”

“I hope that won’t happen,” he said easily. “Want a turn with the burners?” He shut them down and the silence again enveloped them.

“It’s weird. One moment I can hardly think because of the noise, then there’s that blissful silence.”

“Combined with the floating sensation, it’s a high, isn’t it?” he added. “That’s why I love it. Silently drifting over the earth, seeing things from a new perspective.”

She shrugged. She was glad the experience wasn’t turning out to be as bad as she’d anticipated. No thanks to the man who had practically forced her out of her home and into this flimsy wicker basket!

“Come.” He reached out his hand. She took it and let him pull her even closer. With his firm grip she felt safe. How odd was that? She didn’t even like the man. He had practically kidnapped her and put her in mortal danger. Yet who else was she going to trust at this moment? She wasn’t sure her boss warranted her trust anymore. How dare he make her a condition of the bet!

Once she stood next to Rafael, she could smell the unique scent that was his. She wanted to close her eyes and savor the tangy aroma. It was totally masculine and had her heart beating faster.

The other problem—staying immune to this man for a week. Now, that she wasn’t sure she was capable of doing.

“I’ll explain,” he said.

She had loved his voice from the first moment she’d heard it. Now she watched as his lips moved forming the sounds that produced speech. She savored how deep and melodious it sounded, the smooth way he pronounced his words, how the resonance gave her goose bumps along her skin. If she closed her eyes, would he continue talking?

“Got it?” he asked.

“No.” She blinked. She’d been enjoying the sound, not paying attention to the explanation.

He lifted her hand and placed it on the grip. The burners themselves were above passengers. No fire danger, at least, or bumping heads by walking into them.

“Now,” he said, letting go.

She pulled and let go immediately when the roar of the fire startled her.

He reached out and grabbed the grip with one hand, pulling her hand back with the other.

“Try again,” he said. There was no censure in his tone, which surprised her. She’d have thought him too impatient to let such a blunder pass without a scathing complaint.

She gripped hard and pulled steadily until she felt the grip stop, holding on while the flames soared into the balloon, the roar almost deafening.

“Won’t it catch fire?” she asked, venturing a look up at the huge canopy above them. The opening was a wide circle. She couldn’t judge how high the top was, but it looked a long way up. The fire rose ten feet or so, yet didn’t come close to the balloon material.

“Check the gauge there.” He pointed. “That tells us the temperature at the top. Let go.”

The burners went silent.

“I keep it around that temperature. When it drops we fire up again. We stop the flame when it gets there. The material surrounding the opening is fire retardant and the flame is far enough away not to ignite. Of course, the rest of the balloon is too far from the flame to burn, either, as long as we don’t get it too hot inside.”

She gazed up into the balloon for a moment, then looked at him. His dark eyes watched her, narrowed as if in speculation. For a fleeting second, Amalia wished she were a beautiful blonde with the figure of a model. Would he want to take her places, spend time with her? Feeling foolish, she looked away as reason returned. She didn’t have what it took to captivate a man like Rafael Sandoval. He was used to the most beautiful women in Europe. Women who weren’t afraid of heights, or who owned more than one basic black cocktail dress to wear to office parties. Women who knew what to say to him when stranded in a basket hundreds of feet in the air.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded. Bravely she looked around. Then down. Not being near the edge, she could only see the earth at a distance. Like from the lookout point at the top of the Collserola. She could do this! For a moment she felt giddy with relief.

“How far will we travel today?” she asked.

“I have no idea. That’s what makes it an adventure. The wind is the sole factor in determining that. Currently we are moving about fifteen miles an hour.”

“And when we land?”

“Actually, we’ll sail until we run low on fuel. Then we hope to find a field large enough to hold the balloon when it’s deflated.”

“What if crops are growing in the field? Or it has cattle or something?”

“We hope they’ll still accommodate the balloon. We communicate with the chase team from here.” He pointed to a handheld radio on top of the cooler. “They move a lot faster than we do. If we locate a place, they’ll negotiate with the owners when we think we’ll be setting down. Except to flatten things temporarily, there is no lasting damage.”

“Can the chase team keep up?” she asked.

“They always have,” he replied. “We aren’t moving as fast as they are, so even though the roads won’t necessarily go the same direction we’re going, they’ll have plenty of time to circle round and be waiting when we come down.”

“So we don’t know where we’re going. Don’t know where we’re spending the night. Don’t know what we’ll have for dinner,” she murmured. It sounded awfully unsettling.

“Pretty much,” he said. Firing up the burners again, he turned his attention to altitude and wind direction.

Amalia grew brave enough to approach the side of the basket on her own. Reaching out, she grabbed on to the top and, staying an arm’s distance away, looked around. As long as she didn’t look down, she thought she’d be okay. It actually was tolerable. She knew Jose would love it. Would she get used to it by the end of the week? Would she even grow to enjoy it, perhaps?

Stefano Vicente’s balloon was rising. Soon it was as high as theirs, though still some distance away. She could barely make out Stefano and Helena. The other woman waved and Amalia lifted her hand in return.

She turned, still holding on to the edge with one hand. “How did you get into hot air ballooning? I’d think you’d prefer race cars or flying airplanes or something,” she asked Rafael.

“This is more subtle. Pitting skill and knowledge of topography and air currents and thermal patterns to find the level that offers the best speed and in a direction I wish to go. Auto racing is fun, but once I’ve mastered a track, it’s just a question of speed.”

“But in this, don’t you just go where the air blows? There’s no control.”

“There is. There are different air currents at different levels, light nuances if you like. Finding the right levels is what makes it challenging. Balloons are maneuverable to a certain extent if you know where the air is blowing.”

“And, of course, the biggest challenge is winning,” she said.

“There is that,” he replied. When he shut down the burners, he picked up the radio mike and called the chase crew. They had the balloon in sight, Manuel reported. They were almost directly beneath them but the road veered in the opposite direction soon according to their map, so they might have to find an alternate route. If it looked as if Rafael would drift out of range, they’d let him know.

Amalia looked over the side to see if she could find the chase vehicle and felt a wave of nausea overtake her. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees. Heart pounding, she thought she would be sick. Slowly drawing in deep breaths, she tried to quell the sensation. No more of that. She’d had a false sense of security, but one look at how far down the ground was and she felt scared to death.

Taking a couple more deep breaths helped, then she scooted over to the corner with the blankets and sat on them again. She hated this feeling. And she hated that she acted like this in front of Rafael Sandoval. He feared nothing. How silly she must seem.

Rafael finished talking and then took a bottle of water from one of the storage pouches. “Want something?” he asked.

Amalia shook her head. If he hadn’t burst into her apartment and forced her on this stupid trip, she’d be having a nice breakfast with Jose instead of being terrified out of her wits, cold, and uncomfortable sitting on the floor of a flimsy basket dangling from a balloon by only a few thin ropes. What if one broke?

She glared at Rafael, wondering how anyone found this fun. He was clearly enjoying himself. His dark hair was tousled, unlike the sleek look when he was at work. He had unzipped his jacket and it revealed a tight black T-shirt beneath, lovingly sculpting his muscular chest. Tantalized, she stared, wondering what he’d look like wearing only a bathing suit, or nothing at all.

Shocked at her thoughts, she looked away, but not far in the small basket. And if she looked up, it would be to see Rafael or the balloon.

Endless minutes passed as slowly as any Amalia had lived through. For the most part Rafael ignored her. She didn’t care; she wasn’t out to be his friend. She just wanted to get on the ground and never leave it again. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was getting used to the cool air, feeling it warm as the sun rose higher.

When Rafael switched the valve on the propane tanks, she watched. There were six large tanks taking up a lot of room in the basket. How far would they get on those tanks? She surmised the chase team had extras to install when they landed. Could she hitch a ride back with them? Only if she could convince Rafael that she couldn’t go on. Or maybe it was Stefano she had to convince. She would ask her boss to let Rafael find someone else to continue the race. She wanted to go home.

“What happens when we run out of gas?” she asked. There would be no midair refueling.

“We’ll put down. When we reach halfway on the last tank, we’ll start looking for a landing site. I don’t want to run totally out of propane, it’s what keeps us maneuverable.”

“Up and down, maybe, but not in any other direction.”

“That’s enough to get us where we want. The closer to earth, the more we’ll rely on reading the wind from the plants and trees on the ground.”

Rafe looked at Amalia and almost felt sorry for her. She was not having the time of her life. Too bad her boss had made her a part of the bet. Or too bad Teresa got greedy and wanted more than the good times they’d enjoyed together. Her ultimatum had been unexpected. He thought she enjoyed what they had as much as he did. But the lure of riches and a lasting place in Barcelona society proved too much. Demanding he commit to more than he wanted had been the last straw. She’d left yesterday in a huff and he didn’t expect to see her again anytime soon. He certainly wasn’t going to ask her to marry him.

He himself didn’t hold much stock in marriage—not with his own parents as examples. Granted, his father and grandfather had made a lot of money for the family. He was doing as well with his own company. But he wasn’t some royal who had to ensure continuation of the family. He had a brother who was married and already had two children. He and his wife were talking about a third. Those grandchildren would satisfy any errant grandparent genes his parents might discover at some future date. He was content to do what he wanted, when he wanted—without some wife in the background.

Teresa had seemed to enjoy the ballooning at the festival. At least she hadn’t huddled in a corner, looking white and scared. How could anyone not love the freedom rising above the earth brought? He flew airplanes, with a different feeling. This was quiet, peaceful and beautiful. Slow and leisurely. The views were amazing. The sense of tranquility an unexpected bonus.

They were drifting over the countryside north and a bit west of Barcelona. The winds from the Med would continue in this direction for another month before shifting. He enjoyed watching the mountainous terrain, with the tree-covered valleys and canyons. Here and there a road wound through the open land. A reservoir sparkled in the sunshine. A small village opened in another valley. He studied the earth as if it was a living map. He knew the chase car would have a hard time following if the balloon continued in the mountainous terrain. Could he get over this range before having to set down?

He carried more fuel than usual, but he was not going to risk the safety of the balloon or his passenger by pushing to the extreme limit. He was determined to win the bet, but not if it put Amalia in real danger.

If Manuel or Maria had been his crew, they’d have plenty to talk about. The silence when the burners were off was beginning to wear on his nerves. Amalia could at least talk to him while sitting where she was with her eyes closed!

“How old is your brother?” he asked at the next quiet time.

“He’ll be eighteen soon.”

“So, still in school? How is it he lives with you? Are your parents divorced?”

“No, they died.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It was nine years ago. Jose was only eight when they died.”

“You couldn’t have been that much older yourself.”

She flashed him a look. “I was nineteen. I had just started university.”

“So you had to care for him—there were no other relatives to help?”

She shook her head.

“Future plans?”

She leaned back against the side of the basket to look up at him. “He’s going to university,” she said with pride. “He plans to study physics. I think that’s why he was so interested in the how-to of flying this thing. He should be here, not me. He’d love it.”

“I can see Stefano’s rationale in having you partner me. If he knew me better, he’d know I’ll put up with almost anything to win. I’m sorry you are not enjoying the ride. But blame him, not me,” Rafael returned.

“Does that mean Teresa was a big help?” She was annoyed that even that society woman had outperformed her. At least Amalia felt she’d dressed more appropriately.