Kitabı oku: «Her Amazing Boss!: The Daredevil Tycoon», sayfa 3

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.