LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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