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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?”
