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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.