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His gaze seemed to bore right into her mind. Fortunately, he couldn’t see the jumble of emotions swirling around in there—exacerbated by his touch. She licked her lips and his eyes caught the movement.
“You’re too dangerous,” she said at last.
“Because?”
“Come off it, Rafael, you’re just bored. You don’t really want to date me—you’ve already made me over into a Teresa clone in your mind. If you wanted to take me someplace, you’d take me as I am, not try to make me into someone else.”
He studied her for a few moments, then nodded and released her.
Amalia took in a deep breath. She clenched her fists and tried to casually turn away, lest she forget all reason and jump into his arms.
The balloon spun around, fast enough to catch their attention. The gondola swayed a bit with the sudden motion.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, grabbing on to the side.
He leaned back to look at the envelope. Then, looking around, Rafael went to the burners and turned them on full blast.
Amalia turned and saw the clouds were closer—a lot closer. She cautiously made her way to where he was standing.
“I think we’ve hit the leading edge of the storm front.”
The sky was growing gray behind them. Obviously the wind, which one couldn’t see, had outpaced the clouds. It was more turbulent than any they’d experienced before.
It wouldn’t take long for the sun to get behind the clouds. She looked for the other balloon, but couldn’t find it.
“Do you think Stefano already put down?”
“Highly likely. Whatever else he is, he isn’t a fool. Take the controls and keep the jets going until you reach the temperature.” He picked up the radio to contact the ground crew. Manuel responded, but once again there was static on the connection. Rafael asked for an update to the weather, in which direction the wind would be blowing and how long before the storm mass would become critical.
The response wasn’t reassuring. The front was moving faster than originally anticipated. But the leading winds should keep the balloon away from the rain and lightning for a while. His advice was for them to put down as soon as Rafael found a safe haven.
“How far away are you?” Rafael asked.
“We are tracking you by GPS now, but we haven’t seen you in a while. I’d say you’ve picked up some speed with the storm front.”
Rafe looked over the side, studying the ground. Hilly, no open meadows, and rocky in some places. He could set down if he needed, but the lack of roads made it highly unlikely his chase team would find them anytime soon. It had taken them hours last night. He’d rather set down near civilization.
“We’re heading north-northwest. Anything on the map in that direction where we can put down near a town?”
“Checking.”
Amalia watched with wide eyes. Rafael winked at her to keep her off balance. The last thing he needed was for a scared young woman to hamper the flight. She’d done well so far, despite her phobia about heights. He hoped she could hang on a bit longer.
If he were flying with Manuel or Maria, he’d be exhilarating in the speed, in racing the wind. The sky was clear ahead, there were no towns or airline flight paths or obstacles to hamper them. But if the storm came faster than the wind pushed them, he’d have to put down, rugged terrain or not. Trees or not. Amalia’s safety would come first. And second, the safety of his balloon.
But he wasn’t conceding yet.
“If you keep on your course, there are some plateau lands in a few miles. But no paved roads lead to them and from your GPS position, you’re about twenty miles west of us. There might be some sheep herders in the area. I don’t know. We will keep on this direction. If you change directions, send the signal as arranged.”
“Roger that. I’ll let you know.”
“What is an arranged signal?” Amalia asked when Rafael put the radio down.
“Every half hour. Saves batteries, and they’ll be monitoring at the exact times.”
“And that works? Did we do that last night?”
“No, I’ve never have had to use it. Don’t plan to today, either.”
Rafael could tell from the shadow racing across the landscape they were moving faster than before. Once or twice the balloon faltered, indicating traverse winds. He wasn’t sure whether to rise or go lower to find steady winds. One last look around convinced him he was ahead on this leg of the trip.
Carefully watching the balloon, Rafael kept busy trying to gauge the speed and pressure on the envelope. Amalia was proving to be more help than he’d expected. She kept the balloon elevated. The wind spun them around again and she gave a short gasp, but didn’t desert her duty station.
She did look at him with those wide eyes, questioning silently.
“We’ll look for a place to set down,” he said at last. Watching in the direction they appeared to be going he searched for any open area. Snagging the balloon on tall trees on the way down could render it inoperable. Something he refused to do. There were several more days left on this flight and he planned to make the farthest distance when the week ended. He radioed his plans to the ground crew.
Amalia jumped. “Oh, lightning,” she said.
He looked behind him. The storm was still miles away, but another flash of lightning demonstrated the strength and danger coming.
“We’ll start dropping now,” he said into the radio. “Find us.” He tossed the radio down and turned to Amalia. “Don’t fire the burners unless I tell you to.”
Glancing behind him from time to time, he knew he was ahead of the rain. He wanted to be on the ground and erect some kind of shelter before the full force of the storm hit. They could not afford to get the envelope wet. It would take a day or more to dry out and that would definitely put them out of the running.
Amalia didn’t say a word. She watched his every move. He wished he could reassure her, but only being safely on the ground would do that.
The basket swayed more strongly than before. He heard Amalia’s gasp but was too intent on getting them down to do anything more than tell her to hold on and be ready to start the jets if he wanted more lift.
The balloon spun around, the basket swinging with the momentum. Even Rafael was having trouble holding his balance. The last sway had knocked Amalia off her feet. She scrambled up and held on to the frame, looking over the edge, her face white.
The gusts were stronger the lower he went.
“Are we going to crash?” Amalia asked.
“No.”
And, surprisingly enough, they didn’t. He reached a large plateau, pulled the emergency release cord and told Amalia to be ready to jump off the basket when he gave the word. “And take one of the ropes with you. I’ll follow and pull on the other.”
The basket hit hard, the balloon almost puddling over them as it continued its waffling in the wind as it collapsed with lack of hot air.
Amalia jumped off and looked for something to tie the rope to. Rafael was beside her in a second, pulling on another rope. It was windy. Amalia could feel stinging from the sand particles in the air as the wind swept across the rocky plateau. The basket tugged against the rope. There didn’t appear to be anything handy to anchor the rope.
Rafael strained against the pull even as Amalia ran a few steps to keep the rope from being pulled from her hands. She got a better grip and leaned back, throwing her entire weight against the pull of the wind.
The envelope settled into an uneven lump, ruffled by the wind, but no longer driven by it. The pull eased. Amalia was breathing hard, but held fast.
“Good going,” Rafael called. He studied the terrain, and then moved to the left a bit, trying his rope to an outcropping of rock. Not a very substantial one, from Amalia’s viewpoint, but she trusted Rafael knew what he was doing.
He crossed quickly to her side, taking the rope from her hands. He found another rock and made it fast.
“Let’s do what we can before the rain comes,” he said, already moving to the balloon. Before long he had it stretched out, flapping in the wind, but in the wind’s direction, with the basket as anchor. He began folding it, first lengthways, then when it was as wide as the basket, began rolling it toward it.
As soon as Amalia realized what he was doing she went to help, keeping a wary eye on the clouds massing behind them. Before they’d finished, the first drops of rain began to fall.
“We’ll turn the basket on the side, floor to the storm’s direction and huddle inside to keep dry,” Rafael said, using one of the lines to fasten the balloon, scrambling for the plastic tarp and stretching it over the balloon. He stood and looked around. There was no shelter in sight.
“Help me tip the basket on its side, it’ll afford some shelter.”
Once that was done, he sent Amalia to sit in it, while he double-checked the jets and then found a large rock and dug a shallow trench around the covered balloon.
In seconds he joined her in the makeshift shelter, the one side away from the wind open to the elements. The rest was cozy and so far dry.
“If the storm gets very bad, the wicker will leak,” he said.
“But we stay with the balloon,” she said.
“It’s the best way for the crew to find us,” he explained.
“How will they know where to look for us?”
“They’ll find us.”
They sat and waited.
“Is there a road to this plateau?” she asked.
“I saw a dirt one not too far away. Every half hour we’ll use the radio and see if we can raise them. They’ll get here, sooner or later.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think you liked our ride down,” she mused.
He laughed, flinging an arm across her shoulders. “It’s exhilarating, man against nature—especially when man wins this round. I didn’t expect the storm to come so quickly or to be caught without adequate shelter, to be honest. But we’ll manage.”
“It wasn’t so bad. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to become afraid.”
“You did well, Amalia. I’m glad you were with me instead—”
He cut himself off, but Amalia knew he was thinking of Teresa. For a moment she felt pleased she’d done better than the other woman would have. But only for a moment. Then the obstacles to getting safely to some hotel for the night made themselves felt. She had a feeling it would be a long time before his chase team located them.
“I’ve never been a big fan of camping out, as you know,” she said. “So I really did get my fill last night.”
“We have snacks, blankets, shelter. What more do we need?”
“I can think of several things, not the least of which is to be dry. This shelter may start to leak before long.”
“We’ll manage.”
Amalia wished once again she wasn’t on this expedition. But not one to bemoan things beyond her control, she gave in to the inevitable.
She studied her companion. “Do you camp often?” she asked.
He studied the rain as it began to come down. “Not if I can help it. I like my amenities too much. But now and then. Today is not good weather. But when it’s clear, to be away from the city lights, to see the stars and feel the awesome vastness of space, it’s well worth minor inconveniences. Admit it, once you had dinner, last night was not a total waste.”
He puzzled her. She would expect him to rail against the weather, to vent frustration on the circumstances. Instead, he seemed to take the setback in stride—maybe even relish it a bit.
He reached for the radio and made a call. No one responded. He tried again, but again there came only static. Switching it off, he tossed it back on the pile they’d made on one side of the tipped basket.
“Might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible,” he said.
He stacked the blankets side by side and sat down. Patting the one beside him, he waited for her to join him.
Eyeing the dubious shelter they had, she wondered how much longer before the wicker began to leak. Even as the thought came to mind, a drop landed on her nose.
“I think our shelter is getting soggy,” she said.
Rafael looked up and swore. He turned and rummaged through two of the pockets on the side, coming up with another plastic tarp, not as large as the one covering the balloon, but large enough. He went into the rain and tied it to the side of the basket now their roof, fighting it and the wind until he had it covered.
Crawling in, he brushed off his jacket, wet at the shoulders, and sat down.
“Won’t the wind blow it off?” she asked, hearing the plastic snap as the wind slapped it against the basket.
“Might get some nicks and tears, but nothing major. I think it’ll hold. I’m more worried that water will get on the balloon. We need it dry to fly.”
The bright idea came that perhaps both balloons would be too wet to fly again and the men would call off the bet. Or decide on the result based on where they had landed today. Then she could get home.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Getting there,” she said. She could sit on the blanket or wrap it around her. She wished they’d brought one of the sleeping bags.
He pulled her closer, next to him, and threw his blanket over their legs. “Combined body heat is better than both of us freezing. Later, you’ll have to give up the comfort of sitting on that blanket for added warmth.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes.
“The interesting thing about you, Amalia,” he said at last, “is that you rarely complain. This is not the way I envisioned the race. You’d have every reason to complain about the circumstances, the weather, everything.”
“It’s hardly your fault the rain came.”
“Doesn’t stop some people.” He reached out and took her left hand. “You’re cold.” He engulfed both of hers with his own, which were much warmer.
“For the most part I’m comfortable,” she said. Or as comfortable as she could be snuggled up to Rafael.
“Let’s spread the other blanket.”
“Then we’ll be sitting on the cold ground, with only the wicker between us.”
“Then, this is what we’ll do.” He encircled her shoulders again and pulled her partway across his chest, looping his other arm around her waist. “Better?” he asked.
He was like a warm furnace, generating enough heat to keep both of them warm all night long, she thought.
“Thanks.”
The wind howled. The drumming of the rain on the plastic sounded unusually loud. Slowly Amalia began to relax. She was warm, dry and safe. Granted no one knew when the chase team would arrive, but they had showed up last night and would surely arrive before long today.
“So tell me about this family you hope to have one day,” Rafael said just as Amalia was thinking about trying to sleep.
“And open myself up to sarcasm? You’ve made your position clear.”
“Hey, just because marriage isn’t for me doesn’t mean it’s not for other people. I do have a couple of friends who seem to be making their marriages work. So what’s your timetable? Marry by thirty, have two point three kids and get a large flat with a roof garden or something?”
“I have no timetable. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever find a man to love. Or one who will love me. But if I do, I’d want a full family life. Wherever we could afford to live would be fine. Though I hope it’s near the water, I love the beach.”
“I could take you sailing one day,” he murmured.
She ignored his comment.
“Then, when the time is right, we could have some children. I know I’d like a couple, I liked having a younger brother. But I’d have mine closer together than my folks did. There are almost eleven years between me and Jose.”
“But lucky for him there was. You were able to raise him, keep your family intact.”
“You’re right. That’s important.”
“So what will this dream husband be like?” Rafael asked curiously.
She frowned. “Probably unlike anyone you know,” she said. “Solid, down-to-earth, grounded. He’ll have a good job, and like to spend time doing family things—even when it’s just us before—and after the children arrive.”
“No fancy parties, exotic vacations?”
“A week or two traveling each year might be nice. There are a lot of places in Europe I’d like to visit.”
“But no camping,” he said, his mouth right by her ear.
She shook her head. Though she’d never forget sleeping beneath the stars last night. Or the kiss they’d shared before the others arrived.
“So what do you see as your future? Dating different women every month, getting older while they get younger? Don’t you get tired of such a superficial life?” she asked.
“You’re more cynical than I thought,” he said. Rafael didn’t like the picture she painted. He had been going out less and less frequently in the last couple of years. He didn’t mind spending time alone and it suited him to read a good book or watch something worthwhile on the television rather than a constant round of parties or social events.
“Like father, like son,” she murmured.
Was that how others saw him, as careless and clueless as his father? The man couldn’t settle on one woman, he was always dating new and even younger women.
“Do you ever wonder what older men trying to cling to their youth find to talk about with younger women? There have no shared histories of events. Music is probably different,” she mused.
“Some women will say whatever a man wants to hear, just to keep him entertained.”
“Good grief, that would drive me nuts. I want honesty in both parts,” she said.
“I agree.” One reason he dated and then moved on was the inane conversations he often ended up with. Yes, Rafael, of course you’re right, Rafael. He could hear the echoes of their sultry voices. What he wanted was someone to stand up to him. Challenge his glib statements. Argue with him sometimes.
He suspected Amalia was exactly the kind of woman to challenge any statement she didn’t agree with. He couldn’t see her as a yes-woman even to her boss.
“How do you and Stefano get along?” he asked, testing his theory.
“Fine. He tries to get his own way in things, and succeeds for the most part, but not with my off hours. He’s very controlling, but I draw the line sometimes.”
It fit the image Rafael had of Stefano Vicente. The man was a control freak and driven, to boot. But not as much as Rafael was, which showed in their respective bottom lines.
Their talk during the afternoon ranged from mutual likes in music to differences in books they’d read. While coming from different backgrounds, they discovered they had similar ideas in entertainment—except for Rafael’s extreme-sports bent.
When hunger drove them to raid the snacks, Amalia felt the chill of the day when Rafael no longer held her close. They ate quickly and then naturally moved back together as if they’d been a couple for a long time.
The afternoon passed slowly. The rain settled into a steady beat on the plastic roof.
“Tell me about your home,” she said at one point, wishing to learn as much about him as she could. When would she ever have such a chance?
“It’s up on the Via della Rosa, overlooking the city and the sea. It’s primarily built from stone with lots of glass. I bought it about eight years ago. I have a housekeeper who keeps it in order for me.”
“It’s large, I suspect,” she murmured.
“Too big for one man, but it’s also an investment for the future. I expect it will appreciate in value and then I’ll sell it for a profit.”
“Do you see everything in profit and loss instead of it being your home?”
“I’m not there that much.” Rafael had no special attachment to his house. It pleased him to live there, but if he sold it tomorrow, he’d find something else just as suitable. “Besides, it’s just stone, wood and glass.”
“A home should be a special place—comfortable to give you rest, secure to give you safety, a place to shut out the world.”
“And your little apartment is that?” he asked. It had looked cramped to him.
“As close as Jose and I can make it. It was different when we lived at home with our parents.” She fell silent for a moment.
Rafael felt a stirring of envy. She and her family obviously operated entirely differently from him and his. He tried to imagine what she described and felt a hint of frustration. Not everyone was cut out to find a special bond as her mother and father had. Look at his own parents.
“Will you stay there once Jose moves out?” he asked.
“I might. The rent is affordable, though I would love to have a place with a garden and perhaps a view of the sea.”
He had acres of land, gardens galore and a sweeping view of the Mediterranean Sea. Would she like his house if she saw it? He frowned. He rarely invited women to his place, preferring to keep that part of his life his own. Yet he wished he could see Amalia’s face when she saw the garden and the view. He bet she’d love it. And he’d love to show it to her.
Would the house appeal to a woman? Probably not as he had it decorated—with sleek modern furnishings. What he’d seen of her apartment was cozy, slightly cluttered and definitely not modern. Yet it had held a certain appeal even for the few moments he’d been there.
In fact, that was what made Amalia different from the other women he normally associated with. She was more old-fashioned—at least in family views and in decorating skills.
By the time it grew dark, Rafael had tried numerous times to reach Manuel, to no avail. Not having proper attire for the rain, the visits outside were brief and it took too long to warm up once back in the shelter. They ate more of the snacks before it got too dark to see. He wanted to use the flashlights sparingly to save the batteries. He had faith in his crew, but not knowing where the balloon had set down, it would be difficult to locate them in the weather.
“We’re going to spend the night here, aren’t we?” she asked.
“I didn’t see any towns nearby,” he said. The one thing about Amalia, she was easy to be around. She didn’t rail against fate for things going the way they were. She didn’t complain or voice her frustration with the circumstances. He couldn’t imagine spending the night under these circumstances with anyone else.
“If the rain ends by morning, and the envelope didn’t get wet, we can inflate the balloon ourselves. We have enough propane to get airborne and stay there for a little while. We’ll plan to stop at the next town or field near a road so the others can locate us.”
“I hope it’s a town. I want to call home before Jose leaves on his school trip. If we don’t make it early tomorrow, I’ll miss him.”
“He knows we don’t always know where we’ll set down for the night,” Rafael said.
“He’s the one who should have come on this trip, he would have loved it.” She sighed.
“But you’re getting used to it,” Rafael commented. She had changed, whether she knew it or not. He enjoyed holding her against him. Her slight frame fit perfectly against his. They had to sit sideways, with the wicker behind him, his feet touching one of the propane tanks. It wouldn’t be the best way to sleep, but they could manage.
“I am getting used to it, and that’s astonishing. I can’t believe I’m not sick at the mere thought of going so high each day. As long as I don’t look down, I’m really okay.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “But don’t get ideas I want to do this again. If you hadn’t forced me—”
“Hey, blame your boss. I was just making sure I got a fair shake at this bet.”
“I plan to. We shall have words,” she promised.
Rafael grinned. Anything to cause disruption with Stefano Vicente worked for him.
“You’re not like I thought you’d be,” she said slowly, tilting her head back down and wiggling slightly to get comfortable.
“And how was that?”
“Arrogant, self-centered, uncaring, riding over anyone and anything in your way. Not that you don’t act that way sometimes—like forcing me on this trip. But I’ve watched you with the ground crew. You are not like that with them. You don’t brag all the time or put on airs. Or boss people around. You treat them with respect. They know their jobs and you let them do it.”