Her Amazing Boss!. Barbara McMahon
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Yet something more than that drove Rafael, she was sure of it. What was it?
“I can almost see the wheels spinning in your mind,” he said. Taking a last swallow of coffee, he put the cup in the bag and fired the burners for a few seconds to maintain their altitude.
“I can’t figure you out,” she said with some vexation.
“And you need to because why?”
“I like things tidy.” She scrambled to her feet, pitching her own empty cup into the small bag and then cautiously looking around. The other balloon was some distance away. Other than that one, the sky was empty. It was another lovely cloudless day. She wondered if there would be bad weather later.
“Let’s just say it balances things out,” Rafael said at last.
Sounded cryptic to her. She watched the horizon for a while, then went to sit back in her corner.
Amalia was getting used to the slight motion and the alternating noisy and then quiet times. She was also getting a bit bored, sitting where she could look up and see the balloon, or looking around and seeing the four sides of the wicker basket and the man who had brought her along.
“Tell me more about your family,” she said after a long stretch of silence.
“What’s to tell? I have a mother, a father and a brother. He’s married and has two children.”
“The end? That’s all? I’ve read about your father, but I don’t know much about your mother.”
“There’s no reason you should.”
Feeling rebuffed, Amalia lapsed into silence. She would go bonkers if something didn’t liven up the day. Maybe she could call Maria on the radio and have a decent conversation. But not a private one, she knew. And she didn’t quite see Rafael meekly allowing her to monopolize the airways.
In fact, she couldn’t envision Rafael ever being meek.
“I had my parents until I was in university. Their death was unexpected, but we had a strong family bond until that moment,” she said. Maybe if she started the conversation, he’d open up.
“Lucky you.”
He stooped down beside her. Amalia glanced at him. “Shouldn’t you be watching—where we’re going or how close to the ground we’re getting?”
“We’re going where the wind takes us. We’re high enough not to worry about obstacles, and when you think we need to rise some more, you can handle the burners.”
She scooted a bit to the left, not wanting to be so close to him. It was uncomfortable that her body seemed to think Rafael was the greatest thing since sliced bread while she knew intellectually that he was far beyond her league. She was no comparison to the lovely Teresa Valesquez for instance. And she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be. The idea of being escorted around for a few weeks or months and then left behind when he moved to another woman was too uncomfortable to imagine.
Amalia waited a moment, then stood, keeping as close to the center of the basket as she could. They were quite high. Still, a check of the gauge showed the interior air had cooled and she daringly reached up and turned on the burners for a half-dozen seconds.
Rafael watched her but said nothing.
She felt quite competent!
They talked through the morning. Amalia couldn’t help jumping up more frequently than Rafael did to check their height from the earth. And scan around for anything that could impede their trip. The other balloon seemed lower and was veering in a different direction. One time she ventured to look straight down. Her heart caught in her throat and she felt an impending urge to keep moving over the edge of the basket and fall to earth. She dropped to the floor and tried to catch her breath.
“You okay?”
“I looked down,” she said, her eyes tightly closed. She was not going to fall out of this balloon. Patiently she waited for the waves of nausea to pass. She would not look down, she’d be okay if she didn’t look straight down.
Rafael grasped her shoulder with one hand. “Amalia, you’re perfectly safe here. I would never let you come to harm.” His hand rubbed her gently. She opened her eyes. He was right smack in front of her. Close enough to give comfort and a feeling of security.
Close enough to kiss. The thought popped into her mind and she almost groaned with the temptation. His dark eyes watched her carefully, trying to calm her nervousness.
The fear of falling faded and another emotion took charge. One of tempting the attraction she felt to push the boundaries and see if Rafael had any interest in her. It wouldn’t be the same as in Barcelona. No press was hounding them. They were alone for hours at a time. She could let down her guard a little and see what happened.
Which would be totally stupid. Sanity regained the upper hand.
“I thought you were doing better,” he said.
“I was, then I looked straight down.”
“So don’t do that.”
She nodded. “You’d think I’d remember that.”
“Come on, have a drink and take the burner, take your mind off your phobia.”
“Heights don’t bother you?”
“No.”
“Is it true you scaled Mont Blanc a few summers ago?” she asked, reluctantly standing back in the center, hoping she could concentrate on other things besides the huge amount of empty space between her and the earth.
“I did.”
She had read that recently in one of the reports on the Internet. “Wasn’t that a bit scary?”
“I’d have called it exhilarating.”
“Dangerous, rather. You could have fallen and been killed.”
“Danger gave it an extra fillip of excitement. I never thought about dying on the mountain.”
“But it could happen.”
“Of course it could. But I could also be killed by a truck crossing a street in Barcelona,” he replied, leaning casually against the side of the basket.
“I guess. But to deliberately put yourself in danger, that’s just weird.”
He laughed. Her heart skipped a beat.
“I like some excitement in life. No crime in that.”
“Reckless,” she commented.