He preferred the action of the fields or processing plant. The men and women who worked the fields had led tough, migratory lives until he’d given them a feeling of permanence. They worked hard with a sense of pride and dignity that he admired and respected. The men who took the grapes and turned them into wine were craftsmen. They excelled at the challenge of creating the best in a highly competitive field. Again, he found them more fascinating than the corporate desk jockeys he’d met through the years.
Spending as little time behind his own desk as he did, it was no wonder he was only beginning to suspect what Audrey’s real role was at Blake Marshall Vineyards. If she worked for Harvey, she had to be tough and competent. Like him, Harvey wouldn’t tolerate anyone who couldn’t pull her own weight.
“Harvey Fielding,” she responded. She scowled at him fiercely as she uttered the name with the vehemence of a curse. At least it had brought the color back into her cheeks. “You’d better start looking for a new PR executive, because when I get my hands on him I intend to do serious bodily damage to him.”
He fought to suppress a smile. She was maybe 110 pounds to Harvey’s 225. It ought to be an interesting battle. “Harvey’s a good man. I don’t suppose you could leave him in one piece? Maybe if you’d just relax and enjoy the ride?” he suggested hopefully.
“Not even for a hundred exorbitantly expensive bottles of your well-publicized private stock of cabernet sauvignon,” she retorted without so much as an instant’s hesitation. She was one very angry lady. In this mood, she just might be able to take Harvey on.
Blake winced. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but do you know anything at all about ballooning, or is this a first trip?”
“Do I look like I do this every day?” Audrey snapped back. “I’m not exactly convinced about the aerodynamics of a plane. This flimsy contraption isn’t even in the same league. Now that you know the awful truth about me, you can put this thing down anytime and I’ll be out of your way.”
It was a sensible suggestion. It was certainly the only way he was likely to win the race to Glenwood Springs. He couldn’t concentrate on piloting and on her at the same time. Then his eyes roved leisurely over her, darkening appreciatively as they lingered on the full breasts heaving beneath her baggy sweatshirt. His heart pounded in a way he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was a fine time for it to engage in acrobatics. He took a very deep breath, then made his decision.
“I don’t think so,” he said slowly.
Audrey swallowed hard, but managed a confident, direct stare that increased his admiration for her. She was definitely a gutsy spitfire. She might be scared out of her wits, but she wasn’t one whit intimidated—or fascinated—by him. It was a unique experience. Most women, especially those who were interested in his sizable bank account, went out of their way to be accommodating. They’d have declared a passionate shared interest in ballooning. Some of them actually seemed to think if they got him at a high enough altitude, he’d lose his senses and propose.
Unlike those women, Audrey Nelson depended on him for a paycheck, yet she was more than willing to tell him to take a flying leap straight out of this balloon. And she was definitely not harboring any thoughts of marriage. In fact, she was staring at him right now as though he were a particularly repulsive, if somewhat intriguing creature.
“Why on earth not?” she asked incredulously. “I thought you wanted to win this race. Harvey says you’ve got this absurd obsession about winning and after listening to you issue orders down there like a drill sergeant, I have to agree with him. You’re a little weird on the subject.”
She regarded him speculatively. “It’s not too late, you know. Most of the others probably aren’t even ready to take off yet. You have plenty of time to find the qualified person this Cal sent. I’ll just get busy on those press releases. We’ll forget this little incident ever took place.”
She gave him what she obviously hoped would be a persuasive smile. He grinned back. All that good humor—hers so clearly phony, his sincere—hung in the air.
“Do you intend to let Harvey forget?”
Her smile faded so rapidly it made him regret having brought up the subject. “Perhaps sometime in the next fifty years or so,” she said darkly. “Until then, I want him to pay dearly for getting me into this.”
“Harvey didn’t get you into this,” he reminded her. “He sent you to Colorado on a perfectly legitimate PR assignment. I hauled you into the balloon. Are you going to make me pay as well?”
Her icy gaze met his, challenged the fiery look in his eyes, then faltered. The ice melted. “I’ve already said we could drop it, if you’ll just get me back on the ground.” It was a plea of sorts, but she was trying very hard not to beg. He liked that, too.
“I have plenty of work to do down there,” she added, when he didn’t respond. “There are probably newspaper people, maybe even magazine writers from all over. We could get terrific coverage. I think I even saw a network camera crew. Harvey especially wanted me to try to set something up with them. If he doesn’t see you on the national news tonight, he’ll have my hide.”
Blake waved his hand dismissively. “Forget the releases. The press has enough background and gossip about me to fill the entire feature section.”
Her hard-won control snapped then and her eyes flashed at him angrily. “Then why the hell did you want someone from public relations out here?”
He shrugged. “You know Harvey. When he told me about Joe’s situation, I told him it wasn’t necessary, that I’d handle things myself, but the man takes his job seriously. He seems to think if he has someone around, I’ll stay in line.”
Suddenly, Audrey laughed. It began as a chuckle low in her throat. The sound rippled sensuously along his nerves, before erupting into a full-scale roar. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He watched her anxiously.
“Are you okay? You aren’t going to go hysterical on me, are you?”
The laughter died and she shot him a calculating look. “Will it get me down?”
“Probably not.”
She choked back another nervous laugh, rubbed the tears from her cheeks and sighed. “Then I won’t waste my energy.”
She studied him curiously, and Blake felt another wave of heat sear his insides. “I’m surprised at Harvey,” she said, when she’d completed her rather thorough, disconcerting examination. “He’s usually very perceptive, but you don’t strike me as the type of man who’s easily kept in line. Goodness knows, I’m not having any luck at it.”
“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.”
A flush stained her cheeks as she caught the blatant innuendo, but she responded gamely, “Does Harvey have some special technique he failed to share with me?”
“Nope, but he does keep trying. I used to think he was worried about me, but then I figured out it was only the company. Every time my picture turns up on a tabloid at the supermarket checkout, he’s convinced our sales will plummet.”
“If you ask me, they’d probably go up. The same people who read those things for vicarious thrills will probably buy your wine just to see if it improves things for them the way it has for you. Do you realize there are probably thousands of men sipping your Chablis and expecting some incredibly sexy
