harassment? An interesting idea.”
There was a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes that suddenly made her even more nervous. Her heart, which had been ready to stop when she looked out and saw where she was, was now palpitating so fast she was sure she ought to be heading straight for an emergency room. She doubted if Blake would even bother to call Mountain Rescue. His mind seemed to be on other things. Her mouth, for instance. He seemed to find it fascinating.
His arm, which had never loosened its firm grip on her waist, tightened just a bit and his head lowered ever so slowly. She could see the kiss coming, could feel the warm whisper of his mint-scented morning breath against her cheek and she was powerless to stop it. Blast it all, she didn’t even want to, which was the worst trick yet this morning. What good did it do to say no, when your whole body was shouting yes? Blake was a perceptive man. He obviously heard those shouts all too clearly.
She caught the triumphant gleam in his eyes just before his lips covered hers, slanting heat across trembling moistness. She had just a fraction of a second in which she might have managed a half-hearted objection, but it stuck in her throat as his mouth teased gently and then possessed, taking away not only her breath, but all thoughts of protest. In fact, there wasn’t a rational thought left in her head as she gave herself up to the most provocative, enticing sensations she’d ever experienced.
Maybe it was the altitude. More likely, it was Blake Marshall teaming up with her suddenly rampaging hormones. Whatever it was, the kiss left her weak and chastened and just about willing to do anything the man suggested, short of jumping out of the gondola at one thousand dead-on-crashing feet. For a woman who’d planned to spend the next week learning to be assertive, it was obvious she’d failed the first lesson. Worse, with Blake’s arms tight around her, she didn’t even mind.
Then the phrase “good sport” crept into her mind, followed by “understanding woman.” It was like hearing a battle cry, with enemy troops just over the crest of a hill. She put her hands against Blake’s rather solid chest and shoved with all her might.
“You have some nerve!” she said indignantly, when she could manage to get a word out without sounding all breathless and fluttery. “Is this how you seduce your string of women? Do you get them up in one of these dumb balloons and then take advantage of them, when they don’t have anyplace to run?”
“At the risk of sounding egotistical, most women I know aren’t interested in running.”
“Well, I am. I don’t even know you. I do not go around kissing strangers.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to change that, won’t we?” he said with absolute calm as he shot another blast of hot air into the balloon.
Audrey had seen enough by now to know that the hot air sent them up, not down. Her stomach rolled over. “Change what?” she asked, regarding him warily.
“The fact that we’re strangers.”
Audrey didn’t want to be disagreeable, not if it would end her captivity at a height that made her head swim. “Fine. We’ll meet later for drinks. After the race. A friend told me about this great little outdoor café in Aspen. We can have a drink and celebrate your victory.”
“Why wait?”
Good question. He’d already heard most of her salient answers and he wasn’t particularly impressed with them. She tried one last time to remind him of the race. Not so long ago it had been all-important.
“How much talking will we be able to do, if you have to keep your mind on the race?”
One brow arched. “You could help. Working side by side often makes a relationship much stronger.”
She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. “Not on your life.”
“Then I can probably manage to do two things at once.” His glance slid over her with provocative slowness. His voice softened to a purr. A little more oomph and it would have been a predatory growl. “If I couldn’t and had to choose, though, I think I’d opt for getting to know you.”
Her pulse leaped crazily.
Flattery, Audrey, that’s all it is, she told herself. A man resorts to insincere flattery when he’s losing his case. All she had to do was muster a few more convincing arguments along this line and she’d be down on the ground in no time and Blake would be soaring on to another victory. Harvey would have his publicity coup and she would have her sanity, to say nothing of keeping her limbs in one piece.
Then, Blake lifted his gaze to meet hers and her optimism faded, along with rational thought. There was a depth of sincerity in his eyes that rattled her more than anything else that had happened all morning. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment, then her heart began to pound.
Oh, sweet heaven! she thought, her eyes widening in dismay.
There was absolutely nothing more disconcerting than a man who switched obsessions when you were least expecting it. She had the oddest feeling that she wouldn’t feel one bit more panicky, if he’d suddenly announced that the bottom was about to drop out of the gondola.
In fact, she was beginning to think that was the only way she was ever likely to get back down to earth.
A disembodied voice that she didn’t want to believe came from heaven—though it wouldn’t have surprised her the way her day was going—suddenly penetrated Audrey’s consciousness.
“That’s the last of the competitors lifting off the ground now, folks. In another five minutes, this year’s Snowmass Balloon Festival will officially get underway.”
Audrey peered cautiously over the side of the gondola and saw the announcer perched on top of the shelter, a microphone in his hand, his legs swinging over the edge of the roof. His blithe little announcement made her blood run cold. She’d been arguing with Blake for the better part of an hour to no avail. Five minutes didn’t seem like nearly long enough to come up with a clincher.
The announcer went on with what she thought was disgusting enthusiasm. “Today’s event is an unusual one, a long distance race, with the winner being determined by the distance achieved. For those of you who plan to follow on the highway, keep an eye on that blue and gold balloon piloted by Larry Hammond of Austin, Texas, and on the Grapes of Wrath, piloted by Blake Marshall, who makes that excellent California champagne you’re all sipping today.”
Nice PR, Audrey thought instinctively, then wondered about the announcement’s overall implications for her under the current circumstances. She didn’t have to wonder for long.
“Word has it these two men have been locked in a fierce competition on the circuit this year. Right now, they’re tied. This weekend’s three events will break the deadlock, so you can bet they’re going to give us a hell of a race.”
Audrey’s startled gaze shot to Blake’s face and caught the grim expression as he surveyed Larry Hammond’s balloon. Unexpected sympathy welled up and replaced both her irritation and her single-minded concern about her own safety.
“This
