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.”
Rafael laughed aloud at that. “They’d put me in my place in a heartbeat if I tried to tell them what to do. They’re my friends, Amalia. Not close, but we all share a mutual interest in ballooning. Manuel and Julio have taken the balloon up when I’m not around. I trust them implicitly.”
Amalia nodded as if a question had been answered.
“Put on airs?” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Stefano does all the time, like he’s king of the world or something. He really likes the attention, or adulation.”
