The Daredevil Tycoon / Hired: Sassy Assistant: The Daredevil Tycoon. Barbara McMahon
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contract that lay on the low table in front of him. “Should I have my attorneys review it once more?”
“They’ve had it for a week. Nothing’s changed.”
“So you say.”
Rafael’s easy manner dropped in a heartbeat. He narrowed his eyes as he studied Stefano. He said slowly, “So I do say. Do you doubt my word?” The silky tone of his voice belied the anger that showed in the clenched jaw, the flashing dark eyes. He would not be an adversary Amalia would want.
Stefano shrugged and sipped his coffee. After a swallow that had Amalia wondering if he was playing with fire to delay his answer, he deliberately put the cup back on the saucer.
“I do not doubt your word. It’s not a small deal that can be brushed away if it fails,” Stefano explained.
“It will not fail,” Rafael replied.
Stefano stared at Rafael for a long moment, then nodded. He took his pen and signed both sets of papers with a flourish.
Rafael wasn’t quick to relax. Amalia almost held her breath as the drama played out before her. Both men had forgotten she was in the room. She dare not move for worry of drawing their attention. She wished she could just ease out the door and be gone.
Tossing his pen on the table, Stefano leaned back in his chair. “How about we make the challenge a bit more interesting,” he said.
“By?” Rafael asked, calmly reaching for the pen to sign his own name to the contracts.
“We’ll limit people on board to ourselves and one guest—a nonballooner—chosen by the opposition. I choose who rides with you, you choose for me. We each have a man on the chase team to keep the records in conjunction with the chase team. We compete in the daily events at the festival and then begin our long jump.”
Rafael considered the suggestion for a moment, then with an obvious change in demeanor, relaxed, leaned back and smiled. “That works for me. You’ll be so far behind by the fourth day of the festival you’ll concede without the long jump.”
Stefano looked at Amalia. “What do you think?”
She glanced at her boss’s longtime rival and regretfully shook her head. Stefano wasn’t one to concede defeat in anything. “It’ll never happen.”
“Spoken like a true PA, loyal to the end,” Stefano said with a grin. “You’re my choice.”
Amalia stared at him in shock. “I know nothing about hot air balloons!” Only that they looked lovely when quietly sailing by, far overhead. And that it made her sick to even think about being so high above the ground.
“The purpose of the bet is to pit Rafael’s skill, such as it may be, against mine. By each having a novice, we’ll equalize the competition. One on one, so to speak,” Stefano said.
“The Barcelona Balloon Festival will be four days of races and events. For us after day four we make a long jump and see who can get the farthest in a week. Are you up to that?” Rafael asked her.
She looked at him, feeling the full force of those dark eyes as he regarded her. She shivered. Spend eleven days with him in the confines of those little baskets that dangled beneath the balloons? Not likely.
“No. I can’t do that. Pick someone else,” she said to her boss. She knew nothing about the sport, but she knew she feared heights. To spend days in the air was more than she could deal with. Not to mention spending that time with Rafael Sandoval.
The man was beyond gorgeous—tall and masculine, his dark hair shone beneath the artificial light. At thirty-four he had no gray marring the rich mahogany color. His dark eyes mirrored his emotions—when he wanted them to. Moving from amusement to anger in a split second, he fascinated her when she was around him—which wasn’t often, thank goodness. He drew her involuntary interest like a flame drew a moth. And she would expect the same results if she let herself be drawn in—instant annihilation.
He was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen, everyone thought so. Especially the society photographers who loved to have him on their pages—usually escorting a beautiful woman to some high-society event. Of course they also captured him racing his yacht last summer and when he won the single-engine airplane race from Cadiz to Barcelona two years ago. He participated in a wide and wild range of sports. She had seen the spreads in the Sunday newspapers and read with fascinated interest, since she could claim a brief acquaintance with him because of his dealings with her boss.
But she had no desire to spend even an hour in his company. He was far too dynamic and flamboyant to have anything in common with her. He’d find her boring and predictable and probably amusing.
With all the adulation he received, he was undoubtedly self-centered and self-focused. Did he ever approach life like a normal person—with worries and concerns? Probably not. Having the Sandoval fortune behind him didn’t hurt, either.
“Yes, Vicente, pick someone else,” Rafael agreed, turning away from Amalia.
“Like the woman you’re dating now?” Stefano asked sardonically. “Maybe I should. You’d lose track of even the basics with the charm Teresa offers and I’d win easily. But I’d rather have a challenge.”
“Teresa would dislike the early hours and the discomfort when it’s cold. How do I know a person of your choice wouldn’t sabotage the race?”
“I would never do such a thing!” Amalia exclaimed, incensed. How dare he impugn her integrity!
He shrugged and took one of the contracts, putting it into his briefcase. “Second choice?” he asked Vicente.
“I’ll get back to you.”
“I think I’ll ask my PA to join you. Helena at least follows the sport, though she has never participated in any events. I gave her a ride last year and she liked it.”
“Send me her name and phone number and I’ll talk to her,” Stefano said. “And I’ll have one of my chase crew contact yours. There will be no sabotage. He’ll help as a regular crew member—only be there to verify the times and distances.”
“Do we get rights of refusal?” Rafael asked.
“If both agree,” Stefano replied.
“Then start writing your check,” Rafael said, deliberately goading the other man.
Amalia thought about the report that still needed finishing. She didn’t have time to stand around and listen to two very wealthy men talk about a silly hot air balloon race. The fifty thousand Euros they bandied around so easily would make a world of difference in her life. To most people’s lives. To these men it was chump change. Betting on a balloon race seemed frivolous in the extreme.
“Maybe we should sweeten the pot a bit. Loser has to present to winner in front of the Barcelona Business Alliance at the next quarterly meeting,” Rafael suggested.
Amalia looked at Rafael, seeing the devilment in his eyes. He was wild and daring, and she strongly suspected he loved every moment of this. It was obvious he never expected to lose; he rarely did. Not only did he have pots of money, he had the best luck in the world, if the newspapers could be believed. From learning to fly a few years ago, to deep sea diving, to this newest hobby of hot air ballooning, he loved to challenge himself—and anyone involved in the sport with him.
Stefano gathered his copy of the contract and held it out for Amalia. She stepped closer to take it and then retreated to the door of his office.
Standing, Stefano held out his hand to Rafael. “May the best man win, and I intend to!”
Rafael stood, as well, and shook his hand. “Prepare your presentation speech for the BBA’s meeting. It had better be good, to wipe out the sting of humiliation.”
Amalia opened the door for the departing man. When Rafael drew level with her, he looked at her again. “It’s not too late to change your mind,”