CHAPTER TEN

      ADVENTURES IN THE sky were nothing new to Rafael. He’d enjoyed hang gliding, glider planes, and skydiving many times all over the world. At the time, he’d thought every one of those adventures was enjoyable, but nothing came close to the evening he’d just spent with Gabriella.

      Holding her close as they’d stood in the basket of a hot-air balloon, able to see for miles across the awesome expanse of the Rocky Mountains, they’d floated through a quiet so deep he’d felt it all the way to his soul. Filled with a tranquil contentment he couldn’t remember ever feeling in his life.

      Listening to her cries of delight as she’d pointed at beautiful blue-green lakes below, at the snow still covering the jagged peaks, at mountain goats picking their way across vertical rocks in a feat that seemed nearly impossible, he’d smiled and laughed and held her closer.

      Her hair had blown across her face, and he’d tucked it behind her ears more than once, both to feel its softness within his fingers and so he could better see the joy on her face and in her eyes.

      Joy he’d wanted to see there from the moment he’d observed them shadowed with sadness when she’d sat next to Skye’s incubator. Joy he’d known was a big part of who she was, or had been until something had chipped away at it. Minimized it. Maybe even crushed it.

      As the balloon had sunk back to earth, they’d watched the sun set in a blaze of glorious red and gold behind the mountains. Colors so vivid they’d almost rivaled the strands highlighting Gabriella’s beautiful hair.

      He’d wanted to have her to himself for a little while longer, away from L.A. and whatever was there that might be the reason she carried that sadness around. Again, he knew that was damned selfish of him, but he’d been having a tough time battling it. And since fate had seemed to give him exactly what he’d wanted, did he really have to fight it?

      All he knew was that he didn’t seem to have a lot of fight left in him when it came to keeping away from Gabriella.

      He opened the door of the hotel restaurant, sliding his hand around hers before they meandered out onto the huge stone patio, warmed by several fire pits surrounded by cushioned chairs. And, lucky for him, it was nearly deserted.

      “Would you like to sit out here? Or are you too full to sit after you ate a steak big enough for two people?” he couldn’t help but tease.

      “Haven’t we already discussed how not at all suave it is to talk about how much I eat?” Her eyes gleamed up at him. “All women need iron in their diets. The occasional steak is good for me. But I’m not sure what your excuse is, because you ate even more than I did.”

      “Fresh out of excuses.” That was true for pretty much anything he did around Gabriella, and he didn’t care anymore. “Where would you like to sit?”

      “By the fire. It’s getting chilly, don’t you think?”

      “We can go inside if you like.”

      “No. It’s so beautiful, I want to stay out here.” He followed her gaze over to the timeless mountains, silhouetted by the darkened sky that was still slightly lit with pale pink streaks. Across the creek covered with small chunks of ice and snow, slowly melting in the springtime temperatures. “I can’t believe there’s no one around to enjoy this.”

      “May is off season for Vail. Too late to ski and too cold for most other sports.”

      “Except hot-air ballooning. Bundling up in a ski coat, gloves and hat were part of the fun.” Her eyes smiled at him through the darkness. “And since I don’t even own a coat, it’s a good thing the hotel keeps winter stuff guests have left behind for people like me to borrow.”

      “I’m sure you’re not the only Southern Californian to come here unprepared.”

      “Unprepared?” He nearly laughed at her indignant expression. “I was a Girl Scout. Believe me, I know how to be prepared.”

      “If you say so. How about we sit here?” He tugged her down to a thickly pillowed settee, and he could feel the warmth of the fire reaching out to him. Much like Gabriella’s warmth did, touching him in ways he couldn’t remember being touched before. “I’m glad you liked it.”

      “I loved it. It was the most special thing I’ve ever done. Thank you.”

      “The most special thing I’ve done too. So thank you.” And the reason it had been so special was because he’d done it with her. How he felt about her was something he couldn’t quite figure out, but he suspected that feeling might not happen again for a long time. Or maybe ever.

      “I know that can’t be true, but it’s sweet of you to say so.” She laughed softly. “You’ve been all over the world, but I haven’t left L.A. in two years.”

      “You haven’t?” He couldn’t wrap his brain around not getting out of town even once in all that time. “That’s got to be a record. I haven’t stayed in one place more than two months since I graduated from medical school.”

      “Yours is more likely to be a record than mine.”

      He saw her shiver a little in the crisp mountain air, despite the orange flames licking upward, ending in gray smoke that disappeared into the starlit sky. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close to his side, and the way she snuggled against him felt damn good. “Cold?”

      “A little. My Washington State blood, used to damp, chilly weather, must have thinned after living in California.”

      “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” If she was feeling even a little of the closeness, the intimacy he was feeling right now, sitting next to her in this beautiful place, maybe now was the right time to learn what secrets she might be keeping to herself. Secrets she might need to unload.

      “What?”

      “I’ve noticed that sometimes when you look at newborns, or after you’ve helped bring a baby into the world, that there’s a sadness in your eyes. Why?”

      “Sadness?” She made a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh but didn’t get there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing more joyful than a successful delivery and healthy baby, and you know it.”

      “But sometimes a pregnancy doesn’t end successfully. Or with a healthy baby,” he said quietly, his gut telling him there was some kind of history for her that was tied to that reality.

      “True.”

      She stared fixedly at the fire, her relaxed expression more tense now. He hesitated, wondering if asking her more questions would ruin her evening. And his too. But he’d wanted to provide an ear in case she wanted to unload on him, so he’d try just once more. “Why did you leave Seattle to come to L.A.?”

      More staring into the fire, and just when he was regretting ruining the intimate comfort they’d been feeling by digging into her life, instead of keeping it light and superficial like he usually did, she sighed and started to talk.

      “I was engaged to be married. Thought I had it all—a job I adored, a family who supported me,