Her Amazing Boss!. Barbara McMahon
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felt a flare of anger at her boss. Was that the reason Stefano had proposed her—not for her lack of experience but her fear of heights? Did he expect her to refuse to fly and force a win by Rafael’s forfeiture?
A warm hand gently took her arm. Startled, she looked at Rafael.
“No need to tear his head off. The best revenge is to win and show him he misjudged you.”
“I’ve worked for him for years and I’m annoyed he’d use me like that,” she admitted.
“He wants to win.”
“Are you afraid of heights?” she asked Helena. She wasn’t sure she cared either way, the warmth of Rafael’s hand seemed to infuse her entire body. Her temper cooled and once again she felt the odd tickle of awareness.
“I jumped at the chance to go when Rafael asked me,” she replied. “It’s turning out all right. As long as I just enjoy the scenery, I’m fine. Maybe before we reach the end I’ll get to do more. Your boss strikes me as a bit of a control freak.”
“I didn’t jump at the chance,” Amalia murmured.
“But you haven’t let me down. I won’t forget that, Amalia,” Rafael said softly. It sounded almost like a promise.
Helena turned back to Rafael and said, “I checked for messages when I got to my room, which, by the way, I’m sharing with one of the chase team members. Gina said Teresa called for you and then asked for me. She seemed miffed neither of us was there to talk to her. She wants you to call her when you get the opportunity.”
“Duly noted.”
Helena grinned. “So, no return call tonight, then.”
Amalia listened, wondering if Teresa now regretted her decision to refuse to go on the week-long trip with Rafael. She also absorbed the fact that Stefano was having his crew members share quarters while she had a luxury suite all to herself. Should she be sharing with Maria? She knew if that was the way Rafael wanted it, he would have made it that way.
She was grateful for her room.
Amalia felt a bit bereft when Rafael released her arm after the maître d’ announced their table was ready. Following them into the dining room, she sat between Manuel and Maria. Paolo rejoined their group and before long meals were ordered. Conversation at the table centered on the race.
Looking around the restaurant, she wished Jose could see it. They’d never eaten in a place so elegant. Many of those present were dressed up, although of course neither their group or Stefano’s were. What would it be like to come alone with Rafael, dressed to the nines, fascinating him with her scintillating conversation? Just the two of them, maybe in that small alcove that seemed more private than the main dining area.
The dream popped when the waiter poured bubbly beverages and Rafael rose to offer a toast. “To winning the race and besting the competition—always!”
“Yea!”
They all raised their glasses and then drank. Amalia was surprised to realize it was sparkling apple cider. She blinked and took another sip.
Maria leaned closer. “We do not drink during the race. Nothing must hamper our abilities, you know.” She laughed and took a long drink from her own glass.
Amalia enjoyed the lively discussion, analyzing the day’s flight, making plans for tomorrow’s leg. All the tanks would be refilled. New weather maps would be downloaded from the Internet and topographical maps reviewed. There seem to be constant work she never knew about when thinking about hot air ballooning.
“I checked the weather before coming down,” Rafael said at one point. “We might have a problem in a day or two as there’s a storm predicted.”
“Will that hamper our flight?” she asked with concern.
“It could,” Rafael answered. “The air becomes too turbulent to safely navigate. With downdrafts that could collapse a balloon, contradicting wind directions throwing the basket every which way, it’s not safe to be airborne in a storm.”
“Not to mention if you get zapped by lightning,” Manuel murmured.
“Or getting rained on,” Maria added.
“So we put down if it appears a storm is imminent,” Rafael concluded. “Don’t worry, I promised to get you home in one piece.”
All the more reason for her not to be on this trip. Her visions of falling out and ending up a spot on the earth rose again. What if the storm came too fast, collapsed the balloon and they fell like a rock? She grew nervous just thinking about it.
“Have you called your brother yet?” Rafael asked as the meal was ending.
“I plan to do so when I get back to my room.” After this sumptuous meal, she’d have even more to tell him. She’d make the event sound adventuresome. Jose probably wouldn’t think about her fear of heights. He would be too caught up on the facts of the trip and on how far they’d come. She would have to tell him about firing the burners and could stretch reality a bit by telling him she was fine on the journey.
The group broke up once they finished eating. Most of them headed for the elevator, one or two going for a quick walk or to peruse the gift shops.
When they crossed the lobby, Amalia glanced around and stopped when she saw her boss holding court with several reporters.
Rafael stopped with her, following her line of sight.
“Couldn’t stand not to be in the limelight,” he murmured.
“You think he arranged this? We didn’t know where we would be stopping for the night,” she said, watching as her boss appeared in his element, fielding questions, giving a larger-than-life account of the day’s events.
“It was pretty easy to predict by midafternoon how far we’d get. And there aren’t a lot of places around here to stay. I think he would have traveled a lot farther this evening to have his moment in the limelight. I can’t wait to see him at the end of the last day. He won’t be so anxious to give press interviews. Did you want to join him?” Rafael asked.
“Good grief no.”
He flung an arm casually across her shoulders and turned back to the elevators. While they waited, he leaned close and said, “Be sure to get enough rest tonight. We’ll head out before dawn. Leave a wake-up call with the front desk so I don’t have to come get you.”
Like he had that morning.
Amalia nodded, feeling conflicted. She liked his arm across her shoulders. She didn’t like his autocratic orders—she almost felt as if she should salute him. He must have caught a glimmer of annoyance in her eyes, because he leaned closer and said, for her ears only, “Think of it as besting your boss. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s a toss-up. By besting him, I’m aiding you.” He was so close she was getting dizzy.
“And I’m the enemy?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.
Amalia felt herself grow deliciously warm. Her heart rate increased. This man was dangerous to be around—at least for her sanity. They were cocooned in a world of their own. His body blocked the rest of the lobby. She could only feel her heart race and the weight of his arm. He’d moved slightly so she felt sheltered in his embrace.
“Perhaps not precisely an enemy, but certainly not a friend.” She licked her lips and watched as his eyes followed the movement. He licked his lips in reflex and she could imagine feeling them pressed against her own.
“Maybe that will come. We have six more days,” he said, his gaze holding hers.
Become involved with one of the wealthiest businessmen in Barcelona? Totally unlikely, especially if he truly wanted more than just friendship. But she smiled at the odd notion. Wouldn’t that be something to tell her friends, casually mentioning Rafael Sandoval in conversation? She