Her Amazing Boss!. Barbara McMahon
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others. He could already see himself standing in front of the BBA and accepting Stefano’s check. That he’d now promised to turn it over to charity didn’t bother him. The entire bet was not about the money, but about proving to Stefano Vicente that he wasn’t the only one in Barcelona with the cojones to venture into the unknown. Their balloons could end up over the Pyrenees, or over the Med. He briefly wondered if they could get to Africa. No, that was unlikely, as this time of year the prevailing winds blew north and west.
Opening the oven, he savored the aroma of the casserole his housekeeper had prepared and set in the oven before she left for home. It wouldn’t be done for another half hour. He was home earlier than usual, having left work to get to Vicente’s building early enough to catch Amalia.
The phone rang and Rafael picked up the kitchen extension.
“Sandoval,” he said.
“Hola,” Teresa said in her sultry voice.
“Teresa,” he acknowledged. He wasn’t expecting to hear from her tonight. Was she calling about the race?
“It’s raining and I’m bored,” she said. “It’s too wet to go out, and there’s nothing on television. No friends want to venture forth to visit me.”
He could hear the pout in her voice. Picture her lush red lips in a moue that invited kissing.
“Unless you do,” she finished.
He liked Teresa. They had fun together when they went out. But he did not relish becoming a frequent visitor at her home. That led to ideas that he was definitely not pursuing. She knew that.
“Not tonight. It’s pouring and I just got home. Besides, I need to start planning for the race. I heard Vicente called you and you’re going with me.”
“Won’t that be delightful, just the two of us in the gondola of the balloon, riding high above the crowds?”
“Delightful,” he replied sardonically. Did she have any idea what was involved? If she thought they’d enjoy a tryst, he had better explain the facts of balloon racing.
“Ohhh, I could come there and plan the race with you,” she said, as if it were a sudden idea.
“I thought you didn’t want to go out into the rain,” he said, loosening his tie. He wanted to look at maps covering all the possible directions the balloon might go on the long jump, get a head start on preparing for the event. He didn’t have time to entertain anyone.
“If I get a taxi there, I won’t get very wet,” she almost purred.
“Not tonight, babe. I’ve got work to do.”
“Honestly, Rafael, you need to slow down a bit and enjoy all that money you make.”
Or let you enjoy it, he thought cynically. He knew the women he dated were attracted to his money and his notoriety. Normally it didn’t bother him but tonight it did. If he were a pauper, would Teresa even look at him? Not in a million years. Much less invite him to her home.
Unexpectedly the image of Vicente’s PA flashed into his mind. Amalia would probably do more than look at him if he were a pauper, she’d try to help him find a job and a place to live. Get money from the rich to help out the poor.
Great, he was either a charity case or a meal ticket, which didn’t paint a very complimentary picture of him either way. Had that been what his father faced? He hadn’t stuck with marriage for long. Unlike his mother who reveled in the state, if five husbands to date were any indication.
Rafael didn’t like the way he was thinking. Reminders of his parents always fed his frustration. He had felt the odd man out in his family from the first time he’d been sent away to boarding school. His father was too busy to care for a child, and his mother was always concentrating on attracting her next husband to devote much time to her two sons. They would have done better not to have had children in the first place.
But then he wouldn’t be here, nor his brother, so maybe it hadn’t been all bad. But he had no plans for marriage for a long time—if ever.
“I’ve got to go. How about dinner tomorrow night?” he offered, to placate her.
There was a pause, then Teresa accepted. She wanted to talk longer, but he soon ended the conversation.
He had time to change into casual clothes before the casserole would be ready. He wanted to begin his study of the weather patterns and wind flows he might expect to find when making the long balloon trip. He liked planning strategy almost as much as implementation. But he did enjoy the flights he made with the balloon. Work kept him busier than he might like during the summer months, yet when time permitted, he’d take a sail in the balloon. He had several friends who volunteered for the chase team, in exchange for rides.
It occurred to him as he climbed the stairs that spending every day for a week or longer with Teresa might be more than he could take. She was fun an evening at a time, but how would she hold up to hours in the basket with the harsh sound of the burners going on and off? Or with the unexpected accommodations they’d have to make for the nights when they touched down who knew where? It wasn’t like a normal holiday trip where they could phone ahead for reservations. Or festivals, where they knew where they were to put down each day, with the chase team already on-site.
They’d have to bed down wherever the balloon landed and be up early to get the dawn sky. He planned to beat Vicente, and there would be no time to look for the amenities she was used to.
He couldn’t picture Teresa lasting. Was that Vicente’s hope—rather than Teresa distracting him, she might abandon him? What would Rafael do if Teresa didn’t stay the course? He would not forfeit, that he knew, even if he had to tie her to the gondola for the race. Or take Vicente’s PA as a substitute.
As he changed into dark jeans and a dark sweater, Rafael thought about Amalia. She lived in an old building in an older section of town. She hadn’t gushed about him giving her a ride. He almost smiled. Instead she’d berated him for squandering all that money on a bet.
And she’d looked outraged when he touched her cheek. The skin had felt warm and soft, and he bet she was warm and soft all over. Though she hid it behind a prickly exterior, she was a very feminine woman.
She still hadn’t said which charity she’d like the payment to go to. He’d have to contact her again to find out. Not that he needed an excuse to call most women, but with this one … it would probably be wiser.
CHAPTER TWO
AS THE day of the Barcelona Balloon Festival drew closer, work became totally chaotic for Amalia. She had a dozen things to do each day in preparing for her boss’s part in the event. In addition to the normal business of the company, she had to line up the chase team, verify that the balloon was in top shape, work out various logistical scenarios to try to anticipate where the winds would drive the balloon each day on the long jump and field a dozen calls from Mrs. Vicente, who was enjoying all the social activity associated with the Balloon Festival.
She was tired each night but, oddly enough, also exhilarated. For once all aspects of the race were of interest. She listened more than she had for other events, soaking up every bit of information. That she knew two of the participants spurred her on.
“Amalia, where are today’s weather reports?” Stefano called out, two days before the festival started.
“I put them on your desk, left-hand side,” she yelled back, not leaving her desk as she tried to finish the last of the meal planning. The four members of the chase team would require a lot of food as they followed the balloon from the ground. No time to stop for meals or they’d lose sight of it and then have to rely on communications from Stefano in the balloon to find it again before it touched down.
She knew her boss would want some snacks to eat while airborne each day and bottles of water to drink. She hadn’t met Helena Marisol, but the two of them had spoken on the phone several times. She seemed excited about the trip and talked glowingly