The Daredevil Tycoon / Hired: Sassy Assistant: The Daredevil Tycoon

“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 of her boss. A couple of times during the week, Amalia almost regretted she wouldn’t be going with him. But the mere thought of being that high with nothing but air beneath her had her nerves fluttering.

The trick was to get good food that required little preparation. The only fire on the balloon would be the burners. Suddenly she stifled a giggle imagining the immaculate Ms. Valesquez toasting a hot dog in the flames of Rafael Sandoval’s balloon burners.

It was far more likely he’d arrange for caviar and champagne for a snack.

She stopped for a moment, trying to picture Teresa even in the balloon. It was mind-boggling. From what Stefano said, the balloonist had to pay attention to the wind to get the maximum speed. Adjusting the height of the balloon to take advantage of different wind speeds took concentration. Stefano’s rival would not be available to flirt with Teresa. Not if he was serious about winning. Did she realize that? Amalia knew Rafael would focus absolutely on winning the race rather than on the dubious delights of his passenger.

Amalia shook her head. That was not her problem.

It was Thursday. Saturday morning was the first event of the festival. Even as early as Tuesday, she’d begun seeing hot air balloons drifting by as balloonists from all over the world came to compete, show off and enjoy themselves. Foreigners were trying to get a feel for the locale and the winds before the festival officially opened.

Twice she’d stood at her window for long moments watching balloons drift lazily over the sea. If she didn’t have a fear of heights, would she enjoy taking a ride in one?

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Stefano asked, joining her at the window late in the afternoon.

“You’ll have to come to see us off.”

“Helena called a little while ago. She wanted to know if she should line up anything special for the long jump.”

“I think I’ll thank Rafael’s PA at my acceptance speech when I get his check,” Stefano said thoughtfully. “She’s committed to being the perfect passenger. I wonder how Sandoval is faring with Teresa Valesquez?” He laughed at the thought.

“You’re pretty sure you’re going to win. What if you don’t?” She would not relish working the week or so after such a loss. Her boss was not fun to be around when in a bad temper.

“I will. I never even consider defeat.”

“Helena says Rafael is saying the same thing.”

“Ha, he’ll eat my dust.”

Amalia didn’t operate that way. She always had a plan B in case plan A didn’t work.

“You and Jose come to the field on Saturday to see us off. Check in at the gate to find out where we’ll be,” her boss said.

She looked up at that. “Do you need me there?”

“No, but I thought you might like to see us fill the envelope and lift off. Marguerite says that’s her favorite part,” he said, mentioning his wife.

“The envelope,” she repeated, remembering the explanation she had read on the Internet.

“The balloon. The nylon part is called the envelope. Then there’s the basket or gondola and the burners. It’s not rocket science, but I enjoy it.”

“If the weather’s nice, we might come. I know Jose would love it. Of course, he’ll be explaining to me all about the physics that makes the lighter-than-air balloon fly with the added weight in the basket.” She loved her younger brother, but sometimes he left her in bewilderment discussing how things worked.

Saturday was a beautiful day. A bit on the cool side but perfect, as there were no clouds and only a brisk cool breeze blowing in from the Mediterranean Sea. Jose had been talking about the balloon festival ever since Amalia had told him they would attend. Stefano had instructed her to arrive at dawn as the balloons would be taking off very early. There were special buses from Barcelona to the festival, running on a frequent schedule.

Once she got to the large field a few miles outside of Barcelona, Amalia was caught up in the excitement. She and Jose checked in at the gate and received a map of the field, and the grid where her boss had his balloon. She and her brother set off down the area between the balloons. There were well over a hundred, all in various stages of being inflated. Fans pumped air in the inflation process. Once the balloon was more than half full, the burners began. The noise from the burners was surprisingly loud as they were fired up to heat the air in the envelope. Men and women were working, talking, laughing.

“Come to see me off?”

Amalia looked to her left and saw Rafael Sandoval. His balloon was halfway inflated, the bright red and stark black striking in the earlymorning light. The basket lay on its side, two people at the opening of the envelope holding it wide for the fan to pump in air.

His attire matched the balloon, an all-black jumpsuit with a splash of red traversing his chest on the jacket. The colors suited him. The suit would keep him comfortable at the higher elevations and he could shed the jacket as the day warmed.