Nikki Logan - Her Amazing Boss! - The Daredevil Tycoon

“It wasn’t so bad. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to become afraid.”

“You did well, Amalia. I’m glad you were with me instead—”

He cut himself off, but Amalia knew he was thinking of Teresa. For a moment she felt pleased she’d done better than the other woman would have. But only for a moment. Then the obstacles to getting safely to some hotel for the night made themselves felt. She had a feeling it would be a long time before his chase team located them.

“I’ve never been a big fan of camping out, as you know,” she said. “So I really did get my fill last night.”

“We have snacks, blankets, shelter. What more do we need?”

“I can think of several things, not the least of which is to be dry. This shelter may start to leak before long.”

“We’ll manage.”

Amalia wished once again she wasn’t on this expedition. But not one to bemoan things beyond her control, she gave in to the inevitable.

She studied her companion. “Do you camp often?” she asked.

He studied the rain as it began to come down. “Not if I can help it. I like my amenities too much. But now and then. Today is not good weather. But when it’s clear, to be away from the city lights, to see the stars and feel the awesome vastness of space, it’s well worth minor inconveniences. Admit it, once you had dinner, last night was not a total waste.”

He puzzled her. She would expect him to rail against the weather, to vent frustration on the circumstances. Instead, he seemed to take the setback in stride—maybe even relish it a bit.

He reached for the radio and made a call. No one responded. He tried again, but again there came only static. Switching it off, he tossed it back on the pile they’d made on one side of the tipped basket.

“Might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible,” he said.

He stacked the blankets side by side and sat down. Patting the one beside him, he waited for her to join him.

Eyeing the dubious shelter they had, she wondered how much longer before the wicker began to leak. Even as the thought came to mind, a drop landed on her nose.

“I think our shelter is getting soggy,” she said.

Rafael looked up and swore. He turned and rummaged through two of the pockets on the side, coming up with another plastic tarp, not as large as the one covering the balloon, but large enough. He went into the rain and tied it to the side of the basket now their roof, fighting it and the wind until he had it covered.

Crawling in, he brushed off his jacket, wet at the shoulders, and sat down.

“Won’t the wind blow it off?” she asked, hearing the plastic snap as the wind slapped it against the basket.

“Might get some nicks and tears, but nothing major. I think it’ll hold. I’m more worried that water will get on the balloon. We need it dry to fly.”

The bright idea came that perhaps both balloons would be too wet to fly again and the men would call off the bet. Or decide on the result based on where they had landed today. Then she could get home.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Getting there,” she said. She could sit on the blanket or wrap it around her. She wished they’d brought one of the sleeping bags.

He pulled her closer, next to him, and threw his blanket over their legs. “Combined body heat is better than both of us freezing. Later, you’ll have to give up the comfort of sitting on that blanket for added warmth.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes.

“The interesting thing about you, Amalia,” he said at last, “is that you rarely complain. This is not the way I envisioned the race. You’d have every reason to complain about the circumstances, the weather, everything.”

“It’s hardly your fault the rain came.”

“Doesn’t stop some people.” He reached out and took her left hand. “You’re cold.” He engulfed both of hers with his own, which were much warmer.

“For the most part I’m comfortable,” she said. Or as comfortable as she could be snuggled up to Rafael.

“Let’s spread the other blanket.”

“Then we’ll be sitting on the cold ground, with only the wicker between us.”

“Then, this is what we’ll do.” He encircled her shoulders again and pulled her partway across his chest, looping his other arm around her waist. “Better?” he asked.

He was like a warm furnace, generating enough heat to keep both of them warm all night long, she thought.

“Thanks.”

The wind howled. The drumming of the rain on the plastic sounded unusually loud. Slowly Amalia began to relax. She was warm, dry and safe. Granted no one knew when the chase team would arrive, but they had showed up last night and would surely arrive before long today.

“So tell me about this family you hope to have one day,” Rafael said just as Amalia was thinking about trying to sleep.

“And open myself up to sarcasm? You’ve made your position clear.”

“Hey, just because marriage isn’t for me doesn’t mean it’s not for other people. I do have a couple of friends who seem to be making their marriages work. So what’s your timetable? Marry by thirty, have two point three kids and get a large flat with a roof garden or something?”

“I have no timetable. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever find a man to love. Or one who will love me. But if I do, I’d want a full family life. Wherever we could afford to live would be fine. Though I hope it’s near the water, I love the beach.”

“I could take you sailing one day,” he murmured.

She ignored his comment.

“Then, when the time is right, we could have some children. I know I’d like a couple, I liked having a younger brother. But I’d have mine closer together than my folks did. There are almost eleven years between me and Jose.”

“But lucky for him there was. You were able to raise him, keep your family intact.”

“You’re right. That’s important.”

“So what will this dream husband be like?” Rafael asked curiously.

She frowned. “Probably unlike anyone you know,” she said. “Solid, down-to-earth, grounded. He’ll have a good job, and like to spend time doing family things—even when it’s just us before—and after the children arrive.”

“No fancy parties, exotic vacations?”

“A week or two traveling each year might be nice. There are a lot of places in Europe I’d like to visit.”

“But no camping,” he said, his mouth right by her ear.

She shook her head. Though she’d never forget sleeping beneath the stars last night. Or the kiss they’d shared before the others arrived.

“So what do you see as your future? Dating different women every month, getting older while they get younger? Don’t you get tired of such a superficial life?” she asked.

“You’re more cynical than I thought,” he said. Rafael didn’t like the picture she painted. He had been going out less and less frequently in the last couple of years. He didn’t mind spending time alone and it suited him to read a good book or watch something worthwhile on the television rather than a constant round of parties or social events.

“Like father, like son,” she murmured.

Was that how others saw him, as careless and clueless as his father? The man couldn’t settle on one woman, he was always dating new and even younger women.

“Do you ever wonder what older men trying to cling to their youth find to talk about with younger women? There have no shared histories of events. Music is probably different,” she mused.

“Some women will say whatever a man wants to hear, just to keep him entertained.”

“Good grief, that would drive me nuts. I want honesty in both parts,” she said.

“I agree.” One reason he dated and then moved on was the inane conversations he often ended up with. Yes, Rafael, of course you’re right, Rafael. He could hear the echoes of their sultry voices. What he wanted was someone to stand up to him. Challenge his glib statements. Argue with him sometimes.