Can't Say No (6 page)

By contrast, she'd just given in to Blake, a man she'd known less than two hours, with barely more than a whimper of protest. There was no loyalty involved. That wickedly dazzling smile of his, combined with just a hint of vulnerability accompanying his plea, had done it. He'd charmed her into sticking with him. Without even trying very hard, he had overcome every bit of her common sense and outright panic. Who knew what he could talk her into, if he really put his mind to it. She'd probably never say no again.

There was no choice, really. She wouldn't back out now and add indecisiveness to her list of failings, but once this race was over and she had her feet firmly on the ground again, she'd put them to good use...running as far from Blake Marshall as she could, while she still had the will to do it.

“Blake?” John Harley's voice crackled from the hand-held radio that was lying on top of a small cooler. It was one of two radios in the gondola. The other one spewed forth frequent information from the airport tower about aircraft in the vicinity. Audrey had been trying very hard not to think about the implications of that.

“Blake, pick up the radio.”

Blake seemed intent on ignoring it.

“Dammit, son, are you out of your mind? Jenkins is down here waiting.”

Blake picked up the radio at last, avoiding Audrey's curious gaze. “Sorry. I already have a passenger.”

“That little girl looks scared to death. Jenkins paid a fortune for the privilege of being up there with you today. You don't leave a sponsor hanging around on the ground, while you go for some damn joyride.”

“This is no joyride. I have every intention of winning. Jenkins will have to be satisfied with that.”

“You can't win if your mind's on other things. What happens if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing is going to go wrong. Besides, you'll be following along in the chase truck. I'm sure you won't let us out of your sight.”

Audrey was listening to the exchange with a resurgence of her initial panic. If John Harley was concerned about her inexperience, then she was in far more trouble than she realized. She'd gotten caught up in some temporarily romantic notion that floating around up here like a bird was a piece of cake.

“What's he talking about?” she asked Blake. “What kind of trouble?”

“Don't worry about it,” he soothed. For a man who'd glibly talked her into going along for the ride, he seemed surprisingly bereft of convincing words just now. “You'll be able to handle anything that comes up.”

The reassuring tone was nice, but not nearly enough. “I want to worry about it. I like to worry, especially if imminent death is the subject.”

Blake's expression was excessively tolerant. “We are not going to be killed. John was just born cautious.”

“Not altogether a bad trait.”

“Don't pay any attention to him.”

John, however, didn't seem inclined to be ignored. The radio spewed out another stream of static, along with a stern lecture on foolhardiness.

Blake glowered over the side of the gondola and inquired via radio, “Has there been any change in the reports from the weather service?”

Audrey peered down to see John's reaction to having his advice so calmly discounted. He was scowling up at the two of them, his wrinkled face totally disapproving.

“Missy, are you okay?”

Before Audrey could speak for herself, Blake said, “She's fine. Now, what about the weather?”

John muttered something unintelligible, then sighed. “The weather report is unchanged, clear until noon or so, then some storms brewing.”

“Thanks, John. We'll see you in Glenwood Springs.”

“You do remember where it is, don't you?”

Blake laughed and gave him a thumbs-up gesture. “I checked the map, old man.”

“Glad to hear it. You ain't shown much sense about anything else this morning.”

“Stop hounding me and get out on the road. If I lose sight of Hammond, keep me posted on his progress.”

“If you lose sight of Hammond, you'll have more to worry about than his progress. Over.”

“What did he mean by that?” Audrey asked, instantly alert.

“Just that the course should be pretty straightforward. If I can't see Hammond, one of us has gone astray.”

“Can that happen?”

“It's possible.”

Audrey stared at him and sank back down again. “Oh, my God.”

“Don't give up on me now. We've got work to do, woman.”

“I'd like an explanation first. Exactly how do we go off course? Don't you know how to steer this thing?”

“Sure,” he said confidently. “Up and down.”

Her eyes widened. “Up and down? What about forward and back?”

“That's a little trickier.”

“How tricky?”

“Actually that part's up to the air currents.”

That vague sense of alarm that foolishly had gone into hiding came back with a vengeance. “We're floating around up here at the whim of some fickle wind?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I've changed my mind. I'd like to take the down ride now.”

“Too late, sweetheart. We're off.”

Tension made her numb, except for the pulse in her neck that seemed to be fluttering excessively fast. A little more reassurance now would have been nice, but Blake seemed to be occupied with a number of inexplicable maneuvers, including spilling little drops of water over the side of the gondola.

“If that's our water supply, would you mind preserving it?” she requested over the lump that had lodged in her throat. She was beginning to envision spending the rest of the summer and then a long, very cold winter stranded on a mountain with only Blake for warmth. To her disgust, certain aspects of the image held a very strong appeal.

“Just checking the wind. We'll have plenty left if we need it.” He opened the vent in the side of the balloon, allowing the air to cool slightly, and guided it down into a more favorable current. His movements were efficient and, even to her untrained eye, skilled. They also displayed his masculine strength to full advantage. He had stripped off his windbreaker and was working in a snug-fitting polo shirt. A thorough exploration of the corded muscles in his arms distracted her temporarily. Those titillating images danced through her head again.

He glanced down at her. “How are you enjoying the ride so far?”

Audrey tried to concentrate on the warmth in his eyes, but she couldn't help noticing that a few remaining, low-hanging clouds were zipping past at a dizzying speed. “I'll let you know later.”

Blake stopped what he was doing and gazed at her with concern. “You aren't still afraid, are you?”

“Does the phrase ‘stark terror' mean anything to you?”

He knelt down beside her. As a distraction, it was very effective. The bulging muscles of his thighs were mere inches from her fingers. She tried to recall everything she'd ever read in her high school chemistry and biology books, but she couldn't think of a single thing to explain the powerful reaction sweeping over her. It was probably in the sex education text, anyway, and that had been banned from her school.

His hand curved along her jaw and he tilted her head up until their eyes clashed. “You are safe with me,” he said gently. “Promise.”

Audrey shook her head. Even if he wasn't aware of it, she knew it was a lie. She might be safe enough in this flimsy balloon, though she had her doubts, but she wasn't safe with Blake Marshall at all. She'd have been more secure in a pit of vipers.

“Who's Jenkins?” she asked, just to get her mind off the urgent and nearly irresistible desire to check out the muscle tone in Blake's thigh.

“A sponsor,” he answered and quickly got to his feet. Too quickly. Suddenly he didn't seem interested in meeting her gaze. He couldn't have done more to arouse her curiosity if he'd tried.

“What does that mean?”

“He puts up a chunk of money for these races.”

“And he was supposed to fly with you this morning?”

He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, we'd talked about it,” he mumbled, as he pointedly went back to fiddling with more gadgets.

“Is he also a pilot?”

“No.”

With a sudden and not especially pleasing flash of insight, Audrey sensed a shift in the balance of power in this conversation. “If he wasn't going to crew for you, then who was?”

“No one.” A middle-of-the-night intimacy couldn't have been murmured any more quietly. The impact, however, was decidedly different.

“No one?” she repeated in an ominous tone. “I thought you mistook me for your crew.”

“I did.”

“Look me in the eye and say that.”

“I did.” Blue eyes glanced defiantly in her direction, then shifted away. “Sort of.”

“Explain.”

“Cal was supposed to send someone new for the ground crew.”

“Ground being the operative word, I assume.”

“Yes, dammit.” The guilt-ridden words were ground out between tight lips.

“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I hope you don't think I'm being unreasonable, but do you mind my asking what the hell I'm doing here?” Her voice rose until she was sure her shout could be heard three states away.

A tiny muscle worked in Blake's jaw. For the first time since they'd taken off, he was the one who appeared nervous. If she had her way, the man would be quaking in his boots before she finished with him. He would be seeing visions of a long jail term or, at the very least, a hefty fine.

Since it was difficult to be thoroughly intimidating while seated, she got to her feet. Blake still towered over her by several inches, so it wasn't quite as effective as she might have liked, but it was a start. Hands on hips, she glowered at him. “Well?”

He met her gaze and she caught a twinkle in his eyes, before he carefully—and wisely—banished it. She was in no mood to provide him with another second of his morning's entertainment.

“I wanted you along,” he finally responded. The simple words set up a thrumming in the air that affected every nerve in her body. She searched the depths of his eyes for any sign of an easy lie, but she couldn't find it. She found sincerity and warmth and, most unexpected of all, desire. Sharp, primitive, unmistakable desire. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Not as crew?” she managed to ask in a raw-edged whisper.

“Not as crew,” he confirmed, then admitted with obvious reluctance, “we almost never take crew along on these events.”

She allowed her mind to digest that little piece of information.

“I could file kidnapping charges,” she said almost casually, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning back against the side of the gondola now and he no longer looked nearly as tense. He was supposed to be quaking by now. Where had she gone wrong? It must have been in the phrasing. She should have sounded more sure of herself, more definite. “In fact, I think I will file them. The minute we get back on the ground, I'll call the FBI or whoever's in charge of those things and file criminal charges.”

“Harvey will hate it,” Blake pointed out, as if what Harvey thought mattered. If she could think of charges, she'd file them against him, too.

“It'll be really bad PR,” he added.

She refused to be daunted by such flimsy, veiled threats. “You should have thought of that before you got me up here under false pretenses.”

He took a step toward her. A couple more of those long, easy strides of his would put him very, very close. A wayward shiver of anticipation shot up her spine. When it reached her brain, she gave it a stern lecture, then tried to ignore it.

“Why do I have the feeling that this argument has very little to do with kidnapping?” he said softly.

Her heart fluttered. Her brain told her to ignore that, too. “Why would you say that?”

“For one thing, you agreed to come along with me, so kidnapping's out.”

“You can't prove it.”

He grinned at her, which was very irritating, and took another step. “You certainly didn't try to get away when you had the chance. I think John will vouch for that. We're up to two against one and I do have something of a national reputation.”

His breath whispered past her cheek and left it flushed. She tried to take a step backward, but there was no place to go. She swallowed deeply, then said with as much disdain as she could muster, “Sure, as a rogue. How much good do you think that will do you?”

“I was referring to my reputation in the business world.”

“I think that other, carefully cultivated image is the one they'll look at in this instance...man about town, jet-setting playboy, most eligible bachelor, you know the one. Yes, indeed, I don't think a judge would overlook that.” She began to inch sideways, trying not to be too obvious about it.

“Tell me something, Audrey. Why do I get the feeling that what we're battling about here is control? Do I make you nervous for some reason?” he inquired with an attempt at innocence. “Are you trying to take charge of this situation?”

“Why on earth would I want to do that? This is your balloon. You're the pilot, so obviously you're in charge.” The denial sounded incredibly weak even to her ears.

There was a disturbing gleam in his eyes. “I wasn't referring to ballooning. I was thinking more in terms of our personal relationship.”

“We don't have a personal relationship,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Yet.”

“Ever.”

That irksome smile was back. “We'll see,” he taunted.