He realized he was in over his head the moment he saw the sign.
The woman was crazy. Batshit, apeshit, penguin shit crazy. “I am not going up in a hot air balloon.”
“Then let’s leave.”
He balked. He’d expected a fight, and she hadn’t batted an eyelash. “What?”
“You’re behind the wheel, Ethan,” she said gently.
Good grief. Of all the times not to argue. Was this why she let him drive?
“The choice is yours. Move forward or go back.” She’d ditched her sunglasses, so he had no problem seeing the utter lack of a challenge in her face. She wasn’t daring him. It was more of an invitation, although nothing close to normal. But then again, she hadn’t said anything about normal. She’d gone somewhere else.
New normal.
Massive understatement.
She was good; he’d give her that. But trusting their lives to a sack of air to… “Does forward have to be this?”
“No,” she said, the clear understanding in her eyes melting him. “It doesn’t.”
He swore under his breath, partly because she had a point and partly because that meant he was about to trust his life to a picnic basket dangling from a thin parachute full of hot air. “Let’s go.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. After he and Rue checked in, the ground team immediately started blowing air into the balloon, and just as quickly Ethan wished he’d averted his eyes.
“There are holes in that thing,” he muttered. “A lot of them.” The fireproof ring at the bottom sounded like a great idea, in theory, but it was barely attached to the rest of the balloon.
“Hey,” Rue called to the ground team. “How many people have plummeted to their deaths from this thing?”
The closest guy looked from Rue to Ethan and back again. “None today.”
“I’m your pilot, folks. You can ignore him.”
Ethan jumped at the voice. Overreact much? He and Rue both turned. The words belonged to a relatively sane-looking, fairly young man. He probably had a lot to live for, right?
“Someone has died today?” Ethan asked.
The pilot grinned. “Not here. I’ve never lost a customer.”
The words, Ethan was sure, were intended to be a comfort but he took them in a whole new direction. He hadn’t considered getting lost.
Oblivious to Ethan’s panic, the pilot continued. “The way this works is basic science. Hot air rises, so when we heat the air in the envelope with the propane burner, we go up. To descend, I open a valve at the top and release hot air, which cools the envelope and causes it to sink. Steering is a matter of drifting higher or lower to find an air current moving in the direction we want to go.”
Rue elbowed Ethan. “See? Nothing to it.”
“I’m Gabe, by the way, and I’ll stay discretely out of your way. All I ask is that you remember you’re in a public place, and you can otherwise pretend I’m not there.”
Remember they were in a public place? Did people actually…? “We’re—”
“We’re looking forward to it,” Rue said. And then she started talking about paragliding, and he tuned her out. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think about her risking her life at every turn. She didn’t see it that way, but extreme sports were called that for a reason. She’d be so much safer if she’d stay home and knit or paint something.
Yeah, because that worked out so well for Amy.
Ethan stood somewhat numbly while Rue chatted with Gabe. The balloon slowly unfurled and expanded in full glory, a geometrically patterned burst of yellow, blue, and red against a lazy sky. The basket wasn’t as flimsy as he expected, but knowing it would hold three people and fire didn’t offer much comfort.
By the time they were to board, only one thing kept him from fleeing to the parking lot: there was no way in hell he’d abandon her to go up there without him. And the fact that she stood brighter than the humongous hot air balloon was telling…she’d never turn back. And didn’t that just pretty much sum up everything he knew about her? She tackled everything head on.
And that terrified him. Made him want to drag her into his arms.
But she wasn’t his to hold.
He quickly found there wasn’t a single satisfactory place to stand in the basket. The choices were two: under the fire, or by the edge. And before he could wallow too much in that particular bit of misfortune, the flame roared and the basket lifted. At first, the weightless sensation matched that of a particularly forceful elevator drop, but where that feeling usually waned after a second, this one only grew. The only thing that kept him from closing his eyes to the odd sense of floating—made even stranger by the periodic jarring of the basket—was the absolute need to watch the woman who’d coaxed him up there. He quickly realized staring at her wouldn’t keep her safe, but seeing her joy made his heart want to burst.
And break.
She belonged on the edge, and that wasn’t something he could live with.
The edge was too damned close to another good-bye.
Compared to that reality, the balloon ride seemed easy. Eventually, he figured out how to breathe. Especially if he didn’t look down, but he couldn’t not look. The world below them was endless and green, the sky a sea of blue that would probably forever remind him of Rue’s eyes. He couldn’t see them now. She stood in front of him, practically hanging over the edge of the basket, while he kept toward the middle, with a hand on her ready to pull her toward him. It might not be any safer there, but he managed to convince himself otherwise. Especially when she leaned forward, tipping the basket—probably only an inch, but inches mattered, in particular the ones that kept her from plummeting toward earth. He wanted her safe. He wanted her with him. He used that excuse to haul her backward, and holding her felt so good, he didn’t bother pretending he wanted to let go. And after a moment, she made no pretense of acting like he should. She relaxed against him, leaving him to realize just how perfectly she fit in his arms. Like she belonged there.
And it wasn’t enough.
He wanted to turn her around, to fold her into him and feel her heart beat against his chest, but that wouldn’t do anything to simplify matters. He couldn’t afford to feel this way about a woman who wasn’t going to stick around. He wasn’t sure he wanted to feel this way at all, but he was too intoxicated to care. Later he could blame it on the lack of oxygen.
Hell, who was he kidding? He’d blame himself. He always did.
So why don’t you own it?
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Turn around.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “What?”
He responded with his hands, drawing her in a tight circle until they faced one another. A dozen questions filled her eyes, and he ignored every one. He ignored everything but the woman who’d managed in a few short days to change his life. He ignored everything, for once, but what he wanted.
And he kissed her.
He nearly hit his knees when he felt the pleasure of those soft, sweet lips, but it was the way she fisted his shirt and held on that was his undoing. There they were, who knew how many feet above the ground, floating, and it was she who was the miracle. And he wanted more. So damned much more.
But he didn’t take it. He just held her, knowing all too soon she’d be gone. He didn’t miss the fact that she held him, too.
Or that in a matter of days, she’d be the one letting go. Hell, he needed that reminder he didn’t have to worry about good-bye.
That particular good-bye was a guarantee.
In that moment, however, it didn’t matter.
That moment was theirs.
The view had been stunning before, but now, looking into her eyes, he didn’t think he’d ever take a full breath again. His heart didn’t race. It held onto a slow, steady beat that told him he was grounded in a woman, in a moment, to which he had no right. But that didn’t stop him from wanting.
This time, it didn’t stop anything.
&
nbsp; He threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her head, then leaned down to kiss her again, and this time there wasn’t any hesitation. She responded with parted lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss before he had a chance to run from it. But he didn’t run. He lost himself in the seduction of her mouth, in the dizzying sensation of her warmth, of having her cling to him. It was all so foreign, like he’d never known passion or hunger or the all-consuming need to become a part of someone, to lose himself in a world made for two.
The truth was, he’d just never known Rue.
And he couldn’t hold on to her any more than he could let go.
The ride back to the city was quiet. By some miracle, he found a parking spot in front of his building. He killed the engine and looked over at the woman who had so easily invaded the emotional fortress he’d built for himself after he lost Amy, when he’d been determined to avoid putting himself in the position of ever again having to let go.
“Why are you so determined to put me in a calendar?” he asked, breaking the tension. He hadn’t intended to make her laugh, but there was that sound anyway. He was starting to love it.
“In the altruistic sense, because you’d sell it by the thousands.”
He could stare at those dancing eyes for hours. “Sounds like there’s another reason.”
“Because,” she said softly, “that would be my favorite page.”
God, she tore him in two. “You do realize you already have at least a dozen photos of me?”
She tugged at the hem of his tee and leaned her head back against the seat. “Not with your shirt off.”
“You have a thing for shirtless men, don’t you?” Her fingertip had grazed his skin, and the phantom touch burned hot. He was well on his way down a dangerous road—one on which he’d stand, broken, while she conquered the world. He felt as if he was in a canyon, watching her fly. They had the same walls and the same ground, but she had a way out. She had a view he couldn’t hope to achieve. A life he couldn’t dream of. She was wild. Free. She’d never belong to anyone, and he only wanted to belong.
“Shirtless men?” she asked, dragging him back. “Honestly, not really.” She toyed with his shirt, leaving him irrationally feverish. “I don’t want to sound judgmental,” she said, “but based on personal experience, most of those male models are vapid, self-absorbed assholes. I don’t particularly look forward to working with them, but when the end result benefits something important to me, I suck it up and take the pictures.”
Traffic pushed by just outside the car window but he barely noticed. “I find it interesting that you think I’m model material.”
“I think you could handle it for a day,” she said wryly.
“I think I like being your assistant better.”
“Ah, yes.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I’m definitely going to miss that about you.”
“About what happened up there—”
Her eyes snapped open. “Don’t you dare apologize or say it was a mistake. Don’t take that from me. Don’t take it from yourself.”
“Okay.” But it wasn’t, because despite what he knew about the very different directions they were headed, what he really wanted was to do it again.
And he had no idea what the hell he was going to do about that.
…
Other than texting to check on Shaggy, Rue didn’t go out of her way to talk to Ethan over the next couple of days. The planning committee thing was Tuesday, and she wasn’t sure if he’d be there…or if she wanted him there. It was bad enough she’d have to deal with her mother and Boyd. And while not at all unpleasant that she’d probably see Ethan’s mother, she didn’t like the impression she was likely to leave by failing to pretend she could stomach Boyd. She considered not attending at all, but she wanted to talk to Boyd’s grandmother about her calendar idea, and she sure as hell wasn’t going over to the Von Adler residence to do it.
By the time she was ready to walk through the door, she’d almost convinced herself this didn’t have to be a disaster. Then she saw Ethan talking to Boyd, and that theory went straight to hell. Both men looked at her, so she had little choice but to go over to them, where Ethan promptly slid his arm around her.
Boyd scowled. “So it’s true? You two are dating?”
Rue ignored the question. “I have an idea I’d like to talk to your grandmother about. Do you think she’ll have a moment after the meeting?”
“Find out yourself,” Boyd said. He gave her a dirty look, tripled it for Ethan, then turned and stalked off.
“Classy,” Ethan muttered.
“See? Actually, no, you haven’t seen anything.” She took his arm and pulled him aside. The meeting was held in the Trustee’s Room of the central library—while luxurious, an interesting choice for a woman whose fortune reportedly rivaled the greatest in New York City. Supposedly the location brought the charity to the community. Nice theory, but the meeting wasn’t advertised or open to the public, so the PR fell flat. But still, she had to give Mimi Von Adler credit for roughing it among the plebeians.
Once she had Ethan in a corner, she asked, “What are you doing here?” Her heart raced. Not something that was prone to happening when she went to the library, but then again, she hadn’t met him there before. He’d made a single kiss feel like the greatest adventure of her life, and that left her more than a little lost. And not in the good way.
“I had a feeling you’d need backup selling our relationship.” His words were so matter-of-fact, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken an emotional step back. Did he regret kissing her? She hadn’t wanted to know at the time, but she’d since thought of little else.
She glanced around, but no one stood close enough to hear his quiet proclamation. “That’s an interesting way of putting it,” she said.
“I wanted to support you.” Simple words, but meaningful. Words she was pretty sure no one else had ever said to her in her entire life.
She grinned. “That’s more like it. Is your mom here? I’d like to say hello.” As she spoke, she looked and quickly spotted Liam and Crosby off to one side.
“The whole gang is here. Mostly rubbernecking, is my guess.”
“Mostly what?” She inadvertently caught Liam’s eye. He seemed to be the most suspicious of the group, probably because Ethan was the closest to him by birth order. They probably had a tighter bond. Guilt crept in. She really liked Ethan’s family, and while she was sure they wouldn’t miss her when she was gone, she hated that they’d hurt for Ethan.
“Spying on us,” Ethan said.
She took him in. He’d never be the life of the party, but he’d always be a rock. He’d probably never let down anyone in his life. He may think he’d disappointed his family by not moving on after his wife died, but Rue suspected he had that part wrong. If she’d known him such a short time and already ached for his happiness, she couldn’t imagine how they must feel. “How much of a show do you want to give them?”
His brow kicked up. “I’m not looking to get arrested.”
Apparently she’d worried him, which amused her, but she rolled her eyes anyway. “Are you ever?”
“You haven’t convinced me…yet.”
“Challenge accepted.”
He responded with enough regret in his expression that she laughed out loud. He didn’t get a chance to say anything, though, before the meeting was called to order. They found seats at the far end with Ethan’s family, garnering raised brows from the entire lot of them when Ethan took her hand and held it.
Her expression must have portrayed her surprise because he leaned in. “People are watching.”
“I’m not sticking around to care what they think,” she whispered back. “You are. Besides, our hands are under the table.”
“Good point,” he said, punctuating with a light kiss to her ear that left her reeling.
As did his words.
What were they supposed to mean? He certainly didn’t back off, and she remembered he had
all the reason in the world to sell their relationship, especially to his family, who sat around them.
Bleakly, she wondered if that was what the kiss had been about. Correction: kisses. Amazing kisses. Don’t be stupid. The only witness to that was the balloon pilot, and he didn’t know them from the next couple. Ethan had held her—kissed her—because he wanted to. And she’d probably carry those moments the world over, breathing in their sweetness when she had nothing else to cling to. Pretty tame as far as earth-shattering experiences went, but she’d never wanted anything so bad in her life. Which was a blaring neon sign that she keep her distance.
Later. She’d keep her distance later.
She barely heard most of the meeting, after which Boyd’s grandmother was swamped. The eighty-something-year-old woman was crazy as a loon—evidenced in part by the empty, vintage cigarette holder she waved around like a wand—and at best an eccentric dresser—cue the white floppy floral hat that looked like a silk pillowcase puddled on her head—but she was also godawful rich, and it seemed like most of the people in the room wanted to be seen holding her attention. There was no way Rue was going to get a chance to talk to her that evening, and the longer she hung around, the more likely her mother would ambush her. In fact, she was shocked it hadn’t happened yet, but her parents were there for networking, and Rue, standing with Ethan’s family, was probably more of a detriment at that point.
Typical.
“You want to get out of here?” Ethan asked.
“If you can take me to ice cream, it’s a deal.”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he told his family. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
They said their good-byes and managed to escape any communication with her mother, which as far as Rue was concerned, made the night. She still needed to talk to Boyd’s grandmother, but maybe she could just send the charity an email. She’d need their agreement in writing anyway.
“What’s on your mind?” Ethan asked.
“Ice cream,” she repeated. They hadn’t arrived together, but they were clearly leaving that way. Especially if ice cream was involved.
The Three-Week Arrangement (Chase Brothers) Page 11
