“I can’t imagine you hunched over a stove, mixing strange brews,” she said.
He laughed. “Well, for many years, that’s what I did. Then I got heavily into importing herbs, staying up all night to blend the flavors I’d dreamed up in my head, and holding the hands of a bunch of inexperienced sales reps that I’d sent all over the country to build our accounts. I wouldn’t want to go through any of that again.”
“Still, it sounds as if you loved it,” she said, watching him.
“It was the challenge that I loved. I had big dreams, big plans. I was lucky because they all worked out. Except—”
Dorian waited expectantly for him to finish the sentence.
“Except what?” she prompted.
“Except that I was lonely,” he finished.
“And now?”
He turned his smile on her, and she was dazzled by its radiance. “And now, at this moment, I’m not lonely anymore. I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
She was bowled over by his sincerity and obvious happiness, but she also felt bewildered. She had done nothing to make him so happy—except to agree to be with him.
“I would have thought that you have friends that you like to be with.”
“Oh, I have buddies. The very best,” he said.
“Do you spend time with them?”
He shook his head. “Not much. Steve lives in San Francisco. Tripp lives in Illinois. And Ki moves around wherever his work takes him but is living in Seattle for the summer. The STUDs, that’s what we call ourselves.”
“This is a club? A fraternity?”
“STUDs isn’t really either of those. We’re just a group of guys who have been friends since college, held together by memories and good times and a helluva lot of beer-drinking in a wilderness cabin. The name STUDs comes from the first letters of our names—Steve, Tripp, Ukiah and me, Deke.”
“What cabin do you go to? Your place in Rabun County?”
“My—? Oh, no. We own the cabin jointly, and it’s out at Lake Tahoe on the California-Nevada border. We get together there once a year to do guy things and reaffirm our friendship.”
Dorian was intrigued. “It sounds like fun,” she said.
“It is. We can say anything to one another, really let our hair down.”
“And let me guess what you talk about—women. Right?”
“We used to. Now that the other three guys are married, I guess the old bull sessions are over for good.”
Dorian thought he sounded wistful. “You’ll miss that, no doubt,” she said.
He shrugged. “It remains to be seen. Ki only got married in December, and Steve and Tripp bit the dust shortly before that.”
“So what is it with you? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride?”
He made a face. “The World’s Last Bachelor,” he said. “The other STUDs gave me a plaque proclaiming my status, and I’m determined to live up to it. The marriage route isn’t for me. We’ve talked about it before, so you of all people should understand.”
“Oh, I do, I do. And that’s the only time you’ll ever hear those particular words coming out of my mouth.”
He said no more for a while, and Dorian soon realized that she felt comfortable sharing the silence with him. As the road twisted past ponds and pastures, wild daisies and tall grass, she allowed her mind to drift, touching on all that had happened to her in the past two weeks. First losing both her jobs, then signing a contract that would assure her of a decent income and national exposure, not to mention meeting the much-admired Deke Washburn, the trou-blesome, annoying, whimsical Deke Washburn....
Deke slowed the car and headed down a narrow clay road.
“Deke, where are we?” she asked. She was unfamiliar with this part of the countryside.
“Hang on,” he said with a grin. “You’ll find out in a minute.” He guided the spunky little sports car around several ruts and pulled up beside a weather-beaten barn.
“Okay, Dorian, we’re about to see whether you’re a good sport,” he said, and she got out of the car and followed him past the barn where she saw a cluster of people gathered around a big red-and-yellow-striped hot-air balloon.
She stopped dead in her tracks. She’d finally made the connection between Dorothy and Toto and Phileas Fogg. Dorothy and Toto had flown back to Kansas on a balloon, and Phileas Fogg was the balloon-hopping character in Around the World in Eighty Days.
“We’re not going up in that thing,” she said flatly.
Deke slowly removed his sunglasses and lifted one eyebrow. Then he smiled down at her, a long, lazy, supremely confident grin. His eyes were bright with the challenge.
“You wanna bet?” he said.
Chapter Six
That was all she needed. Dorian was not about to let Deke Washburn know she was scared.
She called upon every acting skill she had and returned his grin. “All bets are off, Deke. I’m game.”
In sudden jubilation, he tossed his sunglasses up in the air and caught them again.
“You’re sure?”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” Then she was running across the grassy field with Deke, dandelions underfoot, the wind in her hair, trying her best to remember everything she had ever heard about hot-air balloons.
Balloons crash. That was all she needed to know, Dorian thought glumly as the Dr. Feelgood’s Herbal Teas logo emblazoned on the side of the balloon inflated and became readable.
“Well, what do you think of it?” Deke asked as the crew worked to get the craft airborne.
“It’s not a very big basket” was the only comment she could think of.
“It’s big enough for two. Getting cold feet?”
“They’re perfectly warm,” she said with dignity, whereupon Deke turned to one of the crew members and started talking about landings. Which was encouraging. Dorian could only hope that the landing would occur soon after the launch.
“Looks like we’re all set. Come here,” Deke said, holding out his hand, and he first boosted Dorian up in the gondola, then vaulted in after her.
Now what? was all Dorian could think as she gazed up at the balloon billowing above them. It towered a good seven or eight stories into the air.
“Last chance to back out,” Deke said as he adjusted the powerful propane burner pumping hot air into what the crew members called the envelope, the inflated fabric above them.
Dorian looked Deke straight in the eye and said, “Back out? Not on your life.”
And then, as Dorian clung to the edge of the gondola and wished she’d never set eyes on Deke Washburn, the ground crew let go of their moorings and they flew up, up and away, the earth receding beneath them as the red and yellow of the envelope swooped them upward into a cloudless blue sky.
It wasn’t as scary as Dorian had expected. Color slowly returned to her knuckles as she relaxed her grip on the basket, but she didn’t dare look down.
Don’t look down...don’t look down...don’t look down, she repeated in her head as a kind of mantra.
“What do you think about it so far?” Deke shouted over the roar of the propane burner.
“It has its ups and downs,” she shouted back.
She knew from the way he laughed that he didn’t have a clue about how she really felt. “I have just one comment,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I can’t believe that you’d object to my rollerblading when you go flying off in balloons,” she said on a wave of sudden hilarity driven by something close to hysteria. “I mean, at least when I’m on skates, I’ve got one foot on the ground at all times.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that,” he said, his mouth twitching with humor.
At least he didn’t know she was wishing with all her heart that her feet were still on solid ground. At least he didn’t know that Dorian was the type of person who never rode roller coasters and who con-sidered merry-go-rounds daring and dangerous rides. Why, she’d once become deathly ill on
a ski lift. But she wasn’t about to tell Deke.
He busied himself with the burner valve, sending a flame up toward the mouth of the balloon to heat the air that made it rise. This had to be done intermittently, and in between there was time to demon-strate fuel gauges and flight instruments and the CB radio. Dorian took it all in, trying to figure out how long the flight would last. A half an hour? An hour? Would her stomach hold out that long?
She interrupted her silent don’t look down chant for a moment. “How’d you learn to do this?” she asked him.
“One day I thought it would be a novel idea to advertise Dr. Feelgood’s Herbal Teas throughout the metro Atlanta area by plastering our corporate name all over a hot-air balloon, and when I came out here to see how they worked, I was hooked. I’ve been soloing for about a month,” he said.
Dorian swallowed. “Only a month?”
“I went on a lot of flights before I got my license, so I’ve got plenty of experience,” he said. “Anyway, that day when we rode the MARTA, you told me how much you longed to get away from everything, to be as free as a bird. I knew how you felt because I used to feel that way, too,” he said.
“And now I’m up here, soaring like an eagle. Or a hawk,” she said ironically, wishing with all her heart that she would learn when to keep her mouth shut.
He shook his head. “A bird of paradise is what you are.”
A rogue wind current buffeted the basket, and Dorian’s stomach did flip-flops.
“Hey,” he said. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”
I hope I don’t embarrass myself, she thought, looking around for a barf bag. Presumably the balloon was not so well equipped. She shook her head, mostly to clear it, but he took it as a response to his bird of paradise remark.
“It’s just that I think you’re beautiful. And exotic. And I suspect that you’re one of the few truly spontaneous women I’ve ever known.”
“Well, I always plan to be spontaneous,” she blurted, and he laughed.
“I’m glad I got you away from everything,” he said, his eyes searching her face. “You seem—well, somehow different now.”
Yeah, I think I must look green by now, she almost said. “Since signing the contract, I’m definitely richer,” she managed to say.
“I don’t mean that. You’re more yourself around me now, aren’t you?”
Myself is becoming more and more nauseated by the second, she thought, but at least Deke didn’t notice. He was talking, talking, talking. For which, since he didn’t seem to expect her to contribute to the conversation, she was thankful.
“I knew from the moment that I first saw you pushing caramba beads in Fontana’s that this was the person you really were. I’m glad I hung on long enough to make sure. Look—there’s a deer grazing down there.”
She didn’t look. She couldn’t. If she looked, the person she really was would upchuck for sure.
Deke had whipped out a pair of binoculars. “It’s a whole herd of deer at the edge of the woods. Usually you don’t see them at this time of day.”
Against her better judgment, Dorian sneaked a glance. The balloon was scudding along at a rapid clip, its shadow skimming the ground beneath them. In the shadow, she saw a brown blur that might have been deer, but she pulled her head back in before she could make out the details.
The shadow was what did it. One glimpse of it and she felt the sting of bile at the back of her throat.
At that point, the flight of the balloon dipped crazily and Deke handed the binoculars to her as he turned on the propane burner again.
She clenched the binoculars in one hand and clutched at the edge of the basket with the other. She thought she’d rather die than be sick. She should have known better than to try to prove that she was a good sport for Deke Washburn. What had he ever been but trouble? Forget the Dr. Feelgood’s job—it seemed irrelevant up here in the air as she fought to control her unruly stomach.
But Deke—Deke was clearly in his element. “See that white pickup down there?” he said, pointing to a truck that was following on a road parallel to their flight. “That’s the chase vehicle.”
As if on cue, a burst of static erupted from the radio, followed by a male voice. “Are you still on for the landing at Nelson’s meadow?” it said.
Deke scooped up the handset and flicked it on. “Sure, Jimmy. I may get there well before you if this wind doesn’t die down a bit.”
“I’ll race you.”
Deke only laughed and replaced the handset.
“Is there some problem with the wind?” Dorian asked.
“Oh, there’s been a slight increase in velocity,” Deke said offhandedly. “Nothing to worry about.”
Nothing for you to worry about, she amended silently. Her stomach had subsided to a low level of quease, which might abate if she refused to look down again. Resolutely keeping her eyes on the vast ex-panse of sky, Dorian began to shiver.
Deke noticed right away. “Cold?” he asked, turning his attention to her.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Come here,” he said, and he slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
She welcomed his warmth and the shield he provided against the breeze. She tried not to think about the faint scent of his after-shave, which probably would not help her stomach at all.
“See that large green field over there?” Deke said, pointing at something below. Dorian didn’t look, but Deke didn’t notice.
“That’s Nelson’s meadow. We use it for landings sometimes. I’ll put us down in the middle of it, and the chase vehicle will take us back to the launch site.”
This meant that a landing was imminent. This was good. This was going to save her from making a fool of herself.
Just then a strong wind current rocked the gondola. Dorian clutched at Deke, glad for the solid straight bulk of him. But by this time, Deke was concentrating on the variometer, which indicated descent, and he was adjusting the vent line to dump hot air so that they would lose altitude. As the hot air was expelled, they drifted down slowly, majestically. There was no doubt that Deke seemed to know ex-actly what he was doing.
Finally, thankfully, Dorian risked a peek over the edge of the gondola and saw Nelson’s meadow rising beneath them. Her stomach reminded her instantly of her mantra, which she began to repeat again and again, broken only by reassurances of just a few more minutes. Then Deke suddenly cursed and sent a blast of hot air into the envelope so that the balloon rose abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in alarm.
“I’ve aborted the landing. Nobody told us that Nelson has gone and put a damn fence down the middle of his meadow!” Deke said.
Oh, great, Dorian thought as Jimmy’s voice rattled over the radio.
“You gonna try it again, Deke?” asked Jimmy.
“There’s a new fence at Nelson’s,” Deke said tersely. “I’m changing my plan. I’ll land at the state park beyond.”
Dorian made herself look. Ahead of them lay a long grassy field bordered by trees.
“There’s not much space to land,” Deke said, almost to himself.
She shot him a worried look. He saw it and reached over to squeeze her hand.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. Not that she believed him exactly. Since when did anything go the way it should when Deke Washburn had anything to do with it?
Again Deke brought the balloon in low. As a house rushed toward them and they cleared it with only a few feet to spare, Dorian’s stomach let her know that it was still an active player in this little sce-nario. Not far in front of them was a road where passengers in a slow-moving car craned their necks out the windows at the spectacle of their flight.
“Hang on,” Deke shouted as they sailed across the road, the ground lurching toward them. “This terrain is uneven. It may be a rough landing.”
Dorian gave up on her stomach and decided to preserve what she could of life and limb instead. She crouched so that she sat in the bottom of th
e basket, her wary eyes on the envelope above.
“Here goes,” Deke said before reaching up and yanking on a rip line, pulling hard. The balloon deflated, and Dorian felt the impact as they hit the ground and dragged along for what seemed like a mile.
Safe! she thought as their progress slowed. But without warning the gondola basket flipped over, spilling her out. Deke shouted as she tumbled into icy cold water, and when she caught her breath she was astonished to find herself sitting smack-dab in the middle of a narrow creek.
“Dorian!” Deke called, scrambling toward her over a series of large flat rocks on the bank. The gondola hovered on the edge of the creek on its side, the envelope collapsing gracefully across a couple of bushes.
Dorian shook her head to clear it. She stared up at Deke, who looked horrified at her plight.
She looked down at the water swirling around her chest and began to laugh. She had made it. It felt so good to be back on earth again that she felt like bending down and kissing it, except that here she would need a snorkel.
“Are you okay?” Deke asked, slipping and almost plunging headlong into the creek himself.
“You can’t imagine how okay I am,” she said fervently.
“Dorian, I’m sorry,” Deke said as he shucked off his shoes. He waded toward her through the water and extended his hand. It was easy to stand up with his help. She wiggled her toes in her wet sneakers; she tested the mobility of her neck. Everything, thank goodness, seemed to be in working order. And her stomach felt calm, blessedly calm.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Deke asked, grasping her by the upper arms.
“I’m fine,” she said truthfully. “Not even a scratch. Here, take your binoculars.” She held them up.
“You mean you hung on to them through this?”
“Yup.”
He shook the water from them and slung them around his neck from their cord.
“Dorian—”
She knew in that instant what was about to happen. The amazing thing was that she accepted its inevitability. She could have waded away, made some joke, teased Deke about dumping her into the drink, but she simply didn’t have the heart for it.
The World's Last Bachelor Page 8
