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Chuckling, he opened the driver’s door. “Don’t be a wuss. You’ll have a blast.”
Taking a deep breath, Kristy reached for her own door handle, trying to remember if she’d ever heard reports of balloon fatalities in the Grand Canyon. She couldn’t think of any, but that might simply mean the mathematical odds were catching up with them.
Jack rounded the hood and pulled on the top of her door, drawing it open the rest of the way.
“Have you ever ridden one?” she asked.
The roar of the balloon’s gas burner echoed in the air as the huge balloon lifted from the ground, taking on a life of its own in a slight, desert breeze.
“A burro?”
She gave him an exasperated glare. “A hot air balloon.”
“A couple of times.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
She squinted at the bold yellow against the crackling blue sky. “How exactly do they steer?”
“They don’t.” He retrieved a small cooler from the back seat of the car. “You’re pretty much at the whim of the wind.”
“This is not reassuring, Jack.”
He placed his free hand at the small of her back, urging her toward the gate. “The pilot’s licensed.”
“So? You just told me he can’t steer.”
“The Grand Canyon’s a pretty big place. We’re sure to happen across some of it. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I left it on the jet.”
His face suddenly tightened with concern. “Hey, you’re not still freaked out from that, are you?”
She shook her head. Then she stopped. Now that he mentioned it, it was sort of unsettling to be going back up in the air again.
“Good.” He took her at her word, increasing their pace. “This is going to be fantastic.”
From the moment they lifted off the ground, Kristy had to admit, Jack was right.
The trip was better than fantastic. There was nothing quite like being above the ground, yet out in the open air. The balloon was slow and smooth. She was glad she’d worn a long-sleeved blouse, but with record high temperatures, the breeze was soft. Between the pilot’s narrative and Jack’s questions and jokes, she completely forgot to be frightened.
They soared the breadth of the canyon, dipping between layered cliffs of red, green and brown stone, nearly kissing the brittle, scrub-covered valley bottom, only to rise again and wend their way between spires of sculpted rock.
“With this wind, I can put you down at Narin Falls,” said the pilot.
“Perfect,” said Jack, giving Kristy’s shoulders a squeeze. “Feel like a picnic?”
She nodded, relaxing back against him, content to be marooned and forget about the world for a while longer.
His arms wound briefly around her, his khaki-covered legs brushing against her new jeans, and the hard planes of his chest and stomach giving her a sense of security and certainty. She savored the feelings as long as she dared.
And then the balloon descended, following the steep drop of a cliff. It floated over a dusty plain until they came to a winding river with sprinkles of green lining either bank.
Then, in slow motion, the plain fell away. The river plummeted into a waterfall, burbling white and blue on its long drop to where it crashed into a turquoise pool surrounded by trees and shrubs and grass.
Kristy gasped at the sight.
“Hang on,” said the pilot.
The balloon quickly lost altitude, the basket scraping along the sand, bumping to a stop several hundred feet from the oasis, the balloon canted over to one side.
Jack jumped out of the basket, steadying it with one hand, and all but lifting Kristy out with the other.
The pilot quickly handed him the cooler, then tossed a blanket over the side.
“We’re clear,” Jack called, his arm firmly around her waist, backing them both away.
The pilot poured on the heat, and the balloon reinflated.
“He’s leaving,” Kristy stated, trying to get her footing sorted out on the soft ground.
“He is,” Jack agreed, keeping her clasped next to his side.
“How are we going to get out of here?” She’d seen the view from the air. They were miles and miles away from anything.
“He’ll give the helicopter pilot our coordinates.”
“We’re getting picked up by helicopter?”
“Sure.” Jack nodded, giving the pilot a final wave.
Kristy blinked up at him, the reality of the excursion suddenly hitting home. She was alone. Really, really alone with a man she’d only met yesterday.
She wasn’t scared, exactly. What were the odds Jack had brought her by hot air balloon to a desert canyon to ravish or murder her? Plus, the balloon pilot was a witness. If Jack was a closet ax murderer, he’d be pretty stupid to let the only witness to the planned crime fly away.
