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‘Ready?’ he asked with a smile.
She nodded. Theo had given her the pre-flight instructions from the balloon company: to wear long sleeves and trousers, preferably in natural fibres; a hat to protect her head from the radiant heat of the burner; and sensible shoes. And although she felt slightly frumpy, wearing a thick fleece over one of the strappy camisole tops she favoured outside work, she understood the logic, and she didn’t want to scrape her arms on the wicker basket.
‘Let’s go, then.’
She locked the front door behind her and walked with him to the tube station. It was still dark outside, and so early that the train was practically empty, apart from a couple of bleary-eyed commuters who looked as if they still wished they were in bed.
‘So are balloon flights always this early in the morning?’ she asked.
‘Apparently the air’s at its most stable in the first two hours after dawn and the last two hours before dusk,’ Theo told her. ‘So most flights are around sunrise or sunset. The ones over London are at sunrise, though we could have gone for a different take-off point and had a later flight.’ He smiled. ‘I take it that you’re an owl rather than a lark, then?’
‘Usually,’ she admitted. ‘Though I’m never late for my shift.’
He laughed. ‘Hey. We’re not at work now.’
‘No.’
‘But since you’ve got my head back in doctor mode, there’s something I forgot to ask you—do you have any medical condition that means you shouldn’t fly?’
‘I’m disgustingly healthy,’ she said.
‘Good.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry, this is a very personal question…but there’s no chance you could be pregnant?’
She felt the colour wash into her face. ‘No.’ She hadn’t actually slept with anyone for two years—and she’d regretted that. Not that she was going to admit either fact to Theo.
‘OK. And I’m sorry I offended you.’
‘No offence taken.’ Though there was one problem. Because of what he’d asked, she was thinking about sex. Specifically, sex with him. Which her common sense told her would be a very bad idea, although her libido was turning a series of cartwheels at the thought.
In accordance with Theo’s instructions, they reached the meeting place near Tower Bridge at a quarter past six for the pre-flight briefing. Madison’s attention was caught by the balloon itself. An enormous wicker basket with six rigid poles going up to hold the burner, and then the most enormous piece of…what? Silk? Nylon? She had no idea. But it was fascinating to watch the balloon flight team putting everything together and inflating the balloon, first with a fan and then the flames shooting into the mouth of the balloon to warm the air and make the balloon envelope rise.
When the balloon was finally upright, the pilot put the instruments and maps on board, and then it was time for the passengers to board. As they drew closer, Madison realised just how big the basket was. How deep. And, not for the first time, she wished she’d inherited the family height gene like her cousin Katrina, rather than being the shortest member of the family.
‘Want a hand in?’ Theo asked.
Part of her wanted to stand on her dignity and say, no, she could manage. But the sensible side of her knew what that would mean: a head-first, embarrassing dive into the balloon—even if she managed to negotiate the footholds. ‘Thank you. That’d be good,’ she said.
‘I apologise in advance for the caveman bit,’ he said, and scooped her up into his arms; she was forced to slide her arms round his neck for balance until he sat her on the edge of the wicker basket. Then she twisted her legs round and slid into the basket.
‘Thanks. I think even high heels wouldn’t have been enough to help me climb in,’ she said brightly, trying to keep her mind off the fact that she’d just had her arms round his neck and his body had been very, very close to hers.
‘Apart from the fact they wouldn’t be sensible footwear.’ Theo looked all the way down her body. Head to toe and then back again to meet her gaze. And the sultry look in his eyes made Madison’s heart beat just that little bit faster.
It was noisy in the balloon, with the burners still heating the air inside the balloon envelope—and then she realised that they were off the ground. Considerably off the ground.
She blinked. ‘Wow. I was expecting it to be—well, bumpier than this,’ she said. ‘Like being on a boat going out to sea.’
‘We’re moving with the wind, so that’s why we can’t feel the currents. And a passenger basket this size is really, really stable. It shouldn’t rock or sway at all.’
