New Lease on Love Page 4

  "Be careful, sis," Larry called as the basket lifted.

  Slowly, silently, the ground fell away, and up she and Jeff went. Below them, growing ever smaller, Larry, Mimi and Katie were piling into the Jeep.

  "What's the weather for today?" Jeff asked offhandedly.

  Being apprised of the weather was as natural—and necessary—to a balloonist as breathing. If she'd wanted to, Chelsea could have given Jeff a rundown of every front moving across the country, but today she refused.

  "I don't know. Didn't you call the Flight Service Station?" She watched his face drop.

  "No. You always do that."

  She sat on a tiny corner bench and draped her arms along the rail. "I thought since you've decided you're ready to handle one of these things by yourself, I'd let you."

  "Oh, wow!" The young man was thrilled until the reality of his predicament hit home. Chelsea saw alarm visibly tightening his face.

  "Jeffrey…" Her voice was deceptively calm as she nodded toward an approaching maple. It was the only tree in the entire meadow, and they were heading straight into it.

  "Holy cow!" He lunged for the burner. Fortunately, the blasting flame heated the air inside the envelope quickly enough for them to make a sharp ascent over the obstacle. Chelsea's tense grip loosened on the cord of a sandbag whose release would've lightened their weight and effected the same ascent.

  Jeff looked down at her with big, worried eyes. "Should I keep burning?"

  "Don't ask me. You're the one running this ship. What do you think?"

  "Yeah, I think I should. Yeah." But he wasn't really sure at all. It wasn't going to be an easy day for the young hotshot. Not if she could help it.

  Chelsea picked up the two-way radio. "Larry, you're coming up on the entrance to Pine Ridge. Don't forget Katie."

  "I won't. How are things upstairs?"

  She glanced at Jeff. Ground heat was already playing havoc with wind currents. He looked a little green around the gills. "Fine. Just fine."

  "Well, be careful. You're really clipping along, you know."

  Yes, she knew. If this had been a charter, she would've canceled it. But she liked taking her students up in wind. How else were they supposed to gain experience? And she'd certainly flown in worse. Conditions today were manage-able, yet they might be enough to scare a little sense into ha arrogant student.

  They skimmed the ski area, flying so low that they nearly hit one of the huge girderlike chair-lift supports. Only Chelsea's judicious ballasting got them over. They weren't quite so lucky, however, with a stand of trees that separated two ski runs. Small treetop branches went snapping everywhere as they plowed through. Now Jeff was visibly shaken. He turned up the burner until they were at 1,400 feet and too high to hit anything—except erratic wind shears that had even Chelsea chewing her nails.

  She leaned over the rail, scanning the public road for the Jeep. But it wasn't there. She found it deep within the Pine Ridge ski area, jouncing over a rutted utility path. Chelsea had to laugh. Chasing a balloon could be an adventure in itself, especially here in the mountains. More often than not, she and her chase cars lost contact with each other entirely. She picked up the radio and asked Larry if he'd dropped off Katie.

  "Uh… no. I tried to—"

  "No! What do you mean, no?"

  "I mean she couldn't remember where her father was, and I didn't want to waste any more time looking. I was afraid I'd lose you."

  "Jeez, Larry! You've still got the kid?"

  "Yep. She's having a ball, too. Thinks this is the best thing since the Bubble Bounce."

  "Great. Now what are we going to do? It might be an hour before we get back. A parent searching for a missing child could be out of his mind by then."

  "That's presuming he's searching."

  "You're right. Anyone lax enough to…" Realizing that Katie could probably hear their conversation, she kept the rest of her opinion to herself. "Do you suppose Pine Ridge has a radio?" Even as she was speaking, a familiar car appeared on the road below, following the Jeep. "Oh, great!"

  "What is it, sis?"

  "Another car's just joined the chase."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. A blue Volvo."

  "Uh-oh. Looks like I should've dropped off the kid."

  "Looks like. What say we call it a day, Lar?"

  "Smart call."

  "Smithsons' farm seems a likely spot from where I sit."

  "Roger. Meet you there."

  It was a hair-raising ride, and an even more hair-raising landing. An eight-mile-an-hour wind was Chelsea's ideal flying speed, but today they were coming in at twenty-five. "Flex your knees, Jeff. Keep them soft," she instructed as the field whizzed beneath them.

  The basket landed with three teeth-jarring bumps, then lay perfectly calm. The envelope, however, was still partially inflated and moving over their heads. Chelsea had yanked on the rip line to release the air through the port at the crown of the balloon, but it couldn't escape quite fast enough. The slowly collapsing nylon, drifting overhead, suddenly was in a position where it caught the wind just right and puffed like a giant spinnaker, and the basket leapt into the air again. It came down even harder than before, once, twice, then tipped on its side, but even then it wouldn't stop. Before Larry and Mimi could run across the field, Katie in tow, and latch onto the basket, the wind had dragged it almost a hundred feet.

  "Are you okay, Chelse?" Mimi looked ready to cry.

  "Oh, sure." Chelsea smiled reassuringly as Larry helped her to her feet. "I've suffered worse."

  A very shaken young man crawled out after her, his thin face pale and lost within the helmet he'd been only too willing to put on. On his hands and knees he seemed to be paying homage to the solid ground.

  "How are you, Jeffrey?" Chelsea inquired with perhaps ! too much satisfaction. She didn't hear his answer, though, because a Volvo was careering to the side of the road.

  Nick Tanner crossed the field as if he wanted to kill. Chelsea braced herself, dreading this encounter even more than she'd dreaded the landing.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted, even before he'd reached her.

  "Good morning to you, too, Mr. Tanner."

  "I'll give you a good morning! Of all the lamebrained stunts… Miss Lawton, are you totally off your rocker?"

  Chelsea bit back the angry words that wanted to leap off her tongue. "Please calm down, Mr. Tanner. As you can see, everyone here is fine."

  "Fine? Fine?" He flailed his arms. "I've never seen such an irresponsible operation in all my life!"

  Larry was by Chelsea's side in a flash, eyeing Nick coldly. "Anything I can do for you?"

  "Larry, it's okay. I can handle this."

  "It's no bother."

  "Really, Larry. Go. They need you." She hooked a thumb toward the balloon.

  "All right. But if he gives you any lip…"

  She dealt him a stern look, and he finally walked away.

  "Now, Mr. Tanner, you were saying?"

  "Yes, Miss Lawton, I was saying… Is this a habit of yours, kidnapping seven-year-olds and taking them on reckless joyrides?"

  Chelsea's blood boiled. "No, Mr. Tanner. Only those whose parents allow them to wander unsupervised down country roads where cars clip along at sixty miles an hour!"

  His eyes turned so fiery that Chelsea took a step back. "I hope you don't expect me to dignify that with an answer."

  "No, because I don't think you have one."

  "Tell me," he said through teeth that wouldn't unclench, "when were you planning to let me know where she was?"

  "Would it have made any difference to you?"

  Katie ran up to her father just then and clasped his left hand in both of hers. "Daddy, did you see it?"

  "Are you okay, baby?" His gentleness surprised Chelsea.

  " 'Course I'm okay. Did you see it, Dad? Come see it."

  "Wait a minute, Katie."

  But Katie couldn't wait. She ran back to Mimi, Larry and a somew
hat recovered Jeff, who were dismantling the balloon.

  "We could've left your daughter back in the field, you know," Chelsea resumed. "We didn't have to bring her with us."

  "I don't see how what you did was any better."

  "Oh, so you're saying we should've let her walk back to Pine Ridge on her own?" She laughed incredulously. "You really are a piece of work!"

  "Don't put words in my mouth. I never said I wanted you to abandon her. But taking her all over creation in an open Jeep? She could've been seriously hurt. I ought to sue you."

  Sue her? Chelsea gulped. Angry as she was, those words terrified her. Did he have grounds for a suit?

  "M-my crew is extremely capable, Mr. Tanner. They know exactly what they're doing."

  "I doubt that very much, and I doubt you do, either. Do you realize you almost hit a ski lift back there?" He pointed furiously. "And the way you landed… Is that how you land one of those damn contraptions?" He leaned closer, his anger pressing down on her. "Then you wonder why I don't want you taking my daughter for a ride!"

  "Mr. Tanner, you're being unfair. If you'd let me explain—"

  "Unfair?" His eyes seemed to spit fire. "Oh, no. What I am is shocked, shocked that you're allowed to take innocent children up in that thing, shocked that you're allowed to operate at all!"

  "Mr. Tanner, that wasn't a typical landing. If you knew anything about me, you'd realize—"

  "I've seen quite enough, thank you." He took a determined step past her. "Katie!" he called, but a moment later he turned, recapturing her in his steel-trap stare. "Do you use Pine Ridge land every time you go ballooning? Even when you take kids up on your charity missions?"

  Chelsea felt cornered, an image of her new lease flashing across her mind. "Most of the time."

  He nodded to private voices, his eyes condemning her. Then, "Katie!"

  The child was helping squeeze out the last of the air trapped in the envelope. Her arms were wrapped around the nylon, now just a long, compressed tube, and she was digging in her heels as she slid the bubble from one end to the other.

  "Come on, Katie."

  She looked over, her cheeks rosy from her labors. "Do I hafta?"

  "Yes, you hafta. Let's go, young lady."

  Everyone bid her goodbye as she hobbled away. They had enjoyed her company, but Chelsea sensed the others were as eager as she to see Nick Tanner leave.

  "What a jerk," Larry muttered as he came to stand beside Chelsea.

  "Double-jerk," Mimi said. "Even if he is kind of sexy."

  "Mimi!" both Larry and Chelsea groaned.

  "Well, he is."

  Chelsea wished she didn't agree, but as infuriating as he'd been and as harried as she felt, she still had to admit the man was a powder keg of sensuality.

  She only wished her home and business weren't sitting atop that keg, ready to blow.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On Monday morning the telephone rang in the main office at Pine Ridge, interrupting the informal conference between Nick Tanner, Chet Lockwood and a young architect.

  "Excuse me," Chet said, extending his beefy hand toward the receiver. "Why, hello, Chelsea. How are you?"

  Nick's eyes snapped up from the blueprints laid out on Chet's desk. He felt his heartbeat quicken.

  "I was afraid you might worry about that change in your lease," Chet continued.

  Nick pretended to study the plans, but his mind had returned to Saturday morning and his argument with Chelsea Lawton out in that field. He didn't blow up often these days. He used to, those months after Katie's accident. At doctors and nurses, even at hospital orderlies. In his anxiety over Katie's slow recovery, his sense of protectiveness had turned fierce.

  He supposed that's what had happened again on Saturday—which was understandable. He'd panicked when he'd realized Katie was missing. He'd run in circles, calling for her, fighting off visions of her lying hurt somewhere. How had he let it happen? His carelessness enraged him. He should've kept her indoors. He should've hired a sitter. He should've done something. But he hadn't. He'd failed— again.

  Then it had appeared, the balloon, and he'd intuitively known it was linked to Katie's disappearance. A moment later he'd spotted his daughter bouncing along in that open Jeep, and he'd gone berserk. He'd wanted to tear Chelsea Lawton limb from limb.

  Nick's attention returned to Chet's phone conversation.

  "I'm sorry I didn't call and explain. I should have, but things've been really hectic around here lately. I've taken on a new partner… Oh, you've heard?"

  Nick waited, wondering if Chelsea would say anything about having met him already. From the ensuing conversation, he guessed she chose not to, which was what he'd been hoping.

  He'd obviously made the right decision refusing to let Katie take a ride with her. She was so inept at ballooning he almost felt embarrassed for her. And he wasn't sorry he'd blown up after she'd landed. She'd deserved it, and more.

  What he didn't feel comfortable with, though, was the concern he'd felt as he'd watched that small basket hurtling across the field. Concern? No. Dread was more like it. Helplessness. Familiar dark echoes from his life with Laura.

  That had been the worst part of loving Laura. He'd never gotten used to living on the edge of disaster. The sweats, the nightmares, the desperate lovemaking before a race. Then there were the arguments and threats. He didn't need that anymore. He didn't need any of it, and why he'd felt that old familiar knife in his chest on Saturday morning was a mystery. Chelsea Lawton meant nothing to him, and never would.

  "Listen, Chelsea…" Chet's voice drew Nick out of his bleak thoughts. "How about coming by the house tonight?"

  Nick nearly tipped the coffee mug he was lifting.

  "I'd like to tell you all about what's happening at Pine Ridge. It's exciting. Besides, we haven't seen you in ages. Grace'll be so pleased. You girls never get together anymore."

  Nick swallowed his coffee with a loud gulp. Good Lord! Chelsea and Grace were friends?

  "Yes, eight o'clock's fine. See you then."

  So, Chelsea was paying them a call tonight? Well, fine, Nick decided. He would be polite, but he'd also be firm. It was time Chelsea was apprised of the situation. She'd probably be upset, but business was business. Besides, Katie didn't need to have temptation constantly sailing over her head, and he certainly didn't want any more trees pruned. He was having fits as it was, thinking about liability insurance and whether Chet had bothered to cover Pine Ridge against this gray-eyed threat to his peace of mind.

  Nick looked thoughtfully at the blueprints as the architect resumed conversation, but it was a long while before he heard a word he said.

  Chelsea took one more calming breath before ringing the bell. She was glad to be here, she reminded herself. She needed to find out what this one-month nonsense was all about. But the truth was she didn't want to hear it. If Nick Tanner was involved, the news was bound to be bad.

  She stepped back to admire the graceful, fanlighted door—and to get her mind off the reason for this visit. The Lockwoods lived in a classic Federal-style house, built in the late 1700s. The Age of Reason, Chelsea recalled, an age of order, irrefutable laws of nature and Ben Franklin's neat aphorisms. She appreciated the place on an objective level, but personally it had always made her edgy. With its perfectly balanced windows and rooms, its stiff period furniture and dour portraits arranged just so, it always seemed to be lecturing: a place for everything and everything in its place. It had been Mrs. Lockwood's ancestral home. She'd loved it, as Grace did now.

  Chelsea was thinking about how different her own house was—quirky, unplanned, but always comfortable—when Grace Lockwood opened the door.

  "Chelsea, how good to see you. Come in."

  It was remarkable how little Grace had changed since high school. The same timeless shirtwaists, same timeless pumps. Chelsea had always thought Grace had a certain natural beauty, with her ivory complexion and classically styled, soft-brown hair.

  Unfor
tunately, most other people back in school didn't agree. They'd cruelly dubbed her The Stick, a name that referred to her too-thin, ramrod-straight figure and her inflexibly conservative attitudes toward just about everything.

  She and Chelsea had never really been friends, just classmates, but the few times Chelsea had stopped by to visit had apparently convinced Grace that they were. That bothered her. She wasn't sure she liked Grace all that much.

  "What have you been up to lately?" Chelsea asked, slipping off her jacket.

  "Oh, I've been busy, housekeeping for Dad, you know."

  Chelsea wasn't surprised. Grace was a consummate homebody. She'd majored in education in college and had tried her hand at teaching for a while. But, as her father phrased it, Grace was a delicate girl who couldn't take much stimulation. She'd quit after a year and hadn't gone out to work since.

  "We have houseguests, too, so I've been doubly busy," she added, hanging Chelsea's jacket in the hall closet. "Come on. Everyone's in the living room."

  Chelsea was aware of the ticking of the grandfather clock as she entered the room, and then almost immediately her gaze zeroed in on the man who dominated that room. Her heart leapt to her throat.

  "Hello, Chelsea," Chet Lockwood said, greeting her from somewhere off to one side, but her eyes were still locked on Nick Tanner. Why was this dreadful man here? Why was he so intent on making her life a living hell?

  And why couldn't she stop her pulse from racing whenever he was near?

  Slowly, Nick stood up, his gaze pouring over her with a simmering intensity that told her he'd forgotten none of the fireworks of their previous meetings.

  Chelsea shook off her dismay and turned to greet her host. "Mr. Lockwood…" She tried to smile.

  "Come in, come in." He took her arm and led her forward. Chet Lockwood had been a professional skier in his youth, but in spite of the fact that he still gave lessons, he'd grown rather portly over the years, his girth accentuated by the brightly patterned sweaters he usually wore. His broad face was ruddy from the winter sun, and a shock of white hair overhung his brow like a snowdrift.