“You’re kidding. Flames?”

“The hot air makes the balloon rise.”

Mari gave her a look.

Glenn held out her hand in invitation. “So, want to go for a ride?”

Yes, anything, anywhere, for a few minutes more with Glenn. The past week’s shadows evaporated in the brilliant glow of Glenn’s smile. Crazy or not, Mari gripped Glenn’s hand. “Tell me we’re not insane.”

“I promise you’ll be fine.” Glenn was still grinning, but Mari sensed the seriousness behind her light tone. Glenn could be counted on, no matter what. She knew that in her bones. She’d counted on family, counted on her own body, and both had failed her. She should know better than to count on anyone, anything, but the still strength in Glenn’s gaze told her otherwise. This woman she could trust.

“Then let’s go.” Mari headed for the makeshift set of stairs Frank had pushed up against the wicker basket. They teetered as she climbed, and Glenn steadied her from behind with a hand on her back.

The baskets hanging below the other colorful, gas-filled balloons already floating off in the sky looked tiny from the ground, and when she got inside this one, the basket didn’t look any larger up close. A sign had said the basket held five, but Mari didn’t see how. There was barely a foot of space left over with the three of them inside. She glanced at Glenn, who was watching her with a faint look of amusement.

“This really isn’t funny, you know.”

“You did say you didn’t mind heights.”

“You neglected to mention we’d be up in the air in something the size of a cereal box. And is there even any way to steer this thing?”

“These lines right here help with piloting,” Frank said, climbing in with them. “Of course, they’re only good for a suggestion. Mostly the balloon goes where she wants.”

Mari grimaced but held her protest. She was committed now—no quitting.

Frank began untying the tethers and tossing them down to the ground. The basket bounced like a puppy eager to be let off its leash. “You don’t have to worry, miss. I’ve been piloting this rig since I could hardly see over the top of the basket.”

“I hope not this very one,” Mari muttered. “They can’t have a life span of more than six months.” When she watched the canvas lift from the ground as the coiled tube pumped air into it, she didn’t actually think it could have a life span of more than a day or two. She prayed for at least another twenty-four hours. “I’m surprised they all don’t catch on fire.”

Glenn chuckled. “It’s a delicate balance.”

Mari didn’t doubt Frank’s lifetime of experience, but she would much rather have been watching the spectacle from the safety of one of the picnic tables. On the other hand, Glenn offered her a taste of adventure, and this one at least was relatively safe. The only thing that might get broken would be her head, not her heart.

That thought brought her up short. Was her heart really at risk where Glenn was concerned? Her body and her sanity were definitely on the losing end of things—being anywhere in Glenn’s vicinity sent her heart rate into the stratosphere, and other parts of her body jolted awake with a mixture of pleasure and nagging need. Her mind blanked and basic instincts took charge. She was no stranger to the concept of sex or sexual desire, and even if she didn’t have the experience, she knew what she was feeling. Just thinking about Glenn aroused her. The sight of her, the sound of her voice, the merest brush of her hand ignited a flood of desire. She certainly wasn’t going to lie to herself about that. The reaction was natural, Glenn was gorgeous, and she rejoiced that her body had finally recovered from the assaults of the last year. But her heart? No, she hadn’t let things get that far out of hand. For now she’d let herself enjoy the attraction, within reason.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Glenn said gently. “I want you to enjoy it.”

Usually Glenn could read her mind, but thankfully not this time. She didn’t need to know Mari had just been debating whether it was wise to lust after her. As if she could stop it. I want you to enjoy it. Mari smiled. “I know you do, and I will. I want to go up.”

Glenn glanced at Frank. “Good enough. We’re good to go.”

Mari moved closer to Glenn as Frank released the last ropes holding them down. The bucket immediately shot up, swaying rapidly back and forth.

“Oh!” Mari grabbed the rim of the basket that came about to her waist. She had no trouble at all imagining tipping forward and falling out. For an instant, her head spun.

“Got you.” Glenn’s arms came around her from behind, her firm body pressed up against Mari’s back.

“Thanks. Just caught me by surprise.” Mari laughed a little shakily. Maybe heights weren’t her thing after all.

“There’s no way you’re going to fall,” Glenn murmured close to her ear.

Mari had never been held so protectively by a stranger in her life. Glenn wasn’t really a stranger, far from it, but she wasn’t family and Mari wasn’t a little girl anymore. She hadn’t been cradled in anyone’s arms since one of the first nights in the hospital when her mother thought she was going to die. This was something completely beyond her experience, and she would’ve been happy if Frank the balloon man flew them across the entire country and beyond, as long as Glenn stayed behind her with her arms around her, holding her as if she always had and always would.

“Better?”

When Glenn moved as if to release her, Mari folded her arms over Glenn’s to keep her in place. She leaned back just a little until she was in complete contact with Glenn, her back fit into the curves of Glenn’s lean form. “Yes, but don’t move.”

Glenn’s cheek brushed hers. “Fabulous view, isn’t it?”

They weren’t so very high, but Mari felt as if she was floating in the clouds. To the east, the Vermont mountains rose purple and densely forested, the green unbroken by any sign of civilization, their peaks buried in snowy white, clouds or snow, she couldn’t be sure. Could there be snow in the mountains in July here like there was at home?

“Not enough to ski on, but it gets pretty cold up there,” Glenn murmured, reading her mind again.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Yes.” Glenn’s voice sounded low and husky and Mari wondered, hoped, she wasn’t talking about the mountains.

To the west, the village quickly gave way to rolling hills and pastures. The nearest city wasn’t even visible on the horizon, creating an otherworldly sense of passing back in time. Birds swooped below them, soaring from tree to ground and up again. People on the ground, small colorful patches of them, waved as they passed overhead.

“Oh my God.” Mari laughed, pointing when they passed above a large, elaborate out-of-place mansion in the midst of acres of green, clearly meant to mimic some kind of Italian palazzo. Several people sunning by the pool made a quick grab for towels to cover their nakedness.

Behind her Glenn chuckled, the sound reverberating between their bodies, low and exciting. “Happens at least once every year.”

Mari tilted her head back to look at Glenn behind her. “You always go up?”

“If I’m free.” Glenn rubbed her cheek lightly against Mari’s, her lips just grazing Mari’s ear. It might have been an accident, the bucket swayed so much, but Mari chose to believe it wasn’t. “Always by myself, though.”

“I’m glad you brought me up.”

“So am I.”

“How will we get back?”

“If Frank can’t catch a backdraft and turn us around, there’ll be a chase car that will spot our landing and drive us home.” Glenn rubbed her palm lightly over Mari’s abdomen. “You okay with that?”

“Yes.” As long as Glenn didn’t move, Mari didn’t care how long they’d be up in the air or how they’d get back. If the balloon man dropped them off in some little village a hundred miles away and they had to walk back, she didn’t care. She had no one to report to, no one who would worry about her. And no one she would rather be with. To her disappointment, though, after forty minutes or so, she began to realize Frank was slowly turning them, adjusting for the wind currents, and they began a circling return.

Eventually the square came back into view and Frank adjusted the flame, turning it low, and did something to make the balloon begin to deflate. As the envelope, as she’d learned it was called, grew ever so slowly smaller and looser, they lost elevation. She gripped Glenn’s hand tightly.

“There will be a little bump at the bottom, but nothing much. Frank really is very good.”

“I’m fine,” Mari said, and she was.

The basket hit the ground and skidded. Glenn held her steady and Mari laughed. “God, that was fun.”

“Best ride I ever took,” Glenn murmured.

Glenn’s arms stayed around her, and Mari wanted to turn within the circle of Glenn’s protective grasp and kiss her. She’d never wanted anything so much.

“All set, folks,” Frank called from the ground.

Glenn finally jumped out to wait for her on the short steps that Frank’s helper had pushed across the grass to the basket. When Mari climbed over the edge, Glenn caught her by the waist and swung her down. The movement was smooth and possessive, and a wave of desire poured over her. Feeling as free as she had soaring in the air, Mari let her hands fall onto Glenn’s shoulders and brush down over her chest. When her feet finally touched the ground, she kept her hands where they were. Glenn’s breasts strained against the white T-shirt, her nipples small and hard. Mari’s palms brushed over them, and Glenn gasped.

Mari wouldn’t even pretend she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted her. Had wanted her since the first time they’d touched, since the last time they’d parted. Since Glenn’s kisses and caresses had awakened a need that hadn’t quieted. Glenn had pulled back, ever respectful, ever honorable, because Mari had said she didn’t want a relationship. She still didn’t, but she wanted this.

“I want you to make love to me,” Mari whispered. “Can we have today?”

Glenn couldn’t imagine refusing her. Not when the merest touch of Mari’s fingertips, the brush of her breath over her skin, set her ablaze. She’d barely slept three hours in a row all week. She ached for her, and nothing she could do would put out the flames. A day? An hour? Hell, she would’ve begged for five minutes.

“Yes,” Glenn said hoarsely, knowing she was playing with fire a hell of a lot more dangerous than anything she’d faced in her life. Mari wanted to carve out a chunk of time and set it aside, as if it wasn’t really part of her life, as if that would keep her safe. Keep Glenn safe, somehow. But Mari didn’t know there was no way to ever be safe. Glenn didn’t care—she’d learned to stop caring about safety a long time ago. “Now?”

“Oh yes. Now.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Glenn clasped Mari’s hand as they threaded their way through the crowd and left the commons behind. She kept her grasp loose, giving Mari a chance to pull away if she wanted, giving her a chance to leave if she needed to, if she changed her mind. Her heart hammered and she tried not to think about Mari walking away. Switching off her brain was something she’d had a lot of practice with, in the midst of battle, out on the field or in the emergency room. She could run on autopilot, all her senses alert and finely tuned, locking her emotions away while she fought death. Sometimes keeping the pain and anger and despair locked away meant locking everything else away too, a fair price to pay so she could do her job. She couldn’t seem to manage autopilot with Mari, though.

The Kevlar casing surrounding her heart was cracked wide open, letting feelings in and, maybe even worse, feelings out. Longing for Mari burned inside her chest, created an ache in the pit of her stomach, kept her restless and awake all night. But just like that, the touch of Mari’s hand, her smile, her laughter banished the ache and replaced it with something sweeter. Something she’d never experienced and never thought she needed. A taste of honey in the desert.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Mari said softly.

Glenn smiled wryly. “How come you can read my mind?”

“How come you can read mine?” Mari shot back gently.

Glenn glanced at her. “I don’t know. It just happened.”

Mari nodded. “I know what you mean. Maybe some things there are no answers to.”

“What do we do, then?” Glenn mused, trying to see over the horizon and finding only shadows. “When there are no answers?”

“Maybe we just believe.”

“Can you do that?”

“I wish I could,” Mari said softly, striving for honesty because Glenn deserved that. “Until a year ago, I believed without question in so many things. In the unconditional love of my family, in my place in the world, in my future. Now all those things have changed. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be able to believe again.”