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“I’ll never find another Kelly McKenna to laugh with me.”
    Kelly found she couldn’t answer; she was suddenly breathlessly shy. It seemed that the totalsilence around them was enfolding the two of them in their own intimate world and Kelly could almost hear the throbbing of her heart. She tore her eyes from O’Brien’s face and fixed her gaze desperately on the burners beside him. “Would it be too much to ask if you know how to get this thing back down on the ground?” she asked.
    O’Brien smiled. He was looking at her with a glowing tenderness that made her feel bewildered. “Of course,” he said simply. “I’d never have taken you along if I hadn’t been entirely confident that I could take care of you.” His lips curved in a wry smile. “I can’t give you similar assurance about the fuel formula, but the premise the inventor used is sound.”
    “That’s comforting to know,” Kelly said, making a face. “Why did it have to be tested in a hot air balloon?”
    His answering grin was impish. “Why not?” He shrugged. “I thought it might be amusing.”
    Kelly chuckled again, shaking her head in resignation. What other answer had she expected from an outrageous eccentric like Nick O’Brien?If she had any sense at all, she’d be half out of her mind with terror. Instead, she felt an odd serenity at O’Brien’s firm assurance that her safety was in his hands. Strange. She had not felt so secure and protected even when her father had been alive.
    “Why not?” she echoed, returning his smile. “What do we do while we see if your friend’s fuel is going to keep us airborne?”
    She could have bitten her tongue as O’Brien lifted his eyebrows. His smile became wickedly mischievous. “I’m tempted to give you the obvious answer, but I’ll try to restrain myself. I think you’ve had enough of a shock for one morning.” He sank down on the floor across from her, crossing his legs Indian fashion. “Ballooning is a lazy man’s sport, Kelly. I hope you brought a good book?”
    She felt exceedingly lucky to get off nearly unscathed after the opening she had given him, and she hurriedly rummaged through her bag and pulled out a paperback thriller. “I have!” she said triumphantly, holding up the book. “What are you going to do?”
    He pulled some papers out of his own brown cowhide satchel, and leaned against the side of the gondola lazily, propping a yellow pad of paper on his knees. “I’m a puzzle addict,” he said, his brow already knitted in concentration as he gazed down at the papers in front of him. “I thought I’d try to get a couple of these deciphered while I had the time.”
    Kelly sighed resignedly. “I take it you don’t mean
The New York Times
crossword puzzle?”
    “What?” he looked up, his pale blue eyes absorbed. “No,” he said. “The Pentagon lets me play with some of their stuff occasionally. I find it a trifle more challenging.”
    Kelly’s eyes widened. “The Pentagon? You mean like the CIA? James Bond–type stuff?”
    O’Brien shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but it’s all pretty uninteresting. Nary a Goldfinger or Pussy Galore in the lot.”
    “Perhaps there are no Goldfingers, but I wouldn’t bet on the absence of a Ms. Galore in your circle of acquaintances,” Kelly replied. “Your track record indicates a distinct leaning in that direction. Señora Dominguez would havebeen right at home with 007.” Despite her attempt at lightness, there was a trace of tartness in her tone as she recalled the sultry voluptuousness of the South American woman.
    Evidently O’Brien detected the subtle undercurrents beneath the remark, for his eyes gleamed teasingly. “Yes, I suppose she would,” he said, tilting his head consideringly. “But she wouldn’t have lasted long with him. Maria is much too obvious to retain any long-term fascination.”
    Kelly tried to hide the satisfaction she felt at his careless remark. “How ungrateful