Free A Bridge to Dreams by Sherryl Woods Page A

displays of Asian art at the De Young Museum to the twisting, jumbled streets of Chinatown. If their other adventures had touched her heart and soul, yesterday’s had reached out to fulfill her thirst for knowledge.
    In front of each intricately carved jade figure, as they had looked at each delicate painting on silk, Karyn had questioned Brad endlessly about Asia. He had answered tirelessly. Worlds that she had only known through books came alive through his eyes. They had settled for a time into the comfortable roles of tutor and student. She had been grateful, not only for his enthusiastic teaching, but for the chance to regain her equilibrium, to forget the delightfully enticing way it felt to have his arms around her, his breath whispering against her cheek.
    Once more today, sleeping late had been ruled out. Brad had insisted that the day begin with a hot-air-balloon ride over the Napa Valley. Flights lifted off just after dawn, which meant that the night had been all-too-short. Drowsy and still flushed from sleep, Karyn was waiting in the lobby when Brad arrived with a picnic basket.
    â€œComment allez-vous?” he asked, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.
    She blinked sleepily at the unfamiliar language. He grinned. “How are you?” he translated. “I was just trying to get you ready for our trip to France.”
    â€œLet me know when we get there,” she mumbled unappreciatively and climbed gratefully into the car. “This vacation stuff is wearing me out. You may be used to burning the candle at both ends, but I’m not used to late nights and early mornings.”
    â€œBelieve it or not, neither am I anymore.”
    â€œAt least you look alive.” Actually, he looked quite a bit better than that. With a teal-blue sweater over a bright yellow polo shirt and hip-hugging jeans, he looked as devastatingly handsome and virile as ever.
    â€œYou’ll feel that way, too,” he promised, pulling her into his arms and raining gentle kisses on her forehead, eyelids, cheeks and finally her waiting lips. Her pulse quickened at once and her senses were instantly alert. It was better than any alarm clock she’d ever owned and twice as addictive as caffeine.
    â€œAmazing,” she whispered, linking her hands behind his neck.
    A faint smile curved his lips and a quizzical look flitted through his eyes. “Isn’t it, though?” he murmured. “Karyn…” he began, then shook his head. “No. Not now.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing. We’ll talk later. Right now we need to get on the road.”
    They drove through the darkened streets at Brad’s usual breakneck pace, crossing the Golden Gate and heading north on U.S. Highway 101. As they came to the narrow, two-lane roads that took them into the heart of the Napa Valley, he finally slowed down.
    â€œHave you ever been ballooning before?” Karyn asked.
    â€œOnce, over France. It’s a gloriously free feeling to be soaring just above the earth.”
    â€œNot like being in a plane?”
    â€œNo. For one thing you’re not nearly as high up. Nor are you going anywhere near as fast. And it’s just you and maybe a few other people up there all alone. You can feel the air rushing past. You feel as though you could touch the clouds. The weather has to be just right, the clouds no more than wisps. I think we’re going to be okay today. It looks as though it’s starting out to be a perfect day.”
    When they arrived at the site, several balloons were stretched out on the ground being slowly filled with air. Couples and families were sipping coffee and waiting for the last streaks of a pink and golden sunrise to give way to endless blue. Fascinated by everything that was happening, Karyn plied Brad with more questions. When he ran out of answers technical enough to suit her, he laughingly introduced her to the pilot of the balloon he’d hired for the