The Heart's Victory Read Online Free PDF

brightest is usually the best.”
    With a quick gasp, Foxy dropped her hands and searched for the owner of the voice. He was only a dark shadow, tall and lean. As it moved she thought of the steady stalking grace of a panther. Lance’s black attire blended with the night, but his eyes caught the luminescence of the moon. For a moment, Foxy felt an eeriness, a displacement of the quiet suburban garden into a primitive, isolated jungle. Like a large cat of prey, his eyes glowed with their own light and conquered the dark. Shadows fell over his face and deepened its chiseled lines. She thought Lucifer must have looked equally dark and compelling as he fell from heaven into the flames.
    â€œWhat are you wishing for?” His voice was so quiet, it shook the air.
    Suddenly Foxy became aware that she was holding her breath. Carefully she released it. It was only the surprise, she insisted, that had made her skin quiver. “Oh, all I can get,” she returned flippantly. “What are you doing out here? I thought you’d be knee-deep in blondes.”
    Lance swung onto the glider. “I wanted some air,” he told her as he stood staring down at her, “and some quiet.”
    Disturbed that his motives mirrored hers, Foxy shrugged and closed her eyes as if to ignore him. “How did you manage to tear yourself away from Miss Lush Bust?”
    The sounds of the party penetrated the quiet of the night. Foxy felt his eyes on her face but stubbornly kept hers closed. “So,” he murmured, “you’ve grown claws. You shouldn’t sharpen them on someone’s back, Foxy. The face is cleaner.”
    She opened her eyes and met his. Reluctantly she admitted that she had been nasty from the moment she had seen him again. Unprovoked nastiness was out of character for her. Foxy sighed and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually make a habit of snarling and spitting. Sit down, Lance, I’ll try to behave.” A small smile accompanied the invitation. He did not, as she had expected, sit across from her. Instead, he dropped down beside her. Foxy stiffened. Either unaware of or unconcerned by her reaction, Lance propped his feet next to hers on the opposite bench.
    â€œI don’t mind sparring, Fox, but a rest between rounds is always refreshing.” Pulling out his lighter, he flicked it at the end of a long, thin cigar. The flame licked and flared. Strange, she thought as she relaxed her muscles, how clearly I remember that scent.
    â€œLet’s see if we can manage to be civilized for a few minutes,” Foxy suggested and twisted slightly to face him. A smile hovered on her lips. She was an adult now, she reminded herself, and could meet him on his own terms. “Shall we discuss the weather, the latest best-seller, the political structure of Romania? I know”—she propped her cheek on her palm—“the race. How does it feel to be designing cars instead of racing them? Are you more hopeful for the Indy car you designed, or the Formula One for the Grand Prix races? Kirk’s done very well on the GP circuit since the season opened. The car’s supposed to be very fast and very reliable.”
    Lance saw the mischief in her eyes and lifted a brow. “Still reading racing magazines, Foxy?”
    â€œIf I didn’t keep up to date, Kirk would never forgive me.” She laughed, a low, heavy sound.
    â€œI see that hasn’t changed,” Lance commented. She gave him a puzzled smile. “Even at fifteen, you had the sexiest laugh I’d ever heard. Like something stealing through the fog.” He blew out a stream of smoke as she shifted in her seat. Moonlight showered on her hair, shooting out hundreds of tiny flames. She felt just the smallest hint of his power tempting her.
    â€œThe main branch of your company is in Boston,” Foxy began, navigating to safer ground. “I suppose you live there now.”
    Lance smiled at