Spirit of a Champion (Sisters of Spirit #7) Read Free Page A

one word, did not offer much encouragement, but
Kyle did not require much.
    Her voice, a low alto, reminded him of his mother's soft tones.
He leaned forward, turning slightly to get a better look at her. Her hair was
red-gold, spun carmel candy, cut to fall just below her ears. A curly mop
perched above gamin features.
    "My name's Wayne—what's yours?"
    He didn't use his full name. Some people recognized it, some
didn't, but he had enjoyed his short holiday, traveling incommunicado through
Japan, and was reluctant to give it up. Once his hair was cut short again,
people would recognize him...and he would need to stay aware of his
surroundings to keep himself from being mobbed in public places. Fans—any
fans—were not always the gentlest of people.
    "And yours is...?" he added when she did not
reciprocate.
    "Stormy."
    She was that, all right. She would need to buy another purse
strap when they arrived if she kept twisting this one apart. At least she
wasn't a fingernail chewer, he thought, noticing her short, but well manicured
nails.
    “Excuse me. You’re sitting in my seat.” An older man stood next
to him, looking at his ticket and then at the number above Kyle, then back
again. The seats were clearly marked, so he had reason to be puzzled.
    Kyle jumped to his feet, moved out into the aisle with the man,
and turned so his back was towards Stormy. He pulled out his wallet, looked
inside, pulled out his ticket...and a fifty dollar bill. “No, see, this is my
seat,” he said, holding the ticket and the money out for the man to take. “If
you don’t mind.”
    “Oh, I...I... “ The man looked at the money and for a moment
Kyle thought he wasn’t going to take it. “Oh, no. I don’t mind.” He grinned
broadly. “Good luck.” The man handed Kyle his ticket, took Kyle’s ticket and
the money and moved on up the aisle.
    Kyle sat back down. The airplane alert chimed and he fastened
his seatbelt, glancing down to see if hers was fastened. It was.
    She was wearing a teal blue, sleeveless blouse, and white
shorts, exposing a lot of golden-tanned arms and legs. The short nails probably
meant she was not a model, but she well could be.
    "What do you do?" he asked, then hoped she didn't ask
him the same question. "I mean, what line of work are you in?"
    "Work?" She paused, seemed to finally hear him. "Work.
Yes. I'm trying to decide at the moment."
    That should not cause so much angst, should it? "What are your
choices?"
    "I've been offered four positions...." She stared off
into space.
    "And...?" Kyle shifted in his seat. He refused to let
her stop there. Four positions sounded pretty good to him. She must be well
qualified. "What's so hard about them?"
    She looked at him briefly, then away. "They're all the same
kind of job.”
    “Then what’s the choice?”
    “They’re in different parts of the country. I must decide on a
location."
    Kyle beamed. "Maybe I can help. I've been all over the
States."
    She didn’t reply.
    This was harder than knocking out Pepper Jones. Stormy kept
looking straight ahead or out the window—not at him. It was as if she was
trying to tell him to get lost.
    Should he take the hint?
    He had set his goals; he was not one to give up.
    "Uh, you on vacation?” he asked, at the same time mentally
kicking himself.  She didn't look like someone going on vacation. She
looked like someone with a big problem. Her eyes were dark with sorrow. Perhaps
he shouldn't have spoken. She might be reeling from the death of a parent or
something.
    "No." Her answer confirmed it. Maybe he should shut
up. Then again, it might help her to talk.
    "I'm sorry,” he said, determined to see if he could help
her. “This your first trip? You have friends down here?"
    "Yes. And no, I've been here before."
    He looked at her again. "You’re saying it's not a vacation.
It's a business trip, then, right?”
    Her expression told him she wished he would move to another
seat. It was not the reaction Kyle usually got and it