The Heart's Victory Read Free Page A

after him, then cursed herself for trading dignity for childish taunts. After shooting Kirk a glare, she stepped out of the coveralls. “Your taste in friends eludes me.”
    Kirk shrugged, glancing out the window as Lance drove away. “You’d better test-drive the car before you drive to the house. It might need some adjustments.”
    Foxy sighed and shook her head. “Sure.”
    ***
    The dress Foxy chose for the evening was made of paper-thin crepe de chine. The muted pastels of lavender and green clung and floated around her slender, curved figure. With a draping skirt and strapless bodice covered by the sheerest of short jackets, it was a romantic dress. It was also very alluring. Foxy thought with grim satisfaction that Lance Matthews was in for a surprise. Cynthia Fox was not a teenager any longer. After placing small gold hoops in her ears, she stood back to judge the results.
    Her hair was loose, left to fall below her shoulders in a thick mane of gleaming russet curls. Her face was now clear of black smudges. Her prominent cheekbones added both elegance and delicacy to the piquant quality of her triangular face. Her eyes were almond-shaped, not quite gray, not quite green. Her nose was sharp and aristocratic, her mouth full and just short of being too wide. There was a hint of her brother’s recklessness in her eyes, but it was banked and smoldering. There was something reminiscent of the wilds in her, part deer, part tigress. Much more than beauty, she possessed an earthy, untapped sensuality. She was made of contradictions. Her willowy figure and ivory complexion made her appear fragile while the fire in her hair and boldness of her eyes sent out a challenge. Foxy felt the night was ripe for challenge.
    Just as she was slipping into her shoes, a knock sounded at her door. “Foxy, can I come in?” Pam Anderson peeked through a crack in the door, then pushed it wider. “Oh, you look marvelous.”
    Foxy turned with a smile. “So do you.”
    The dreamy pale blue chiffon suited Pam’s china-doll looks perfectly. Studying the petite blond beauty, Foxy wondered again how she had the stamina for as demanding a career as that of a freelance journalist. How does she manage to get such in-depth interviews when she speaks like a magnolia blossom and looks like a hothouse orchid? They had known each other for six months, and though Pam was five years Foxy’s senior, the younger woman was developing maternal instincts toward the older.
    â€œIsn’t it nice to start off a job with a party?” Pam moved to the bed and sat as Foxy ran a comb through her hair. “Your brother’s home is lovely, Foxy. My room’s perfect.”
    â€œIt was our house when we were kids,” Foxy told her, frowning over her perfume bottle. “Kirk kept it as sort of a base camp since it’s so close to Indianapolis.” Her frown turned upward into a smile. “Kirk’s always liked to camp near a track.”
    â€œHe’s charming.” Pam ran her fingers over her short, smooth page boy. “And very generous to put me up until we start on the circuit.”
    â€œCharming he is.” Foxy laughed and leaned closer to the mirror as she added color to her lips. “Unless he’s plotting track strategy. You’ll notice, sometimes he leaves the rest of the world.” Foxy stared down at the lipstick tube, then carefully closed it. “Pam...” Taking a quick breath, she glanced up and met Pam’s eyes in the mirror. “Since we’ll be traveling so closely, I think you should understand Kirk a bit. He’s...” She sighed and moved her shoulders. “He’s not always charming. Sometimes he’s curt, and short-tempered, and downright unkind. He’s very restless, very competitive. Racing is his life, and at times he forgets people aren’t as insensitive as cars.”
    â€œYou love him a lot, don’t