The Heart's Victory by Nora Roberts

unswerving determination to come out on top.” She lowered her face to look at him, but his was still shadowed by the palm. “I loved you quite desperately when I was fourteen.”
    He didn’t speak for a moment but bent and picked up her wrap. “Did you?” he murmured as he stepped from the shadows.
    Moonlight fluttered over her as she tossed windblown curls from her eyes. “Oh yes.” Relaxed, Foxy continued with champagne-induced honesty. “It was a wonderfully painful crush, my very first. You were quite impressive and I was quite romantic.” Lance was beside her now, and Foxy turned her head to smile at him. “You always looked so indestructible, and very often you brooded.”
    â€œDid I?” He answered her smile as he lay the wrap over her shoulders.
    â€œOh yes. You had this single-minded intensity about you . . . You still do a great deal of the time. It’s terribly attractive, but it was more pronounced when you were racing. Then, there were your hands.”
    â€œMy hands?” he repeated and paused in the act of reaching in his pocket for his lighter.
    â€œYes.” Foxy surprised him by taking both his hands in hers and studying them. “They’re quite the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen. Very lean, very strong, very elegant. I always thought you should’ve been an artist or a musician. Sometimes I’d pretend you were. I’d set you up in a drafty old garret where I’d take care of you.” She released his hands and pulled absently at her wrap as it slipped off her shoulders. “I wanted badly to take care of someone. I suppose I should’ve had a dog.” She laughed lightly but was too involved with her memories to notice that Lance did not laugh with her. “I was snarling jealous of all those women you had. They were always beautiful. I remember Tracy McNeil especially. You probably don’t remember her at all.”
    â€œNo.” Lance flicked on his lighter and frowned at the flame. “I don’t.”
    â€œShe had beautiful blond hair. It was clear down to her hips and straight as an arrow. I hated my hair as a child. It was all curly and unmanageable and such an awkward color. I was quite certain the only reason you kissed Tracy McNeil was because she had straight blond hair.” The scent from Lance’s cigar stung the air, and Foxy breathed it in. “It’s amazing how naive I was for someone raised in a man’s world. Anyway, I languished over you for the better part of a year. I imagine I was a nuisance around the track, and you were very tolerant for the most part.” A yawn escaped her as she grew sleepy in the sea air. “After I turned sixteen, I felt I was quite grown up and ready to be treated as a woman. The crush I’d had on you became very intense. I’d find every opportunity to be around you. Did you notice?”
    â€œYes.” Lance blew out a thin stream of smoke, and it vanished instantly into the breeze. “I noticed.”
    Foxy gave a rueful laugh. “I thought I was being so clever in my pursuit. You were always so kind to me, I suppose that’s why when you stopped being kind, it was all the more devastating. Do you remember that night? It was at Le Mans, the twenty-four-hour race,” she went on before he could answer. “The night before the race I couldn’t sleep so I walked down to the track. When I saw you going into the garage area, I was certain it was fate.” With a sigh, Foxy absently fingered the flower in her hair. “I followed you in. My palms were sweating. I wanted you to notice me.” Turning her head, Foxy met Lance’s eyes with a gentle smile. “As a woman. A girl’s right on the border at sixteen, and I wanted so desperately to get to the other side. And my feelings for you were very adult and very real, even though I had no idea how to handle them.
    â€œI was very