Free TWICE VICTORIOUS by Judith B. Glad Page B

I've always liked the view."
    With his hand on her waist, Adam felt how tightly she was holding herself. Was
she apprehensive at meeting Roberts and Schwartz? Or was there something else
wrong?
    * * * *
    Adam's hand was warm on her back. Sternly Stell reminded herself of the
resolution she'd made after their abrupt parting last week. She would see him occasionally,
because she found him interesting, amusing, and generally good company, but she would
not let her hormones overwhelm her good sense. From now until she crossed the finish line
in the Idaho mountains next June, she was not going to get passionate about anything but
cycling. Anything!
    That wasn't saying she couldn't try her hand at a little reforming. She still wanted
to get him on a bicycle.
    The elevator sighed to a stop. As always, her breath caught as she saw the view
from The Sky Room. All of downtown Portland was spread out beneath her, sparkling and
clean. How long had it been since she'd taken time to come here, to her favorite restaurant,
just to watch the city at night? Too long.
    "Do you want to wait in the bar?"
    Hating the need to admit weakness, Stell said, "Anywhere, as long as we can sit
down." She was a complete idiot to have worn heels.
    Adam was instantly solicitous. Within seconds he had her seated at a table next to
the window, was demanding a stool or a cushion so her foot could be slightly elevated.
"Can I get you some ice? Is your foot swollen? How's your knee?"
    "I'm fine, Adam," she said, embarrassed by all the attention she was getting. "It's
just a little ache. I should have worn sneakers, but I didn't have any to match this
dress."
    "Do I detect a hint of feminine vanity?"
    "More than a hint, I'm afraid. You've never seen my wardrobe." No, and he wasn't
likely to. Why she hadn't given the twenty-odd pairs of heels and the rack of wool suits to
one of the thrift shops was beyond her. She'd never wear most of them again.
    "No. No, I haven't." He was eyeing her closely. "As a matter of fact, this is the
first time I've seen you in a dress." His smile lit up their corner of the dim bar. "Very, very
nice."
    Just then the maitre d' hotel appeared to tell Adam his guests had arrived. They
joined the two couples at their table by the window, with a fabulous view of Portland at
night. Adam made introductions, seated his guests with the best view, played the perfect
host. She admired his graciousness, his poise.
    Ev and Angie Roberts were in their mid-fifties, comfortably round, and warmly
friendly. In contrast, Arnold Schwartz, the cycling editor of Life Sport, was long and lean,
a perfect advertisement for his subject. Leila Schwartz was also slim, but obviously not the
dedicated cyclist her husband was.
    Arnold picked up on her name immediately. "Stell McCray? You're not the
cyclist?"
    "She certainly is," Adam said. His voice was proud, and despite herself Stell
glowed at the implied compliment.
    From then on, most of the dinner conversation centered on sports, beginning with
the Sawtooth Classic and going on to the upcoming Winter Olympics. "I'm jealous," she
said, when Leila spoke of their trip to Athens for the last Summer Olympics, their plans to
spend the summer touring the Far East after Beijing.
    "So am I," Adam agreed. "I'm not even going to Vancouver. Juliana won that toss,
so I've got to stay home and mind the store."
    "I'm surprised you weren't in Torino," Ev said. "Surely just being there would
have been worth your while."
    "We made the decision that the cost of doing it right was far more than the
benefits we'd have received. Our main market has been winter sports for a long time, and
we weren't ready to expand then." He lifted his wineglass in a pledge. "We are now, or will
be, as soon as we launch our new line of ActiveWear. Just wait. You'll see at least one
team in KIWANDA OuterWear in 2010."
    Ev slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do it, boy. I've never seen anyone like you
for doing what you set your mind to. Why I remember,