Free The Heart's Victory by Nora Roberts Page B

isn’t she?”
    â€œFabulous.” Turning to Lance, Foxy was vaguely surprised to see him offer her a glass of champagne. As the stem passed from his fingers to hers she noticed the tidy pile of markers in front of her. “Oh, are these the chips?” Tracing a fingernail down the edges, she looked back at Lance. “How much do you bet at a time?”
    He shrugged and cupped his hands around the end of his cigarette as he lit it. “I’m just along for the ride.”
    With a laugh, Foxy shook her head. “I have a hard enough time with plain francs, Lance. I don’t even know how much these little things are worth.”
    â€œAn evening’s entertainment,” he said easily and lifted his glass.
    Sighing, Foxy chose five chips and unwittingly bet five thousand francs on black. “I don’t suppose I should lose all your money at once,” she said confidentially.
    â€œThat’s generous of you.” Repressing a smile, Lance settled back and watched the wheel spin.
    â€œVingt-sept, noir.”
    â€œOh!” Foxy said, surprised, then pleased. “We’ve won.” Looking up, she caught the blatant amusement on Lance’s face. His eyes, she realized, were more silver than gray. “You needn’t look so smug.” She shook off her preoccupation and sipped the effervescent wine. “That was just beginner’s luck. Besides”—she gave him a wicked grin—“it’ll hurt more if I win a bit first.” Her gaze shifted to the two stacks of five markers on black, but as she started to reach for them, Lance laid a hand on her arm.
    â€œHe’s started the wheel, Fox. You’ve let it ride.” Her face was so completely horrified, Lance dissolved into laughter.
    â€œOh, but I didn’t mean...that must be over a hundred dollars.” A glance at the spinning wheel made her giddy, and she swallowed more wine.
    â€œMust be,” Lance agreed gravely.
    Foxy watched the ball bounce its capricious way around the wheel. She felt a mixture of fear, guilt, and excitement as the wheel began to slow.
    â€œCinq, noir.”
    She closed her eyes on a shudder of relief. Remembering herself, she quickly drew the four stacks of five in front of her. As Lance chuckled she turned and gave him a haughty glare. “It would have served you right if I
had
lost.”
    â€œQuite right.” Lance signaled for more champagne. “Why don’t you bet on one of the columns, Foxy,” he suggested as he tapped the ash of his cigar into an ashtray. “You’ve got to take more than a fifty-fifty chance in life.”
    She grinned and tossed her head. “Your loss,” she announced as she impulsively pushed five chips to the head of column one.
    It was, as it turned out, his gain. With uncanny consistency, the stack of markers in front of Foxy grew. Once, she unknowingly lost twenty thousand francs, then cheerfully gained it back on the following spin. Perhaps it was her complete ignorance of the amounts she wagered, or her random betting pattern, or simply the generosity of Lady Luck, but she won, spin after spin after spin. And she found winning was much to her taste. It was a heady experience that left her nearly as giddy as the seemingly bottomless glass of champagne at her side. Lance sat calmly back and watched the flow and ebb and flow of her winnings. He enjoyed the way she used her eyes to speak to him, letting them widen and glisten on a win or roll and dance on a loss. Her laugh reminded him of the warm mists on Boston’s Back Bay. Her pleasure in winning was engagingly simple, her nonchalance in losing charmingly innocent. She was a child and woman at perfect balance.
    â€œAre you sure you wouldn’t like to bet some of this?” Foxy asked generously, indicating the stacks of markers.
    â€œYou’re doing fine.” Lance twirled a stray curl of russet around his finger.
    â€œThat, young