Opposites Attract

man’s name. A title and a feather bed, Ty thought grimly. He was determined to make Asher Wolfe pay for bringing him a pain he had never expected to feel.
    By turning left and altering his pace Ty cut across her path, apparently by chance. “Hi, Madge.” He gave the brunette a quick grin, flicking his finger down her arm before turning his attention fully to Asher.
    “Hiya, Starbuck.” Madge glanced from the man to the woman and decided she wasn’t needed. “Hey, I’m late,” she said by way of explanation, then trotted off. Neither Asher nor Ty commented.
    From somewhere in the surrounding trees Asher heard the high clear call of a bird. Nearer at hand was the slumberous buzz of bees and the dull thud of balls. On court three, someone cursed fluently. But Asher was conscious only of Ty beside her.
    “Just like old times,” he murmured, then grinned at her expression. “You and Madge,” he added.
    Asher struggled not to be affected. The setting had too many memories. “She hit to me this morning. I hope I don’t have to face her in the tournament.”
    “You go against Kingston today.”
    “Yes.”
    He took a step closer. In her mind’s eye Asher saw the hedge beside her. With Ty directly in her path, dignified retreat was impossible. For all her delicacy of looks, Asher didn’t run from a battle. She linked her fingers, then dragged them apart, annoyed.
    “And you play Devereux.”
    His acknowledgment was a nod. “Is your father coming?”
    “No.” The answer was flat and brief. Ty had never been one to be put off by a subtle warning.
    “Why?”
    “He’s busy.” She started to move past him, but succeeded only in closing the rest of the distance between them. Maneuvering was one of the best aspects of Ty’s game.
    “I’ve never known him to miss one of your major tournaments.” In an old habit he couldn’t resist nor she prevent, he reached for her hair. “You were always his first order of business.”
    “Things change,” she responded stiffly. “People change.”
    “So it seems.” His grin was sharp and cocky. “Will your husband be here?”
    “Ex-husband.” Asher tossed her head to dislodge his hand. “And no.”
    “Funny, as I recall he was very fond of tennis.” Casually he set down his bag. “Has that changed too?”
    “I need to shower.” Asher had drawn nearly alongside of him before Ty stopped her. His hand slipped to her waist too quickly and too easily.
    “How about a quick set for old times’ sake?”
    His eyes were intense—that oddly compelling color that was half night and half day. Asher remembered how they seemed to darken from the pupils out when he was aroused. The hand at her waist was wide-palmed and long-fingered—a concert pianist’s hand, but it was rough and worked. The strength in it would have satisfied a prizefighter.
    “I don’t have time.” Asher pushed to free herself and connected with the rock-hard muscles of his forearm. She pulled her fingers back as though she’d been burned.
    “Afraid?” There was mockery and a light threat with the overtones of sex. Her blood heated to the force she had never been able to fully resist.
    “I’ve never been afraid of you.” And it was true enough. She had been fascinated.
    “No?” He spread his fingers, drawing her an inch closer. “Fear’s one of the popular reasons for running away.”
    “I didn’t run,” she corrected him. “I left.” Before you did, she added silently. For once, she had outmaneuvered him.
    “You still have some questions to answer, Asher.” His arm slid around her before she could step back. “I’ve waited a long time for the answers.”
    “You’ll go on waiting.”
    “For some,” he murmured in agreement. “But I’ll have the answer to one now.”
    She saw it coming and did nothing. Later she would curse herself for her passivity. But when he lowered his mouth to hers, she met it without resistance. Time melted away.
    He had kissed her like this the first time—slowly, thoroughly, gently. It was another part of the enigma that a man so full of energy and turbulence could show such sensitivity. His mouth was exactly as Asher remembered. Warm, soft, full. Perhaps she had been lost the first time he had kissed her—drawn to the fury—captured by the tenderness. Even when he brought her closer, deepening the kiss with a low-throated groan, the sweetness never diminished.
    As a lover he excelled because beneath the brash exterior was an underlying