Opposites Attract

Madge. I can’t risk losing him again.”
    Her brow puckered in confusion. “But you left him, Asher, not the other way around.”
    “I’d already lost him,” she said flatly.
    “Asher, I don’t—”
    “It’s a new day,” she interrupted, then took a deep breath of scented morning air. “A fresh start. I know what mistakes I made and have no intention of repeating them. There was a time in my life that I thought I had to come first, before this.” Holding up the small white ball, Asher examined it. “Before anything. I looked on tennis as a competitor, his family as a rival. That was stupid.” Dropping the ball into a can, Asher closed it.
    “That’s funny,” Madge mused. “There was a time in my life I thought The Dean’s work came first. He thought the same about me. It wasn’t true in either case.”
    With a smile Asher slung her bag over her shoulder. “Ty won’t ever forget that tennis took him out of that tenement. Maybe he shouldn’t. That’s the thing that brings fire to his game.”
    She knows him so well in some ways, Madge thought, and not at all in others. “And what brings the ice to yours?”
    “Fear,” Asher answered before she thought. For a moment she gave Madge a blank look, then shrugged. Saying it aloud made it seem rather unimportant. “Fear of failure, or exposure.” Laughing, she began to walk. “Thank God you’re not a reporter.”
    The gravel crunched underfoot as they moved down the path. It was a sound Asher associated with the tidiness of English courts. “Remind me to tell you sometime what goes through my head five minutes before a match.”
    With a sigh Asher hooked her arm through her old partner’s. “Let’s hit the showers.”
    ***
    There was no dream. Asher slept as deeply as a child, with no worries, no nagging fears. The curtains were drawn closed so that the afternoon sun filtered through lazily. Traffic sounds muffled through it, coming as a quiet drone. She wore only a short terry robe and lay on top of the spread. Ty would come back to wake her so that they could spend some time sight-seeing before nightfall. Because they were both scheduled to play the following day, they would go to bed early.
    The knock on the door wakened her. Sitting up, Asher ran a hand through her tousled hair. He’d forgotten his key, she thought groggily. She stepped from the dim bedroom into the brighter parlor, wincing against the change of light. Absently she wondered what time it was as she opened the door. Shock took a moment to penetrate.
    “Eric,” she whispered.
    “Asher.” He gave her what was nearly a bow before he elbowed his way into the room. “Did I wake you?”
    “I was napping.” She closed the door, trying to recover her scattered wits. He looked the same, she thought. Naturally he would. Eric would see no reason to change. He was tall, slim, with a military carriage. He had a sharp-featured European face, a bit haughty and remote. Dark blond hair was cut and groomed to indicate wealth and conservatism. Light eyes in a pale face—both romantic yet intelligent and cold. Asher knew that his mouth could twist into a hard line when he was crossed. As a suitor he had been charming, as a lover, meticulous. As a husband he’d been unbearable. She drew herself straight. He was no longer her husband.
    “I didn’t expect to see you, Eric.”
    “No?” He smiled. “Did you think I wouldn’t drop by while you were in town? Lost a bit of weight, Asher.”
    “Competition tends to do that.” Years of training had her gesturing toward a chair. “Please, sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”
    There was no reason to be upset by him now, she told herself. No need to feel fear or guilt. Divorced couples managed to be civilized more often than not. Eric, Asher thought with a grim smile, was a very civilized man.
    “Have you been well?” She poured his scotch neat, then added ice to Perrier for herself.
    “Quite well. And you?”
    “Yes. Your family?”
    “Doing wonderfully.” Eric accepted the glass she offered then eyed her over the rim. “And your father?” He watched for the flash of pain, and was satisfied.
    “As far as I know, he’s fine.” Quite consciously Asher drew on the mask as she sat.
    “Still hasn’t forgiven you for giving up your career.”
    Her eyes were level now and expressionless. “I’m sure you’re aware he hasn’t.”
    Mindful of the crease in his pants, Eric crossed his legs. “I thought perhaps now that