Opposites Attract

I’m back,” she agreed. “Or will be in two weeks.”
    “The Foro Italico.”
    Asher gave him a brief smile that was more determination than joy. “I’ve never won on that damn Italian clay. I’m going to this time.”
    “It was your pacing.”
    The voice from behind her had Asher’s shoulders stiffening. As she faced Chuck her eyes showed only the merest flicker of some secret emotion before they calmed. When she turned to Ty he saw first that his memory of her beauty hadn’t been exaggerated with time, and second that her layer of control was as tough as ever.
    “So you always told me,” she said calmly. The jolt was over, she reasoned, with the shock of eye contact in the auditorium. But her stomach muscles tightened. “You played beautifully, Ty . . . after the first set.”
    They were no more than a foot apart now. Neither could find any changes in the other. Three years, it seemed, was barely any time at all. It occurred to Asher abruptly that twenty years wouldn’t have mattered. Her heart would still thud, her blood would still swim. For him. It had always, would always be for him. Quickly she pushed those thoughts aside. If she were to remain calm under his gaze, she couldn’t afford to remember.
    The press was still tossing questions at him, and now at her as well. They began to crowd in, nudging Asher closer to Ty. Without a word he took her arm and drew her through the door at his side. That it happened to be a womens’ rest room didn’t faze him as he turned the lock. He faced her, leaning lazily back against the door while Asher stood straight and tense.
    As he had thirty minutes before, Ty took his time studying her. His eyes weren’t calm, they rarely were, but the emotion in them was impossible to decipher. Even in his relaxed stance there was a sense of force, a storm brewing. Asher met his gaze levelly, as he expected. And she moved him. Her power of serenity always moved him. He could have strangled her for it.
    “You haven’t changed, Asher.”
    “You’re wrong.” Why could she no longer breathe easily or control the furious pace of her heart?
    “Am I?” His brows disappeared under his tousled hair for a moment. “We’ll see.”
    He was a very physical man. When he spoke, he gestured. When he held a conversation, he touched. Asher could remember the brush of his hand—on her arm, her hair, her shoulder. It had been his casualness that had drawn her to him. And had driven her away. Now, as they stood close, she was surprised that Ty did not touch her in any way. He simply watched and studied her.
    “I noticed a change,” she countered. “You didn’t argue with the referees or shout at the line judge. Not once.” Her lips curved slightly. “Not even after a bad call.”
    He gave her a lightly quizzical smile. “I turned over that leaf some time ago.”
    “Really?” She was uncomfortable now, but merely moved her shoulders. “I haven’t been keeping up.”
    “Total amputation, Asher?” he asked softly.
    “Yes.” She would have turned away, but there was nowhere to go. Over the line of sinks to her left the mirrors tossed back her reflection . . . and his. Deliberately she shifted so that her back was to them. “Yes,” she repeated, “it’s the cleanest way.”
    “And now?”
    “I’m going to play again,” Asher responded simply. His scent was reaching out for her, that familiar, somehow heady fragrance that was sweat and victory and sex all tangled together. Beneath the placid expression her thoughts shot off in a tangent.
    Nights, afternoons, rainy mornings. He’d shown her everything a man and woman could be together, opened doors she had never realized existed. He had knocked down every guard until he had found her.
    Oh God, dear God, she thought frantically. Don’t let him touch me now. Asher linked her fingers together. Though his eyes never left hers, Ty noted the gesture. And recognized it. He smiled.
    “In Rome?”
    Asher controlled the urge to swallow. “In Rome,” she agreed. “To start. I’ll go in unseeded. It has been three years.”
    “How’s your backhand?”
    “Good.” Automatically she lifted her chin. “Better than ever.”
    Very deliberately Ty circled her arm with his fingers. Asher’s palms became damp. “It was always a surprise,” he commented, “the power in that slender arm. Still lifting weights?”
    “Yes.”
    His fingers slid down until they circled the inside of her elbow. It gave him bitter