Opposites Attract

The waitress plopped the steaming pan between them.
    They ate amid noise and their own casual chatter. Even the pressure of the upcoming matches had no effect on Asher’s mood. The cheese was hot and stringy, making Ty laugh as she struggled against it. The contents of the squat bottle of Chianti decreased as they drank leisurely, content to let the meal drag on. Tennis was forgotten while they spoke of everything and nothing at all. A group of teenagers poured in, laughing and rowdy, to feed another succession of quarters into the jukebox.
    Why am I so happy to be in this loud, crowded room? she wondered. The cooling pizza and lukewarm wine were as appealing as the champagne and caviar they had shared in Paris. It was Ty. The place never mattered when she was with him. Abruptly it occurred to Asher that it was herself as well. She was being herself. There weren’t any guards, or the need for any. Ty was the only man she’d ever been close to who required none from her.
    Her father had wanted her to be perfect—his glass princess. All through her youth she had done everything in her power to please him. With Eric, she had been expected to be the cool, well-mannered Lady Wickerton, a woman who could discuss art and politics intelligently. She was to be like crystal, many-faceted, elegant and cold.
    All Ty had ever expected her to be was Asher. He accepted her flaws, even admired them. Because he had wanted her to be herself, she’d been able to be just that. Not once in all the time she had known him had he ever demanded that she fit a pattern or requested that she conform to any standards but her own. Impulsively she reached over to take his hand, then pressed it to her cheek. There was warmth against warmth, flesh against flesh.
    “What’s this for?” he asked, allowing his fingers to spread.
    “For not wanting glass.”
    His brows drew together in confusion. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
    “No.” Laughing, Asher leaned closer. “Have you drunk enough wine that your resistance is down and you’ll be easily seduced?”
    A slow smile spread. “More than enough.”
    “Then come with me,” Asher ordered.
    ***
    It was late when Ty lay sleepless beside Asher. Curled close, her hand caught loosely in his, she slept deeply, drugged with loving and fatigue. Her scent hung in the air so that even in the dark Ty could visualize her. A small alarm clock ticked monotonously at his left, its luminous dial glowing. Twelve twenty-seven.
    His mind was far too active for sleep. He sensed, as he knew Asher did, that the idyll was nearly over. They were back where they had once ended, and questions would not be put off too much longer. Impatience gnawed at him. Unlike Asher, Ty looked for the end of the season. Only then would the time be right for answers and explanations. He was not used to biding his time, and the strain was beginning to tell. Even tonight under the laughter he had understood her wordless request that he not probe.
    The question of her father, Ty mused, shifting the pillow to brace his back. She was more unhappy about the estrangement than she admitted. It showed in her eyes. It was incomprehensible to him that members of a family could turn away from one another. His thoughts drifted to his mother, to Jess. There was nothing either of them could do he wouldn’t forgive. He’d never be able to bear the thought of being responsible for their unhappiness. Could a father feel any different about a daughter? An only daughter, a much-loved daughter, Ty reflected.
    He could remember Jim Wolfe’s pride in Asher. Ty had often sat beside him during Asher’s matches in her early days as a pro, then consistently during her last year. Even in such a private man the adoration had showed. It wasn’t possible to believe it had been only for the athlete and not for the woman.
    Surprisingly Jim had accepted Ty’s relationship with his daughter. No, Ty corrected, approved. He’d seemed to enjoy seeing them together. Once, Ty recalled, he had gone as far as outlining his expectations to Ty for their future. At the time Ty had been both amused and annoyed at the fatherly interference. What plans he had had for a future with Asher had still been vague. Then, when they had crystalized in his mind, it had been too late. Frowning, Ty glanced down at her.
    In the pale shaft of moonlight her face seemed very fragile. Her hair was a silvery, insubstantial cloud around it. A wave of longing swamped him so