Opposites Attract

that he had to fight the need to wake her and satisfy himself that she was there for him. His feelings for her had always been mixed—wild desire, unbearable tenderness, traces of fear. There had been no other woman who had ever brought him such sharp and conflicting emotions. Watching her sleep, he felt the need to protect. There should be no shadow of unhappiness in her eyes when they opened.
    How many obstacles would they have to overcome before they were really together? he wondered. There was one he might remove himself. Perhaps the time had come to take the first step. On impulse, Ty slipped from the bed and into the sitting room.
    It took only moments by phone to travel from coast to coast. Dropping into a chair, Ty listened to the faint crackling on the wire before it began to ring.
    “Wolfe residence.”
    In the two words, Ty recognized the trained voice of a servant. “Jim Wolfe please. It’s Ty Starbuck.”
    “One moment please.”
    Ty sat back, keeping one ear trained on the adjoining bedroom. He heard two distinct clicks as one extension was lifted and the other replaced.
    “Starbuck.”
    The quiet, cautious voice was instantly recognizable. “Jim. How are you?”
    “Well.” A bit surprised by the late night call, Jim Wolfe settled behind his desk. “I’ve been reading quite a bit about you.”
    “It’s been a good year. You were missed at Wimbledon.”
    “That makes five for you there.”
    “And three for Asher,” he returned pointedly.
    There was a moment of complete silence. “Your slice volley’s cleaner than it once was.”
    “Jim, I called to talk about Asher.”
    “Then we have nothing to say.”
    For a moment the cool, calm statement left Ty speechless. In a flood, fury took over. “Just a damn minute. I have plenty to say. Your daughter’s battled her way back to the top. She’s done it without you.”
    “I’m aware of that. Do you have a point?”
    “Yes, I have a point,” Ty retorted. “I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as she has these past few months. And it hasn’t been easy, dealing with the pressure, the press, the constant questions on why her father isn’t in the stands while she wins championship after championship.”
    “Asher knows my feelings,” Jim said flatly. “They’re no concern of yours.”
    “Whatever concerns Asher concerns me.”
    “So . . .” Jim picked up a slim gold pen from the desk and carefully examined it. “We’re back to that.”
    “Yes, we are.”
    “If you’ve decided to resume your relationship with Asher, it’s your business, Ty.” He flung the pen back onto the desk. “And it’s my business if I don’t.”
    “For God’s sake, Jim,” Ty began heatedly, “she’s your daughter. You can’t turn your back on your own child.”
    “Like father, like daughter,” Jim murmured.
    “What the hell does that mean?” Frustrated, Ty rose to pace, dragging the phone with him.
    “Asher wiped her child out of existence. I’ve done the same.”
    All movement stopped. Ty felt something freeze in him as his knuckles turned white on the receiver. “What child?”
    “She turned her back on everything I taught her,” Jim went on, not hearing Ty’s harshly whispered question. “The daughter I knew couldn’t have done it.” The words, and the anger that accompanied them, had been held in for years. Now they came bursting out. “I tried to understand why she married that pale excuse for a man, even tried to resign myself to her throwing away her career. But some things I won’t forgive. If the life she chose to live was worth the price of my grandchild, she’s welcome to it.”
    Enraged at letting his feelings pour out so openly, Jim slammed down the receiver.
    Three thousand miles away Ty stood, staring at nothing. With infinite care he placed the phone back on the table. Too many thoughts were whirling in his head, too many questions and half answers. He had to think, to take his time. Silently he walked back into the bedroom and dressed.
    He wanted to shake her awake and demand an explanation; he wanted to wait until he had a grip on himself. Torn, Ty sat on a chair and stared at the still form in the bed. Asher slept so peacefully, her quiet breathing hardly stirred the air.
    A child?
Asher’s child? But there was no child, Ty reasoned. If Lord and Lady Wickerton had produced an offspring, there would have been some mention of it in the press. An heir was never kept secret. Dragging a hand through his hair,