Opposites Attract

straight. Her body recharged as she lay motionless in the bed she had shared so recently with Ty. The loss of the match—and the Grand Slam—meant little. She’d finished. Her pride was whole because she had refused to give up, because she had managed to face the reporters after the match and give them a calm accounting. When they had speculated on the state of her health, she’d told them she’d been fit to play. She would give no excuses for losing. If there was blame, it lay within herself. That was the primary rule of the game.
    On returning to her room, Asher only took time to strip to her underwear before falling exhausted onto the bed. Sleep came immediately. Hours later she didn’t hear the door open or Ty’s footsteps as he crossed to the bedroom to look at her.
    Asher lay flat on her stomach across the spread—something he knew she did only when absolutely depleted. Her breathing was deep, a heavy sound of fatigue. The hands he had thrust in his pockets balled into fists.
    His emotions were pulling in too many directions. She shouldn’t be allowed to do this to him, he thought furiously. She shouldn’t make him want to hurt and protect at the same time. Walking to the window, he remained silent for a quarter of an hour, listening to her breathe. Before he left her, Ty drew the drapes closed so that the sunlight wouldn’t disturb her.
    When Asher awoke, a full day had passed. The aches made themselves known.
    Keeping her mind a blank, she ran a hot bath. As the water lapped over her, she slipped into a half doze. Asher heard the knock on the door, and ignored it. The phone rang, but she didn’t open her eyes.
    Disturbed, Jess replaced the receiver after ten full rings. Where could Asher be? she wondered. She knew Asher was still registered at the hotel, but she hadn’t answered the phone or the door in more than a day. She’d tried to tell Ty, but he simply wouldn’t listen. Any more than he’d listened to her attempts at confession.
    Her conscience plagued her. She hadn’t tried hard enough, Jess berated herself. She’d been so afraid of losing Ty’s love, she had allowed him to brush her off when she tried to talk to him. Well, no more, she decided determinedly.
    Checking her watch, Jess calculated that Ty would be preparing for the day’s match. She cursed, then fretted, then made herself a promise. When it was over, win or lose, she was going to corner her brother and make him listen until she’d told him everything.
    Now that the vow had been made, Jess discovered that the waiting wasn’t easy. In the stands she marked time. Ty played with the same fierce anger she had observed in his quarterfinal match. It was just as effective.
    Beneath her pride in him was the constant thought that her brother might turn away from her after he’d heard her out. But Jess sat patiently through the match and through the press conference. She’d left it to her mother to persuade Martin to go back to the hotel instead of dragging Ty off for a replay of the match. Like a tennis groupie, Jess waited for Ty to emerge from the locker room, then pounced.
    “Ty, I need to talk to you.”
    “I’m talked out, Jess.” He patted her hand then removed it from his arm. “I want to get out of here before the next sportswriter latches on to me.”
    “Fine, I’ll drive. You’ll listen.”
    “Look, Jess—”
    “Now, Ty.”
    Annoyed, Ty stalked to the car. For the first time in his life he wished his family hadn’t come. He’d managed to avoid them for the most part, using fatigue or practice as excuses. His mother knew him too well, and her silence questioned him constantly. Martin was ecstatic, wanting to analyze every volley and shower praise. And the hardest of all was watching Pete, darting here and there, babbling, laughing, reminding Ty of something that might have been.
    “Look, Jess, I’m tired—”
    “Just get in,” she interrupted tersely. “I’ve already put this off for too long.”
    They slammed their doors simultaneously. Not a very auspicious start, she mused as she merged with traffic, but she’d never finish if she didn’t begin. “Okay, I’ve got some things to tell you, and I’d like you to hear me out before you say anything.”
    “Unless I want to hitch a damn ride back, I don’t have much choice, do I?”
    She sent him a worried look. “Don’t hate me, Ty.”
    “Oh, come on, Jess.” Ashamed of wishing her away, he gave her hair a quick tousle. “I might be mad