Opposites Attract

car when he caught the look in her eyes. He’d protected her all of his life, too long to change now. Love was rooted in him. “It’s history, Jess,” he said in calmer tones. “Past history. Forget it.”
    Turning, Ty walked away, hoping he’d be able to believe his own words.

Chapter 12
    Asher sat on the bed to watch the men’s singles championship. The television commentary barely penetrated as she judged and dissected each stroke and volley for herself. She couldn’t go to the stadium, but nothing would prevent her from watching Ty compete.
    On the close-ups, she studied his face carefully. Yes, some strain showed, she noted, but his concentration was complete. His energy was as volatile as ever, perhaps more so. For that she could be grateful.
    Each time they replayed a shot in slow motion, Asher could fully appreciate the beauty of his form. Muscles rippled as he stretched; feet left the turf in a leap for more power. He was a raw athlete with anger simmering just under the discipline. The graphite racket was no more than an extension of the arm that was whipping the ball harder and harder. As always, his hair flew around the sweatband, dramatic and unruly. His eyes were dark with a rage barely contained. Was it the game that drove him? she wondered. The insatiable thirst to win? Or were there other emotions pushing him this time?
    If there were, it was easy to see that they added to the impetus. He was an explosion heating up, a storm rumbling just overhead. Asher knew him well enough to recognize that his control balanced on a very thin edge, but it made his game all the more exciting.
    His topspin drove to Chuck’s backhand and was returned, power for power. A slice, a lob, an overhead. Turned the wrong way, Chuck pivoted, sprinted, but had no chance to return. The call was late, judging Ty’s ball long.
    His head whipped around to the judge, his eyes deadly. Asher shuddered when the camera zoomed in so that the undisguised fury seemed aimed directly at her. For a moment they seemed to stare into each other’s eyes. Disgust warred with temper before he turned to resume his receiving stance. Crouched like a cat, his eyes intense, he waited. Asher let out an unsteady breath.
    Ty was judging the bounce with uncanny accuracy. If it threatened to die, he was under it. When it chose to soar, he got behind it. With unrelenting challenge he charged the net. He baited Chuck, dared him, and, time after time, outwitted him. His game was all aggression and power—Starbuck at his best, she thought with undiminished pride. He could demoralize even a seasoned pro like Chuck with a lightning-fast return that lifted chalk from the service line. With each swing she could hear the grunt of exertion and the swish of air. How she wanted to be there.
    He wouldn’t want her. She wouldn’t soon forget that look of rage and disgust he had turned on her—too much like the one his video image had projected. A man like Starbuck had no ambivalent emotions. It was love or hate; she’d felt them both.
    She’d been cut out of his life. She had to accept that. She had to . . . quit? Asher asked herself. Suddenly her chin rose. Was that what she was doing again? She looked back at the screen as the camera zoomed in on Ty’s face. His eyes were opaque and dangerous before he went into a full stretch for his serve. The force of her feelings attacked her. She loved and wanted and needed.
    No, damn it! Rising, Asher cursed him. No, if she was going to lose, she was going down fighting, just as she had on the courts. He wouldn’t brush her out of his life so easily this time. Briefly she’d forgotten that she no longer aimed her actions at pleasing those around her. Perhaps he didn’t want to see her, but that was just too bad. He would see her . . . and he would listen.
    Just as she snapped off the set, a knock sounded on her door. Battling impatience, Asher went to answer. Her expression changed from grim determination to wonder.
    “Dad!”
    “Asher.” Jim met her stunned expression with an unsmiling nod. “May I come in?”
    He hadn’t changed, she thought wildly. He hadn’t changed at all. He was still tall and tanned and silvery-blond. He was still her father. Her eyes filled with love and tears. “Oh, Dad, I’m so glad to see you.” Grasping his hand, she drew him into the room. Then the awkwardness set in. “Sit down, please.” While gesturing to a chair, Asher sought something to fill the gap.