Opposites Attract Read Free Page B

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 pleasure to feel the tiny pulse jump erratically. “So,” he murmured softly, “Lady Wickerton graces the courts again.”
    “Ms. Wolfe,” Asher corrected him stiffly. “I’ve taken my maiden name back.”
    His glance touched on her ringless hands. “The divorce is final?”
    “Quite final. Three months ago.”
    “Pity.” His eyes had darkened with anger when he lifted them back to hers. “A title suits you so well. I imagine you fit into an English manor as easily as a piece of Wedgwood. Drawing rooms and butlers,” he murmured, then scanned her face as if he would memorize it all over again. “You have the looks for them.”
    “The reporters are waiting for you.” Asher made a move to her left in an attempt to brush by him. Ty’s fingers clamped down.
    “Why, Asher?” He’d promised himself if he ever saw her again, he wouldn’t ask. It was a matter of pride. But pride was overwhelmed by temper as the question whipped out, stinging them both. “Why did you leave that