Opposites Attract Read online

  his. Laughter and desire seemed to bubble in her simultaneously. Without being aware of it, she dropped her racket and clung to him.

  “You’re lucky I don’t toss you on the ground here and now,” he mumbled against her mouth.

  “What’s lucky about that?” Enchanted, Asher strained against him. How was it possible for one kiss to make her head swim?

  Ty drew back, inches only. His whole body was throbbing for her. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Do I?” she asked huskily.

  “Damn you, Asher. You know just how much.”

  His voice shook, delighting her. She found she needed him to be as vulnerable as she. “I’m never sure,” she whispered, dropping her head to his chest.

  His heart was beating too rapidly. Ty tried to fight down the impossible surge of need. Not the time, not the place, his sanity stated. Control was necessary. “You were sure enough to use a few tricks to distract me.”

  Lifting her head, Asher smiled at him. “Distract you? How?”

  “Took your time picking up that ball, didn’t you?”

  She seemed to consider a moment. “Why, I’ve seen Chuck do the same thing playing against you. It never seemed to make any difference.” She let out a whoop of surprise as he lifted her up and over the net.

  “Next time I’ll be ready for you, Face.” After giving her a brief, bruising kiss, he dropped her to her feet. “You could play naked and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

  Catching her lip between her teeth, she sent him a teasing glance. “Wanna bet?” Before he could connect his racket with her bottom, she dashed away.

  The locker room wasn’t empty as Asher walked in, but the crowd was thinning. With the fifth rounds completed, there were fewer contenders, and therefore fewer bodies. She was looking forward to her match that afternoon with a hot newcomer who had hopped up in the rankings from one hundred and twentieth to forty-third in one year. Asher had no intention of strolling into the finals. Even the pressure of Grand Slam potential couldn’t mar her mood. If ever there was a year she could win it, Asher felt it was this one.

  She greeted a towel-clad Tia Conway as the Australian emerged from the showers. Both women knew they would face each other before the tournament was over. Asher could hear a laughing argument taking place over the sound of running water. As she started to remove her warm-up jacket, she spotted Madge in a corner.

  The brunette sat with her head leaning back against the wall, her eyes shut. She was pale despite her tan, and there were beads of perspiration on her brow. Asher rushed over to kneel at her feet.

  “Madge.”

  Opening her eyes slowly, Madge sighed. “Who won?”

  For a moment Asher went blank. “Oh, I did. I cheated.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “Madge, what’s wrong? God, your hands are like ice.”

  “No, it’s nothing.” She let out a breath as she leaned forward.

  “You’re sick, let me—”

  “No, I’ve finished being sick.” After a weak smile Madge swiped the sweat from her brow. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “You look terrible. You need a doctor.” Asher sprang to her feet. “I’ll call someone.” Before she could move, Madge had her hand.

  “I’ve seen a doctor.”

  Every sort of nightmare went through Asher’s head. In stark terror she stared at her friend. “Oh, God, Madge, how bad?”

  “I’ve got seven months.” As Asher swayed, Madge caught her arm tightly. “Good grief, Asher, I’m pregnant, not dying.”

  Stunned, Asher sank to the bench. “Pregnant!”

  “Shh.” Quickly Madge glanced around. “I’d like to keep this quiet for a while. Damn morning sickness catches me off guard at the worst times.” Letting out a shaky breath, she relaxed against the wall again. “The good news is it’s not supposed to last long.”

  “I don’t—Madge, I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about congratulations?”

  Shaking her head, Asher gripped both of Madge’s hands in hers. “Is this what you want?”

  “Are you kidding?” On a half laugh, Madge leaned against Asher’s shoulder. “I might not look too happy at the moment, but inside I’m doing cartwheels. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.” She sat silently for a moment, her hand still in Asher’s. “You know, during my twenties all I could think about was being number one. It was great being there. The Wrightman Cup, Wimbledon, Dallas—all of it. I was twenty-eight when I met The Dean, and still ambitious as hell. I didn’t want to get married, but I couldn’t live without him. As for kids, I thought, hell, there’s plenty of time for that. Later, always later. Well, I woke up one morning in the hospital with my leg screaming at me and I realized I was thirty-two years old. I’d won just about everything I thought I had to win, and yet something was missing. For the better part of my life I’ve floated around this old world from court to court. Team tennis, pro-am tourneys, celebrity exhibitions, you name it. Until The Dean there was nothing but tennis for me. Even after him, it was the biggest slice of the pie.”

  “You’re a champion,” Asher said softly.

  “Yeah.” Madge laughed again. “Yeah, by God, I am, and I like it. But you know what? When I looked at the snapshot of Ty’s nephew I realized that I wanted a baby, The Dean’s baby, more than I’d ever wanted a Wimbledon plate. Isn’t that wild?”

  She let the statement hang in silence a moment as both women absorbed it. “This is going to be my last tournament, and even while that’s hurting, I keep wishing it was over so I could go home and start knitting booties.”

  “You don’t know how to knit,” Asher murmured.

  “Well, The Dean can knit them then. I’ll just sit around and get fat.” Twisting her head to grin at Asher, Madge saw the tears. “Hey, what’s this?”

  “I’m happy for you,” Asher muttered. She could remember her own feelings on learning of her pregnancy—the fear, the joy, the nausea and elation. She’d wanted to learn to sew. Then it had been over so quickly.

  “You look overjoyed,” Madge commented, brushing a tear away.

  “I am really.” She caught Madge to her in a viselike hug. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you? Don’t overdo or take any chances?”

  “Sure.” Something in the tone had the seed of a thought germinating. “Asher, did you . . . Did something happen when you were married to Eric?”

  Asher held her tighter for a moment then released her. “Not now. Maybe someday we’ll talk about it. How does The Dean feel about all this?”

  Madge gave her a long, measuring look. The nonanswer was answer enough, so she let it lay. “He was all set to take out a full-page ad in World of Sports,” she stated. “I’ve made him wait until I officially retire.”

  “There’s no need to retire, Madge. You can take a year or two off, lots of women do.”

  “Not this one.” Stretching her arms to the ceiling, Madge grinned. “I’m going out a winner, ranked fifth. When I get home, I’m going to learn how to use a vacuum cleaner.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “You and Ty are invited to my first home-cooked dinner.”

  “Great.” Asher kissed her cheek. “We’ll bring the antacid.”

  “Not nice,” Madge mused. “But wise. Hey, Face,” she continued before Asher could rise. “I wouldn’t want this to get around but—” her eyes were suddenly very young, and she looked very vulnerable “—I’m scared right out of my socks. I’ll be almost thirty-four by the time this kid makes an appearance. I’ve never even changed a diaper.”

  Firmly Asher took Madge’s shoulders and kissed both of her cheeks. “You’re a champion, remember?”

  “Yeah, but what do I know about chicken pox?” Madge demanded. “Kids get chicken pox, don’t they? And braces, and corrective shoes, and—”

  “And mothers who worry before there’s anything to worry about,” Asher finished. “You’re already slipping right into the sl
ot.”

  “Hey, you’re right.” Rather pleased with herself, Madge rose. “I’m going to be great.”

  “You’re going to be terrific. Let’s get a shower. You’ve got a doubles match this afternoon.”

  With feelings mixed and uncertain, Asher rode the elevator to her hotel room late that afternoon. She had won her round with the young upstart from Canada in straight sets. Six-two, six-love. There was little doubt that Asher had played some of the finest tennis in her career in court one. But she didn’t think of that now. Her mind kept drifting back to her interlude with Madge, and from there back to her thoughts on learning of her own pregnancy.

  Would Ty have wanted to take out full-page ads, or would he have cursed her? Like Eric, would he have accused her of deceit, of trickery? Now that they were being given a second chance, would he want marriage and children? What was it Jess had said that day? she wondered. Ty will always be a gypsy, and no woman should ever expect to hold him.

  Yet Asher had expected to hold him, and, despite all her vows, was beginning to expect it again. Her love was so huge, so consuming, that when she was with him, it was simply impossible to conceive of doing without him. And perhaps because she had once, briefly, carried his child inside her, the need to do so again was overwhelming.

  Could a woman tame a comet? she asked herself. Should she? For that’s what he was—a star that flew, full of speed and light. He wasn’t the prince at the end of the fairy tale who would calmly take up his kingdom and sit on a throne. Ty would always search for the next quest. And the next woman? Asher wondered, recalling Jess’s words again.

  Shaking her head, she told herself to think of today. Today they were together. Only a woman who had lived through change after change, hurt after hurt, could fully appreciate the perfection of a moment. Others might not recognize it, but Asher did. And the moment was hers.

  She unlocked the door to their suite and was immediately disappointed. He wasn’t there. Even had he been sleeping in the other room, she would have sensed him. The air was never still when Ty was around. Tossing her bag aside, she wandered to the window. The light was still full as the sun had only just begun to set. Perhaps they would go out and explore Melbourne, find one of the tiny little clubs with loud music and laughter. She’d like to dance.

  Twirling in a circle, Asher laughed. Yes, she would like to dance, to celebrate for Madge . . . and for herself. She was with the man she loved. A bath, she decided. A long, luxurious bath before she changed into something cool and sexy. When she opened the door to the bedroom, Asher stopped and stared in astonishment.

  Balloons. Red, yellow, blue, pink and white. They floated throughout the room in a jamboree of color. Helium-filled, they rose to the ceiling, trailing long ribbons. There were dozens of them—round, oval, thin and fat. It was as if a circus had passed hurriedly through, leaving a few souvenirs. Grasping a ribbon, Asher drew one down to her while she continued to stare.

  They were three layers deep, she saw in astonishment—at least a hundred of them bumping against one another. Her laughter came out in a quick burst that went on and on.

  Who else would think of it? Who else would take the time? Not flowers or jewelry for Ty Starbuck. At that moment she could have floated to the ceiling to join the gift he had given her.

  “Hi.”

  She turned to see him lounging in the doorway. In a flash Asher had launched herself into his arms, the single balloon still grasped in her hand. “Oh, you’re crazy!” she cried before she found his lips with hers. With her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, she kissed him again and again. “Absolutely insane.”

  “Me?” he countered. “You’re the one standing here surrounded by balloons.”

  “It’s the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

  “Better than roses in the bathtub?”

  Tossing her head back, she laughed. “Even better than that.”

  “I thought about diamonds, but they didn’t seem like as much fun.” As he spoke he moved toward the bed.

  “And they don’t float,” Asher put in, looking up at the ceiling of colorful shapes.

  “Good point,” Ty conceded as they fell together onto the bed. “Got any ideas how we should spend the evening?”

  “One or two,” Asher murmured. The balloon she held drifted up to join the others.

  “Let’s do both.” He stopped her laugh with a soft kiss that became hungry quickly. “Oh, God, I’ve waited all day to be alone with you. When the season’s over we’ll find someplace—an island, another planet—anyplace where there’s no one but us.”

  “Anyplace,” she whispered in agreement while her hands tugged at his shirt.

  Passion soared swiftly. Ty’s needs doubled as he sensed hers. She was always soft, always eager for him. If the pounding of his blood would have allowed, he would have revered her. But the force of their joined desire wouldn’t permit reverence. Clothes were hastily peeled away—a blouse flung aside, a shirt cast to the floor. Overhead, the balloons danced while they savored each other. The scent of victory seemed to cling to both of them, mixed with the faint fragrance of soap and shampoo from the postgame showers. Her lips tasted warm and moist, and somehow of himself as much as of her.

  When there was nothing to separate them, they tangled together, their bodies hot and throbbing. With questing hands he moved over territory only more exciting in its familiarity. He could feel reason spin away into pure sensation. Soft here, firm there, her body was endless delight. The warmth of her breath along his skin could make him tremble. Her moan, as he slipped his fingers into her, made him ache. With openmouthed kisses he trailed over her, seeking the hot heady flavor of her flesh. It seemed to melt into him, filling him to bursting.

  When she arched, offering everything, Ty felt a surge of power so awesome he almost feared to take her. Too strong, he thought hazily. He was too strong and was bound to hurt her. He felt he could have lifted the world without effort. Yet she was drawing him to her with murmuring pleas.

  There was no control in madness. She stole his sanity with her smooth skin and soft lips. There were no more pastel colors from frivolous balloons. Now there was gleaming silver and molten reds and pulsing blacks whirling and churning into a wild kaleidoscope that seemed to pull him into its vortex. Gasping her name, Ty thrust into her. The colors shattered, seeming to pierce his skin with a multitude of shards. And in the pain was indescribable pleasure.

  When he was spent, nestled between her breasts, Asher gazed up at the darkening ceiling. How could it be, she wondered, that each time they were together it was different? Sometimes they loved in laughter, sometimes in tenderness. At other times with a smoldering passion. This time there had been a taste of madness in their loving. Did other lovers find this infinite variety, this insatiable delight in each other? Perhaps the two of them were unique. The thought was almost frightening.

  “What are you thinking?” Ty asked. He knew he should shift his weight from her, but found no energy to do so.

  “I was wondering if it should be so special each time I’m with you.”

  He laughed, kissing the side of her breast. “Of course it should, I’m a special person. Don’t you read the sports section?”

  She tugged his hair, but tenderly. “Don’t let your press go to your head, Starbuck. You have to win a few more matches before you wrap up the Grand Slam.”

  He massaged the muscles of her thigh. “So do you, Face.”

  “I’m only thinking as far ahead as the next game,” she said. She didn’t want to think of Forest Hills, or the States—or the end of the season. “Madge is pregnant,” she said half to herself.

  “What!” Like a shot, Ty’s head came up.

  “Madge is pregnant,” Asher repeated. “She wants to keep it quiet until the Australian Open is over.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed. “Old Madge.”

  “She’s only a year older than you,” Asher stated defensively, causing him to laugh again
.

  “It’s an expression, love.” Absently he twined one of Asher’s curls around a finger. “How does she feel about it?”

  “She’s thrilled—and scared.” Her lashes lowered, shielding her expression a moment. “She’s going to retire.”

  “We’re going to have to throw her one hell of a party.” Rolling onto his back, he drew Asher close to his side.

  After a moment she moistened her lips and spoke casually. “Do you ever think about children? I mean, it would be difficult, wouldn’t it, combining a family with a profession like this?”

  “It’s done all the time, depends on how you go about it.”

  “Yes, but all the traveling, the pressure.”

  He started to pass it off, then remembered how she had lived her childhood. Though he had never sensed any resentment in her, he wondered if she felt a family would be a hindrance to her career. Physically a baby would prevent her from playing for some time. And she’d already lost three years, he reflected with an inner sigh. Ty pushed the idea of their children out of his mind. There was time, after all.

  “I imagine it’s a hassle to worry about kids when you’ve got a tournament to think of,” he said lightly. “A player’s got enough trouble keeping track of his rackets.”

  With a murmured agreement, Asher stared into space.

  ***