out for the tournament.â Ty glanced toward the empty stands. âFunny, I still have a habit of looking for him before a match.â
âHe wanted to be here. If there had been any way for him to postpone this trial, but . . .â Jess trailed off and smiled. âMac and I will have to represent the family.â
Ty slung the bag over his shoulder. âYouâll do fine. Where are you staying?â
âAt theââ Jessâs words came to a stop as she spotted a slender blonde crossing an empty court a short distance away. Reaching up, she brushed at her brow as if pushing aside an errant strand of hair. âAsher,â she murmured.
Ty twisted his head. Asher wasnât aware of them, as Chuck was keeping her involved in what appeared to be a long, detailed description of a match. âYes,â Ty said softly. âAsher.â He kept his eyes on her, watching the movements of her body beneath the loosely fitting jogging suit. âDidnât you know she was here?â
âYes, Iââ Jess broke off helplessly. How could she explain the flurry of feelings that she experienced in seeing Asher Wolfe again. The years were winked away in an instant. Jess could see the cool blue eyes, hear the firmly controlled voice. At the time thereâd been no doubt in her mind about right and wrong. Even the chain reaction that had begun on a hazy September afternoon had only served to cement Jessâs certainty. Now thereâd been a divorce, and Asher was back. She felt her husbandâs warm palm against hers. Right and wrong werenât so clearly defined any longer.
A bubble of nausea rose as she turned to her brother. He was still watching Asher. Had he loved her? Did he still? What would he do if he ever learned of his sisterâs part in what had happened three years before? Jess found the questions trembling on her tongue and was afraid of the answers. âTy . . .â
His eyes were dark and stormy, a barometer of emotion. Something in them warned Jess to keep her questions to herself. Surely there would be a better time to bring up the past. She had both a sense of reprieve and a feeling of guilt.
âBeautiful, isnât she?â he asked lightly. âWhere did you say you were staying?â
***
âAnd because heâs eighteen and played like a rocket in the qualifying rounds, theyâre muttering about an upset.â Chuck tossed a tennis ball idly, squeezing it when it returned to his palm. âI wouldnât mind if he werenât such a little twerp.â
Asher laughed and snatched the ball as Chuck tossed it again. âAnd eighteen,â she added.
He gave a snort. âHe wears designer underwear, for Godâs sake. His mother has them dry-cleaned.â
âDown boy,â Asher warned good-naturedly. âYouâll feel better once you wipe him out in the quarterfinals. Youth versus experience,â she added because she couldnât resist. Chuck twisted a lock of her hair around his finger and pulled.
âYou meet Rayski,â he commented. âI guess we could call that two old pros.â
Asher winced. âYour point,â she conceded. âSo, whatâs your strategy for this afternoon?â
âTo beat the tar out of him,â Chuck responded instantly, then grinned as he flexed his racket arm. âBut if he gets lucky, Iâll leave it up to Ty to smash him in the semis or the finals.â
Asher bounced the ball on the clay. Her fingers closed over it, then released it again. âYouâre so sure Ty will get to the finals?â
âMoney in the bank,â he claimed. âThis is his year. I swear, Iâve never seen him play better.â Pleasure for his friend with the light lacing of envy gave the statement more impact. âHeâs going to be piling up titles like dominoes.â
Asher said nothing, not even nodding in agreement as Chuck