"Decency?" Spencer tossed back. "I won’t discuss decency with you, Ash. She swallowed the words, the accusations she’d promised herself never to utter. "I made my choice," she said levelly, "I don’t have to justify it to you."

"We were lovers," Ashley reminded her tightly. "We lived together for nearly six months."

"I wasn’t the first woman in your bed."

"You knew that right from the start."

"Yes, I knew." Spencer fought the urge to beat at her with the hopeless rage that was building inside her. "I made my choice then, just as I made one later. Now, let me go."

Her cool, cultured control had always fascinated and infuriated her. Ashley knew her, better than anyone, even better than her own mother, certainly better than her ex-husband. Inside, she was jelly, shuddering convulsively, but outwardly she was composed and lightly disdainful. Ashley wanted to shake her until she rattled. More, much more, she wanted to taste her again-obliterate three years with one long greedy kiss. Desire and fury hammered at her. She knew that if she gave in to either, she’d never be able to stop. The wound was still raw.

"We’re not finish Spence." But her grip relaxed. "You still owe me."

"No." Defensive, outraged, she jerked free. "No, I don’t owe you anything."

"Three years," Ashley answered and smiled. The smile was the same biting challenge as before. "You owe me three years, and by God, you’re going to pay."

She unlocked the door and opened it, stepping back so Spencer had no choice but to meet the huddle of reporters head-on.

"Spencer, how does it feel to be back in the States?"

"It’s good to be home."

"What about the rumors that you’re going to play professionally again?"

"I intend to play professionally beginning with the opening of the European circuit in Rome."

"Will you’re mother be in Rome to watch you play?"

"Possibly." An ache, a sadness, carefully concealed.

"Did you divorce Lord Middleton so you could play again?"

"My divorce has nothing to do with my profession." A half truth, a lingering anger, smoothly disguised.

"Are you nervous about facing young players like Worziacki and old foes like the Williams especially Ashley Davies?"

"I’m looking forward to it." A terror, a well of doubt, easily masked.

"Will you and Davies pair up again for the doubles?"

Fury briefly exposed. "Davies is a singles player." she managed after a moment.

"You guys will have to keep your eyes open to see if that changes." With her own brand of nonchalance, Ashley slipped an arm around Spencer’s rigid shoulders. "There’s no telling what might happen, is there, Spence?"

Her answer was an icy smile. "You’ve always been more unpredictable than I have, Ash."

Ashley met the smile with one of her own. "Have I?" Leaning towards Spencer almost touching her lips, she looked intently into her eyes. Flashbulbs popped in a blaze of excitement. Spencer’s eyes were a twin of fury, Ashley’s grimly laughing and ripe with purpose. lazily she straightened. "The Face and I have some catching up to do."

"In Rome?" a reporter cracked.

Ashley grinned and quite deliberately drew Spencer closer. "That’s where it all started."