“You’ve apologized already. It hardly matters now. One year ago, you might have cut my career short. But I’m already done with that. Timing is everything when someone inflicts pain, isn’t it?”

Seconds ago he’d wanted to take it all away from her; now he was hurting her when she was down, when she was hurting for him. When the only thing that had distracted her from whatever she was struggling with was his pain.

Her look said she couldn’t believe what had become of him.

He couldn’t believe it either.

“True. Timing is everything.” Those were the words that cracked her voice. A thin hairline fracture that she swallowed around. “And the timing of that video means we can win this, doesn’t it?”

“Any advantage is an advantage,” he said, because suddenly they were both masters of saying one thing and meaning another.

For a breath, her gaze clung to him so tight he almost reached for her.

“If it bothers you so much that the advantage is based on people loving us together, all we have to do is stop acting like it’s a big deal and they’ll stop.”

Shock widened her eyes. Whether it was from what he had said, or the fact that he had said it at all, he didn’t know.

His own heart thundered with realization.

Well, bugger him sideways, the public did have a way of identifying something real. It’s why people loved watching sports. You couldn’t lie on the pitch when the clock was breathing down your neck. There was no way to hide your heart when you locked in on your goal, when winning became the sum total of who you were.

“Why is winning this so important to you anyway?” He had to know. She’d been a madly competitive player, but that part of her seemed to have been entirely snuffed out.

She swallowed, the long column of her neck straining. “If I don’t win, I’ll have to shut my restaurant down.”

Wow. Okay. That explained so much. But it made fresh rage rise inside him. “Then why aren’t you competing harder? Why aren’t you even in that kitchen when we cook?”

The trembling started again. Her lips, her hands. She wrapped her arms around herself, and sagged against the wall. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

“What is it, Ash, what are you not telling me?”

The word hung in the air between them. A name he hadn’t let slip from his lips for twelve years.

Pushing away from the wall, she started pacing. Her hands went to her hair, and with a frustrated grunt she unhooked her bun. Hair cascaded down her back. Electricity kicked in his gut like a damned bolt of lightning.

She shook it out, then gathered it back in a bun.

Leave it down. Just for another moment.