I gave a little snort as I remembered that moment. I’d hidden my surprise and watched as she’d asked what the hell I was doing in the female changing rooms. When I’d corrected her, she’d fallen silent for a second, then stuttered, telling me her name and job title and something about a wrong turning and jet lag. Then she’d shot out of the changing room faster than any first serve I could ever belt out, with her cute little bum wiggling in her tighter-than-tight jeans.

I hadn’t done or said anything as she’d spoken, just stood there, let the water beat down on me and watched her wringing her hands together and trying not to look at my cock. I did wonder though how long she’d been watching me. Not that it was the first time a woman had seen me showering, and hopefully not the last, I just preferred it if we were both naked. Made it so much more fun, or at least it did when it was Elle with me.

Clenching my fists, I pushed thoughts of Elle from my mind. She was on the other side of the Atlantic, belonged to someone else, and thinking of her in the shower was not only delusional, it was self-destructive. And right now, I had other things to concentrate on. Starting with this Peeping Tom woman.

I admit I was dragging my feet as I headed to the top floor of the academy for my first official meeting with the new sports psychologist. All that psychology crap was just that… Crap. Yes, I’d been in a car accident and had broken two ribs, but it was no big deal. I was really getting back into the swing of things now. Training with Peter, my coach, and working my way to peak fitness once more. I didn’t see what fractured bones had to do with my thoughts and feelings and all that, but unfortunately it was in my contract that I had to go and see this woman and let her work her mumbo jumbo on me. Ugh.

Exiting the elevator, my trainers—or sneakers, as my new colleagues called them—sunk into the thick carpets and I almost felt as if I were bouncing down the corridor toward the relevant room. The academy had obviously been well prepared for her arrival because there was already a name plaque on the slightly ajar door—Marie Sherratt, Ph.D.
So now I knew her full name, as well as her job title and that she was from England, like me. That was the sum total of my knowledge. Oh, and that she liked to wander into male changing rooms and gawp at players while they were showering.