“Drama queen,” she muttered as she dug through her suitcase, pulling out the practice clothes Nike had sent for the tournament.
Stepping under the hot spray of water, she let it soak her hair, and her mind drifted to the tournament draw. Her opponent was Patricia Smyth, a veteran with a decent all-around game. They’d played once before in Miami: 6–3, 6–1, in an easy victory. There was nothing to be concerned about. What else did she know about Patricia? She was English, like Alex, which wasn’t exactly information that would help her during the match.
She had to stop relating everything to him. She wouldn’t become one of those girls whose life only revolved around a guy, no matter how good he made her feel, both in his bed and out of it.
The water grew cool and she countered by pushing the hot handle a little farther down. Every muscle in her body sang with relief as tension she hadn’t realized was there slipped out through her pores. Letting her chin fall to her chest, she exhaled heavily. Her mind drifted, imagining Alex’s broad chest pressing up against her back, his hands exploring her skin, his lips trailing down her neck, over her shoulder… Then she was jolted from her daydream by a flash of light through the shower’s glass door.
Wiping at the shower door to clear the fog away, she squinted through the glass. Alex’s phone was plugged intothe wall, charging, its screen lit up with an incoming message. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and tucking it closed between her breasts.
Leaning over, careful not to drip on the phone, she saw a message flashing over his locked screen—a picture message from Caroline Morneau with a caption:Just one more. I couldn’t help myself. The picture was tiny, but Penny could make out the gist. It was Alex on the night of the gala. He had Penny pressed up against a wall, his mouth at her neck, his hand covered to the wrist by the skirt of her dress, disappearing between her thighs. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, fingers digging into his shoulders. Penny swallowed back a wave of panic. They’d snuck away from the party briefly, not quite willing to wait until they got back to the hotel. Obviously, someone had followed them, snapped a picture, then sent it to Caroline. Or had Caroline taken the picture herself?
But the real question was, why the hell was Caroline messaging it to Alex?
Penny pulled the phone from its charger and swept out of the bathroom, tossing it onto the lump of covers she assumed Alex was buried under.
“Your phone was buzzing.”
His head popped out from under the blankets and he picked up his phone, glancing at the screen before looking back up at her. “Did you see?”
“If you mean, did I see the screen and wonder why Caroline Morneau is sending you photos of us with your hand up my dress? Then yeah, I saw. What does she mean, she couldn’t help herself?”
“Penny, listen,” he said, sitting up, rubbing his hands over his face.
“I’m listening.”
Alex let out a quick breath. “She’s my agent.”
“Your agent?”
“That night when we were on the court, when she interrupted us, I was meeting her to sign the papers.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, looking back at him. “What does her being your agent have anything to do with a picture like that?”
“She probably wants to stir up some buzz off the court during the tournament.”
A long breath escaped through her lips as it all clicked in her head. “Like she did before the tournament with theAthlete Weeklypictures.”
“Penny…” He trailed off, but he didn’t deny it or call her crazy or even have a moment of realization, like the idea had never occurred to him before.
“Did you know?” she asked, needing him to confirm it.
“Penny, love—”
“Did. You. Know?”
“Yes.”
The word was so simple that it took a moment for the implications to hit her. She sat on the bed and felt the mattress shift as he crawled toward her, sitting beside her at the edge of the bed in only his boxer briefs, his thigh pressing against hers. He slid an arm around her waist, but she shook him off.
“Don’t touch me.”
He flinched and then moved away, giving her some space.
“Penny, I swear, I don’t know why she took this one and I’d never let her use it.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay? And why did you let her use the others?”
He hesitated and then said in a soft voice, “I thought you hated me. I was angry and hurt and confused. I told her I didn’t care what she did. I should have told her to get rid of them and I’m so fucking sorry.”
