Of course they had betrayed him—just like every other part of his body.

And then when they both reached for the light switch on the wall and his hand brushed hers, the spark between them had been enough to send him walking quickly as far away from her as possible.

She too had fled, jumping immediately into a warm-up . . . One he’d tried desperately not to watch from the office window.

She was determined, he’d give her that, but he doubted her efforts were going to pay off.

There was no way Parker Hamilton could pass as an MMA fighter. No amount of Hollywood magic could make that happen. He felt guilty taking her money when her results were probably not going to be what she’d hoped . . .

Again, not his problem. He’d warned her.

The front door opened and his father walked in. Shit, he was back from Japan early.

And of course, his gaze landed immediately on Parker, dressed today in a bright blue training top and white shorts. Short shorts that hugged her ass cheeks and accentuated her long, tanned legs.

Shorts that he would probably recall later . . . alone in the shower.

The look etched on his father’s face as he came toward the office shook any inappropriate thoughts from Tyson’s mind. “Who is that?” he asked as he opened the office door, loud enough for the woman in question to glance their way.

At least she knew she was causing a disturbance in the atmosphere. “Parker Hamilton. She’s an actress.”

“Does this look like a movie set to you?”

“No, sir. She just needed a place to train for a week before an audition, that’s all,” he said quietly, hoping it was the truth. The last three days, he’d been unable to stop his gaze from drifting toward her frequently. When she ran on the treadmill, her breasts bounced up and down in a mesmerizing rhythm that locked him in a trance. When she did the circuit, her body bending and twisting, usually in improper form, tempted him to place his hands on her and help guide her motions . . . And when she disappeared into the female locker room, sweat glistening on her skin, her hair disheveled, it took all his strength and discipline not to follow her.

His father looked ready to tell him how stupid this was, when his expression changed as he caught sight of the display case.

Shit.

“What the hell happened to the glass?”

“I was moving some supplies in . . . and lost my footing . . . fell against the glass.” He cleared his throat. He’d never been successful lying to his father. Doing so, when honesty and integrity were two of his father’s most-preached-about attributes, made him ill. But there was no way he could tell his father about Connor.

Parker Hamilton was enough to try to explain.

Though it looked as though his father had forgotten all about her as he reached into the case to examine the trophies.

“They’re all fine,” Tyson said. “I’ll call the supplier and order a new wall unit today.” He had no idea where the money was going to come from since he’d spent the extra cash from Parker on Connor’s debts, but hopefully by the time a new case arrived, he’d be able to pay for it. He’d tell them not to rush order it.

His father nodded. “Okay.” His expression softened just a little as he added. “It was probably time for a new one anyway. We’ll need more space for your belt in eight weeks.” The pride and support in his father’s tone made him feel even worse for hiding the fact that his brother was back. And it made him even more determined not to let Parker or Connor mess up his chance of making his father proud.

This gym was all he had. Fighting was all he had.

And he refused to let anyone steal his focus and let him lose sight of what mattered—seeing his light heavyweight championship belt in the display case next to his father’s achievements after the final bell rang.

*   *   *

What was she still doing here? “Hey! The gym’s closed.”

Parker stopped her rain of tiny jabs and hooks—which had zero effect on the heavy bag—and wiped sweat from her forehead as she turned to face him. “You were still in your office, so I figured it was okay to stick around.” Her chest heaved as she caught her breath.

Damn. Even the sight of her breathing annoyed him. The soft swell of her chest rising and falling . . . he wanted to give her a different reason for breathing heavy. He shook his head. “It’s not okay. The gym closes at nine. Everyone leaves at nine.” That’s when his own workouts and training started. Not that evening, though. That week, with the stress of Connor detoxing in his apartment, keeping him hidden from the guys, and dealing with the unhealthy impact Parker was having on his gym, he was mentally exhausted. A workout was probably exactly what he needed, but he wasn’t sure he could keep his eyes open long enough.

“The audition is just a few days away, and I’m really not feeling ready for it. I’d like to stay a bit longer . . . You live upstairs anyway, right?”

“Yes, but I’m going to bed now . . .” His gaze drifted over her against his will and an image of her in his bed flashed in his mind. He really must be stressed. That certainly wasn’t the answer to his problems. “You need to leave.”

“I promise to be quiet and I can lock up when I’m done.”

“You’ve never heard the word no before, have you?”

She placed her hands on her hips and surprised him by smiling. “Not so often from one person, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, surprising himself . . . and her, by the flicker of shock that crossed her face.

“I didn’t know your mouth could actually twist that way,” she said.

Oh, his mouth could twist a lot of ways . . . up and down her body repeatedly. His smile faded as he once again had to rein in his thoughts. He grabbed an extra set of gym keys from the hook near his office door and tossed them toward her.

She caught them, a look of surprise in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to lock the deadbolt.”

*   *   *

Parker watched Tyson as he walked away. His smile seconds before had almost knocked her on her ass. For five days, the only expressions she’d seen on his face were annoyance and stress.

She couldn’t help but wonder about him. She knew from her brief discussions with Dane that Tyson had his own fight coming up, defending his championship title, yet he was so focused and dedicated to helping the other guys train, she wondered when he really had time to focus on his own training. Besides that, he was meeting with new fighters wanting to train there, stocking the gym with gear, and she’d even seen him cleaning . . . a lot. The only real training she’d seen him do that week was spar and grapple with the other guys. A sight that had induced the most intense feelings of attraction she’d ever experienced. Watching him pick up his opponent and toss him to the mat effortlessly was . . . hot.

Guess humans hadn’t evolved that much from their primitive, animalistic instincts, she mused.

But it was more than his incredible body and ability to dominate that intrigued her. He was so intense and he didn’t talk much, other than to instruct his fighters. He rarely joked with the other coaches or ate lunch with anyone. He was so private and closed off, it only made her want to get closer, peel back the layers . . . and the clothing.

She wondered if he was always this way or how much of his attitude had to do with her being there. He was certainly avoiding her, as he’d promised he would. Yet, she’d caught him watching more than once in the last few days and just now, his eyes had reflected an interest as he’d skimmed her body.

To be fair, she’d checked him out more than once. The man was gorgeous. Even his tattoos and the slightly misshapen nose that obviously had suffered more than one break suited him and added character to his features. His squared jaw was always covered in just the right amount of sexy stubble, except over a long, thin scar that disappeared over the curve of his chin toward his neck. His eyes were obviously blue, but they looked clear—see-through, almost—and they had a way of penetrating straight to her core when she caught him staring at her.