“Are you cool with that?” she asked when he was silent.

“I guess I have no choice,” he mumbled as the door opened and the executive came into the gym.

She looked apologetic as she sighed.

“I don’t see much training going on,” Brantley said with the arrogant air of a man on top of the world.

“I just got here,” Parker told Brantley. “Should we get started?” she asked Tyson.

Tyson cleared this throat. “Actually, I have to work with Dane for a while . . . why don’t you grab Billy.” He nodded toward the front door as the young fighter entered.

“What?” Billy asked, removing his headphones as the three of them turned to look at him.

“I need you to train with Parker for a bit today,” Tyson said, unable to look at the confused, disappointed expression on Parker’s face. It was time to start distancing himself. He’d let things get too far out of control with her. She would be gone soon . . . with Brantley. The night before had lifted the blinders and he’d seen clearly the differences in their worlds. Inside the gym, alone, together, it was easy to forget that she was a movie star. That she was a fantasy that men like him could only hope to hold in their arms. He’d been crazy to believe that things could work between them. And he’d been a fool to let his guard down.

Damn.

“Sure,” Billy said. “Want to start in the cage?” he asked Parker.

“Okay,” Parker said, walking away from him, Brantley in tow.

Tyson headed to the opposite end of the gym and motioned for Dane to join him on the heavy bags. “You want me to get you a fight? Let’s get to work,” he grumbled, grabbing a set of training gloves.

Dane stared across the gym toward Parker. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to suffer for your fight with your chick?”

Against his better judgment, he stole a glance at her and his chest tightened as the painful truth rolled off his tongue. “She’s not my chick, man.”

*   *   *

“So, we’re planning to start filming in two weeks,” Brantley said when she took a break a few hours later. He tucked into his pocket the cell phone that had been glued to his ear all morning.

Parker swallowed a gulp of water. “What? I thought filming started in January after the holidays.” The original schedule had them filming from January fifteenth until April first.

“We decided to move things up a bit. We’d like a Labor Day weekend release, so to make sure that happens, we need to start filming before the holidays.”

“But I’m nowhere close to being ready yet.” Sure, she’d come a long way in six weeks, but there was still more to learn, more sculpting needed on her body . . . more time with Tyson. Her gaze fell across the gym where he trained with Dane. That’s if he wanted more time with her.

His attitude that day confused her. What the hell had happened?

A few days ago, things were going great between them. But last night had felt different. While he’d held her, kissed her, wanted her more than ever, if possible, she’d felt him drifting away. And she hadn’t known how to pull him back in.

This morning’s brushoff, casually dismissing her to train with Dane, had hurt.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Now that we have a bigger budget, we can hire a real female fighter body double. We just need your pretty little face on screen.”

Pretty little face? That’s all she’d ever been to him. All she’d been to Hollywood. If she’d learned anything that year, it was that as quickly as the industry could love you, they could forget about you. She wouldn’t forget that this time.

And the idea of a body double annoyed her. She’d been so excited for this opportunity to prove she was more than just the pretty face. Now, it didn’t look like she’d get that chance. “I’d really like to continue training and stick to the original filming schedule,” she said, though she doubted what she wanted mattered. It never had before.

He checked his watch. “Don’t stress over the details. Just get your sexy ass to LA on a flight next week, okay? I have to get back to the hotel now. We’re interviewing the real fighters today. Read-through tomorrow—don’t forget.”

She fought the urge to show him her new right hook as she nodded.

When he left, she scanned the gym for Tyson. He was no longer working with Dane and she was desperate to talk to him. She suspected he’d been uncomfortable and out of his element at her party. The movie industry people had a way of making everyone else feel inferior. She’d had a way of doing it too . . . before. Before she’d experienced something real with Tyson.

At least, what they’d shared had been real for her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure he felt the same way.

“Hey, Dane, where did Tyson go?” she asked, unwrapping her hands.

“Upstairs, I think,” he said, as he kept a steady rhythm on the speed bag.

“Yeah, I saw him up there a minute ago,” Connor said as he came toward them, broom in hand.

“Thanks.”

A moment later, she knocked on his apartment door. The sound of water running inside made her try the handle. The door was unlocked, and she hesitated for just a second before going inside. The man had all but torn her dress off the night before in the middle of her party; interrupting his shower seemed like fair play.

Removing her shorts and tank top, she opened the bathroom door slowly, quietly, and walked into the steamy room. His back was turned and she could barely make out his bare body through the glass shower door, as the water poured down over him. She slid her underwear down her legs and stepped out of them, undoing her sports bra and letting both fall to the floor next to his discarded clothes.

Then opening the door, she gently placed her hands on his back as she stepped inside. His body stiffened slightly at her unexpected touch, but as her hands trailed the length of his back, he reached for them, and pulled her arms tight around his waist. She rested her head against his back, holding on tight . . . somehow knowing he was slipping even further away than before.

*   *   *

Damn, he didn’t want to leave her.

Tyson rolled to his side among the tangled sheets, which were still damp from their bodies, and stared at Parker sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm raging in his heart and mind.

He traced a finger along her arm and fought the urge to wake her to have her one more time before letting her go. He wasn’t the right man for her. He wasn’t the right man for anybody when the idea of committing, the thought of putting his trust in someone, the idea of believing in a make-believe forever made him want to run.

But damn, for a little while he’d almost believed he could do it.

Now, the pain he felt reminded him why getting involved with her—with anyone—was something he never should have done.

Unfortunately, he’d had no choice. She’d gotten to him. She’d broken down his defenses, silenced the cautioning voice in his mind, and now he would know what a broken heart felt like.

He hoped walking away now would at least save him just a little.

Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, searching for the strength to get up and leave. She moaned in her sleep and rolled to face him, but her eyes remained closed as her hand fell onto his chest.

Sliding away from her, he leaned to kiss her forehead, breathing in the smell of her, one he would miss once it evaporated from his pillow, and turned away.

Grabbing his clothes from the bedroom floor, he quietly left the room, the sickening feeling in his stomach growing stronger, knowing he was breaking her heart while she slept.

*   *   *

“What was that about?”

“What?” Connor asked, pushing the mop across the floor in front of the weights.

“You and Dane.” He’d walked into the gym and saw them talking quietly and he didn’t like it. He’d told his brother to stay away from the guys. He didn’t want him bringing any of his shit or any of his problems in there. He might be getting better, but Tyson was still hesitant to trust him.