Tyson turned, finally noticing the new case on the wall. It was bigger than the old one and all of the trophies and belts fit perfectly displayed behind the glass. “You did this?”

Connor nodded.

He cleared his throat. “Great, thanks . . .”

“I better go . . .” Connor said in the strained silence that followed.

The night before had been awkward to say the least, as Tyson had tried to help his brother battle through the withdrawal symptoms he’d expected to have started to go away by now. Connor had finally fallen asleep after midnight, his head on Tyson’s lap. He hadn’t known what to do and he hadn’t wanted to wake him for fear of having to deal with more anguish, so he’d slept sitting up on the couch.

“I’ll see ya later,” Connor said, leaving the office.

Tyson sighed. He was going to regret this. “Hey, Connor, if you want some work . . . um, you could clean or something . . .” He shrugged. There was little to clean. He always kept the gym in perfect condition and his guys knew to take care of the equipment, but if it would help to keep his brother off his couch all day long, every day? He refused to think there was more to his offer than that.

Connor nodded eagerly as he stuffed his shaking hands into the pockets of his jeans. In the two weeks of detoxing, he’d gained a bit of weight and his eyes looked clearer. “Yeah, I can do that. Whatever you need . . .”

His eagerness made Tyson feel uneasy and he almost wished he hadn’t said anything. “Go grab a broom or something,” he said distractedly, seeing Parker enter the gym.

His heart was a base drum deep in his chest as the memory of the day before returned. His mouth went dry as he watched her remove her hoodie to reveal her lime green sports bra. He really should implement a full T-shirt dress code in the gym. It hadn’t mattered before Parker’s beautiful, full chest had arrived, driving everyone, himself included—maybe him most of all—to distraction. But now the guys might appreciate it . . . or hate him for it.

When she caught his stare, she smiled. A soft, knowing smile as though they shared a secret from the rest of the world.

Damn it. He was in trouble. The best thing to do would be to try to put some distance there. Train her like he said he would, but not get too friendly, too close . . .

Too fucking late for that, he thought as she came into the office. The day before they’d gotten really friendly and really close. “Hi.”

“Hey . . . hi,” he mumbled, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever had to see a woman again after a one-night stand . . . Trying to form a coherent thought was proving challenging, especially with the recurring flashbacks from the night before on repeat in his mind.

She studied him. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah . . . great . . .”

“So . . .”

Oh great. Here it was—the morning-after conversation. There would be no getting through that in one piece, so he quickly cut her off, “Hey, are you doing anything tonight?” he asked, immediately regretting it when her eyes lit up.

“Um . . . I was planning to visit my grandmother, help her give out Halloween candy . . .”

Right. She had a life. Her world didn’t revolve around training the way his did. “Yeah, okay.”

“Were you wanting to train? Because I can . . .”

He shook his head quickly. “No. No . . . It . . . There’s just a stupid Halloween thing tonight.”

“You’re asking me to go to a Halloween party with you?” She looked more than a little surprised.

“No. I mean you have plans . . .”

She stepped forward. “I’d rather go to the party with you.”

Man, he felt like a tongue-tied teenager asking a pretty girl to prom. What the hell was wrong with him?

“But I have to admit, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Halloween kind of guy.” She sat on the edge of his desk and trailed a hand along his.

He laughed. “I’m not. I’m going as a favor to Walker’s fiancée, Grace. She just started her own publicity firm and this Halloween event is her first big job. She’s calling in all sorts of favors for a great turnout. She helped me with promotion with the gym when it first opened. It seems I sort of have an open-ended debt to her.” He’d thought he was off the hook after agreeing to let Walker train with his camp. Obviously not.

“That makes more sense.” Parker paused. “So . . . Halloween party. Should I wear a costume?”

He sighed. Going to the door, he reached for the garment bag from Spooktacular—the costume rental place around the corner from the gym. He unzipped the bag to reveal a white suit, splattered in blood, one sleeve ripped off and the tie covered in what was supposed to look like brain matter. “The theme is Zombie Burlesque.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He zipped the bag shut before the other guys training near the office could see the ridiculous costume. Grace would owe him one after that evening.

“Zombie Burlesque . . .” she repeated slowly. “So basically bloodstained lingerie and a feather boa?”

His dick hardened instantly. In her training gear she was a walking poster girl for any athletic apparel company . . . naked, she was mind-blowing. In lingerie, she just might kill him. He quickly busied himself with his computer. “Yeah, that sounds fine,” he croaked.

She smiled. “Great. It’s a date then.”

Shit. Did she have to go and label it? “Okay . . . why don’t you go warm up and I’ll be there in a bit.” Once his hard-on disappeared.

When she left the office, he closed the door and collapsed in his chair, readjusting himself in his shorts. She’d have to have been blind not to see the effect she’d had on him by just the mention of her in lingerie. Already he was regretting asking her to go with him. If he couldn’t trust his body not to react so boldly to her when it was just his own imagination fucking with him, how was he supposed to spend the evening standing next to her in a crowded bar full of half-naked women?

He hoped those rented suit pants had extra room in the crotch.

*   *   *

“So, who is this guy?”

Parker tried to keep her face from twitching as she answered. “No one you’d know.”

Ally, her friend and makeup artist stood back to admire the zombie makeup she was applying to Parker’s face. “Is he an actor?”

“No. He’s an MMA fighter,” she said quietly. “Do you think my face is pale enough?” she asked, glancing in the mirror, hoping to change the subject. She was trying to keep her upcoming role hush-hush, especially from anyone involved in the movie industry. Everyone talked to everyone else. Ally may be in Las Vegas working on set, but news of Parker’s new role would spread quicker than wildfire through Tinsel Town.

“I’ll be adding blue undertones,” Ally said, turning her face back toward her. “An MMA fighter?” Her eyebrows shot up. “How did you meet him?”

“Ah . . . well, this is Vegas. There are MMA clubs everywhere. I, uh, was looking for a gym to start working out more.” That much was true at least. As a rule, she tried not to lie as much as possible. It was the one value her parents had managed to instill in her before they’d died. One even Grandma Abigail’s insistence that little white lies were okay hadn’t shaken.

“Right, because the home gym complete with sauna and yoga studio downstairs isn’t good enough?” Ally laughed.

“I don’t know how to use any of that equipment; you know that. It’s only there for show.”

“That’s probably true,” Ally said. “So how long have you been seeing him?”

She’d been seeing him every day for almost a month, they’d had sex and a real conversation once . . . but she still wouldn’t classify them as “seeing one another.”

“Just a little while.”

“Does he have those gross cauliflower ears?” She wrinkled her nose. “I had to apply a prosthetic for them once on a boxing movie set.” She shuddered, reaching for the blue makeup from her kit.