Her grin faded. She hadn’t thought of that before. Now she really wanted it gone.

“Okay, Parker, you’re first,” Dr. McNally said, reaching for several pairs of protective glasses from the shelf behind him.

Darn. She’d been hoping Tyson would go first. She wanted to see the process before she did it; that way she could back out if it did look painful. “Tyson can go first. His is smaller.”

“His is also older and faded already quite a bit. I have to use a more powerful laser on yours, so climb on up,” he said, patting the table.

“What’s the matter? It’s virtually painless, remember?” Tyson winked.

“Fine.” Removing her jeans, she lay on her side on the table, covering herself with the sheet but giving him access to the tattoo on her hip.

“Okay, great. Put these on, please.” He handed her a pair of dark sunglasses.

“What are these for?”

“Well, we are working with lasers so we want to be as safe as possible.” He handed another pair to Tyson.

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. Maybe there was more to this than she’d thought. She forced a breath as she put the glasses on.

“Now, I’m going to turn on the skin chiller. It will help manage the pain.”

She sat up. “The website said this was painless.”

The doctor gently touched her shoulder, easing her back down onto her side. “It’s about as pain-free as you’re going to find . . . but it’s still a laser,” he said.

Tyson laughed. “Told you.”

She raised her glasses to glare at him. “Being right isn’t going to make yours hurt any less.”

He stopped laughing.

“Ready?” Dr. McNally asked, rolling his stool closer, laser in one hand, skin chiller in the other.

She nodded and a second later a blast of freezing air was directed on her hip. Then . . . Oh my fucking God. She closed her eyes tight and gripped the edge of the table, as her skin felt like it was being shocked over and over again. “This . . . is . . . not . . . pain-free.” She gasped.

“Just a few more minutes. Hang in there. Do you need a break?” the doctor asked.

What she needed was a fucking time machine to go back and tell her stupid self not to suggest this in the first place. “No . . . hurry,” she said as the laser’s heat combined with the freezing was almost too much to take. She knew if she stopped, she’d never let him start again.

“And we’re done,” he said, far too long later. “Take a look.” He turned off the machine and handed her a mirror to see the results.

She sat slowly, removing the glasses and stared at the white frosting on the surface of her skin in the shape of the tattoo. It was still visible beneath, but already parts were faded, and despite the pain seconds before, she was glad she’d gone through with it. “How many more sessions will I need?”

“Two . . . maybe three.”

Two, maybe three more episodes of that excruciating pain. She sighed. She could do it. It would be worth it in the end when she didn’t have to be embarrassed by her rebellious mistake or cover it up all the time. Still she was glad she had to wait six weeks between sessions, long enough to start forgetting how awful it actually was.

Behind her, Tyson was frowning as he sniffed the air. “What is that burning smell?”

“Burning flesh,” the doctor said. “You’re up.”

Unlocking the door to her home an hour later, she was barely inside before Tyson’s arms were around her waist, his lips at the base of her neck. She leaned back against him, enjoying the moment. The pain of the tattoo removal had been worth it if it meant spending the day with him. She’d been surprised when he’d suggested they go back to her place instead of heading to the gym, but his hands sliding up her body left no question what his intentions were.

Reaching behind her back, she felt for his hard-on and smiled. “I thought we weren’t going to do this again.”

His lips moved up her neck and he kissed her ear. “You knew we were going to do this again . . . it was just a matter of when,” he said, before scooping her into his arms and carrying her up the flight of stairs toward her bedroom.

The sound of the front door unlocking again a second later made him stop. His eyes widened as he set her down slowly. “Does someone have a key to your house?”

Her housekeeper, her gardener, her interior decorator, and . . . The door opened. “Hi, Grandma.”

“Grandma?” Tyson looked ready to run over the older woman on his escape out the door, but he stood frozen in place next to her, his eyes questioning.

“Hi, dear. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She was staring at Tyson.

No, nothing. Just an afternoon of toe-curling sex. “No. I just got home.”

Abigail closed the door and Parker descended the stairs. She heard Tyson swear quietly under his breath as he followed. She prayed he could tuck his hard-on away somewhere so he didn’t give the eighty-year-old woman a heart attack.

“Well, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by . . .” She paused. “What happened?” Her eyes widened as they landed on the white gauze bandage sticking up over the edge of Parker’s jean capris.

“Oh . . . nothing. I just finally got that tattoo you hate so much removed.”

Her grandmother smiled. “And who is this?” she asked, once again turning her attention to Tyson.

“Oh, sorry, Grandma. This is Tyson Reed, my MMA trainer. Tyson—Abigail Hamilton.”

He extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton. I’m . . . uh . . . a big fan.”

What? She hid a laugh. Who was he trying to kid?

Her grandmother smiled graciously but glancing at her she said, “Should I ask him which movie of mine was his favorite?”

“No,” Parker said.

His cheeks turning a gorgeous shade of embarrassment, Tyson turned to Parker. “You know, I should get back to the gym. I’ll leave you two . . .”

Her heart fell. He was leaving. Great timing, Grandma. She wasn’t confident if he left now he’d let his guard down another time. “Oh . . . okay, I’ll walk you out. Just give me a second, Grandma.”

“Take your time, darling. I’ll put the coffee on.”

Sure. Coffee. That’s what she wanted.

She sighed when they reached the front door. “I’m sorry. I really need to take that key away from her.” How was she supposed to have coffee and a pleasant chat with her grandmother when she’d been hoping to be naked and halfway to her first orgasm by now?

He touched her cheek, the soft, gentle nature of the gesture surprising her. “It’s okay.”

Damn. Next he would say that her grandmother had saved them from making a mistake. She swallowed hard.

Instead, he leaned toward her and kissed her. “Text me the second she’s gone,” he said as he opened the door.

Oh thank God. She closed the door behind him and rushed back to the kitchen. This would be the fastest visit in history.

*   *   *

Lying on his back on Parker’s bed a long four hours later, Tyson flipped the pages of her movie script. “This coach sounds like a douche.”

Parker, wearing his T-shirt as she paced in front of the bed with another copy of the script, stopped to shoot him a pointed look.

“You’re shitting me—you don’t think I sound like this, do you?”

“Yes!”

He frowned, rereading the last line of dialogue: “Get your head out of your ass, or get the hell out of my gym . . . hmm . . . okay, maybe a little.” He flipped to the second to last scene with the movie’s hero—a doctor who hates that his new girlfriend is an MMA fighter. “Okay, maybe the writers weren’t so far off the mark with the coach’s dialogue, but come on—what man actually says ‘I never saw the sun until it was shining in your eyes?’” He made a barf face.

Parker picked up a cushion and threw it at him. “One who wants to get laid.”

He caught the pillow, then sitting up, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. “Really? To get into a woman’s pants I have to spout some bullshit line?” He nibbled on her collarbone. “I’ve never had to try that hard . . . women just flock to me.”