“Wow, Tyson Reed in the flesh,” a male voice behind him said and he turned to see a tall, thin guy dressed in a light gray suit and red dress shirt, open at the collar.

Thank God he hadn’t listened to Connor and worn a tie. “Hello,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” He had no idea who the guy was, but if he was the lead playing opposite Parker in this movie, he may have a problem with it. The man’s silver cufflinks were probably worth more than his championship belt.

“I’m Brantley Cruise, the movie’s new director.”

Even worse. The real life ex-leading man.

“I’m a big fan of yours and your father before you . . .” He laughed. “Wow, I’m fangirling all over the place here.”

Tyson forced a laugh, the flattery not easing his annoyance over the image that flashed in his mind of this guy with his hands on Parker or the knowledge that he’d casually tossed her away. He wanted to punch him for both reasons. “Thank you. I’d like to return the compliment, but I don’t watch a lot of movies.”

“Well, I hope you’ll watch this one,” he said. “Drink?” he offered as though he were the host of the party.

Tyson’s spine stiffened as he looked around again for Parker. He spotted her outside near the pool talking to several other guests and his mouth gaped. Dressed in a long, sheer red dress and strappy silver sandals with heels that gave her an extra six inches, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The dress had no back and hung low in the front, which meant she was wearing next to nothing underneath it.

Damn.

“She is breathtaking,” Brantley said next to him.

His fist clenched at his sides. The idea that this guy also got to enjoy the view infuriated him. And in LA he’d have Parker all to himself. For the first time her chosen occupation annoyed him.

“And I have to say, that new body . . .” He let out a low whistle. “I mean, she was always smoking hot . . .”

He couldn’t take anymore. “You mentioned a drink. I’d love one,” he said tightly. His gaze shot back to Parker as she laughed at something one of her guests said and the sound drifted across the yard. Damn, he wished he were the recipient of that smile.

Brantley still stood next to him. “I was surprised you actually agreed to train her. What with your championship title on the line in a few days.”

He nodded.

“I mean, I know why she went to you,” he said with a cocky grin. “To try to make me jealous.”

Tyson’s eyes flew to the man. What? He frowned. “How would that have made you jealous?”

“When we were a couple, she knew how much I admired and respected you and your family. I don’t doubt for a second this whole MMA movie idea was just some ploy to get us working together again. She had to know I’d buy the rights to any movie just to get to meet one of my own favorite fighters, and the timing of her press release . . . A little too coincidental, you know what I mean?”

His jaw clenched. Had that been Parker’s motivation? She had been intent on him training her and she’d eventually gotten her way.

Her gaze finally landed on him and she smiled and waved.

He held a hand up in greeting, unable to shake off the other man’s words.

“I’ll get you that drink now, champ,” Brantley said, tapping him on the shoulder as he walked away.

*   *   *

“I met your friend,” Brantley’s voice behind her made her freeze.

“I noticed. Where did he go?” She’d come inside looking for Tyson moments before, but he seemed to have disappeared.

“I think he’s probably feeling a little out of place.”

No shit. “Well, I hope you made him feel comfortable.” Instead of acting like the arrogant asshole you are, she was tempted to add. She took a deep breath. Like it or not, Brantley now held the cards. He was the one with the power to make or break this opportunity for her career. She still hadn’t had time to sit and talk to him about the script. She hoped they were sincere about leaving it alone and working with the limited sets the original writer had planned.

“Of course. I always make people feel comfortable,” he said, draping an arm around her.

She shrugged it off.

“He seems to have quite the hard-on for you.”

His words made her turn and glare. “That’s none of your business.”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care. So if that’s what all of this was about . . .” He moved toward her and cupped the side of her face with his right hand, his left arm going around her waist. “You didn’t need to go through so much trouble.”

So much trouble for what? She slapped his hand away from her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.” She moved away from him. “If you’ll excuse me . . .”

He grabbed her arm. “I meant, if you wanted to get my attention, you got it.”

Her mouth gaped. Of course he’d assume all of this was about him. Getting his attention and possibly getting back together. It couldn’t possibly be because she was struggling to rebuild her career after the three failed movies he’d made featuring her and the fact that now an indie film was the only role she’d read in a long time that inspired her.

His thick skull wouldn’t understand any of that . . . if he was even listening. So, instead she said, “I’m glad that this movie will get a chance to be seen by more than five hundred people at a movie festival, but don’t misunderstand my intentions—you and I are never going to happen again.”

He grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Believe what you want, Parker, but the only people for those in the business are other people in the business. We get each other, while the rest of the world looks on in awe, wishing they were us. Tattoos and big muscles may be doing it for you now, but you’ll wake up and leave him behind soon enough.”

She took a step toward him and, lowering her voice so her other guests wouldn’t hear, she leaned closer. “Tattoos and big muscles always did it for me . . . it was what I thought of whenever I was with you. Enjoy the party,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away, now more desperate than ever to find Tyson.

*   *   *

“You made it,” Parker said behind him, just as he was contemplating an escape. Watching her across the room talking to Brantley moments before had him more than a little on edge.

“Yes,” he said, turning to see the woman he barely recognized. Her hair curled and pinned back from her face and the tight-fitting gown, she had Hollywood written all over her. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t see you come in or I wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself,” she said, taking his hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”

Fantastic. Meeting more of these industry people sounded about as appealing as a root canal. And he felt awkward on Parker’s arm—the curious, judging eyes on them as she made the rounds introducing him to people whose names he didn’t even try to remember. This was her world and he didn’t belong in it. That much was obvious.

But if it was obvious to everyone else, it didn’t seem to faze Parker. She looked happy to have him there, eager to introduce him to her fellow cast members and executives. How did she not notice the looks they exchanged? Or feel the tension in the air? Had she spent so much time in these situations that she’d become immune to it all?

As she introduced him to the movie’s screenwriter, a man who looked just as uncomfortable as he did, Brantley waved to her from the pool deck, motioning toward another new arrival.

“I’ll be back in a second,” she told him, squeezing his arm. “Don’t leave.”

“No promises,” he mumbled as she walked toward the two men.

The new guy smiled at her and gave her an appreciative once-over, and Tyson’s fists tightened at his sides. What the hell was wrong with him? He had to get his jealousy under control. He had no right to feel possessive over Parker. Wasn’t he the one who didn’t do relationships? Who wasn’t interested in anything other than his fight career? So why did he feel as though he’d been kicked in the gut when the guy leaned forward and kissed her cheek?