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.”
She wiggled in his arms, turning to glare at him. “They flock to you?”
He grinned. “Like a PMSing chick to chocolate.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Maybe, but at least I’m not lying to every woman I meet, telling her what she wants to hear just to get her in bed, and promising a future when I have no intentions of settling down.”
Her expression changed slightly and he couldn’t decipher it. She pushed against his legs, freeing herself, and grabbed his copy of the script from the bed.
“What did I say wrong?”
“Nothing.”
In other words—everything. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, turning her to face him. He hid a smile at her pout. “Come on, you really don’t need to hear flowery words or meaningless promises, do you?” He hadn’t pegged her for a woman who needed the romance, the fake highlights reel, and the matching his and hers towels. The thing was, he wasn’t sure he was the type to give her all of that. The idea of letting his guard down so completely, opening himself up to a potential heartache made him reluctant to even get as involved as he already had. He refused to be that lovesick, pathetic guy who ended up a broken mess when things ended.
She sighed. “No. You’re right. It’s usually just a lot of bullshit.”
“Exactly. And no guy—in real life, anyway—actually says those things. Therefore, Hollywood romance movies are really screwing things up for the real guys out there.”
“Real guys like you?”
“Yeah. Real guys like me.”
“So, what you’re trying to say is this thing between us—where we go from hot to cold and back again—is real and the stuff in movies only sets unrealistic expectations for women of men?”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.” Glad they were finally on the same page. He leaned in to kiss her, but she placed her hand over his lips and pushed his face away.
Okay, maybe not.
“Maybe you should try a little harder to pretend a bit more. After all, the guy in the movies gets laid . . . You won’t be,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.
He dove after her, but she closed and locked it too fast.
He shook his head with a sigh, glancing down at his semi-hard-on that had nowhere to go. “Guess we better get better at the bullshit.”
* * *
Romance was not his thing. Flowers and candlelight dinners were a foreign concept. Rose petal trails leading to a bedroom decorated with scented candles? Never going to happen. But if Parker wanted a real date, he could do that. The day before, he hadn’t been able to shake the look of disappointment on her face that she’d tried to hide. She wanted more from him and he found himself wanting to give her more.
Which terrified the shit out of him.
He wasn’t sure he could ever fully commit the way she deserved, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to make an effort—for her. Even if it did make him vulnerable. No other woman had ever been worth the gamble.
“Where are we going?” she yelled over the noise of the motorcycle and wind as they flew down Las Vegas Boulevard the next day.
“Quit asking,” he yelled back. She really didn’t get the concept of a surprise, he thought, shaking his head with a grin.
“The last time we ventured outside of the gym I ended up in the worst pain of my life watching you get hit on by a receptionist.”
“That one was your idea. Mine’s better. Now, hang on,” he said, picking up speed as he merged onto the freeway. He felt her arms tighten around his waist as she slid even closer, pressing her body into his back. The only thing better than speeding down the highway on a beautiful fall day was having a sexy woman on the back of the bike.