I turned toward the masculine voice and found myself face-to-face with a beautiful man. The blood beneath my cheeks grew hot as I stared into dark chocolate eyes framed by the longest lashes I’d ever seen on a guy. He had warm, tawny skin and a head full of thick, jet-black hair. When he smiled, two incredible dimples popped in either cheek.

Dreamy bedroom eyes, ahoy there!

“Do you speak?”

I flushed and laughed at my ridiculousness. “Yes, I have been known to produce speech.”

The man’s eyes danced with laughter. “Good to know. I’m Carlos. Can I help?”

I glanced down at the contract in my hand before being compelled to look into Carlos’s eyes again. Seriously, I thought Rhys had beautiful eyes, but this guy could give him a run for his money. “I’m here to see Rhys Morgan. He’s expecting me.”

Carlos grinned. “Are you Parker?”

“That’s me.”

He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m a trainer here.”

Carlos’s hand was calloused and strong. It was very nice to touch. I returned his smile. “You too.”

“This way.” He indicated with his head toward the left. Carlos led me out of the main gym into a small hall that housed an elevator and a stairwell. “He’s on the second floor where the boxing gym is.”

We took the stairs, and I followed the trainer into a space similar to downstairs except half of it was taken up by two boxing rings. There was a class being taught in the clear side of the space, and as we walked past, I recognized the martial art as capoeira. Interesting. I wondered if Rhys knew capoeira. That would be a sight to see.

At the sound of Rhys’s familiar, booming voice, my eyes flew in his direction. He was standing outside one of the boxing rings, shouting instructions at two young men who wore nothing but long shorts and boxing gear.

My gaze drifted down Rhys’s back. My lower belly fluttered.

It was just nerves.

The guy was an intimidating specimen. So tall. Much taller than Carlos who I put at around five foot ten. Even that was tall for me. I only stood at five foot two. Hence why I’d put a “No Tinker Bell” clause in the contract for Rhys.

Rude!

Unless I’d misread his reasons for calling me that. Tink was loyal and adorably feisty.

But that was beside the point.

My eyes glanced off the well-developed muscles revealed by the basketball tank Rhys wore and the way his joggers cupped his firm, high, and very muscular ass. There wasn’t an inch of fat on the guy.

“Rhys. Company!” Carlos yelled as we approached.