The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire: The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire

He grinned again. “Put one foot in front of the other and propel yourself forward.”

Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a snappy comeback, or the courage to kiss that smirk off his pretty face. “Very funny. I believe you said we’re starting out slowly. Running five blocks and back doesn’t qualify as ‘slow’ in my opinion.”

He inclined his head and gave her a challenging look. “If you can’t handle it, I guess we could walk.”

She shot to her feet, answering his dare. “I can handle it. I used to run at least two miles a day when I was in gymnastics training.” Training she’d undergone practically back when dinosaurs were in diapers.

He gestured toward the foyer. “Then let’s get going so you can wash your hair.”

The man had a mind like a steel trap and a body that served as bait for any woman halfway interested. She wasn’t interested, at least not that much. “First, I have to check on Stormy.”

Leaving Kieran behind, she walked to her daughter’s room and quietly opened the door. With her blond hair fanned out over the lavender satin pillow case, Stormy slept soundly on her back, arms sprawled wide, one leg jutting from beneath the covers as if prepared for a hasty escape. Funny, Erica had once slept in that same position, until Jeff’s death. These days she spent most nights curled on her side, hugging her pillow, an inadequate replacement for someone warm to hold.

Erica started to wake Stormy and let her know she was leaving, but reconsidered. Once her daughter learned that Kieran had arrived, the child would no doubt be out of bed in a flash, delaying their departure. The quicker she got this first phase of the taskmaster’s program over, the better.

After closing the bedroom door, Erica made her way back to the den to find Kieran still waiting, still looking much too sexy for such an early hour. Obviously he was an early riser, and that unearthed an image she had no business imagining.

After a brief mental scolding, she immediately strode to the desk, disengaged her cell phone from the charger and grabbed her keys.

“Are you expecting a call?” Kieran asked when she turned to face him.

“I always take my phone everywhere I go, in case Stormy needs me.”

“She probably won’t even realize you’re gone before we get back.”

“Probably not, but I’ll feel better knowing she can call if she needs something. It’s bad enough I have to leave her alone in the house.”

He sent her a curious look. “She doesn’t stay by herself?”

“Rarely, and only for a half hour or so on weekends, while I’m running errands during the day.”

“What do you do with her while you’re working?”

“If she’s not at work with me, she stays with Mrs. Carpenter next door or at a friend’s house.”

She sensed what he was thinking—Erica’s paranoia runs rampant—particularly when he followed her to the door and she armed the security system with the standard code—a code that signified her and Jeff’s wedding anniversary.

“Glad to see you’re adequately protecting yourself,” he said before adding, “although this is a virtually crime-free neighborhood.”

She stepped onto the porch and double-checked the lock. “There isn’t any such thing as a crime-free neighborhood these days.” After pocketing her phone and keys, she turned to him again. “You never know when some strange man’s going to appear at your doorstep, intent on torturing you.”

His smile made the torture worthwhile. “Do you remember how to stretch?”

She tried not to be too insulted. “Yes, I remember.” Which was no guarantee that she might not tear something in the process.

Erica followed Kieran’s lead as he went through the motions of warming up his muscles. She also followed the line of his leg, from the top of his cross trainers to the bend of his knee and the curve of his thigh. For some reason, she kept right on going to a very male area no decent mother should dare go—

“What equipment do you prefer?”

Her gaze snapped to his as a heated blush slapped her cheeks. “Beg your pardon?”

His grin deepened, indicating he’d noticed her wicked perusal. “Maybe I should ask what event you preferred during your gymnastic days.”

Thank heavens that’s what he’d meant. “I did fairly well with the beam, bars and vault, but floor exercise was my forte.”

“And that involves quite a bit of running, right?”

“Yes, that’s part of it.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

When he took off down the walkway toward the street, Erica realized the moment of truth had arrived. Would she make it two blocks without collapsing? Of course she would—she hoped.

When Erica passed by his black sports car parked at the curb, she discovered it happened to be a Porsche. Figured. He looked like a Porsche kind of guy. But she didn’t have time to admire the dream vehicle if she wanted to catch up with him, which she did in short order since he’d maintained an easy jog, not a full-out sprint. Despite her calves’ and ankles’ slight protests, she managed to keep up with his pace…until he sped up, leaving her behind. After a few yards, he turned and ran in place. “You can do better than that.”

If she had the energy, she’d take off her aged sneaker and hurl it at him. “I’m coming,” she said around her labored breathing. “Feel free to go ahead without me.”

“No way. I don’t want you heading back home.”

Going back home sounded like a good plan, but she’d be darned if she’d give up now, so she continued on regardless that the occasional patch of grass began to resemble a nice place to take a nap.

By the time they reached the park, Erica’s feet stung and her lungs burned. She managed to make it to a nearby play yard where she used a support beam to hold her up while she caught her breath.

Kieran looked no worse for the wear, or winded in the least, and that brought about a return of her foul mood. “Are you trying to kill me our first day together?” she managed around a few puffs of air.

“Not at all,” he said. “By next week, I’ll have you jogging to the park and back, plus a couple of laps around it.”

By next week, she might be bedridden with several stress fractures. “I hope you know CPR.” Another pleasant fantasy filtered into her mind—Kieran’s mouth covering hers. Short of feigning respiratory arrest, it wasn’t going to happen.

“That’s a requirement that comes with the job, but you’re not going to need it.” He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, leaving him clad in only a white T-shirt that rode up momentarily, giving Erica a glimpse of the dip of his navel and the happy path running beneath it.

If he kept that up, she’d definitely need some serious resuscitation. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Let’s just hope I can live up to your expectations.”

“You already have.” He draped the sweatshirt over the side of the slide, stepped closer and braced two fingers on Erica’s neck.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

“I’m checking your heart rate.”

Of course he was, and how stupid for her to think anything else. “Am I still alive?” Her rapid heartbeat indicated she was quite alive—a partial reaction to his touch, no matter how innocent—or clinical—it might be.

He dropped his hand from her neck, much to Erica’s disappointment. “Yeah, you’re still alive. We’ll work on getting your rate up a little higher in the future.”

Any higher and she might suffer a cardiac arrest to go along with her shin splints. “If you say so.”

“Are you recovered enough to head back now?”

From the run, yes. From his hand on her neck and his close proximity, not exactly. After a couple of deep knee bends that caused her moderate pain, she shook out her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m ready, and even if I wasn’t, I need to get back to my daughter.”

Kieran studied her for a long moment before saying, “She’s lucky to have you as her mother.”

“And I’m blessed beyond belief to have such a great daughter. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’d do anything for her.”

“The answer is no, Stormy. End of discussion.”

“But, Mom, you’re not being fair!”

Kieran stood in the den, listening to the verbal volley between mother and daughter coming from the kitchen. It wasn’t his place to dive into the fray, and so far he’d avoided any intervention. In order for that to remain true, he needed to make a quick departure to allow the familial fireworks to calm. But before he could head out, Stormy rushed into the den and aimed a puppy-dog look on him, halting his escape.

“Isn’t she being unfair, Kieran? I mean, what’s wrong with playing softball?”

So much for remaining out of the battle. And so much for pretending he hadn’t overheard the conversation. “Your mom didn’t say you couldn’t play softball. She said she didn’t see any reason to buy equipment before you signed up. I’m sure as soon as you’re on a team, she’ll buy you all the equipment you need.”

Erica entered the room with a calm facade, but Kieran could tell by the flash of frustration in her blue eyes she wasn’t too pleased with her kid, or with him. “That’s right, Stormy. I don’t see the need to go out and buy a lot of softball gear before we’ve decided you can play.”

Stormy braced both hands on her hips. “Before you decided if I can play, you mean. I’ve already decided I want to play. And just because you wear old clothes doesn’t mean I have to wear old clothes. When I go to the mall today, I want to get some stuff so I can practice.”

Erica gave a solid tug on her sweatshirt and frowned. “First of all, I didn’t say you could go to the mall. Second, I’d rather be with you when you buy your clothes.”

Stormy looked as if she was ready to reload until a horn sounded, sending her straight to the window. After peeking through the blinds, she spun around again. “They’re here, Mom. They’ve come all this way to pick me up. We’re going to play at Lisa’s, then go to the big mall, the one with the skating rink. Please let me go.”

Erica blew out a frustrated breath. “All right, you can go. But I don’t have any cash on hand to give you right now.”

Stormy scowled. “Lisa’s mom lets her use her credit card.”

“No way,” Erica said. “You’re too young to use a credit card.”

“But I need new sneakers, Mom. At least let me buy those.”

Kieran wouldn’t be surprised if Erica yelled, but instead she added in an even tone, “We’ll buy you new sneakers as soon as I get paid next week.”

Erica sounded self-conscious, probably over being forced to drop her pride and admit to him that her finances weren’t all that solid. In an effort to keep the peace, Kieran pulled out his wallet, withdrew a hundred-dollar bill and offered it to Erica, possibly at his own peril. “Take this for the time being.”

“I can’t let you do that, Kieran,” Erica said. “Stormy can wait a week.”

Stormy, on the other hand, ignored her mother, snatched the bill and smiled. “Thanks, Kieran. I’ll pay you back with my Christmas money.”

“I’ll work it out with your mom.” Kieran repocketed his wallet and regarded Erica. “Consider it an advance for the massage you’re going to give me next week.”

Her eyes went wide. “You booked an appointment?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

The ringing doorbell halted all conversation. “I’ll get it,” Stormy called as she sprinted down the hall.

“Tell Candy to come in and give me some details,” Erica called back.

Kieran bit back a curse. “Candy as in Candice Conrad?”

“The one and only,” Erica answered.

Although confirmation wasn’t necessary when he heard, “You girls wait in the car while I speak with Erica.”

Hell, this was all he needed—the last thing he needed. He’d spent several months avoiding Candice as much as possible. Sneaking out the back door seemed like a damn good plan, although he might have to explain to Erica why he didn’t want to be in the same room with the woman.

Candice whisked into the den on a cloud of expensive perfume and an air of supremacy, wearing too-tight jeans and a cleavage-revealing sweater, not a blond hair out of place. “Hello, Erica. Stormy said you wanted to talk to—” Her words died in her open mouth when her gaze fell on Kieran. “What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Kieran.”

“He’s my personal trainer,” Erica said, before Kieran had enough presence of mind to respond.

Candice raised a perfectly manicured hand to her throat. “I see. I didn’t realize you could afford Kieran’s services.”

“We have a deal,” Kieran said without thought. “I oversee her fitness program, she gives me massages in exchange.”

Kieran wasn’t sure which of the two women looked more shocked.

Erica cleared her throat. “What time do you think you’ll be through, Candy?”

“I’ll drop Stormy off here after dinner, around seven.”

“We’ll be at the club,” Kieran said, before Erica had a chance to answer, or change her mind. “You can drop Stormy off there.”

Candice’s expression brightened. “Not a problem. I’ll come prepared to work out. Maybe you can give me a few pointers on the new elliptical?”

Lighten up on the mascara was the only pointer he cared to give her, unlike Erica, who wore next to nothing on her eyes and looked damn good regardless. “I’ll be busy. Joe or Evie can help you.”

She didn’t bother to mask her disappointment. “I suppose that will have to do, at least for tonight. I’ll find a time to pin you down later.”

He sure as hell didn’t want her to pin him down in any shape or form. “Have fun shopping, Candice.” He had no doubt she’d greatly enjoy spending her husband’s fortune.

“We’ll have a marvelous time, as always.” She flipped a hand in Erica’s direction. “And don’t worry, Erica. I’ll make sure the girls stay with me.”

“Thank you,” Erica said. “You know how I worry when they’re in a crowd.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve reminded me every time I take them out.” With that, Candice turned on her spiked leopard-print heels and strode out of the room.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Erica said to Kieran as she backed toward the hallway. “We have a few things to discuss after I tell my daughter goodbye.”

Kieran started to remind her that she still needed to get ready for work but reconsidered. He figured his immediate future held a good chewing out, and he might as well take it like a man.

A few minutes later, Erica returned to the den sporting a serious expression. Assuming this could take a while, Kieran dropped down onto the sofa and waited for the lecture.

Erica stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her midsection while she nailed him with a hard stare. “Don’t get me wrong. I do appreciate your generosity, and I realize you’ve probably always had money to toss around on a whim.” Her tone indicated she didn’t appreciate it one damn bit. “However,” she continued, “I can provide for Stormy, even if it doesn’t seem that way to you. Therefore I’d prefer you not undermine my authority with my child.”

Time for Kieran to set her straight. “I’m sorry for overstepping my bounds, but you’re dead wrong about one thing. I haven’t always had money. I grew up less than two miles from here in your average, middle-class neighborhood. My father’s a retired postal worker, my mom stayed at home to raise her kids. They worked hard for a living and I’ve worked equally hard for every damned dime I’ve ever made.”

Her features softened somewhat. “I just thought that—”

“I was born with a set of sterling silver weights in my hands?” He came to his feet, battling his own anger. “Not even close. I wore my brothers’ hand-me-downs until I was old enough to get a job and buy my own clothes. I also learned early on what it’s like to be around the Candice Conrads of the world. If I hadn’t given Stormy the money, Candice might have taken it upon herself to buy the shoes just to feed her own superiority by making you feel like you can’t give Stormy what she needs.”

She raised her hands, palms forward, before dropping them to her sides. “Okay, I understand what you’re saying.” She studied him for a long moment. “I may be making another wrong assumption, but it doesn’t sound like you care too much for Candy.”

A definite understatement. “She’s not my favorite person.”

“But didn’t you used to be her personal trainer?”

“Yeah, for a few months. It didn’t work out.”

She crossed her arms once more. “Let me guess. She didn’t like you telling her what to do.”

According to Candice Conrad, no one told her what to do to any extreme, something he’d discovered five minutes into their first training session. “We had different goals. I wanted to get her into shape, she wanted to get me into bed.” And that was way too much information to hand to Erica, someone who had a social relationship with his former client. Normally he’d never be that open with a current client, but something about her made him want to confess his sins.

“Did either of you reach your goals?” she asked. “Not even close.” And not for Candice’s lack of trying. “I’m sorry for being blunt. I forgot she’s your friend.”

She released a caustic laugh. “She isn’t my friend. She’s Stormy’s friend’s mother, and that’s the extent of our relationship. I appreciate the fact that she’s willing to watch Stormy while I’m at work, but we’re not close enough to have afternoon tea or go out for happy hour together. We don’t run in the same circles, and that’s fine by me.”

He found Erica’s attitude very welcome. Many of the women he’d trained before cared more about scaling the social ladder than mastering the stair climber. “She doesn’t strike me as the kind who’d get along with many women.”

“Or men,” she added. “Stormy told me yesterday that she’s getting divorced.”

That was news to Kieran, not that he cared aside from the fact that it would only feed her determination to worm her way back into his life. “Great. Now she can live happily ever after with her husband’s money.”

They shared in a laugh before Erica checked the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I need to—”

“Wash your hair.” He smiled and she smiled back. “I’ll get out of your hair then, pun intended. But first, one more question.” One that had piqued his curiosity as well as his concern. “Why are you so set against Stormy playing sports?”

“It’s complicated,” she said as her gaze wandered away.

He roosted on the arm of the sofa. “I’m a fairly smart guy, so I can do complicated.”

Kieran could tell Erica wasn’t too keen on explaining, but after a few seconds she said, “Stormy was born with a heart defect. She’s had four corrective surgeries in the past ten years.”

Damn. He hadn’t expected that. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because Stormy doesn’t want anyone to know she’s anything but normal, so please don’t mention it to her.”

He could certainly understand why a child would feel that way, but he couldn’t fathom why someone as nice as Erica Stevens had had more than her share of problems. It damn sure wasn’t fair, not that life always was. “What’s Stormy’s health status now?”

“According to her doctor, she’s cleared for normal activity,” she said. “This is the first year she’s participated fulltime in P.E. since she started school.”

“If that’s the case, sounds to me like softball would fall into that category.”

“Yes, that’s probably right. But I still worry about her.” The concern in her tone made that very apparent to Kieran.

He came to his feet again. “Look, softball is one of the safer sports as long as the proper equipment is used. My sister played for years and never suffered more than a few scrapes from sliding into second base. And I can help Stormy practice, maybe play some catch with her to see how she does.”

“I’m sure you’re much too busy to worry about that.”

In a way, she was right. But for some reason, he felt he had to do this for her daughter, especially now that he knew what she’d been through. “I can schedule some time for her. I could pick her up from school, take her to the batting cages and then meet you at the club.”

She sighed. “Kieran, I honestly do appreciate it, but I can’t afford to pay you anything right now. I still owe you for the sneakers.”

“You can pay me with a massage.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re serious about that?”

Oh, yeah. “I told you yesterday I could use a good one. Is a hundred dollars for an hour of your time about right?”

“That’s what I charge, but that’s not what I make. The spa takes forty percent of my earnings as commission.”

That royally sucked for her. Something occurred to Kieran—an alternative plan that would save them both time. “You wouldn’t have to pay the commission if we didn’t do it at the spa, correct?”

She frowned. “Where do you propose we do it?”

“I have a place at the club you can use. Just bring your oil and your candles and your magic hands.”

“You mean we’ll do it under the table?” Her smile and dimples came out of hiding. “No pun intended.”

“Under the table, on the table, it doesn’t matter to me.”

The innuendo suspended the conversation for a few seconds before Kieran turned the topic back to business, something he should’ve never strayed from in the first place. “Meet me at the club around six-thirty tonight and be prepared to work your butt off. We’ll work out the massage details sometime next week.”

She braced her hands on the back of the chair, her cheeks slightly red from the blush that he’d obviously put there. “That’s my plan, to work my butt off. Literally.”

Kieran’s plan entailed keeping his hands to himself unless it involved personal fitness, not personal pleasure. He worried those plans could go awry.

No denying it—something about Erica had him not only wanting to confess his sins, but wanting to engage in a few with her. Maybe it was her sense of humor, her vulnerability. Her killer red hair, innocent dimples and big blue eyes. Maybe it was more about her concern for her daughter’s health, the burden she’d borne since the loss of her husband. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t deny the attraction was stronger than it should be.

After ten years as a personal trainer, Kieran O’Brien could count on one hand the female clients that had interested him enough to forget his code of ethics—one. Erica Stevens. And he’d be damned if he let that happen.

Chapter Four

Erica had endured stalled traffic due to two fender benders, construction on the freeway and crazy drivers with aversions to blinkers just to get to the club on time. Since her arrival in Kieran’s office, she’d suffered huge calipers pinching her skin in places that shouldn’t be pinched all in the name of body-fat calculation. She’d stepped on a state-of-the art digital scale…with her eyes closed. Now the real torture was about to commence—her measurements.

“Raise your arms,” Kieran said as he stood behind her, close enough to create a bit of discomfort for Erica on several levels.

She quelled the urge to say something snide, like how she hadn’t had so much fun since she’d had her wisdom teeth extracted. Instead, she remained still and silent while Kieran worked the measuring tape around her breasts. He only lingered briefly before going back to his desk to record the numbers on the dreaded clipboard that now held every last one of her intimate secrets. Okay, maybe not all of them. He still didn’t know the size of her feet, the smallest things on her entire body.

When Kieran came back and lifted her T-shirt to measure her waist, Erica had a very conspicuous reaction—a frank covering of gooseflesh all over her body. She wondered if he’d noticed. She hoped not.

“Are you cold, Erica?”

Great. He’d noticed. She faked an innocent look over her shoulder. “Maybe a little.” A lie. In reality, she was rather toasty. Both hot and cold, like a malfunctioning kitchen faucet.

“You won’t be cold when you start working out,” he said.

“I have no doubt about that.”

Erica had no doubt that the next measurement would be the most challenging. She held her breath when she felt the tape tighten around her butt, praying it was long enough to span her hips. When she felt it release, she experienced an overwhelming sense of relief.