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

Kieran went back to jotting down the results and after he tossed the pen aside, looked up at her and grinned. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Easy for him to say. “Can I see the results?” As much as she dreaded seeing the information, the suspense was nearly killing her.

“Sure.”

After drawing in another fortifying breath, Erica took the few steps to view the verdict. Her weight wasn’t as bad as she’d thought—it was worse. And heaven help her, she’d need a tent to fit her blossoming butt if she didn’t do something, and soon.

She spun around and nearly bumped into Kieran, who’d clearly been looking over her shoulder. “I want to lose thirty pounds by the first of December.”

He moved to her side and leaned back against the desk. “Ten to twelve pounds would be a reasonable goal in a month’s time.”

“By Christmas?”

“Twenty pounds is possible, as long as you stick to a healthy diet.”

Which meant the end of her favorite comfort food—brownies and ice cream. “I understand that’s part of it, and I’m willing to adjust my diet.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest, bringing his bulging biceps clearly into view. “I’ll set you up an appointment with our staff nutritionist.”

She shook her head. “Not necessary. I know what to eat and when to eat it. I was in training once upon a time, remember?”

He pushed away from the desk. “Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know. Now it’s time to go to work.” He pointed at the double doors on the opposite side of the glass-and-chrome-appointed office. An office that rivaled any corporate raider’s workplace. “Let’s go.”

Erica had a difficult time getting her feet to move. “Is that where you keep the whips and chains?”

“Nope, just my own private facility. The whips are chains are upstairs in my apartment.” He topped off the comment with a grin.

“You actually live here?”

“Yeah. I decided it was easier that way. No fighting the traffic any more than necessary. It’s convenient, and has a great view of the city. I’ll give you the grand tour at some point in time.”

“You could give me the tour now.” Not necessarily advisable, being alone with Kieran in his home even though she trusted he’d behave. She wasn’t certain she trusted herself.

“We’ve done enough procrastinating already,” he said, his tone slightly scolding. “Time to get with the program.”

Ah, the program. The real reason she was there. “Okay, if we must.”

“Don’t look so worried. I’ll go easy on you tonight.”

Oh, sure. Like he’d gone easy on her that morning during their jog.

Kieran crossed the room and Erica hung back, enjoying the view of his confident gait, the slight swing of his arms, the breadth of his back encased in a black form-fitting T-shirt and, admittedly, his butt.

After he threw open the doors and signaled her forward, she reluctantly joined him at the opening that revealed a fitness paradise, if one appreciated the myriad equipment. Erica recognized some of the machines that resembled steel monsters ready to swallow her whole, and some she didn’t. Regardless, she suspected he was going to instruct her on the use of each and every one, whether she knew how it worked or not.

And that’s exactly what he did—put her through the proverbial ringer, moving from machine to machine. She pedaled, rowed, stepped and sweated with Kieran’s encouragement. But somewhere between the recumbent bike and the elliptical, he morphed from consummate cheerleader into demented drill sergeant. He only paused to hand her a bottle of water that he allowed her to drink for a few seconds before demanding she continue. And if she heard “Keep going, Erica” one more time, she might have to tie him up with the jump rope hanging in the corner so she could gag him with her sock.

By the time she finished with the free weights, every bone, joint and muscle in her overworked body screamed in protest. And before he could order her onto another torture device, she collapsed and stretched out on the floor mat beneath her sore feet.

Closing her eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights above her head, she muttered, “Enough,” with the last of her waning respiration. Luckily she’d seen several portable defibrillators scattered through the club, should her heart prematurely decide to throw in the towel.

When she didn’t receive an immediate response, Erica forced her lids open to find Kieran hovering above her, an annoyingly sexy and somewhat devious gleam in his eyes. He wasn’t done with her yet, she feared. He confirmed her concerns by saying, “While you’re down there, let’s do a few crunches.”

Even attempting a scowl took too much energy. “Let’s not.”

He crouched down beside her. “Don’t wimp out on me now.”

At this rate he was going to put her into an endorphin coma. Since he probably wouldn’t let up until she did his bidding, a compromise was in order. “I’ll do ten.”

“We’ll see,” he said with all the cockiness of a man in complete control.

She shoved her hands behind her neck and lifted her head, her face screwed up with the effort. She could only imagine how she looked at the moment—stray hairs plastered to her forehead, sweat drenching her T-shirt, fire-red cheeks as she battled her body’s continued resistance.

“You’re not working your abs,” Kieran said.

She fell back and groaned. “I am, too.”

“No, you’re not.” He moved to the end of the mat and held her feet down. “Now try it.”

She executed one whole crunch and asked, “Satisfied?”

“Not yet.” He braced one palm on her knee and rested the other on her belly. “Give me ten more.”

Erica struggled to answer his command, all the while trying to ignore the placement of his palm. A large palm lingering right below her belly button, sending all sorts of randy thoughts into her brain. Maybe crunches weren’t so bad after all.

“Faster,” he barked out. “Tighten those muscles. Keep your legs slightly open. Don’t stop now. That’s it. You’re doing great. Work it, babe.”

“Anybody home?”

When Kieran glanced over his shoulder, Erica braced on her elbows and raised herself up enough to see an extremely attractive, exceedingly tall, brown-haired man dressed in business casual standing between the open doors.

Kieran stood and swiped a hand over his forehead. “What’s up, Aidan?”

“I had lunch with Whit today and he asked me to drop this by on my way home.” He held out a rolled paper tube and offered it to Kieran. “It’s the updated blueprints for the south location.”

“We’re almost finished,” Kieran said. “If you want to wait around a minute, we can have a beer in the apartment.”

“No thanks. Corri’s holding dinner for me.” The man leaned around Kieran and of all things, winked at Erica. “From what I heard a minute ago, I’ve interrupted something a hell of a lot more interesting than having a beer with your brother.”

His brother? Erica dropped her head back on the mat and shut her eyes tight for at least the tenth time this evening.

“She’s a client, Aidan,” Kieran said. “I’m training her.”

“Training her for what?”

“Shut up, Aidan.”

Erica ventured a look to see the man grinning as he slapped Kieran on the back, hard. “Never mind. It’s none of my business. Carry on, and take your time.”

With that Aidan left, closing the doors behind him while Kieran muttered a couple of expletives that were not nearly as shocking as his brother’s assumptions. And Erica, like any self-respecting, thoroughly mortified woman in the throes of exercise stupor, sat up and did the only thing she could do—laugh.

It began as a slight chuckle before transforming into a raucous chortle. Kieran stared at her like she’d grown a second head as she held her aching sides and tried to catch her already labored breath. After a time, she finally composed herself enough to quiet down.

“Are you done now?” he asked.

She released one last chuckle, which earned her a serious glare from Kieran. “Sorry for laughing, but I found his assumptions pretty funny.”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t laugh if you had to endure Aidan’s harassment. And take my word for it, he’ll be doing plenty of harassing in front of the whole family tomorrow during Sunday dinner.”

Fond memories of a better time flitted through her mind. A time when she and Jeff had joined their families for weekend meals before Stormy was born. “You have dinner with your family every Sunday?”

“Most Sundays,” he said as he propped the tube against one wall before walking to the nearby weight bench. “With all the siblings and their kids crowded into the house, sometimes it’s complete chaos. I like to take a break now and then.”

“Exactly how many siblings do you have, aside from the three I know about?”

“All total, four brothers and one sister, all but one married with kids.”

Erica couldn’t begin to imagine having such a large family. “Wow. I only have one brother living large and single in Seattle, and I haven’t seen him in three years.”

He picked up a weight and with one hand, worked it with ease, his biceps flexing with the effort. “What about your parents?”

“My dad’s a farmer, my mother raised the kids and kept the house running smoothly. She lives to spoil my father. I don’t think either of them could survive without each other.” Erica didn’t look forward to the day when either of them had to find out if they could, in fact, survive.

“Sounds like we have similar backgrounds.”

“Guess you’re right.” She hugged her knees to her chest, trying hard not to stare at the continued play of Kieran’s muscles. “How many nieces and nephews?”

He set the weight aside and casually draped both arms on the bar suspended over the bench. “At the moment, three nieces and three nephews, but that’s subject to change at any time. My brothers have made procreation a sport.”

If they looked as good as Kieran and Aidan, she doubted they had any trouble picking willing teammates. “How do you keep up with everyone?”

“I have a chart in my den. Every time someone pops out a kid, I fill it in.”

She didn’t even use a spreadsheet for her finances. “Really?”

He grinned. “I’m kidding. If you’re around enough, it’s not hard to keep up.”

As much as she’d enjoyed getting to know more about Kieran’s life, reality set in when she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Stormy should be here any minute.”

He strode back to the mat and held out his hand. “You’re finished for the night, so you can get up off the floor now.”

After she allowed him to help her up, Erica kneaded the palpable knot between her shoulder and neck. “It’s times like this I wish I could give myself a good massage.”

“Did you pull something?”

“No, but I have a huge knot right here,” she said, touching the place. “Guess I wasn’t doing the crunches correctly after all.”

Instead of saying I told you so, Kieran took her by the shoulders, turned her around and started rubbing the sore spot. “How’s that?”

“Feels great.” And it did. Really great. “You’re pretty good with the massage technique, O’Brien.” She flipped her ponytail over the opposite shoulder to give him more access. “But I’m better at it.”

“I’m sure you are, and I intend to find out in the near future when you give me my massage.”

Erica couldn’t wait, possibly at her own detriment.

While Kieran continued to work her sore muscles, thoughts of the encounter with Aidan O’Brien returned, threatening to send Erica into another fit of laughter. “You really didn’t find it the least bit funny, having your brother stop by while you’re chanting, ‘Tighter. Work it, babe. Spread your legs’?”

He halted his massage midstroke. “I didn’t say ‘spread your legs.’”

She sent him a frown over her shoulder. “I could’ve sworn that’s what you said.”

“Believe me, if I’d said that, you might be flat on your back, but you wouldn’t be doing crunches.”

She turned to face him. “Exactly what would I be doing?”

He reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from her damp forehead. “Let’s just say you’d be doing something more interesting than working your abdominals.”

Erica forgot all about her stiff neck when Kieran’s gaze drifted to her mouth. Forgot that he was her fitness coach and by his own admission, bent on keeping their relationship totally professional. She’d also forgotten until now what it was like to be in that defining moment right before a kiss, when everything disappeared except the need for human contact—the need to know she was still desired. Then again, perhaps she was only imagining he wanted to kiss her. As she swayed slightly forward, he framed her jaws in his hands, and right then she knew with certainty that she hadn’t been imagining a thing.

When his mouth covered hers, warm and oh so welcome, Erica’s arms automatically went around his neck while he settled his palms beneath her ribs. She momentarily considered the dangerous path they were taking, but decided she didn’t care. Her awareness centered on how much she had missed this intimacy. How much she appreciated his undeniable skill, his gentleness that directly contrasted with his diehard training methods, the soft, seductive glide of his tongue against hers, his body melded to hers. The kiss soon turned deep, more deliberate and extremely deadly to Erica’s composure.

“Mr. O’Brien, there’s a little girl named Stormy looking for Ms. Stevens.”

The blaring intercom startled Erica back into reality and sent Kieran away from her. She suddenly recalled the rare nights Jeff had come home early only to have their attempts at alone time thwarted by Stormy. Maybe this was a sign that what just happened, shouldn’t have happened. The repentant look on Kieran’s face led Erica to believe he definitely felt that way.

She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, more embarrassed than she’d been since she’d met him, and that was saying quite a bit. “Guess I should go find the kid.”

He grabbed a towel from the weight bench and swiped it over his face. “Probably a good idea.”

“I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“I’m overscheduled on Monday,” he said as he tossed the towel aside. “Let’s make it Tuesday evening here at the club and skip the morning run. We can add cardio to the strength training.”

“Sounds fine.” A chance to sleep in a bit later, yet Erica couldn’t help but wonder if the kiss had something to do with the schedule adjustment. If maybe he’d decided coming to her home wasn’t such a grand idea.

“About what just happened…” he said, fueling her suspicions. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“No big deal,” she said as she backed toward the door. But it had been a big deal. Something she would have a lot of trouble ignoring. Something she’d have to learn to ignore, because as he’d said, it wouldn’t happen again. Yet she couldn’t help wishing that it would.

“When’s it okay to kiss a boy, Mom?”

Erica had to brake hard before she ran right through the red light. Surely her daughter hadn’t witnessed the kiss she’d shared with Kieran. No way. Stormy had been waiting by the front desk when she’d sought her out at the club. “What brought that on, Stormy?”

She glanced at Stormy to see her shrug. “Me and Lisa were talking about it today at the mall. She said she’s been thinking about kissing a lot and she says she’s ready. So when is it okay to start kissing?”

Lovely. After her up-close encounter with Kieran’s talented mouth, that was the last thing Erica needed to think about right now, especially while navigating a moving vehicle. “It depends, Stormy. Maybe when you’re fourteen or fifteen.” Or twenty-five, if Erica had her way.

When Erica guided the car into the subdivision, Stormy asked, “How old were you when you kissed Daddy the first time?”

Uh-oh. This could definitely come back to bite her. Jeff had been the literal boy next door, her very best friend, until the summer before junior high when they’d locked lips in the cornfield, a rite of passage for every farmer’s daughter. “I was a little older than you.” But not by much.

“Where did he kiss you?”

“At the farm.”

“No, silly. I meant was it on the cheek or on the mouth?”

She shot through the stop sign before lifting her foot from the accelerator to prevent a citation. “On the lips.”

“Was it a French kiss?”

At this rate, she was going to take out a few mailboxes before she made it the remaining two blocks to the house. “Sounds like someone else has been thinking about kissing.”

“Maybe,” Stormy said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about kissing this boy at school.”

Just one more block, Erica. “Does he want to kiss you?”

“Lisa says he does.”

Hold the wheel steady. “Does this boy have a name?”

“Randolph James Hillyard. We call him R.J. He lives by Lisa.”

Great. Her daughter’s first crush—a rich little lothario. She turned onto their block and sent a quick look Stormy’s way. “Are you two going steady?”

Stormy wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”

Obviously that whole concept was passé. “Are you two a couple?”

“He’s going to be at the party next Friday.”

She pulled into the driveway much faster than necessary and managed to stop before plowing into the garage door. “What party?”

“Kaylee’s birthday party. Don’t you remember?”

No, Erica didn’t, but then her mind had been wandering quite a bit lately. After putting the car in Park and turning off the ignition, she shifted to face her daughter. “This is a boy-girl party?”

Stormy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Mom. We’re too old for baby parties.”

Erica didn’t consider not quite eleven as too old for anything except perhaps a tricycle. “I might not remember you mentioning this party, but I do know I haven’t given you permission to go.”

Stormy put on the pouty face that she wore so well. “I have to go, Mom. Everyone in the fifth grade’s going. It’s not like Kaylee’s parents won’t be there.”

Erica found little comfort in that fact considering she’d only met Kaylee’s mom maybe twice. “I’ll talk to her parents and then I’ll let you know if you can go. Okay?”

“Okay.” Stormy fell silent for a moment before she asked, “Was Daddy the first boy you kissed?”

He’d been the only boy she’d kissed until they broke up for about five minutes their senior year of high school. She’d made the mistake of going out with Bobby Frank Feldon after a football game, a boy who had fast hands and no respect for girls. After that night, she’d appreciated Jeff even more, and they never spent a moment apart again. “Yes, Daddy was the first boy I kissed.”

“Do you miss kissing him?”

Until tonight, she hadn’t given kissing much thought. She’d intentionally not thought about it for several years, because if she did, she’d only be inviting the familiar ache, the sense of loneliness she’d tried so hard to discount. “I’m missing my favorite TV show, so let’s get into the house.”

Stormy scooted out of the car while Erica retrieved her gym bag and followed her inside. She was incredibly tired, extremely hungry and somewhat bewildered. Things were moving too fast in her life, with her relationship with her child and her indisputable attraction to a man who was basically off-limits.

She wondered if Kieran had given her any thought since she’d left the club—given their kiss any thought. More than likely, he’d probably blow it off and go about his business, never to think about it again.

“That was one hot redhead you were ‘working out’ with, Kieran.”

As predicted, Kieran would be forced to defend himself before he’d even entered the door of his parents’ house. He’d already given himself a sufficient chastising for letting things get out of hand with Erica, and for reliving that kiss over and over in his mind most of the previous night.

“I told you, Aidan, she’s a client. End of discussion.”

“If you say so.”

At least his brother had enough class to make sure no one else was standing in the driveway before he’d started hounding him. Speaking of driveways…the minute he’d pulled up, he’d noticed the place wasn’t the usual parking lot. “Where is everyone?” Kieran asked as he followed Aidan up the steps to the porch.

“It’s just me, you, Corri and Dad. Devin’s on call and Stacy’s at her parents’ house with the boys,” he said. “Since J.D.’s with his dad, Jenna and Logan went away for the weekend.”

“Which means she’ll be pregnant by tonight.”

Aidan laughed. “Probably. Anyway, Kevin’s—”

“Not around.” Nothing new there. Kieran never expected to see his twin at family gatherings these days. “Where’s Mom?”

“She went over to Mallory’s to deliver chicken soup because Whit and the girls have colds, and that means we get sandwiches.”

“No pot roast?” Their mother’s cooking was the high point of Kieran’s week and one of the primary reasons he made an effort to be there.

“No pot roast today. But I don’t care as long as the twins aren’t here to expose the kid to a virus.”

“Which kid?”

Aidan frowned. “My kid. Emma, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Maybe he did need a chart. “Oh, yeah. I remember her now. Cute baby, curly blond hair, looks like her mother, thank God.”

“You’re damned hilarious.” Aidan pulled the screen open but continued to block the entry. “By the way, Emma’s asleep in our old room, so be quiet.”

Kieran could handle quiet. His father, on the other hand, didn’t know the meaning of the word.

He stepped inside to find Aidan’s wife, Corri, seated on the sofa, a tray of sandwiches set out on the coffee table before her, and his dad, good old Dermot, fast asleep in his favorite lounger.

Corri straightened and smiled. “Hey, Kieran. Glad you could make it. We were beginning to feel like pariahs.”

Aidan dropped onto the sofa and rested his hand on Corri’s thigh. “I was kind of enjoying the silence for a change.”

After grabbing a soda from the fridge in the kitchen and a ham sandwich from the tray, Kieran took the chair kitty-corner from the TV, focusing on the football game in an effort to ignore Aidan, who’d started nuzzling Corri’s neck. He sure as hell didn’t need to see overt displays of affection. He did need to finish eating, get out of there fast and go to the club to work off some excess energy while considering his current predicament—Erica Stevens. Maybe even fantasize about Erica Stevens. A little fantasy never hurt anyone, as long as he didn’t go down the reality road again.

“Aidan tells me he met your girlfriend, Kieran,” Corri said. “Is this the former gymnast Mallory mentioned to me a few days ago?”

If he hadn’t already swallowed the bite of sandwich, he would’ve choked. “Yeah, she’s the former gymnast. And no, she’s not my girlfriend. I’m her personal trainer.”

“I’m thinking you’d be a wise man to make her your girlfriend, son.” Apparently his dad had been roused from his nap by his normal curiosity, as well as his penchant for making his opinions known.

“Why is that, Dad?” Aidan asked, although Kieran wished he hadn’t.

Dermot released a gruff chuckle. “Because I hear gymnasts are a flexible lot.”

Aidan and Corri laughed in response. Kieran didn’t. Nothing about the remark was funny. Neither were the explicit images of Erica now running through his mind. Images he pushed away for the time being.

After wolfing down the sandwich and soda in record time, Kieran escaped to the kitchen to discard the trash. If he played his cards right, he could be out the door before the next round of verbal grilling.

“Leaving already, Kieran?”

Kieran glanced to his right to see his brother hovering in the doorway. So much for a fast getaway. “Yeah. I need to stop by the club before I head home.”

Hands in pockets, Aidan strolled into the room. “Another floor-mat training session with the gymnast?”

A few years back, Kieran would’ve attempted to knock the smirk off his brother’s face, even if Aidan did have three inches on him. They’d all learned how to fight by fighting each other. But he was more mature now, and throwing a punch in his mother’s kitchen wasn’t a banner idea. Instead, he chose a partial lie, not a fist, for his weapon of choice. “I have to do some paperwork, Aidan. That’s what you deal with when you own two businesses.”