THE MUMMY MAKEOVER

“I want you to put your hands on my chest and try to resist me.”

Erica returned Kieran’s smile. “Bet you say that to all the women you know.”

“Just do what you’re told without the commentary.”

She gave him a sharp, one-handed salute. “Yes, sir.”

He balled his fists against his chest. “Grab my hands, angle your body away and don’t let me move.”

“Fine, but don’t expect too much.”

“Keep going,” he demanded. “You’re not using your legs.”

Scowling, she regrouped and tried again, and he continued to prod her. “Push harder. Don’t let me back up. Pretend you’re fending me off because your life depends upon it.”

Erica unexpectedly stopped, straightened. Before Kieran could level his next command, she planted her mouth on his…

MUMMY FOR HIRE

“Are you available?”

Alexis blinked. “You mean single?”

“As a potential match.”

“For you?” Her brow rose discreetly as the meaning of his words sank in. “No. I’m not.”

Grady hadn’t got where he was by accepting no for an answer, especially when he wanted something as suddenly as he wanted this. “Sure about that?”

“Matchmakers at ForeverLove.com are not allowed to date clients, Grady.”

“We’re not talking about a date.” Or anything nearly that insignificant. “We’re talking about a match.”

“Same thing. And it’s out of the question.”

“Why?”

“This isn’t business, Grady, or at least it shouldn’t be. It’s your personal life.”

The Mummy Makeover

By

Kristi Gold
Mummy for Hire

By

Cathy Gillen Thacker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Available in August 2010 from Mills & Boon® Special Moments™

Daddy on Demand by Helen R Myers & Déjà You by Lynda Sandoval

A Father for Danny by Janice Carter & Baby Be Mine by Eve Gaddy

The Mummy Makeover by Kristi Gold & Mummy for Hire by Cathy Gillen Thacker

The Pregnant Bride Wore White by Susan Crosby

Sophie’s Secret by Tara Taylor Quinn

Her So-Called Fiancé by Abby Gaines

Diagnosis: Daddy by Gina Wilkins

The Mummy Makeover

By

Kristi Gold

About the Author

KRISTI GOLD has always believed that love has remarkable healing powers and feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of hope and commitment. As a bestselling author, National Readers’ Choice winner and three-time Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, Kristi’s learned that, although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from networking with readers. She can be reached through her website at http://kristigold.com or at kgoldauthor@aol.com.

To my beautiful surrogate grandson, Connor Jarrett, for reminding me of the simple joys a child can bring to your life

Chapter One

Only two things served to relax Kieran O’Brien—great sex and pumping iron. Since he still had several hours before he could leave work, and no special woman in his life right now, he’d have to settle for a weight session in his own private gym adjacent to his office. A sanctuary far away from the distractions and demands that came from owning two premier Houston health clubs, with a third location in the construction stage.

He strode through the club to the familiar sounds of expensive exercise equipment being put to good use, as well as a chorus of greetings from the regulars, several of whom were women he’d personally trained at one time. Some were women who’d wanted more than the standard workout. On the advice of those who’d groomed him to be a preeminent personal trainer, he’d vowed from the beginning not to mix business with pleasure. Not once had he crossed that line.

He’d kept his dating life separate from his professional life, in spite of the occasional temptation. The constant propositions had been one factor in his choice to halt private sessions; the other involved a lack of time. Not to mention a guy could only be so strong.

Kieran had almost reached his refuge across the room when a tug on the back of his T-shirt halted his progress and his plan. He expected a staff member announcing some minor crisis that needed his attention, or a patron inquiring about one of the latest innovations he’d purchased during a recent expansion. Instead, he turned to find a little girl with wide blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair, dressed in a pink jacket, white T-shirt and faded jeans, a denim backpack draped over her thin shoulder. She looked so sweet and innocent, all his irritation over the interruption melted away. Most likely she’d probably wandered from the play area and couldn’t find her way back. A displaced kid he could handle.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” he asked.

She shook her head and studied the floor. “I’m looking for Mr. O’Brien. Lisa told me he has kind of long dark hair and a lot of muscles and you look like that.”

He quickly ran through a mental list of his employees but couldn’t remember any Lisa. “I’m Mr. O’Brien. What’s your name?”

“Stormy.”

When she nailed him with a determined look, Kieran’s gut told him she probably came by that name honestly. “Is your mom or dad a member?”

“I’m with Lisa and her mom.”

Not a whole lot for Kieran to go on to locate a missing adult. “Who’s Lisa’s mom?”

“Candice Conrad.”

Now that was a name he wouldn’t soon forget. A typical well-heeled, good-looking woman who had too much time on her hands and a disinterested husband, something he’d discovered when she’d hired him two years ago—and the reason he’d resigned from the position less than six months later. Not that his resignation had discouraged her from periodically asking if he’d consider taking her back on. “Do you need help finding Mrs. Conrad, kiddo?” A task he would assign to one of his staff members in order to avoid the overly enthusiastic Candice.

Stormy looked highly insulted. “I know where she is. I want to talk to you about buying training lessons.”

He had to hand it to the kid—she knew what she wanted. And what she wanted was something he couldn’t give her, even if she happened to be old enough to hire a trainer, which she wasn’t.

Determined to let her down easy, Kieran guided her to a round table at the juice bar in the corner, away from the hum of treadmills and the whir of recumbent bikes. After he retrieved a cup of fruit juice and set it before her, he took the seat opposite hers. “How old are you, Stormy?”

She shrugged off her denim backpack and laid it on the table. “I’ll be eleven two weeks before Christmas.” She sent him a toothy grin. “My mom says I was her best present ever.”

Considering her small stature, he would’ve guessed her to be at least two years younger. “You have to be eighteen to have personal-training sessions, but you could join our after-school youth exercise program.”

She took a quick drink then wrinkled her freckle-spattered nose. “I don’t want you to train me. I want you to train my mom.”

A request he couldn’t honor, but he could still be of some help. “Just have her call the club and ask for me. I’ll make sure she gets a good trainer.”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “That won’t work. I want it to be a surprise for her birthday. And I want you to do it because Lisa’s mom says you’re the best trainer around.”

Funny, Lisa’s mom hadn’t seemed all that interested in his fitness skills. “Look, Stormy, personal training is expensive and—”

“I know that.” She unzipped her backpack, pulled out a fistful of crumpled bills and held them out to him. “I saved up all my allowance. It’s almost eighty dollars. That should pay for a month, right?”

That would seem like a lot of money to a ten-year-old kid, but that amount didn’t even cover an hour of Kieran’s standard fee. “Tell you what. I’ll give your mom a three-month membership for free. How’s that?”

Now she looked completely dejected. “After school I go to the spa where she works, and I heard her tell the ladies that someday she wanted to hire a personal trainer, when she had some extra money. That’s why I have to do this for her.”

Kieran wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the situation without totally crushing her. But before he could come up with a strategy, she added, “I just want her be happy again, like before.”

The abject sadness in her voice had the impact of a punch in the chest, right around the area of Kieran’s heart. “Before what?”

He saw the first hint of tears in Stormy’s eyes. “Before my dad died six years ago. She still misses him. I miss him, too.”

Her tears didn’t fall, but something deep inside Kieran did. If he had even a scrap of common sense left after her heartfelt pleas, he’d turn her down gently and turn her away. But despite the shrewdness he’d developed over ten years as a business owner, regardless that he’d grown cynical when it came to people’s intentions, along came a child to remind him that not everyone had questionable motives. Not everyone had been blessed with an easy life, either.

She sent him another pleading look. “If you need more money, I can give you what my grandparents send me for my birthday and Christmas. I can save more lunch money, too. I could sell my bike if I have to.”

Even though he might regret it later, Kieran couldn’t refuse her now. He also couldn’t have her giving up everything, either. Not when it seemed she’d already given up too much.

After he took the bills she still clutched in her hand—money he planned to return to her later—he said, “This should be enough for a month.”

Finally, she smiled. A smile that was bound to break more than a few teenage boys’ hearts in a few years. “Since I can’t get her to come to the gym, you can come by our house tonight and surprise her.”

Apparently she was intent on running the show, and his schedule. He still couldn’t help admiring her resolve. “What about tomorrow night?”

She took another drink of the juice. “She works late on Friday, but she comes home early on Thursdays because it’s pizza night.”

Unfortunately he’d already agreed to have dinner with his family at his sister’s place this evening. But so what if he was a little late. His mother, a living monument of compassion, wouldn’t only understand; she’d congratulate him. He’d just stop by Stormy’s house first, which led to another question: “Where exactly do you live?”

She pulled out a piece of folded paper and handed it to him. “This is my address and my phone number, but don’t call first. I want it to be—”

“A surprise.” One he hoped didn’t earn him a boot on his butt delivered by a mom who might not take too kindly to her kid “buying” her a fitness program—unless Candice had cooked up some scheme with one of her wealthy friends, using a child as a pawn in an effort to bring him back into her life again. He wouldn’t put it past her to stoop that low. Only one way to find out.

Kieran studied the address and found that the neighborhood wasn’t far from his parents’—an area that included strictly middle-class housing, not manicured mansions. Apparently his suspicions about Candice’s manipulation were unwarranted for a change.

After he tucked the paper away in his pocket, Kieran considered how he would react if his nieces approached someone they didn’t know, and opted to issue a mild caution. “I’ll be there, as long as you promise not to give out your personal information to strangers from now on.”

She grinned again. “I promise, but you’re not a stranger anymore.”

He came to his feet and pushed the chair beneath the table. “You probably should find Lisa’s mom now, in case she’s looking for you.” Before she came looking for Stormy and found him.

Stormy stood, rounded the table and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien.”

When he noted the gratitude in her expression, he recognized he was doing a good thing. “You’re welcome, and you can call me Kieran.”

“My mom’s name is Erica.” Her smile faded into a frown. “You are going to come, aren’t you?”

No way would he let her down now. If he could give this little girl and her mother some peace of mind, he saw no real reason not to make an attempt. “I’ll be there around six, if that’s okay.”

“That works great.” She turned and began to walk backward, another bright smile plastered on her face. “This is going to be the best pizza night ever!”

Erica Stevens had never seen such a pretty pizza delivery boy. Pizza deliveryman, she corrected. A buff, patently gorgeous man with longish wavy dark hair and near-black eyes. Over six feet of pleasantly disreputable-looking, prime male flesh standing on her doorstep, wearing a pair of jeans and a black polo covered by a beige jacket—and not a pizza box in sight.

Of course not. The pizza never arrived in less than an hour, let alone five minutes after she placed the order. And generally speaking, pizza delivery guys were lanky high school students, not action heroes come to life.

For the sake of caution, she kept the screen door latched securely, at least until she knew exactly who he was and why he was there. “May I help you?”

“Are you Erica?”

Okay, maybe he was a new hire at the restaurant, they had prepared her order in advance and the box was still in his car because he wasn’t sure he had the right address. “Yes, I’m Erica. Are you the pizza deliveryman?”

He leaned a shoulder against the white column supporting the porch and slid his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “No. I’m your birthday present.”

Erica’s gaze immediately drifted to his jacket’s pocket etched with the words Bodies By O’Brien. Surely not. Then again, she wouldn’t put anything past her coworkers down at the day spa. “Please tell me you’re not a stripper.”

He cracked a dazzling grin, his teeth flashing white against the shadow of stubble surrounding his mouth. “I’m a personal trainer. My name’s Kieran O’Brien, owner of Bodies By O’Brien, which is a health club, not a strip club. Or a pizza joint.”

None of this made any sense to Erica. Not the circumstance or her slightly warm reaction to his smile. She had the strongest urge to step onto the porch, strip off his jacket and see if his physique lived up to her expectations. Instead, she tugged her oversize sweatshirt down to conceal her obvious physical flaws. “First of all, my birthday is a couple of weeks away.” Her thirty-first birthday, which she’d just as soon forget. “Secondly, I don’t want a personal trainer.”

He shifted his weight slightly, showing the first signs of discomfort. “Not according to the party who hired me. In fact, she said you’ve mentioned you’d like to have a trainer. That’s why she’s giving my services to you as a birthday gift.”

Erica should’ve known she would rue the day she’d admitted that to Bette, the self-appointed salon matriarch. “I truly appreciate the gesture, but honestly, I’m a massage therapist at a busy day spa and I work crazy hours. I don’t have a lot of extra time on my hands.”

“You don’t have any breaks?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

“I usually don’t get home until after 6:00 p.m., and I work Saturdays. The rest of the time I spend with my daughter.”

He scrubbed a palm over his chin. “What time do you go into the spa in the morning?”

She could predict where he might be trying to lead her, and that was a road she didn’t care to take. “I arrive around 9:00 a.m., but I don’t do mornings well, Mr. O’Brien.”

“It’s Kieran, and a good workout gets the adrenaline going to carry you through the rest of the day.”

“That’s why they invented coffee.”

“I never touch the stuff. I prefer a natural endorphin high.”

She preferred a double espresso mocha cappuccino with whipped cream. But she did remember those endorphin days fondly, during a long-ago time when she’d been an avid gymnast. Back when she hadn’t been toting thirty extra pounds and the weight of serious responsibilities on her shoulders. “Again, I’m not a morning person.”

Kieran inclined his head slightly and leveled his gaze on her. “If you try it, you might like it. But if mornings won’t work, we could come up with another plan that suits your schedule. No sweat.”

And if she agreed, Erica assumed sweating would be a major part of the deal. She was already beginning to perspire despite the forty-degree November weather, and he hadn’t even put her through a workout—at least not beyond the dubious one playing out in her imagination. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. But I’ll be sure to let Bette know that I appreciate the thought.”

Now he looked confused. “Sorry, but I don’t know anyone named Bette.”

This was getting stranger by the minute. “Then who sent you?”

“You’re here, Mr. O’Brien!” came from behind Erica right before Stormy unlatched the screen and rushed onto the porch. Suddenly, it was very clear how this man ended up on her doorstep, although the details were still sketchy.

“I take it you two know each other,” Erica said, after her daughter finished giving Kieran O’Brien a voracious hug.

Stormy grinned, looking altogether pleased with her little surprise. “Happy birthday, Mom!”

She had no clue how Stormy could have possibly hired this man. Personal trainers were costly, and her daughter simply didn’t have any real monetary resources. “It’s not my birthday yet, and would you care to explain how you managed this, young lady?”

“Lisa’s mom told me about Mr. O’Brien today when she took us to the gym. That’s when I hired him.” She glanced up at Kieran with pure adoration. “Isn’t that right?”

He patted her cheek. “That’s right.”

Erica was surprised that Candice Conrad, who’d barely given her the time of day aside from arranging playdates for their daughters, had some role in this plan. Or Candy, as her friends called her. Ironic, considering the woman had probably never eaten an ounce of chocolate in her entire life. Or if she had, she’d managed to surgically remove the effects. But that wasn’t exactly fair. After all, Candy dropped Stormy off at the spa almost every afternoon after school. For that reason, Erica should be a bit more benevolent. Then again, Candy had obviously taken it upon herself to impose her own fitness standards on poor, overweight Erica.

Regardless, Erica still had questions to ask Kieran O’Brien…alone.

After opening the door, Erica pointed inside. “You need to finish your homework before the pizza arrives, sweetie.”

Stormy scowled. “But, Mom—”

“No arguments, Stormy. I need to talk to Mr. O’Brien for a few minutes.”

“To set up the training sessions,” Stormy said with certainty.

To tell him thanks, but no thanks, something Erica chose not to mention at the moment. “We’ll see. In the meantime, your homework is waiting.”

Stormy walked back into the house in a huff and as soon as Erica was assured her daughter wasn’t within earshot, she turned back to Kieran. “I happen to know Stormy doesn’t have enough money to pay for your services.”

“Actually, she gave me all her allowance.”

A meager allowance her child must have been saving for quite some time. “What was that? Fifty dollars?”

He fished in his pocket and pulled out a few bills. “Eighty, to be exact.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suspect you make that much in half an hour.”

“Normally, but I’m willing to give her a cut rate. In fact, you can have this back now.” He opened her hand and laid the bills in her palm, then folded her fingers around them before releasing his grasp on her wrist. “In case she needs something special. Just don’t let her know I returned it.”

His simple touch threw Erica for a loop, almost enough to prevent her from speaking. “Why would you even consider doing this for free?”

“Because she seems like a good kid and this means a lot to her. You might want to think about that before you turn down the offer.”

He definitely had a point, although Erica wasn’t inclined to accept charity in any form. Yet she saw no harm in at least carefully considering the gesture before she told her daughter how much she appreciated her concern, but why she couldn’t commit to a fitness program right now. “Do you have a number I can call if I decide I want to do this?”

After he pulled a card from his jeans’ pocket, he gave her a long once-over that made her want to unbind her waist-length hair from the back of her neck, but that would only conceal her upper torso. “Give me a pen and I’ll write down my cell number,” he said. “It’s easier to reach me that way.”

She had no pockets in her tattered sweats, which meant she could leave him standing on the porch while she searched for a pen, or be courteous and invite him inside. Oh, what the heck. She’d write down the number and send him on his way.

Erica flattened herself against the door and waved him forward. “Come in while I find something to write with. The den’s to your right.”

Despite a solid effort to keep her eyes centered on his back, her gaze took a downward trek as she followed him through the small foyer. As predicted, his butt could only be deemed delicious. She seriously needed to get a grip.

In the den, Erica sidestepped over to the corner desk to prevent Kieran from getting a gander at her hips that had widened considerably since Jeff’s death. That extra width was a direct result of taking comfort from food to ease the sadness, and admittedly some latent anger over being left alone to raise her daughter. She’d basically remained in emotional limbo for almost six years, even if that wasn’t exactly logical. But neither was her fascination with the beautiful stranger who wandered around the room while she squirreled away the money in the desk drawer and rummaged for a pen, without success. No doubt her offspring had pilfered the last one.

“Mom! I need your help!”

Speaking of offspring…“I’ll be with you shortly, Stormy.” She sent a sheepish glance at Kieran, who’d paused his pacing to stand near the sofa. “When she wants something, she only knows one tone of voice—loud.” Like he hadn’t noticed that.

He sent her a curious look. “Is that how she came by her name?”

She leaned back against the desk and folded her arms across her midriff. “Actually, we were under a thunderstorm warning in Oklahoma the night she was born.”

“Mom, if you don’t come help me, I’m going to throw my math book out the window!”

“Hold your horses, Stormy! And bring me a pen.” She shrugged. “As it turned out, the name fits her well.”

A few moments later, Stormy walked into the room from the hall, her lopsided ponytail swaying back and forth like a pendulum. After smiling again at Kieran, she strode up to Erica and pointed a pencil at her. “Now can I get some help with my math?”

“I can try, Stormy, but I have trouble balancing a checkbook.” She did know enough, though, to realize her finances were rather slim these days.

“I’m pretty good at math,” Kieran said.

Stormy glanced back at Kieran, her eyes wide with wonder. “You are?”

“Believe it or not, I was an honor student in high school,” he said. “I was also a business major in college. I know math. Give me a shot and I’ll prove—”

“That you’ve got brains to go along with the brawn?” Erica blurted without thought.

He grinned. “Something like that.”

“My homework’s in the kitchen,” Stormy tossed out before skipping into the hallway. Apparently she had no qualms about taking Kieran on as a tutor.

Erica offered Kieran the pencil and an apologetic look. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“Not a problem,” he said as he jotted down his number on the card with the pencil and laid both on the desk.

“You don’t have any pressing issues awaiting you?” Like pressing his killer body against some willing woman.

“I have to meet my parents for dinner in about an hour, so I have some extra time.”

This man was much too good to be true. “What about your wife?”

“No significant other right now,” he said, seemingly undisturbed by her semi-interrogation.

Very interesting information, and somewhat problematic for Erica. If he’d been involved in a serious relationship, she could easily ignore him. Absurd. She could still ignore him. “If you insist on helping my child, I won’t complain. It will save me a lot of grief, but you’ll probably receive some in return.”

“I’m tough enough to handle a ten-year-old. And like I said, she seems like a good kid.”

We’ll see about that after the homework process, she wanted to say but instead led him into the kitchen where Stormy sat behind the small dinette table, rapping her pencil impatiently on her open book.

Erica tried not to stare when Kieran shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair that he then turned around and straddled. She tried not to ogle his prominent biceps. Tried not to gawk at the size of his hands, which he rested casually on the table before him. To say he met her expectations would be wrong. He more than exceeded them. What she wouldn’t give to get her paws on all that incredible muscle mass. Professionally speaking, of course.

Jerking herself back into hostess mode, she said, “Since you don’t drink coffee, is there anything else I can get you?” She’d offer him a brownie, but she’d already eaten the last one of the batch she’d made two nights ago.

He scooted the chair closer to the table. “I’m fine.”

She wouldn’t argue that point. “Just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right over here.” Engaging in busywork while sending covert glances his way.

Erica absently swiped at the countertops with a damp cloth while Kieran went over a few problems with Stormy. Amazingly, her daughter hadn’t issued one complaint. On the contrary, she actually remained silent and listened for a change.

After wiping her hands on a dish towel, Erica turned and said, “You missed your calling, Kieran. You should have been a teacher.”

He looked up from the book and trained his dark eyes on hers. “No thanks. I’m better with weights.”

“And I’m finished,” Stormy said, then sat back and sighed. “If Mom would’ve helped me, we would’ve been sitting here until midnight.”

Erica playfully slapped Stormy’s arm with the towel and then checked the clock on the wall. “Time to wash up for dinner since the pizza should be here any minute. But first, you need to thank Mr. O’Brien.”

“Thanks, Kieran,” she said, as if she had the right to call him by his given name.

He pushed back from the table and stood. “No problem, Stormy. Good luck on the quiz.”

“I’m sure I can pass it now,” Stormy replied with clear confidence, topped off with a look of gratitude aimed at her new hero. “I’ll let you know how I did when I come with Mom to the gym.”

Unable to voice a response, at least not one that her daughter would care to hear, Erica ushered Kieran back into the den and once there, he paused at the shelves beside the fireplace to study a framed photo taken during her gymnast days. A picture depicting a much, much thinner version of herself. “That was my senior year in high school,” she said, feeling somewhat self-conscious. “I competed for a year in college before I got pregnant with Stormy.”

He turned his attention from the photo to her. “You were young when you had her.”

“Barely twenty,” she said. And ill-prepared for Stormy’s congenital heart defect, the reason she and Jeff had moved to Houston—to be closer to her doctors. She briefly wondered if Stormy had mentioned the condition to Kieran, then decided she probably hadn’t. Out of respect for her daughter, who wanted badly to be viewed as perfectly normal, she wouldn’t mention it, either. “I married the summer after I graduated high school, in case you’re like most people and believe the baby came before the nuptials.”

“My sister married young and she wasn’t pregnant, either,” he said. “Unfortunately, her marriage didn’t last long.”

“Mine didn’t, either.” Through no fault of her own. “My husband died in an industrial accident when Stormy was four.”

“She mentioned that,” Kieran said as he glanced at the picture of Jeff set out not too far away. “I’m sorry.”

So was Erica. Sorry that she’d had so little time to know her husband. Sorry that her daughter had had even less time to know her father. “Sometimes things happen we can’t control.”

He streaked a hand over the back of his neck. “Guess you’re right, but it’s still got to be tough to deal with.”

Erica decided to move past the sad subject. “Anyway, I intended to teach gymnastics after college. Circumstances forced me to find a more lucrative way to make a living, which is how I ended up as a massage therapist.” A decision she had made in the two-year delay in receiving Jeff’s employer’s minimal settlement, most of which had gone to pay off Stormy’s astronomical medical bills that weren’t covered after Jeff’s death.

Kieran replaced the photo and said, “Can you still do back flips?”

Erica smiled in response to his winning grin. “Only if I want to hurt something vital.”

“After I’m done with you, you’ll be able to tumble again.”

She only planned to tumble into bed—alone—as she did every night. “Don’t count on me doing even a simple cartwheel.”

“Then you’re going to go through with the training?”

Oh, he was good. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you haven’t ruled it out yet.”

“Not yet. Obviously I haven’t been able to lose the extra pounds on my own. And believe me, I’ve gained more than a few extra pounds.” As if he hadn’t noticed that in spite of her loose clothing.

“Some weight gain is understandable,” he said. “You’re not sixteen anymore. Body weight increases with age.”

Her body had expanded more than she’d thought possible, and on a five-foot, two-inch frame, it wasn’t pretty. “That’s true, but come to think of it, I doubt a few training sessions will make all that much of a difference.”

“A couple hours a day, five days a week, will get noticeable results.”

She did a quick mental calculation. “You’d have to be darn good to whip me into shape in five sessions.”

“That’s for an entire month, which means at least twenty sessions. And I am good.” He said it with all the assurance of a man who had no qualms about selling his skills, and not necessarily those limited to the fitness field. “But a lot will depend on your commitment after we’re finished working together. I’d be willing to throw in a six-month membership at one of my clubs.”

Erica would rather drink salt doused with vinegar than walk into a room full of nubile young women. “I’m not overly fond of gyms these days.”

“The sessions will have to take place at the gym.” He took a quick glance around the small den. “Unless you have your own equipment around here somewhere.”

She had a stationary bicycle gathering dust in the garage, but that was the extent of her equipment. “No, I don’t. But I really hate the thought of working out with a bunch of people looking on.”

“That’s not a problem,” he said. “I have my own fully equipped, private area that I’d be glad to let you use until you’re more comfortable.”

“How convenient.” Both for him and all the other women he’d probably enticed into an intimate workout. Erica could just imagine it now—a few free weights, a few minutes on the rowing machine, a lot of cardio under the supervision of a guy who probably had the means to send a heart rate to maximum level in minimal time. The vision bouncing around in her head gave a whole new meaning to the term push-ups.

Shaking the unwelcome fantasy away, she said, “I’m still not ready to agree to this.”

Oddly, he looked almost disappointed. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing a prime opportunity. I don’t make this offer to just anyone.”

“You’re doing it for my child, remember?”

“Yeah, but I see potential in you.” He raked his gaze down her body again—slowly. “A lot of potential, if you have the guts to see this through.”

The challenge in his sexy voice and seductive eyes made her want to twitch and throw herself at him like some crazed hormonal harpy.

Erica led him out of the den and strode to the door, holding it open before she agreed for all the wrong reasons. “Tell you what. I’ll let you know in a few days.”

“Don’t take too long,” he said as he stepped onto the porch. “I’ve got a business to run and my time is in demand.”

She just bet it was.

Erica felt a brush against her ankle and looked down to find the family cat winding his way through her legs. She bent, picked up the gray tabby and held him like a baby. “I was wondering where you were, Diner.”

Kieran frowned. “Diner?”

“We found him behind a diner where we stopped for lunch on our way back from a trip to Oklahoma. He was scrawny and underfed, so we brought him with us, took him to the vet and got his mind off the girls.”

“You had him neutered.”

“Yes. Amazing how a simple procedure can improve a male attitude.”

He looked pained. “Do you apply that practice with all men?”

She laughed. “Only alley cats, so don’t worry.”

“That’s good to know. Otherwise, I might rescind the offer.” He stepped off the porch and began to back down the walkway. “I expect to have an answer in two days.”

A demanding kind of guy, which might have ticked Erica off if he hadn’t smiled again. “Fine. I’ll call you in two days.”

“You do that.”

While Erica remained planted firmly on the porch, Kieran turned and strolled to the sleek black sports car parked at the curb. She couldn’t make out the model in the dark, but she presumed it probably cost as much as her modest three-bedroom house. And although she should go back inside, she waited until he was safely seated behind the wheel and well on his way down the street.

As tempting as Kieran’s proposal might be—as tempting as he was—she didn’t need any one-on-one program to help her lose weight. She could buy a DVD and some hand weights. She’d take a daily walk to get reacquainted with endorphins. She’d stop eating to fill the void.

But tonight, before she crawled into her vacant bed, Erica planned to treat herself to several slices of pizza. At least that would take care of one craving.

Chapter Two

“I need to ask a favor, dear.”

Just when Kieran had claimed a spot on his sister’s sofa to let his mother’s Armenian cooking adequately digest, he’d been called into action by the tiny woman with a big heart. Normally he never refused Lucine O’Brien anything, but he could think of one thing in particular he wouldn’t do for anyone, not even his mother. “If you want me to call Kevin and tell him he needs to be at lunch Sunday, forget it, Mom.”

She wiped her hands on her apron and perched beside him on the cushion’s edge. “I wish you two got along better.”

Here it came, the blood-is-thicker-than-water speech. “The problem I have with Kevin has to do with his bad choices, and he’s chosen not to come around. I can’t change him, and neither can you.” After spending most of his life cleaning up his twin brother’s messes, Kieran had given up on that lost cause several years ago.

“Could you just hear me out, honey?”

Driven by family loyalty, he reached for the remote and muted the TV. “Okay, I’m listening.”

She shifted slightly to face him and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m worried about Kevin. I don’t think he’s well.”

Nothing new there. Kevin had been born the sickly twin and their mother still worried about him incessantly, even after thirty-plus years. “Why do you think that?”

“He seems tired to me,” Lucy said. “And pale.”

“He’s tired because it’s a big job, traveling all around the country to interview sports figures.” And having a woman in every port, Kieran thought. Probably every airport, too.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’d still like you to visit him and see for yourself.”

That wasn’t something Kieran had the time, or the desire, to do. “Let Mallory check on him.”

“Did I hear someone mention my name?”

Kieran glanced back to find his sister strolling into the den, a rag sporting the remnants of strained carrots thrown over one shoulder. “Damn, you have good ears, Mallory.”

“Watch your language, young man.”

His mother’s tone alone had been known to instill fear in many a tough guy, including his four brothers and her own husband, who was snoring like a power drill in the nearby lounger. “Sorry,” Kieran muttered like a reprimanded twelve-year-old, not a thirty-four-year-old man.

“I was asking your brother to see about Kevin,” Lucy said. “He somehow believes you should have that responsibility.”

Mallory perched on the sofa’s arm. “Whit and I had dinner with Kevin a couple of months ago, as a matter of fact, so it’s your turn.”

Kieran couldn’t quell his suspicions—justifiable suspicions. “I’m guessing he did something that required reinforcements.”

“Actually, he wanted us to meet his new girlfriend,” Mallory said.

“The pro cheerleader?” The same cheerleader Kevin had used as a replacement for his former fiancée, Kieran surmised.

His father snorted loud enough to rouse the neighborhood hounds. “Nothing wrong a’tall with a cheerleader. They tend to be a limber lot.”

When Kieran and Mallory laughed, Lucy brought out the visual guns again and aimed them on their father. “Go back to sleep, Dermot O’Brien, before I make you walk home.” She turned her attention to Mallory. “Is she a nice girl, dear?”

“She’s very nice and she’s not a cheerleader.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t hiding her pom-poms?” Dermot chimed in, earning him another frown from his wife, and a grin from his kids.

“Actually, she’s a pediatric resident,” Mallory said. “Whit thinks the relationship has potential, but I believe the jury’s still out.”

His sister, always the attorney. “She’s definitely not Kevin’s typical girlfriend,” Kieran said.

“With the exception of Corri,” Mallory added.

“And look how he treated her.” Although Kieran had tried to temper his tone, the ever-present animosity filtered out. But he still hadn’t forgiven his twin’s careless disregard for a genuinely nice woman.

“That worked out for the best,” Lucy said. “Otherwise, Corri would never have married your brother Aidan.”

And Kieran had tolerated enough Kevin talk to last a lifetime. Leaning over, he picked up his empty glass from the coffee table and without another word, set out for the kitchen, Mallory trailing behind him.

“You should give Kevin another chance,” his sister said, as he set the glass in the sink. “I think you’ll find he’s changed.”

Kieran leaned back against the counter. “Because he’s dating a woman who can put two sentences together before applying more lipstick?”

“Because Aidan and Corri have forgiven him, and so should you.”

That was news to him. “What he did to Corri was only one episode in a long line of screwups.”

“Nobody’s perfect, Kieran. Seems to me you should stop and consider that, otherwise you’re never going to have a long-term relationship.”

Must be “grill Kieran night.” “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve had a couple of long-term relationships, including one that ended a few months ago.”

“Almost a year ago, and exactly what happened with that relationship, dear brother?”

“It just wasn’t—”

“Perfect?”

Damn, she was majorly annoying him. “We weren’t compatible. She liked opera, I liked baseball. She liked Thai food, I prefer good old American beef. End of story.”

Mallory sent him a serious scowl. “She was also extremely beautiful and built like a fashion doll. Have you ever been attracted to anyone who wasn’t the epitome of physical perfection?”

Erica Stevens briefly flashed in his mind, catching him off guard. He had to remember she was a client—a prospective client—and off-limits. Regardless, he had to admit she was attractive in a wholesome kind of way. And if she decided to accept his offer, he’d have to ignore that attraction. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to make, Mallory, but I wish you’d make it so I can go home.”

“My point is, you’re too rigid, too quick to judge. You live your life by a set of strict rules—”

“What’s wrong with that?”

She held up her hand to silence him. “Life isn’t perfect, Kieran. People aren’t perfect. You should try to relax, open your mind to all the possibilities. Being more spontaneous couldn’t hurt, either.”

At least now he had some ammunition. “As a matter of fact, I did something spontaneous today. I agreed to provide personal training to a woman, free of charge.”

Mallory gave him a cynical smile. “She must be exceptionally gorgeous.”

“She’s a widowed mom, and I really didn’t pay that much attention to her. We just met a couple of hours ago, at the request of her daughter.”

She laid a hand against her throat. “Mr. Macho didn’t notice a woman? She must be in her golden years.”

“She’s thirty,” he said, surprised by his defensive tone. “And if you’re that damn curious, she has long red hair, light blue eyes. She’s short, but then she’s also a former gymnast. She has great dimples. One’s more prominent than the other. I couldn’t tell much about her body because she was wearing baggy clothes, but from what I could see, I’d guess—” He halted his assessment when Mallory chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

She laughed again. “You. I could’ve sworn you said you didn’t notice her, and you’re describing her in more detail than my husband would probably describe me.”

Kieran hated to admit she was right, so he wouldn’t. “Where is Whit, anyway?” he asked, only then realizing his brother-in-law had been missing since the last of the O’Brien siblings and their significant others had left for home.

“He’s changing the twins’ diapers in the nursery,” she said. “And just a word of advice, Kieran. When you’re helping this woman with her fitness regime, you might want to look beyond the superficial. You might find that the old adage about skin-deep beauty is true. If you keep an open mind, she could be the perfect girl for you.”

Time to set his sibling straight. “First of all, I don’t get involved with clients. And secondly, she hasn’t agreed to the training sessions yet.”

Smiling, Mallory pulled the rag from her shoulder, tossed it aside and checked her watch. “Sorry to end this conversation, but the girls will be hollering for their bedtime feeding and Whit can’t help with that.”

Thank God for babies with an aversion to bottles. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

Mallory started away but paused to face him again. “Before I go, let me add that I’m confident you’ll find a way to convince your new client…What’s her name?”

“Erica.”

“You’ll have Erica engaged in a strenuous workout in record time.”

Kieran had serious doubts about that, even though he couldn’t claim a lack of disappointment if she did turn him down, for reasons he didn’t care to explore. “Take my word for it. If Erica decides to get with the program, it won’t be because of me.”

“Are you still awake, Mom?”

At the sound of her daughter’s voice, Erica bolted upright and snapped on the lamp to find Stormy standing in the bedroom doorway. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she studied her child while fighting an edge of panic. Thankfully she didn’t see any indication that Stormy was in distress. No ashen cast to her round face. No blue tinge to her lips. No labored breathing. In fact, she looked precious in her pink satin pajamas with the rag-tag brown stuffed dog named Pokie clutched in her arms. But still Erica asked, “What’s wrong?”, a typical reaction resulting from all the nights something had been wrong.

Stormy frowned, as she’d been prone to do lately when she felt her mother was being too protective. “I’m okay, Mom. I just can’t sleep.”

Erica started to remind Stormy it was a school night and encourage her to try harder, but she recognized that in a scant few years, her daughter’s reliance on her would begin to fade more and more, as it should. In the meantime, she would cherish these moments when she could still chase away her daughter’s concerns. While they were still everything to each other, before boys and best friends claimed most of her baby’s time.

On that consideration, Erica scooted over and patted the space beside her. “Climb in.”

Stormy bounded across the room and jumped onto the bed, her strawberry-blond curls bouncing. A beautiful bundle of exuberance despite what she’d endured in her short lifetime—both numerous surgeries and the loss of her father.

After Stormy settled in, Erica draped an arm around her thin shoulder and pulled her close. “Did you have a bad dream, sweetie?”

Stormy shook her head. “I was just thinking about Daddy.”

Erica’s heart took a little tumble at her child’s wistful tone, and she wondered if Kieran helping Stormy with her homework had somehow prompted those memories. “I’m sure Daddy’s thinking about you, too.”

“From heaven,” Stormy said. “Do you think Daddy’s an angel, like Grandma says he is?”

Erica dearly wanted to believe in angels, but over the past few years, Jeff’s presence had begun to fade, even though she still resided in the house they’d leased when they’d moved to Houston to be closer to Stormy’s doctors. “If Grandma says it’s so, then it’s probably so.”

Stormy pulled the blanket to her chin as if she intended to stay awhile. “Tell me the story, Mom.”

Erica didn’t have to ask which story she meant; she’d recited it often enough. “You mean the night you were born?”

Stormy grinned and nodded.

Even though she wanted to go back to sleep to prepare for the busy day ahead, Erica didn’t have the heart to tell her child it was much too late for telling stories. Instead, she tapped her chin and pretended to think. “Let’s see. Best I recall, it was a typical Oklahoma spring. We were under a severe thunderstorm warning and—”

“That’s where I got my name,” Stormy added.

Erica sent her a mock scowl. “Do you want to tell it?”

“I was a baby, Mom,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t remember that night.”

Erica remembered every precious—and precarious—moment. “Anyway, I thought you might be born at home because it took your dad forever to find that baseball glove he’d bought you.”

“Because he thought I was going to be a boy.”

This time Erica decided not to scold her over the interruption. “That’s right. But the minute you were born, he took one look at you and fell in love.” She still remembered the awe in Jeff’s eyes the moment Stormy came into the world, followed by the fear.

Stormy smiled again. “And when he heard me cry, he said I was going to be a country music singer.”

That cry had come much later, one little detail Erica had chosen not to share with her daughter. She also hadn’t told her how close she and Jeff had come to losing their precious baby, whose heart had begun to fail only hours after her birth, leading to the first of four corrective surgeries. “He said you were either going to sing or umpire baseball games.”

Stormy hesitated a minute before asking, “Do you still have that baseball glove somewhere?”

Only one of the many keepsakes Erica had clung to in order to preserve the memories. “It’s in the cedar chest. Why?”

“Because I’m going to need it.”

“Show and tell?”

Stormy rolled her eyes. “We haven’t done that since first grade. I’m going to need it because Lisa wants me to play softball with her next spring. We’re supposed to sign up in January.”

Serious concerns came crashing down on Erica. “First of all, the glove’s too small. Secondly, you’ve never played softball before. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Stormy stiffened, looking determined. “I can run fast and I can throw harder than a lot of boys. My P.E. teacher says I’m a natural athlete.”

If that happened to be true, Stormy had come by it genetically. Aside from Erica’s gymnastics acumen, Jeff had been a talented football player. Yet for years her daughter had been held back by her physical deficits. She had no right to hold her back now, but still…“Before you sign up for anything, we need to check with Dr. Millwood. You can ask him when you have your appointment in February.”

“They’ll pick the teams before then, Mom.” Stormy unconsciously touched the top of the vertical scar peeking out from the parting in her pajama top. “Besides, he told me the last time I saw him that I could do anything I was big enough to do, and I’m big enough, and well enough, to play softball. I can practice with Lisa. It’ll give me something to do while you’re training with Kieran.”

The time had come to let her daughter down easy, at least on one front. “I promise I’ll consider the softball issue, sweetie. But I don’t think the training is going to work for me right now.”

“You aren’t going to do it?” Stormy said, both her tone and expression reflecting her displeasure.

“Maybe later.” Or never. “But I really love that you wanted to do this for me.”

Stormy pulled her legs to her chest, rested her chin on her knees and gave her a mournful look. “Daddy would’ve wanted you to stay in shape. He would’ve wanted me to play softball.”

A masterful manipulation if Erica had ever heard one, even if Stormy happened to be right. Nothing would have pleased Jeff more than to see his daughter excel at sports and his wife maintain a healthy lifestyle, and her weight. “I realize that, but I don’t want you to get hurt if you’re not ready for sports.”

Stormy climbed out of the bed and propped her hands on her hips. “Just because you’re afraid doesn’t mean I have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m only concerned for your well-being, Stormy.”

“You are too afraid!” Stormy stomped her foot, something she had never done before. “Lisa says you’re paranoid, and she’s right. You’re afraid I’m going to get hurt and you’re afraid to let Kieran train you because you’re afraid of guys. You’re afraid of everything, Mom. And I’m afraid I’m going to be stuck in this house with you until I’m too old to have any fun.”

With that, Stormy spun around and headed down the hall, her hair wagging with a vengeance against her back.

On the verge of tears, Erica leaned back against the headboard and released a broken breath that bordered on a sob.

In some ways, Stormy was right—she was afraid. Her daughter would never know how many nights she’d stayed awake and watched each breath she took, fearful it could be her last. How afraid she’d been when she’d received the call informing her that her husband would never be coming home. That fear had admittedly driven her to be too overprotective, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of something happening to her baby girl, the most important person in her life.

One thing she did know—Stormy had been wrong about her fear of Kieran. She wasn’t afraid of him at all. She was afraid of how he made her feel in the short time she’d been around him. Afraid of acknowledging that she was highly attracted to a man, as if she was somehow being unfaithful to Jeff.

Still, she couldn’t imagine Kieran would persist if she didn’t go through with the training. At least she hoped not. She’d had enough trouble explaining her reasons for refusing to her daughter. She couldn’t battle them both.

“Stormy’s here, and someone else is here to see you, girlfriend.”

Erica stopped restocking the therapy room and took a quick glance at the clock before depressing the intercom on the wall. “My next appointment’s not due for another half hour, Megan.”

“He’s not here for a massage. He says he’s the dancing pizza man. Do you want me to call the cops?”

Erica’s heart did a little skip-beat rumba over the thought of seeing Kieran O’Brien again. Apparently an impatient Kieran O’Brien since less than twenty-four hours had passed since he made the offer. Oh, well. She might as well tell him face-to-face no thanks to the training, and be done with it. “Law enforcement isn’t necessary. I’ll come downstairs to meet him.”

And down the stairs Erica went, practically sprinting. She slowed her steps when she reached the second landing because she certainly didn’t want him to believe she was excited to see him. Yet when she paused at the bottom of the staircase and caught sight of him entering the salon area, she could barely catch a normal breath. She certainly wasn’t the only one who’d noticed him.

From the stylists’ stations lining both sides of the lengthy aisle, clients and beauticians alike snapped their heads around, risking whiplash. And those who didn’t simply studied him in the mirrors’ reflections, including Mrs. Weldon, a seventy-something Houston icon who’d come in for her weekly shampoo and style. Several mouths dropped open, and the once-boisterous conversations quieted to a low murmur, although Erica wouldn’t be surprised to hear a round of catcalls.

She couldn’t blame them one bit. Who wouldn’t notice a good-looking, well-built guy wearing a fairly fitted T-shirt that showcased his perfect torso and loose black workout pants that concealed what she could only assume were a pair of unbelievably toned legs and thighs? The unruly hair and eternally shadowed jaw only added to the perfect physical package. All he needed was a sword to complete the pirate persona.

Arms dangling at his sides, he continued forward without hesitation, with all the confidence of a man who possessed the catalyst that could bring a woman to her knees in worship—undeniable masculine beauty. He kept his dark eyes leveled on hers, causing Erica to clasp the front of her white coat closed to cover what he would definitely find lacking in her body.

When he reached her, Erica managed a weak smile. “What a nice surprise, Mr. Pizza Man. Are you here for a cut and style, or are you just checking the place out?”

“I came specifically to see you.” He glanced over his shoulder before regarding her again. “Can we go someplace more private where we can talk?”

This sounded like serious business, spurring Erica’s curiosity. If luck prevailed, he was taking back the offer, relieving her of the responsibility of declining. And for some reason, that filled her with a touch of regret. “We can go upstairs. I need to get the bed ready.” Would someone please save her from the Freudian faux pas? “I meant I need to prepare the room for my next client.”

He rewarded her with a grin. “I knew what you meant.”

She waved a hand toward the staircase. “Right this way.”

Erica would have preferred to follow behind him, but since he had no idea where he was going, she had no choice but to lead the way and hope he wasn’t totally turned off by her derriere. After they reached the top floor, she navigated the mazelike hallway while chatting incessantly about the various therapies going on behind closed doors, from European facials to peppermint body wraps.

After drawing a breath, she paused at the place that housed the wet area. “We have his-and-hers saunas, but the owner only installed one whirlpool. I’m hoping she eventually adds another to allow for segregating the genders.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with men and women hanging out in the same hot tub,” he said, the first words he’d uttered since she’d begun the tour.

Spoken like a guy. “Some women would prefer not to mingle with men while in their swimsuits.” She would be one of them.

“You have a point.”

She also had an appointment in less than twenty minutes, and that sent her to the end of the corridor. “This is my domain,” she said as she opened the door.

Kieran followed her inside, and while she stood at the head of the narrow bed, he walked around the room, investigating all the trappings that came with the job. After a time, he turned and leaned back against the bureau. “You know how to set the mood.”

“Excuse me?”

He took another visual jaunt around the area. “Soft music, candlelight, massage oil. A lot of bare flesh.”

“Middle-aged executives with hairy backs.”

His smile arrived, but only halfway, with full effect. “Now you’ve gone and ruined it for me.”

She moved to the opposite side of the room, putting the bed between them. “It’s not that kind of a massage parlor, Kieran. It’s therapy, although I will do a Swedish massage if someone prefers more relaxation than rehabilitation.”

“You mean if they’re wimps.”

She pulled a set of sheets from the cabinet behind her before facing him again. “Some people would prefer not to have their pressure points manipulated.”

He moved closer to the bed. “I don’t mind a good manipulation of my pressure points now and then.”

If he was like most men, he had one particular pressure point in mind. Not that she was totally averse to the prospect. “I’d be glad to give you a good therapeutic massage.” And hoped she survived it. “Just stop at the front desk on your way out and make an appointment.”

“You can’t work me in today?”

“I have a client coming in shortly, remember?”

“Define shortly.”

She took another quick glance at the clock. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“What can you do for me in fifteen minutes?”

Surely he wasn’t serious. “I’d barely get past your neck.”

“Some other time then.” He planted his palms firmly on the bed’s unmade surface. “I’d definitely want my back done.”

She smiled. “Is it hairy?”

“No. Want to check it out?”

Boy, did she ever. “I trust you. Now please tell me why you’re really here.” Other than to make her relatively large work space seem very small, especially when he leaned over and propped his folded arms on the table while angling his body away.

“I thought I’d plead my case about the benefits of physical fitness,” he said.

So much for him withdrawing his services. “I know all the benefits, but I also know that my time is at a premium these days.”

“Did you stop to consider how much your daughter wants you to do this?”

“She mentioned that to me last night.” Under no uncertain terms.

“She’s the one who convinced me to try again with you.”

Apparently her daughter had borrowed someone’s cell phone. “I’m sorry she called and bothered you.”

“She didn’t call. She came to the gym again this afternoon with the Conrads and asked me if I could give her a ride over here.”

That was worse than a phone call. “She did what?”

He straightened and raised his hands as if to ward her off. “Before you decide to march into the waiting room and ground her, you need to hear me out.”

A grounding was definitely in Stormy’s future, but she agreed to hear him out first. “I’m listening.”

“Stormy’s worried about your health and your happiness. She honestly thinks that a fitness program will help you with both, and she’s right. You can’t fault her for wanting what’s best for you.”

No, Erica couldn’t. In fact, she was deeply touched by her child’s concerns, even if she didn’t care for Stormy’s persistence. “I understand why she’s worried, but I’m still not sure I can go through with this.”

“Yes, you can, with my help. In a month’s time, you’ll wonder why you waited so long to get with the program.”

In a way, she recognized he was probably right and almost voiced that when the sound of a shrill ring interrupted both her thoughts and the conversation.

After Kieran tugged the cell from his pocket and flipped it open, he muttered a harsh, “Yeah.”

Trying not to eavesdrop, Erica straightened a few things on the shelf as Kieran spoke to the party on the other line. But she couldn’t ignore the bitterness in his tone when he said, “I don’t have time for this right now.”

When Erica faced him again, Kieran remained silent, the tension almost palpable. His current problems, whatever they might be, definitely superceded Erica’s decision. “If you need to take care of business, Kieran, we can talk about this later.”

He pocketed the cell and said, “Not business—my brother. Kevin believes his schedule is more important than mine when he wants something. And he always wants something.”

Granted, Erica didn’t have a great relationship with her own brother, but that stemmed from a substantial age difference and general apathy. “Do I detect some sibling hostility?”

“We’re twins, and let’s just say I’m tired of taking the flak for his mistakes.”

“Identical twins?” Erica had a hard time believing that another version of this stunning guy walked the streets of Houston.

“Yeah. People have always had trouble telling us apart. Especially women.”

“I could see where that might be a problem, particularly with a woman involved.”

“And that’s happened more than once,” he said. “A few years ago, I was in a bar and a woman came up and slapped me. It took me an hour’s worth of explanation and buying her two drinks before she finally believed I wasn’t the one who slept with her, then dumped her.”

Erica sensed a solid case of good twin, evil twin. “He’s really that bad?”

“He’s spoiled. My mother catered to him because when we were born, she almost lost him. And since then, he’s always been perfect in her eyes.” The hint of resentment in his tone was unmistakable. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on that.”

“I understand it completely. There’s nothing like that bond between mother and child.” Even at the ripe old age of twenty, Erica had realized that the first time she’d held her newborn daughter. And she could definitely relate to almost losing a baby. “Speaking of kids, I need to get a move on, otherwise I’m going to stay behind all afternoon. That means getting Stormy home late.”

He surveyed her face from forehead to chin before centering his gaze on her eyes. “You haven’t given me an answer yet.”

That’s because she didn’t have one, although she was heading toward the affirmative. “I’m still concerned about working it into my schedule.”

“I’ve come up with a plan that should help with that. I can come to your place for a jog in the morning to take care of the cardio, then you can come to the gym in the evening for strength training.”

He was definitely being accommodating, something Erica couldn’t help but appreciate. “That might work. I’ll think about it and let you know by tomorrow.”

He rounded the table and stood by her side. “Don’t give yourself more time to obsess over it, Erica. Say you’re going to do it right now. You’d don’t have to be afraid of it.”

You’re afraid of everything, Mom.

Erica tried to discard her daughter’s indictment, without success. As a few moments of nagging indecision passed, she hugged the bedding closer to her chest while Kieran continued to stare at her, assessing her, dissecting her.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” she said, before she had time to make more excuses.

Kieran didn’t look the least bit surprised. But then, he’d probably known all along he’d eventually wear her down. “Good. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be at your place at 7:00 a.m. In the meantime, have your doctor fax me a consent form stating you’re healthy enough to start the program. The fax number’s on the card I gave you. Do you still have it?”

She felt the urge to salute, or to drop the sheets from a sudden desire to explore all his prime bulk with her hands. Fortunately, she did neither. “Yes, I have the card, but I told you I’m not a morning person.”

“And I told you if you try it, you’ll like it. Besides, tomorrow’s Saturday.”

His determination was second only to Stormy’s. “I still have to be at work by ten, and I need to wash and dry my hair, which takes a while. Could we wait and begin on Monday? That would give me more time to get used to the idea.”

“The longer you put it off, the more time you have to change your mind,” he said. “I’ll be over at six instead of seven and we can do some preliminary prep before we go for a run. That should give you ample time to get ready for work.”

Lovely. A crack-of-dawn jog didn’t sound at all inviting to an out-of-shape, thirty-year-old woman. “What kind of preliminary prep are you referring to? Aside from the usual stretching.”

“I have a form for you to fill out about your overall health and I’m going to take your measurements and calculate your body fat. I’ll weigh you tomorrow at the gym.”

Erica’s mouth dropped open momentarily before she said, “That’s like saying you’re going to read my diary.”

He had the nerve to grin. “Do you have a diary?”

As a matter of fact, she did. A very private journal that she kept hidden away in her lingerie drawer. “That’s none of your business, and neither are my measurements.” A hot flush flowed over her cheeks when she realized how ridiculous that sounded.

Now he appeared frustrated. “Look, unless we have a starting point, we won’t know how much progress you’ve made. And if you’re worried what I’m going to think, believe me, I know a lot of women who’d kill for your body.”

Oh, sure. “How would you know? You haven’t really seen it.”

“Trust me, I know.” His gaze wandered to her breasts for a split second before he returned his attention to her eyes. “Some things you can’t hide, even with baggy clothes. You have to learn to embrace your body type because no one has a perfect body. You only need to drop a few pounds and do some toning.”

He might change his mind about that once he wrapped a tape measure around her hips. “All right. You can take my measurements, as long as you promise not to stare.” Or laugh.

He raised one hand in oath. “I promise I’ll be totally professional.”

“Fine. Now I have to finish readying the room. And since you’ve detained me, you can help me make the bed.”

He returned to the opposite side of the table and favored her with another blatantly sexy smile. “Not a problem. I’m good with sheets.”

He was likely good between the sheets, and that was a place Erica didn’t dare go with Kieran, even if the thought had crossed her mind.

The desire that had been dormant for years sprung to life—followed by the usual measure of guilt. The same guilt she’d experienced when she’d considered dating in the past. Yet she couldn’t help but believe that meeting Kieran O’Brien could be the springboard she needed to move forward into a future that didn’t revolve solely around work and her child. That alone gave her some serious resolve.

Not only would she do this for Stormy, she was going to do it for herself.

After all, how hard could it be?

Chapter Three

Crawling out of bed before dew covered the lawn was as bad as forgetting to buy coffee, which Erica had, and that only encouraged her bout of irritability. On top of everything else, she’d barely finished dressing, brushing her teeth, washing her face and fashioning her hair into a misshapen ponytail before the doorbell rang.

Erica muttered a few choice oaths on her way to answer the summons, most aimed at Kieran’s early arrival. Yet before she opened the door, she plastered on a fake smile that slowly withered with one look at him.

With his dark, longish, slightly damp hair and buff body, he could easily be mistaken for a gladiator, regardless of the clipboard clutched in his hand and absent loin cloth. She briefly wondered what he might look like in a loin cloth while resisting the urge to take a downward visual excursion. Instead, she kept her attention fixed midchest on his hooded navy sweatshirt. Even in standard workout apparel, he could put most men to shame, while she resembled something Diner might drag in from the Dumpster.

When he said, “Mornin’,” Erica found him to be much too chipper for the crack of dawn—correction—sliver of dawn since the skies showed only limited light.

“You’re ten minutes early.” Her tone sounded unmistakably prickly, from lack of both sleep and caffeine.

He checked his watch and had the gall to grin. “Guess I am. Want me to wait in my car until six?”

Not such a bad idea at that, but one she couldn’t in good conscience consider. After all, he was accommodating her schedule, not his, even if he had shown up at an obscene hour. “Not necessary. Come on in.”

She held the door open wide while he passed by her, bringing with him a burst of cool air and a noticeably clean scent. Not that she intended to notice anything about him, but her intentions ran amok when she followed behind him and realized he was wearing shorts—to-the-knee shorts—that offered her a fine glimpse of his equally fine calves.

“Are you nuts?” she asked once they entered the den.

His frown indicated he thought she might be. “Excuse me?”

She waved a hand toward his legs. Bare, muscular, enticing, hairy legs. “You’re not wearing pants.”

Kieran looked down as if he didn’t have a clue what he was wearing. “I prefer to run in shorts. Is there a problem with that?”

Erica could think of one big problem—her wandering eyeballs. “Seems to me it’s a bit cold to go outside half-dressed.”

“It’s almost fifty degrees right now, and the highs are going to reach seventy today.”

So much for the first seasonal cold front. “That’s what I love about Texas, frigid one day, sweltering the next. Makes me miss the Oklahoma ice storms.”

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”

She felt a tad bit ashamed of her attitude. “Unfortunately, no. But by noon, I’m a really nice person.”

“Since I won’t be here at noon, I’ll take your word for it.” He offered her the clipboard. “I received the form from your doctor, but I still need you to fill out this medical history. It’s only a few general questions.”

A few hundred health questions, Erica realized when she took it from him and perused the text. “Looks like our first jog will have to wait if you expect me to answer all of these.”

“It won’t take that long if you hurry.”

“I’ll try, but remember, I’m barely coherent.”

Erica took a seat on the sofa while Kieran claimed the wellworn brown suede lounge chair across from her. Jeff’s favorite chair—just one more thing she hadn’t had the heart to discard.

Getting back to the business at hand, she answered no to almost all of the queries about her physical condition, then stopped short when she came to the part about her weight. “I’m not sure how much I weigh.”

“Leave it blank. Like I said, I’m going to weigh you this evening and we’ll fill it in then. Since you’ve got to be at work, I’ve decided to wait and do the rest of the assessment at the club.”

Meaning he’d handed her a short reprieve from having her measurements taken and her body fat calculated. Even so, she’d still rather eat dirt. “Fine.”

Going back to the forms, she answered the intimate questions with serious trepidation, read the complex waiver and signed on the dotted line before handing it back to him. “Now that you know my extremely personal history, what’s next?”

He set the forms on the table, slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “We’re going to start off easy. Just a short jog to the park up the street and back.”

Erica could already feel her muscles begin to protest. “The park up the street is at least five blocks away. How am I supposed to manage that?”

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.

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.”

Aidan leaned back against the cabinet and studied Kieran with blatant skepticism. “She’s getting to you, isn’t she?”

Kieran opened the pantry door and tossed the can into the recycle bin. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Another lie.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe I should say who I’m talking about. You’ve got a thing for the redhead.”

Kieran slammed the pantry door and whirled around. “I told you, she’s a client.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said, but I’m not buying it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so defensive when someone brings her up. You’d just ignore all the comments, but you’re feeling too guilty to do that.”

Unfortunately, Aidan happened to be right on target, even though Kieran didn’t plan to admit it. “Look, she’s a nice woman who wants to get into shape. She doesn’t have a lot of money, so her daughter came to see me and asked me to help out. I’m doing both of them a favor without charge.”

Aidan frowned. “In other words, you’re providing your services for free, and there’s nothing more to it?”

“Yeah.” Lie number three. “Something wrong with that?”

“Not at all, except you’re not telling me everything. Did things go beyond the trainer-client relationship last night after I left?”

Kieran gritted his teeth. “I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Aidan chuckled. “But you wanted to.”

He hated that his brother read him so well. “Okay, yeah, the thought crossed my mind after I—” Nope, he wasn’t going to go there.

“After you what? Kissed her?”

He didn’t have the energy for another lie. “Yeah.”

Aidan pointed at him. “I knew it.”

“I didn’t plan it. It just happened, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”

“What makes you think you can stop it?”

He didn’t have any choice. “Because it’s unethical. Aside from the standing rules of the profession, you told me yourself that it’s a bad idea to get involved with someone you have a working relationship with, even though you didn’t follow your own advice with Corri.”

Aidan ran a fast hand through his hair. “You’re right, but it turned out okay. Better than okay. And the way I see it, you have two options. You let nature take its course and see what happens. Or you cut if off now, because even if you can bench-press a building, you’re not strong enough to ignore the chemistry.”

He didn’t care for his brother’s options or opinions. “I’m not you, Aidan, so you can kiss my—”

“Don’t say it, young man.”

Kieran turned to the right where his mother stood immediately inside the kitchen, holding a plastic container. Lucine O’Brien might be small in stature, but she was more than capable of carrying off the disapproving-parent demeanor in a big way. “Hey, Mom. When did you get back?”

“Just in time to hear your conversation.” She set the bowl on the counter and regarded Aidan. “I believe I heard your daughter.”

Aidan tilted his head slightly. “I don’t hear anything.”

Lucy gestured toward the living room. “Then go talk to your wife. I need to have a conversation with your brother.”

That’s all Kieran needed—another lecture. Only this one could be ten times as bad, depending on how much his mother had overheard. Probably more than he’d hoped, considering the stern look on her face. “This woman you’re discussing,” she said after Aidan departed. “Is this the widow with the child that Mallory spoke of the other night?”

Good thing his sister wasn’t around. Otherwise, he’d have to give her a chunk of what was left of his mind for spinning the rumor mill out of control. “First of all, Mother, my personal life isn’t anyone’s business. Secondly, this whole thing has gotten blown out of proportion. I’m only supervising her fitness program.”

She had the skeptic’s demeanor down to a fine art. “Really? When did you add kissing to that program?”

Damn. “It was a mistake. A spur-of-the-moment thing.”

She folded her arms across her middle. “Perhaps that’s true, but my sons aren’t inclined to do anything they don’t want to do.”

Lucy was right—he had wanted it. If he hadn’t, that kiss would’ve never happened. “I don’t understand why this is such a big deal. I’m going to handle it. And if you’re done with the interrogation, I need to go.”

“How long has she been widowed?” she asked, indicating she wasn’t done.

“Six years.”

“Does she have family here?”

He started to ask why Erica’s life history was so important, but instead decided to answer the question and hope it was the last. “Her parents are in Oklahoma, and she has a brother in Seattle. She moved here ten years ago because her daughter was born with a heart problem.”

That definitely got his mother’s attention. “Is the little girl all right?”

“She’s had several surgeries, but she’s fully recovered.”

Lucy sighed. “And that, my dear, is the ‘big deal.’ You have a mother who’s almost completely alone and a little girl who’s suffered through sickness and the death of a parent at a very young age. I would hate to think you’d take advantage of the situation, especially when it comes to a woman who could still be very vulnerable.”

From the beginning, he’d recognized Erica’s vulnerability when it came to her self-image, but beyond that, she was tougher than a lot of women he’d known. “I understand what you’re saying, Mom, but I don’t intend to take advantage of anyone.”

“Of course no one intends to do that, dear. But intentions sometimes go by the wayside when a man can’t—to quote your father—keep the pony in the barn.”

“It’s stallion in the stall, Mom.” The last time Kieran suffered this much humiliation, his dad had attempted the “sex talk” using Irish proverbs. “If you’re through chastising me—” and embarrassing the hell out of him “—I have to leave, Mom.”

Lucy wagged a finger at him, signaling she still wasn’t finished. “One more thing you should consider. You have a prime opportunity to make a positive impact on not one but two lives by being a role model to the child and a friend to the mother.” She patted his cheek. “That’s the road you should take, my dear. The honorable road.”

His mother was right—he needed to remember the honor code his parents had drilled into him from birth, as well as the professional ethics he’d established early in his career. He would guide Erica through the fitness process, maybe help Stormy with softball and be on his best behavior, beginning tomorrow. Mondays were hell, but he’d find the time for Erica and Stormy. Besides, he’d claimed he couldn’t schedule a session until Tuesday only because he’d needed to take a step back. His weakness wasn’t fair to Erica, and if he was going to do this, he planned to do it right. He also planned to keep his hands—and mouth—to himself.

Chapter Five

Erica couldn’t stop thinking about Kieran’s mouth, no matter how hard she’d tried, and she’d tried all day long, failing regularly in her attempts.

“You’re last appointment canceled, honey.”

After dropping the robe onto the end of the massage table, Erica turned to face the sixtysomething salon owner standing at the treatment room door, her lips the color of hothouse tomatoes, her platinum-blond coif stiff as a springboard. “I’m sorry, Bette. What did you say?”

“Your four o’clock isn’t coming, so you can go home now.”

“Thanks.” As bad as she needed the money, Erica wasn’t all that disappointed over the no-show. Now she could take Stormy home early, go to the market and have ample time to prepare an early, healthy dinner. Afterward, they could watch a movie together. A nice, animated, G-rated movie with absolutely no kissing.

When the stylist continued to stare at her with blatant curiosity, Erica kept a tight rein on her patience for the sake of civility. “Did you need something else, Bette?”

“Just a quick question. Are you getting laid?”

The woman knew blunt like she knew big Texas hair, much to Erica’s chagrin. “No, I am not getting laid. And even if I was, I wouldn’t say a thing for fear the news would end up on every radio and TV station in Houston.”

Undeterred, Bette strolled in and parked herself on the wingback chair across the room. “Something’s wrong with you, honey. Or maybe I should say something’s right with you. I’ve watched you all afternoon. You’re distracted, and that typically means a man’s involved.”

Erica couldn’t exactly refute that, but she wouldn’t confirm it, either. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, my foot, sugar. You’re in la-la land. Why, you even smiled for no reason at all, even after Megan told you Mr. Winston didn’t leave a tip.”

Truth was, she hadn’t heard Megan mention the non-tip. She hadn’t heard much of anything aside from an annoying little voice in her head reminding her of Saturday night. “Okay, I’m in la-la land, but who wouldn’t be? It’s a gorgeous day outside.”

Bette delivered an inelegant snort. “It wasn’t that kind of a smile, Erica. It was a dreamy smile, like you had some guy on your mind. And I’m thinking that guy is the pizza deliveryman.”

For heaven’s sake. “He doesn’t deliver pizza. He’s a personal trainer. My personal trainer.”

Bette raised a too-thin eyebrow. “What’s he training you for?”

The exact same thing Kieran’s brother had asked, and Erica had the same reaction—a blush to beat all blushes. “Fitness training, Bette.”

“Well, if I were you, honey, I’d want more from him than a few rounds on a treadmill.” Bette leaned forward and smiled. “That is, if you’re interested in him.”

If Erica issued a denial, she’d be handing the woman a huge fib. Instead, she opted to take the Fifth and began gathering her things.

Bette shot to her feet and pointed. “You are interested, aren’t you?”

Erica shoved her cell phone into her bag, threw the purse strap over her shoulder and faced her interrogator. “I’m interested in getting out of here while I can still find a parking spot at the grocery store. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Bette positioned herself in the doorway, impeding Erica’s departure. “Listen, sugar, I know I’m twice your age and I’ve been married to the same man since St. Peter was playing in the sandbox. But I still know a lot about the opposite sex.”

“What’s the point to all this, Bette?”

“The point is, you aren’t getting any younger, doll. And there aren’t that many cute, single guys your age, ripe for the picking.” She took Erica’s hands into hers, her expression surprisingly serious. “I know it was hard, losing a husband so young, but it’s time you bring your life out of storage, dust it off and take it for a spin. That means going for the gusto while you still have some gusto left.”

“You mean dating?”

“If you want to play it that way, yeah, dating, and all the benefits that come with the package. Your trainer man has a lot of benefits, some that can’t be seen with the naked eye unless he’s naked.” Bette followed up with a cackle that grated on Erica’s nerves like a civil defense siren.

“You’re telling me that I should seduce him?” The thought of seducing any man, let alone Kieran O’Brien, seemed almost laughable.

“That’s exactly what I mean, honey,” Bette said as she released Erica’s hands. “Remember, you don’t have to marry him. But a guy like that can bring you back to the land of the living with only a little encouragement. Unless you’ve forgotten how to encourage. If that’s the case, I can give you a few pointers. All you have to do is ask.”

Erica didn’t dare ask the resident gossip for advice on sex. “Thanks for the offer, Bette, but I don’t have time for men in my life right now.”

Bette winked. “You might just change your mind after a little more training.” With that, Bette spun around and headed away with more vigor than most women her age, leaving Erica to ponder her coworker’s observations.

Never in a million years would she entertain the idea of seducing Kieran. Then again, two nights ago, she didn’t have to do a thing aside from engage in a little suggestive banter. That alone had earned her a kiss.

A kiss she wanted to experience again. And again. So why shouldn’t she go for it? Because he’d been adamant about professionalism. Because he’d said the kiss shouldn’t have happened, and it wouldn’t happen again. And that was quite enough to discourage her.

Yet when Erica headed through the salon to retrieve her daughter from the break room, Bette’s words echoed in her mind.

It’s time to take your life out of storage…

Maybe her friend was right. Maybe she had put her life in the closet, using excuses like mothballs to preserve her memories of Jeff. Maybe it was time to move forward. And maybe Kieran O’Brien could be the cure for her inability to gain any ground.

If she had the least bit of courage, she would go for it, as Bette had suggested. She just might at that—provided Kieran didn’t resign as her fitness coach, never to be seen again.

“Look, Mom! It’s Kieran!”

Erica slowed the sedan to a crawl when she caught sight of a black Porsche hugging the curb in front of her house. And leaning against the hood, dressed in a tight white T-shirt that showcased his dynamite arms, and jeans that looked tailormade, a modern-day Greek fitness god. Her first thought—why had he come to the house? Her next—she was very happy to see him. Secretly thrilled, even though she questioned his unexpected appearance, and if his resignation was imminent.

As she whipped the car into the driveway, Erica’s mind zipped back to the kiss that continued to plague her, and she immediately forced the image away. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about that now, particularly with the kissing culprit on the premises.

Before Erica could get one foot out the door, Stormy jumped from the vehicle and ran to Kieran, throwing her arms around him as if she’d rediscovered her long-lost best friend.

When Stormy rushed back and announced, “He’s got a surprise!” Erica calmly walked to the trunk, opened it slowly and pulled out two grocery bags in an effort to regroup before she had to face him. Yet when Kieran sauntered toward her with that same show-stopping gait, her composure dissolved like an ice cream cone on a summer sidewalk. He had all the confidence in the universe and no qualms about looking her straight in the eye, while she only wanted to look him straight in the mouth. He soon arrived where she stood like a statue, gripping the bags to her chest, as if they offered protection against all that charisma.

“Hey,” he said with a smile that could easily melt the frozen foods in her grasp.

And like a fool, Erica replied, “Aren’t you supposed to be at the club?” as if inconvenienced over his arrival.

He braced a hand on the top of her car, making the midsize sedan seem remarkably small. “I finished what I needed to do earlier than planned.”

“So he came to see us today instead of tomorrow,” Stormy added.

Erica handed her daughter the bag with the refrigerated items. “Take these in and put them away before the ice cream melts.”

Amazingly Stormy skipped away without any protest, and Erica felt the need to explain her purchases to Kieran. “The ice cream’s for Stormy. I bought myself frozen yogurt. Feel free to check out my receipt.” Or anything else you’d like to check out from a nonnutrition standpoint. An absolutely ridiculous thought, concocted by a woman acting as if she were confronting her first crush.

“I didn’t come here to police your food,” he said.

She shifted the remaining sack to her hip. “Then why are you here?”

“To make you work so you don’t lose your motivation.”

When he grinned, she almost lost her grip on the groceries. “I wasn’t planning on going to the club tonight, per your request. In fact, I’ve planned an early dinner.”

“We can work out after dinner.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“Are you inviting me?”

Erica had no problem with that, except…“Eat at your own risk. We’re having fish.”

“Not my favorite, but I’ll eat it as long as it’s not fried.”

That wasn’t an option according to her self-imposed diet. “I’m going to bake it.”

“Sounds good to me.” He pointed behind him. “I brought a few weights with me along with a few other things.”

She envisioned all sorts of portable devices designed for the utmost in physical persecution. “What other things?”

His gaze drifted away momentarily. “I brought a glove and ball to play some catch with Stormy. If that’s okay with you.”

“Is that the surprise she mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

Obviously he hadn’t given the promise much thought, leaving Erica to deal with some serious fallout from her child if she refused. “If I say no, you do realize she’ll be thoroughly disappointed and furious at me.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I guess I screwed up again.”

Kieran looked so remorseful, Erica couldn’t think of one good reason not to go along with his plan. “If she wants to play some catch, that’s fine, as long as you’re careful.”

He raised a hand in oath. “I promise I’ll go easy on her.”

“Hopefully easier than you’ve been on me. My body’s still suffering the effects of our easy workout.” In more ways than one.

“Are you still sore from the other night?” he asked with concern.

“I’ve had a little trouble sleeping.” But not from the aches and pains generated from the exercise.

“I know what you mean,” he said, his somber tone contrasting with his earlier smile. “And I want to apologize again for letting things get out of hand. I’ll be on my best behavior from now on. You have my word on it.”

“What a shame.” Good heavens, had she really said that? Before Kieran could respond, she added, “I need to put the groceries away and start dinner.” She backed toward the door. “Feel free to play catch with the kid. I’ll send her right out.”

Erica rushed into the kitchen where she found her daughter placing the last of the dairy products in the storage bin.

“Did Kieran tell you about the surprise?” Stormy asked as she turned and closed the refrigerator door with a twitch of her small hip.

Erica set the bag of dry goods down on the counter. “Yes, he did.”

“And?”

“He brought a ball and glove so he can play some catch with you while I make dinner.”

Stormy jumped up and down, her curls bouncing in time with her movement before she came to an abrupt stop. “Did you tell him yes?”

“Yes, I told him yes. Now go change your clothes and put those new shoes to good use.”

After her daughter sprinted away, Erica went back to shelving the groceries and dropped two cans on the floor on her way to the pantry when her thoughts turned to Kieran. She dropped another when she heard “Did you forget something?” coming from behind her.

She glanced back to see Kieran holding the remaining two bags she’d left in the trunk. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. Put them on the counter next to the sink.”

She continued to stare at the canned goods while he breezed behind her, bringing with him a slight hint of cologne that set her female radar on maximum alert. No doubt one of those expensive colognes formulated to attract women like a two-for-one shoe sale. She didn’t realize until that moment how much she’d missed those masculine scents in her home. How much she’d missed having a male presence when she noticed Kieran unscrewing the lightbulb centered over the sink, the one that had burned out some time ago.

“Got another bulb?” he asked.

Fortunately, she happened to be in the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, the bulbs were on the top shelf out of her reach, and unless she put out an all-points bulletin on the step stool that had mysteriously gone missing two weeks ago, she’d have to ask for assistance. “I have some up extra bulbs in here, but I’m too short to get to them without help.”

He came up behind her and stood so close that her breath hitched hard in her chest. When he reached up and took the box with ease, he brushed against her back, stealing her breath completely. Then he moved away and she muttered, “Thanks,” before putting the last can and her composure back into place.

With Kieran standing in her kitchen, it would be nothing short of a miracle if she had enough presence of mind to prepare a meal. At least Stormy would keep him occupied for a while.

Kieran changed the bulb with little effort while Erica retrieved the ingredients for dinner, thankfully without flipping the snapper onto the floor. She could sense he was watching her as she pulled the bakeware from the drawer beneath the stove opposite the sink where he still stood.

“How many clients have you kissed before?” Erica blurted without thought, then ventured a quick glance behind her to gauge his reaction, only to find he didn’t seem at all insulted by the question.

“Honestly?”

She turned and leaned back against the stove, casserole dish in hand. “Honesty is the best policy, as they say.”

Now he looked extremely serious. “None.”

She tightened her grip on the dish for fear it might end up on the tile in pieces. “Not one?”

“Nope. I’ve always adhered to the rules.”

Unbelievable. “Why me?”

He forked a hand through his hair. “After all that laughing at my expense, it could be I was trying to shut you up.”

That might have angered her had he not been smiling when he’d said it. “I guess that’s one way to do it.”

Kieran started to speak but instead cleared his throat. “We have company.”

She leaned forward to discover Stormy sitting at the nearby dinette, tying her new sneakers. Not knowing how long she’d been there, Erica prayed her daughter hadn’t overheard the conversation. That would require a very lengthy explanation.

“Are you ready, kiddo?” Kieran asked as he joined Stormy at the table.

She nodded and said, “Where’s the ball and glove?”

“In my bag in the den. We can get it on our way out.”

“You can go in the backyard,” Erica said. “It’s fenced.”

He ruffled Stormy’s hair. “The backyard it is. I’ll meet you there.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Stormy charged out the back door while Kieran temporarily left the room before returning with the ball and two gloves. She expected him to make a quick exit but instead he came back into the kitchen. “Regarding our previous discussion, I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

Erica stopped unwrapping the fish to listen. “Which part?”

“About shutting you up. Truth is, you’re damned sexy when you’re laughing and you flash those dimples. So do me a favor and don’t do it again.”

Sexy? She was sexy? Well how about that. “I’ll try not to laugh in your presence from now on, but I make no promises.”

“That’s all I ask.” He headed out the door, taking his incredible scent and sensual smile with him.

Erica had the urge to sing while she went about preparing the food. She also had the urge to laugh. Her spirits had definitely been buoyed by his declaration, and also by the scene taking place outside the garden window.

Stormy threw the ball to Kieran with accuracy, with more exuberance than she’d witnessed from her child before. And Kieran softly tossed the ball back, undoubtedly making certain she wasn’t injured in any way. Sheer joy showed in both their faces, and Erica experienced it, too, as well as some trepidation.

Someday in the near future, Kieran wouldn’t be around to play catch, something Stormy would have to deal with. But until then, Erica wouldn’t begrudge her daughter these moments, and hoped that when the time came, they could both let him go without regret.

While Erica and Stormy loaded the last of the dishes in the washer, Kieran remained at the table and watched the pair interact. He had to admit, he’d enjoyed every minute of the dinner, even if he did detest fish. But he valued the company most of all, mainly the back-and-forth banter between mother and daughter that bordered on comical at times. They didn’t always agree on everything, but they were obviously devoted to each other.

As much as he’d enjoyed himself so far, he had to remember he’d come there for two reasons—to help Stormy with softball, and to fulfill his obligation to Erica by putting her through a workout, and not the workout he’d envisioned over the past two days. He wanted to blame his brother for putting the thoughts in his head, but he could only blame himself. He’d been keenly aware of his attraction to Erica from the moment he’d stepped onto her front porch. Denying that attraction wouldn’t change anything. Acting on impulse would, which was why he needed to remember why he was there.

After checking his watch, Kieran realized he’d come close to overstaying his welcome. “If you two are done, it’s time to get to work.”

Erica came back to the table and dropped into the opposing chair. “Just give me five more minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Stormy took the chair next to her mother. “Can I watch you exercise, Mom?”

“No, you cannot, missy,” Erica said. “But you can get ready for bed, put away your clean clothes and read the rest of the book you have to finish by Thursday.”

Stormy pushed back from the table, stood and sulked toward the hallway before turning around. “Did you call Kaylee’s mom about the party?”

“I haven’t had time, Stormy, but I’ll call her tomorrow. Now scoot.”

Not only did Stormy fail to scoot, she returned to the table again, this time positioning herself next to Kieran. “Mom doesn’t want me to go to the party because boys are going to be there. That’s not fair, is it?”

Fair or not, he wasn’t about to offer his opinion for fear of screwing up again and suffering Erica’s wrath. “That’s between you and your mom, kiddo.”

Erica pointed toward the hall. “Go, Stormy.”

Stormy blew out an exaggerated breath. “Okay. But I still don’t think it’s fair.”

After Stormy left, Kieran couldn’t help but chuckle. “She’s pretty damn headstrong, isn’t she?”

Erica released a humorless laugh. “You could say that. On one hand, it drives me nuts. On the other, her tenacity’s gotten her through some really tough times. I just wish she’d learn a little moderation.”

“Moderation is good,” he said. “So was dinner.”

She leaned forward, braced an elbow on the table and supported her cheek with her palm. “Was it? I thought the fish was kind of dry.”

A little, but he wasn’t going to say anything to hurt her feelings. “It was fine. Best fish I’ve had in a long time.” The only fish he’d had in years.

“Do you think I’m being too protective about the party?”

He could lie and guarantee a pleasant remainder of the evening, or he could be truthful and possibly be prematurely asked to leave. “How old are the boys?”

“Mostly eleven-year-olds, I’d guess.”

“Eleven-year-old boys aren’t too bad. Twelve is another story altogether.”

She smiled, bringing her dimples into full view. “I suppose you should know since you were one once.”

“A long time ago, but I still remember some of it.” Especially the memories that involved sticking up for his brother on the playground, before Kevin had finally caught up in size to everyone else his age and started fighting his own battles.

“Then you think she’d be okay if I let her go?”

He didn’t particularly care for being put on the spot, but since she’d asked…“I think you should trust her to make the right decisions. She’s a smart kid with a good head on her shoulders.”

Erica leaned back against the chair and sighed. “But it seems so important to her to fit in. I worry that peer pressure could lead her to make the wrong decisions. On the way home from the club Saturday night, she actually asked me about kissing. She’s not even eleven yet.”

That could mean only one thing. “She didn’t happen to see—”

“I don’t think so,” Erica said. “In fact, I know she didn’t. Otherwise, she would’ve asked me point-blank why we were…” Her gaze drifted away. “You know.”

Oh, yeah, he knew. He’d thought about that kiss more than once tonight. Watching Erica eat hadn’t helped. She had an incredible mouth that he’d like to know much better. And if he didn’t get his mind back on track, he might end up making the same mistake again. “As far as Stormy and this party goes, I understand you have her best interests at heart, but I also know from experience that if you keep the hold on her too tight, she’ll rebel. My mother went through the same thing with Kevin. She was overprotective to a fault, and the backlash wasn’t good.”

Erica looked as stiff as a steel beam, and royally ticked off. “I believe I’m perfectly justified in my concern for her. And it’s not as if I don’t let her go anywhere.”

“That’s true, and I strongly believe in structure where kids are concerned. But Stormy’s desire to play softball and attend a boy-girl party isn’t the same as her asking if she can spend spring break in Cancun.”

Erica rubbed both hands over her face. “Thanks for reminding me what I have to look forward to in a few years.” She dropped her palms onto the table and stood. “Since I don’t want to think about that now, let’s move on to the suffering you’re going to put me through. Otherwise, I’m going to get to bed late.”

He’d prefer she not mention the word bed. Bed plus Erica equaled more questionable ideas. “Any suggestions on where we’re going to do this?”

“In the family room,” she said as she headed out of the kitchen.

He followed her down the hall, and once in the den, he took a quick look around. “We need to move the furniture back.”

“Okay. You take the coffee table and I’ll take the chair.”

While he pushed the table closer to the sofa that rested against one wall, Erica moved behind the chair and pulled it back toward the window. She glanced over her shoulder and laughed.

“What’s so funny this time?” he asked.

“I just realized that anyone driving by got an up-close-and-personal view of my butt. I hope the home-owner’s association doesn’t fine me for contributing to an eyesore. They have strict rules about abandoned cars, overgrown lawns, large posteriors in picture windows.”

For some reason, the comment brought about Kieran’s anger. “This whole self-deprecating thing you have going on about your body—you need to stop it. If you could see what I see every day at the club, people who are in a life-and-death struggle to lose massive amounts of weight, then you’d realize you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She looked sufficiently contrite. “Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”

“I know,” he said, his voice much calmer than before. “And I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you.”

“Not a problem. Someone needs to keep me in line.”

Determined to get back down to business, Kieran walked to the foyer where he’d left his equipment bag and returned to find Erica standing at the shelves, studying the photo of her husband. Aside from the deaths of his elderly grandparents over a span of several years, he’d never experienced much loss. He didn’t know how she’d coped with everything she’d been through. Yeah, he did know—by keeping her sense of humor. And that only made him feel worse about his earlier outburst.

After setting the bag aside, he moved behind her and surveyed the photo she continued to hold in her grip. “Must be tough, all the reminders.”

After setting the picture back in place, she turned and gave him a tentative smile. “Sometimes they provide comfort. I was just thinking about how Jeff used to tell me the same thing you just told me. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. So from this point forward, I vow to look in the mirror every morning and tell myself that I’m special. As long as I’m not naked.”

Yeah, some habits were hard to break, and it could take some time for her to break them, Kieran realized. In the meantime, he’d cut her some slack. “All kidding aside, let’s get started.”

“I’m game. Where do we begin?”

Kieran rifled through the bag and withdrew two hand weights. “We’ll start with these. Five pounds each. Just a few curls.”

Erica did as he instructed without complaining at all. She fully cooperated as he put her through several exercises, including five full-out sprints up and down the driveway, followed by the notorious crunches that had gotten them into trouble during their last session. Only this time, he used his voice, not his hands, to encourage her.

After she’d done two sets of twenty, he told her, “Stand up. I want you to do one more thing, then we’re done for the night.”

She came to her feet and tugged her bulky sweatshirt down over her hips. “Don’t tell me. You want me to bench-press the couch.”

He couldn’t stop his grin. “No. I want you to put your hands on my chest and try to resist me.”

She returned his smile. “Bet you say that to all the women you know.”

“Just do what you’re told without the commentary.”

She gave him a sharp, one-handed salute. “Yes, sir.”

He balled his fists against his chest. “Grab my hands, angle your body away and don’t let me move.”

“Oh, sure. Why don’t we go outside and I’ll push your Porsche around the block?”

“We’ll try that next week, and next week will be here if you don’t get started.”

“Fine, but don’t expect too much.”

When she clasped his hands and delivered only a minimal push, he firmed his frame and pushed back. “Harder, Erica.”

“I’m trying.” And she did try, but not enough for his liking.

“Keep going,” he demanded. “You’re not using your legs.”

Scowling, she regrouped and tried again, and he continued to prod her. “Push harder. Don’t let me come forward. Not even an inch. Pretend you’re fending me off because your life depends upon it.”

Erica unexpectedly stopped, straightened, and before Kieran could level his next command, she planted her mouth on his. All his prior thoughts of right and wrong went by the wayside, thanks to her boldness, her man-killing lips and her unmistakable enthusiasm. She kissed him with no holds barred, adequately robbing him of any remaining scrap of free will.

He recognized he shouldn’t put his arms around Erica, but he did—shouldn’t actively participate, but he did that, too. If he didn’t stop now, he was in danger of taking her down on the sofa where anything could happen, and most likely would. But before he tossed out all common sense, Erica abruptly ended the kiss and took a step back, her eyes wide with the surprise he was also experiencing at the moment.

He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “What the hell was that?”

She shrugged. “I failed to resist you. Or maybe I was trying to shut you up.”

“It worked.”

“Yes, it did, and quite well I might add.”

Damn, he didn’t know whether to reprimand her or thank her. “You only have to tell me to be quiet.”

“Oh. I never even considered that.” She finished off the comment with a smile to beat all smiles, putting her dimples back on display.

She might not be smiling if she knew how hard it was for him not to kiss her again. How hard he was, period. “We’re finished now.”

She stretched her arms above her head. “Good. I’m tired.”

How the hell could she be so cool after that hot kiss? “Erica, the last time this happened, I told you—”

“It wouldn’t happen again.” She moved in closer and patted his chest, right above his thrumming heart. “Because you don’t kiss clients. Don’t worry, I kissed you, so your ethics are still intact.”

“That’s pretty skewed logic.” Even though he admittedly liked her way of thinking.

She inched a little closer, an almost predatory twinkle in her eye. “Does it bother you, having a woman make the first move?”

Did it bother him? Oh, yeah. In ways she couldn’t know unless she moved completely against him, or took a look down south. “We agreed we can’t do this.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to anything aside from the personal training, but if that’s the way you want it, then you’ll get no argument from me.”

Kieran noted a hint of vulnerability in Erica’s eyes and hated that he shared responsibility in putting it there. “At any other time, under different circumstances, if you kissed me like that, we’d be naked about now. But I’m still your trainer, you’re still my client, and as long as that holds true, we both need to control ourselves.”

“Fine. I have to see if Stormy’s in bed.”

Kieran found it amazing that she’d gone from sexy she-devil to typical-mom mode as easily as flipping a light switch. “Come to the club tomorrow at 6:00 p.m. and be prepared to work for at least two hours. We’ll cover cardio and strength training then.”

“Okay. I’ll bring Stormy.” Her smile came out of hiding again. “We probably need a chaperone.”

Without responding, Kieran picked up his bag, rushed out the door and drove away before he did something stupid, like go back inside and ask her if he could stay the night. His mother’s talk about honor drifted back into his brain, and as much as he wanted to make love to Erica—and he damn sure wanted that—wisdom dictated he remain strong in his convictions, or back out as her trainer and get out of her life while he still could.

He couldn’t lay claim to much wisdom at the moment, because no matter how close he was to a possible train wreck, he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing Erica again.

Chapter Six

After what she’d pulled last night, Erica worried she might not have enough courage to face Kieran again. But there she was, behind the wheel and on the road to Bodies By O’Brien, preparing to confront the man responsible for some fairly suspect behavior on her part. No doubt about it, her spontaneous attempt at seduction had all the grace of a horny teenage boy on his first date. At least Kieran hadn’t acted totally repulsed when she’d kissed him. In fact, he’d joined right in. And that whole naked thing was encouraging—encouraging her to work twice as hard at getting in shape. If the opportunity for lovemaking presented itself, with Kieran or with any man for that matter, she would have to…well…get naked. A prime motivator for success.

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