The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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