The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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