The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire: The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire. KRISTI GOLD
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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