The Mommy Makeover Read online

  As they neared Kieran’s office, Stormy broke free and burst inside without knocking. Erica could hear her daughter conversing with Kieran, and that alone sent her heart rate into overdrive. Walking into the room and seeing Kieran wearing a white tank instead of his usual T-shirt did not help her cardiac health one bit. The fluorescent light illuminated every muscular curve, from the tips of his broad shoulders to the bulk of his biceps. And those heavenly thighs…

  “Mom?”

  Erica yanked her gaze from Kieran’s attributes to Stormy, who looked somewhat puzzled. “What, sweetie?”

  “You didn’t say hi to Kieran.”

  Somehow her child had become the mother while she’d reverted to a teenager. A lascivious teenager at that. She sought out Kieran’s face, which was a much more appropriate focal point. “How are you this evening, Kieran?”

  “I’m good.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Stormy tells me you’re letting her go to the party Friday night.”

  Erica set her bag on the chair near the door. “Yes, as long as she does her homework and chores.”

  “I will,” Stormy said with certainty. “And while I’m at the party, you can come here to the club.”

  “That’s not going to work,” Erica said.

  Kieran delivered a half smile with a full punch. “Are you going to chaperone?”

  If she could get away with it without totally alienating her child, she would. “I have to drop Stormy off, plus my last massage appointment doesn’t end until seven-thirty—”

  “The party starts at seven, Mom. Can’t you cancel your appointment?”

  “No, I cannot, unless you want to get a job to pay the bills, and I don’t think you’re employable yet. Therefore, you’ll have to be late.” She regarded Kieran again. “And I’ll have to work extra hard tomorrow and Thursday to make up for it.”

  Kieran rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “I won’t be available on Thursday, so we’ll just get a late start on Friday. I don’t have anything better to do.”

  Erica couldn’t fathom a man like Kieran O’Brien not having a Friday-night date. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You can meet me here after you take Stormy to the party.”

  Stormy looked up at Kieran. “Can you take me to the party, Kieran? That way I can be there on time, and you and Mom can start earlier.”

  “Stormy Jane Stevens, you cannot randomly ask people to be your personal chauffeur.”

  “It’s okay,” Kieran said. “I don’t have a problem dropping her off.” He winked. “We can go in the Porsche.”

  Stormy grabbed his hand and began to dance a jig. “The other kids will be so jealous!”

  Erica would’ve loved to dissolve into the industrial-grade carpet. “Stormy, why don’t you go get some juice. You can bring me back some water.”

  Stormy wrinkled her freckled nose. “You’re going to talk about me, aren’t you?”

  Precisely. Erica gestured toward the door. “Go get the juice.”

  “Okay.” Stormy dragged her feet on the way out the door, looking pitiful and put-upon.

  After making certain her daughter was out of earshot, she said, “You don’t have to do this, Kieran. I could arrange for someone at the spa to give her a ride.”

  “You need something to distract you Friday night, otherwise you’ll be sitting at home, worrying about eleven-year-old boys fraternizing with your daughter.”

  “Gee, thanks. I’d almost put that out of my mind.”

  He released a low, sexy rumble of a laugh. “I’ll keep you occupied so you won’t have to think about it.”

  She could think of a few ways she’d like to be occupied by Kieran, none of which had anything to do with physical fitness, or at least not the traditional kind. “All right, if you insist. You can pick Stormy up from the spa and I’ll meet you here after I’m through with my last appointment.”

  “Great. I’ll be there at six-thirty.”

  “And before this is all over, I’m going to owe you a lot.”

  He leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “You could repay me Friday night by giving me that massage. I have a part-time P.T. who comes in to evaluate injuries. We can use her room.”

  The thought of Kieran lying on a table, nude, might challenge her own professionalism. But she could handle it. She would handle it. If need be, she’d imagine him with a hairy back. “Great. I’ll bring my supplies with me.”

  A span of silence passed before Erica added, “And as far as last night goes, I want you to know that wasn’t me at all. Must be the endorphins.”

  “We’ll forget it about for now.”

  Like she could really do that. “I agree. From this point forward, we’ll start over with a clean slate and pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened.”

  Yet her life had been anything but ordinary since she’d met him, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to settle for ordinary again.

  “How do I look, Mom?”

  Erica paused from refilling the aromatherapy oil to see her daughter standing in the doorway, her strawberry-blond hair cascading in curls over her small shoulders. She wore a burgundy fitted blouse, denim skirt, black ballet slippers and…makeup?

  “Stormy, what is that on your face?”

  Bette stepped from behind Stormy and beamed. “It’s just a little blush and lipstick, honey. Actually, colored lip gloss. Doesn’t she look pretty?”

  As far as Erica was concerned, she looked like an elementary school harlot. “She’s ten years old, Bette, not sixteen. She shouldn’t be wearing anything that remotely resembles makeup.”

  Stormy looked highly disgusted. “I’ll be eleven in a few weeks, Mother.”

  “Eleven’s still too young for makeup, Stormy. And what happened to the outfit we picked out last night?”

  Stormy wrinkled her nose, displaying more disdain. “I didn’t want to wear my old jeans, and the top’s too babyish.”

  Too babyish? She’d bought it for her right before school started. “Where did you get this outfit?”

  Stormy twirled around and grinned. “It’s Lisa’s. She let me borrow it.”

  Obviously Candice exercised no real control over her daughter’s clothes. “That skirt’s rather short, don’t you think?”

  Bette rested her hands on Stormy’s shoulders. “It’s barely above her knees, sugar. Besides, she has such nice legs. She should show them off.”

  Considering the time, Erica couldn’t do a thing about the skirt, but she could manage other aspects of her daughter’s current look. After rounding the table, she yanked a tissue from the holder on the bureau and offered it to Stormy. “Take off the blush. You can wear the lip gloss.” Hopefully it would be gone by the time she reached the party, otherwise some prepubescent male partygoer might attempt to take it off for her.

  “But, Mom—”

  “Do you want to go to the party or hang out with me all night?”

  Stormy grabbed the tissue and began to swipe furiously at her cheeks, then handed it back to Erica. “Are you happy now?”

  She’d be happier if her daughter could stay young forever. Yet she couldn’t lock her up until she turned eighteen, so she’d simply have to trust her to make wise decisions, as Kieran had pointed out. “That’s much better. You still look gorgeous.” And she did. If only Jeff could see their baby girl now—healthy, happy and about to attend her first coed party. Only now did she realize how quickly time had passed, the true brevity of life. How far she and Stormy had come from those days filled with sorrow and anxiety.

  The intercom crackled, startling Erica back into the present. “Your six-thirty appointment’s here, Erica, and so is Stormy’s date. I should be so lucky, but isn’t he a little old for her?”

  Ignoring the receptionist’s remarks, Erica depressed the intercom button and said, “Thanks, Megan. Tell Mr. Wellsly and Mr. O’Brien we’ll be right down.”

  Before Erica could take even a step, Stormy had spun arou
nd and run out the door. Bette hooked her arm through Erica’s and escorted her down the hall. “Face it, sugar. Your baby’s not a baby anymore.”

  Erica sighed. “I know. I just don’t want her growing up too fast.” As if she could prevent that from happening.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Bette blew out a low whistle before going back to her station, while Erica paused to savor the vision across the room. Kieran had discarded his typical fitness clothes for a pair of jeans, casual boots and a beige polo covered by a black leather bomber jacket. As always, his somewhat unruly, wavy hair took the “just crawled out of bed” look to new heights. Again he earned quite a bit of notice from the last remaining patrons, although he seemed oblivious to anything but Stormy’s nonstop chatter.

  Erica approached the pair and Kieran greeted her with a warm smile. “Are you sure you want to turn this kid loose on all those boys?”

  Just when she’d become more comfortable with the idea, he had to go and spoil it. “I’m going to ignore that comment.” She fished a slip of paper from her smock pocket and handed it to him. “Here’s the address to the party. It’s right around the block from Candice Conrad’s house.”

  “I know where that is,” he said.

  Of course he would. He’d probably been there often enough. Erica turned her attention to Stormy. “I’ll have my cell phone on if you want to leave early. Otherwise, I’ll pick you up a little before ten.”

  “Eleven,” Stormy said. “That’s when the party’s over. And I’m going to stay until the end.”

  Unwilling to cause a scene, Erica replied, “Fine. Have a good time, and behave yourself.”

  “I will.” She stared up at Kieran. “Can we go now?”

  “Sure. As soon as you give your mother a proper goodbye.”

  Stormy left Kieran’s side and threw her arms around Erica’s waist. “Thanks for letting me go, Mom. And don’t worry about the boys. Bette told me how to play hard to get.”

  The best advice Bette had doled out thus far. Advice that Erica should follow herself. But as Kieran escorted her daughter out of the salon, with his perfect physique, blatant self-assurance and head-turning gait on exhibit for all to enjoy, Erica concluded that playing easy to get seemed much more fun.

  “It’s that big beige house on the right.”

  Kieran didn’t need Stormy’s direction to know he’d arrived at the right place. The circular drive in front of the semi-mansion was filled with kids crawling out of several of the finest cars new money could buy. Like he was one to talk.

  His pulled the Porsche behind a blue Lexus belonging to none other than Candice Conrad. If his luck held out, he could have Stormy safely inside and be back in his car before the woman realized he’d come and gone. Apparently his luck sucked, he realized, when Candice happened to be coming out as they stepped onto the porch.

  She laid a dramatic hand right above her enhanced breasts and faked shock. “Why, Kieran, I’m certainly surprised to see you.”

  “He brought me because my Mom’s still at work,” Stormy interjected, before Kieran had a chance to explain. “Where’s Lisa, Mrs. Conrad?”

  “Inside in the game room, waiting for you.”

  Stormy smiled up at Kieran. “Thanks for the ride. And be sure to keep my mom busy so she doesn’t worry about me.”

  “You bet, kiddo,” he said. “Have a good time.”

  “I will.”

  As soon as Stormy entered the house and closed the door, Candice brought out a cynical grin. “Is that part of your job now, hiring out as a private driver for the client’s children? Funny, I don’t recall you offering to take my daughter anywhere while we were working together.”

  Her daughter wasn’t as good-natured as Stormy, something she came by naturally. “I’m just doing Erica a favor.”

  “Of course. Out of the goodness of your heart.”

  He’d tolerated more than enough of her sarcasm and smugness. “See you later, Candice.” As little as possible, if he had his way.

  But before he could take a step off the porch, she moved directly in front of him. “Did you hear I’m divorcing Everett?”

  Damn. He knew exactly where this was heading—down a path he didn’t intend to take. “Someone mentioned it, and I’m sorry to hear it.”

  She shifted the strap of her designer bag to her shoulder and smiled. “Since I’m now free to do as I please, and since you’re no longer my trainer, we should have dinner together tonight. I know this nice little bistro downtown that has the best quail.”

  Kieran didn’t find that at all appetizing, either the food or the company. “Sorry, I have plans.”

  Candice tapped a manicured finger against her chin. “That’s right, you’re supposed to keep Stormy’s mother occupied.”

  He could explain further to thwart any erroneous assumptions but opted to cut the conversation short. “That’s why I need to go.”

  Kieran stepped off the porch and practically sprinted to the car, but before he managed to open the door, he heard, “Are you servicing Erica in ways that don’t involve fitness, Kieran?”

  Although he wanted to get behind the wheel and speed away, he turned around in order to set the record straight. “You really have to ask that question, knowing how I feel about the client-trainer relationship?”

  “That’s right. You made it quite clear you don’t become personally involved with clients. But because you drove her daughter here, I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind, although for the life of me I can’t believe a woman like Erica Stevens would interest you. After all, you could have your pick from a number of thin, more attractive women.”

  If she’d been a man, she might have found herself laid out on the pavement. “Erica’s a beautiful woman, inside and out. She’s also unpretentious and that’s damn unusual these days. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

  Her hazel eyes widened. “You are sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

  “That doesn’t deserve a response, Candice.”

  Without giving her one, he slid into the car and waited only long enough to make sure the drive was clear before punching the accelerator. Maybe he hadn’t lied about sleeping with Erica, but he probably hadn’t succeeded in masking his feelings for her, either, and that could add fuel to Candice’s fire. He didn’t give a damn about what she thought, but he did care about Erica, and she could suffer some repercussions due to the socialite’s assumption. If that did happen, he’d have to come to her defense. In the meantime, he needed to keep a tight noose around his self-control. Otherwise, if he ran into Candice again, the next time he might be forced to lie.

  “Time to weigh in, Erica.”

  Kieran might as well have told her to jump out of a plane at ten thousand feet with no chute. Despite the fact that she’d avoided all sweets, ate only vegetables and lean meats and put her body through the rigors of exercise every day for the past week, Erica continued to stare at the scale, looming large like some giant, evil entity, even though it was little more than a platform and a skinny pole with a box balanced on top.

  “Just do it, Erica,” Kieran said as he stood nearby, clipboard in hand.

  “Is this absolutely necessary?”

  “Yes. You’ll probably be surprised by the results.”

  True, she could be surprised, and quite possibly disappointed. She ventured a quick glance his way before facing her nemesis again. “Do you have to watch?”

  “I need to chart your progress.”

  “Provided I have progressed,” she muttered.

  “You won’t know until you get on the scale.”

  Erica’s legs had the consistency of bread dough as she stepped onto the platform. Maybe he had to look, but she didn’t, the reason why she closed her eyes and waited for the verdict. And waited…

  “Well?” she asked when Kieran failed to speak.

  “I’d say six pounds is progress.”

  So certain he couldn’t be telling the truth, Erica’s eyes shot open
as she sought confirmation—confirmation that came when she stared at the number flashing before her. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Believe it, and congratulations.”

  She wanted to shout, dance, scream and, at the very least, hug the man partially responsible for her weight loss. And that’s exactly what she did—stepped off the scale and threw her arms around his neck.

  When Kieran tensed, the joy over her success suddenly faded, causing Erica to break all contact. His reaction shouldn’t shock her; he’d been the perfect portrait of professionalism since Monday. During their sessions Tuesday and Wednesday night, he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t made any suggestive comments. Of course, Stormy had been present, so he certainly hadn’t kissed her. In fact, he’d barely looked at her at all. He wasn’t looking at her now, either.

  She strived to reclaim a calm she didn’t remotely feel before she spoke again. “You’re a miracle worker, O’Brien.”

  Finally, he met her gaze. “Don’t give me all the credit. You’ve worked hard the past few days. You deserve it.”

  She also deserved an award for acting as if his rejection didn’t sting like a swarm of wasps. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

  He crossed the room and set the clipboard on a nearby table before coming back to her. “Not to put a damper on the weight loss, but from now on, you’re probably going to level off to one or two pounds a week. Maybe three.”

  That didn’t do much to lift her spirits. “I understand that. Gradual weight loss is best. Regardless, I’m grateful for your help.” She raised her hand in oath. “And I promise you will get the very best massage money can buy as payment for your expertise.”

  His smile lightened Erica’s mood. “Are you sure you don’t mind doing it tonight?”