The Mommy Makeover Read online

  She’d be lying if she said she did mind. In fact, she’d thought about nothing else since Kieran had left the spa an hour ago. “I don’t mind a bit, but aren’t we going to exercise first?” She gestured toward the rolling duffel stuffed with both massage and exercise gear. “I brought my clothes.”

  “We can do that afterward since you’re still dressed for work.”

  Good point. “Okay. Lead the way.”

  Erica followed Kieran into the gym past the huffing and puffing patrons and into a lengthy corridor. Not far from a large break room, he stopped and opened a door that revealed a bare, padded table, a small metal cabinet with a counter and sink, and not much else.

  “Will this work?” he asked.

  “There’s no cradle for your face, but I guess it will do.” She moved inside, opened the bag and withdrew her own trusty clipboard. “Fill this out and sign it.”

  He took the offered forms and scowled. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

  “As necessary as the forms you had me complete.”

  “Fine.” He perched on the edge of the table, jotted down the information in record time and scribbled his signature before handing it back to her.

  “No recent fevers, infections or surgeries?” she asked as she scanned his almost illegible handwriting.

  He tapped his finger on the board. “It’s all there. I’m the picture of perfect health.”

  She put the clipboard back in the bag, pulled out the towels and sheets she borrowed from the spa and then draped them over the surface. “Since this isn’t a standard table, the bedding might slip so you’ll have to be still.”

  “I’ll probably be asleep ten minutes into the drill.”

  Erica noticed he did look a little tired, not that it detracted from his incredible looks. “Having trouble sleeping?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Me, too.”

  Turning to the counter, she set out the supplies she’d brought with her and wondered whether their recent lip action had contributed to his insomnia. It certainly had contributed to hers.

  Time to return to the task at hand. “After I leave the room, you can undress down to your comfort level,” she said, after she faced him again.

  “You mean leaving on my underwear as opposed to stripping completely?”

  “Precisely.”

  “If I take everything off, will you be uncomfortable?”

  The comment held no innuendo, only concern. “Look, Kieran, when you’re on that table, you’re just like any other client.” At least that’s how she intended to view him. “Just remember, whatever clothes you leave on could impact the effectiveness of the massage. Also remember, you’ll be draped.”

  “I wear boxer-briefs, midthigh.”

  That took away all the usual guesswork. “Then if you don’t want your legs done, leave them on.”

  “I want a full-body, so they’re coming off.”

  At least she had been forewarned. “Okay. I’ll step out of the room while you get undressed. Once you’re done, stretch out on your belly and cover your lower half with the other sheet.”

  “I’m familiar with the massage routine,” he said.

  So was Erica, provided she could actually remember the technique after he took off his clothes. Of course she could. She was a therapist, well trained in objectivity when it came to the process. “Do you want therapeutic or relaxation?”

  “How about a combination of both?”

  “I can do that. Now let’s get this started.”

  Without waiting for her departure, Kieran pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, giving her a clear view of what she’d only imagined until that moment. He had pecs to beat all pecs, a light sprinkling of hair at his sternum and the typical six-pack. Make that a twelve-pack. Lordy, she could bounce a quarter off his abs. And if she didn’t exit quickly, she might be tempted to ask if he’d let her try that.

  “See you in a bit,” she managed as she hurried out and practically slammed the door, using it for support until she could recover from her first good look at Kieran’s body. She needed to get a solid handle on her hormones, otherwise she’d never be able to go through with this. And that was absurd. She’d massaged nice-looking, well-built men before, including a few athletes from the local universities. Granted, not once had she experienced such a strong reaction to a male physique. Then again, she didn’t recall any that could hold a candle to Kieran.

  Candles. Darn, she’d forgotten to bring them. Not necessarily a bad thing considering she might catch the place on fire, thank to her nerves. As far as aromatherapy was concerned, the sage lotion would have to do. Lotion that in only a few minutes, she would apply to Kieran’s fantastic flesh.

  She tingled all over, a totally inappropriate and unacceptable reaction. She had to don her professional persona and pretend that Kieran was any other customer, even if he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  After allowing him a sufficient amount of time to disrobe, she rapped on the door and called, “Are you ready?”

  “You bet.”

  Before she entered, Erica rolled her neck and shook out her arms and hands, exactly as she’d done years ago during meets. Aside from gymnastics, she’d faced many other challenges in her lifetime, and had met them all. She would endeavor to do the same with the challenge waiting for her behind the closed door.

  Yet all the bravado in the world couldn’t keep her from growing decidedly toasty when she pushed through the door and caught sight of Kieran’s clothes piled on the chair in the corner. She grew three-alarm hot when she centered her attention on Kieran stretched out the table, the gold cast to his skin contrasting with the white sheet covering his obviously bare hips. He had his head turned toward her, but his eyes were closed, a blessing since he couldn’t see how flushed she was at the moment.

  Slowly Erica moved to the counter, fumbling with the lotion before finally applying it to her palms. If only she could dim the lights. Since that wasn’t possible, she would have to rely on her strength of will.

  Like a surgeon preparing to operate, Erica turned with hands raised, ready to explore Kieran’s broad back, and immediately spotted a black dragon spanning the width of his left shoulder blade. “Interesting tattoo, but I’m surprised you didn’t go with those vines circling your arm.”

  “I couldn’t hide that from my mother. She’s not too keen on tattoos.”

  Erica found that somewhat endearing, and unanticipated. Kieran didn’t fit her idea of a mama’s boy. “Why did you choose a dragon?”

  “It’s the Celtic symbol of power. I’ve had it since I was eighteen. When I finally did come clean with my dad about it, he informed me it also symbolized fertility, and he personally knows all about fertility.”

  Erica immediately recalled her mother’s claims that Mr. Collins, their neighbor and father of seven, was so fertile he only had to hang his pants on the bedpost to get his wife pregnant. She made a mental note to avoid Kieran’s pants, particularly since fertility could very well run in the family. But then, making a baby with Kieran could be extremely fun…What was she thinking?

  She shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than getting on with the massage. Yet when a scar that ran beneath the tattoo captured her attention, she traced the jagged line with a fingertip and asked, “What happened here?”

  “I fell out of a tree and caught a limb on the way down when I was twelve. It took about twenty stitches to close it up.”

  “Ouch.” Funny, she’d expected something other than a tree-climbing accident. “I thought maybe you’d had a sports injury.”

  “I had one of those, too,” he said. “I blew out my knee in college. I was a catcher so that pretty much ended my pro baseball aspirations.”

  A shattered dream. Erica could relate. “That’s when you started down the personal training path?”

  “Yeah, during rehab. I decided to combine the sports with therapy and use my business degree to open the clubs.”

 
Smart. Very smart. Definitely brains to go along with all the brawn. Lots and lots of brawn.

  He glanced back at her and frowned. “Are you going to actually do something other than quiz me about my tat and scars?”

  Yes, Erica, do something. And that something meant she had to touch him, not eyeball him. “Sorry,” she muttered as she glided her hands over the breadth of his taut back, as enthralled as a child playing with mud for the very first time. As she would with any other client, she applied moderate pressure with her thumbs along his spine and lightened her touch when she came to his rib cage. He twitched a bit, indicating he could be a little ticklish there. As much as she wanted to find out, she pulled herself back into massage-therapist mode, but not before she’d given herself a harsh mental reprimand for leaving that mode in the first place.

  For several minutes, Erica concentrated on his upper and middle torso before traveling to his lower back, stopping right before skin ended and sheet began. A thin sheet that presented a tempting outline of a spectacular butt. She battled the urge to take a peek. Just a little peek.

  Oh, good grief. She was behaving like a woman who’d never seen male buttocks before.

  Hairy back…hairy back…hairy back…

  Erica slid her hands upward and immediately found a knot between his neck and shoulder. She applied a good deal of pressure on the spot, prompting a groan from Kieran.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked.

  She continued to knead the spot without letting up. “I’m trying to release this pressure point.”

  “You’re trying to punish me as payback for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

  Men could be such babies. “I’m trying to help you, Kieran, just like you’re trying to help me. But if it’s too much for you, I’ll stop.”

  “Go ahead. I can handle it. But I would like to relax at some point in time.”

  She only lingered awhile longer before she turned the technique to relaxation. “How’s that feel?”

  “Great,” he murmured.

  “Are you relaxed yet?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  Erica had arrived at the point where she needed to change her focus. With that in mind, she folded the sheet back to expose his left leg. An incredible leg with calves that should be registered as lethal weapons. Taut, powerfully built thighs that drew Erica as strongly as her favorite mint-chocolate-chip ice cream. She went back to the counter for more lotion, seeking a moment to regroup before resuming her duty. And what a delightful duty it was, curling her hands over the hair-dusted terrain, absorbing all the details while attempting to ignore her very female response—inadvisable, unwarranted female response.

  Like Kieran, she’d always been a stickler for professionalism. Granted, she knew her regulars fairly well, knew about their kids, their jobs and at times served as surrogate counselor although she rarely offered opinions. She’d always been able to manage a friendly demeanor as well as a necessary detachment, where with Kieran everything she’d learned through school and experience evaporated into oblivion. Then again, she hadn’t kissed any of her regulars, either.

  Determined to get through this with her wits intact, Erica rounded the table and went to work on the other leg, more objectively than she had with the first through sheer will alone. The time had arrived to work on his front side, and Erica vowed she would not allow his perfect chest to affect her. “Roll over,” she said as she lifted the sheet and turned her head to one side to avoid earning even a glimpse at those intimate parts concealed by the cotton sheet.

  “I can’t.” His voice sounded strained.

  She dropped the sheet back into place. “I promise I’m not going to look.”

  “I mean I seriously can’t turn over.”

  Confused over his resistance, she said, “I’m fairly sure I did nothing to paralyze you, so either you don’t like what I’ve done so far, or you did like it and you’re so relaxed you can’t move.”

  He lifted his head again and looked back at her. “Take my word for it, I’m not relaxed. Not in the least.”

  Apparently she’d failed miserably in her attempts to impress him. “Am I not meeting your expectations?”

  “You’ve exceeded them. In fact, you’re too good at what you do.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He crossed his arms and tipped his forehead against them. “The problem is, I can’t turn over without losing a damn good deal of my dignity.”

  Understanding finally broke through Erica’s momentary bewilderment, sending her into clinician’s mode. “Don’t worry. Arousal’s not uncommon, especially with men. An erection is a normal reaction to certain stimuli.”

  “I know all about the parasympathetic nervous system and reaction to stimuli.” His voice held a hint of anger that couldn’t be ignored. “I also know my own body, and this has never happened to me before, at least not to this extent.”

  Erica worried that she’d subconsciously contributed to his discomfort. Had she been too light with her touch? Too curious? She’d learned how to deal with this very situation during her studies, but this was a man she secretly fantasized about—all the more reason why she shouldn’t have agreed to the massage. “I could return to the therapeutic approach and apply more pressure, unless you’d prefer to stop now.”

  The smile he sent her was patently cynical. “No, I don’t want you to stop, but I think you better because no amount of pressure’s going to cure me right now. At least not the kind you’re offering.”

  “I’m sorry, Kieran,” she said. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

  He reached back and clasped her hand. “It’s not your fault. Okay, indirectly it is your fault. But I’m not going to hold it against you.”

  “That’s nice to know,” she said after he released his hold on her. “What now?”

  “Go change and get started on the treadmill. I’ll be there as soon as I’m decent.”

  Chapter Seven

  Right now Kieran could carry a three-hundred-pound weight across the parking lot, twice, and still struggle to remain decent. Short of attempting that feat, he’d done just about all he could do to calm himself down while coaching Erica, from bench-pressing to boxing the bag suspended in the corner of the room. He’d gone back to the weights again in an effort to work off more steam. Regardless, he was still on edge, barely hanging on to control. Nothing new there. He’d been avoiding that slippery slope since he’d met Erica. And the damn massage had nearly pushed him over the cliff.

  Not that she’d done anything to encourage his reaction. But having her hands on his body, any part of his body, had been enough to contribute to his current state. He’d been a fool to think otherwise considering the nights he’d lain awake, fantasizing about her touching him, and not necessarily his back.

  Since the workout had begun, Erica had been quiet, even when he’d pressed her for more effort. She hadn’t even argued with him once. He could only assume she suffered from as much discomfort as he did, and he felt damn guilty about that.

  “I’m done,” she called from the spin bike where she’d been going at it for a good twenty minutes. “What do you want me to do now?”

  He could think of a few responses to that, none of which were respectable. After placing the barbell back on the rack, he sat up on the bench and swiped the back of his arm over his forehead. “That’s all for tonight.”

  She slid off the bike and walked to the bench. “Are you sure? I still have forty-five minutes until I have to pick Stormy up from the party.”

  “Feel free to hang out here. I’m not going anywhere.” Except insane, he realized when Erica took a drink of water and slid the tip of her tongue over her lips.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “I’m dying to see your apartment. You can give me the tour you promised.”

  “Sure.” He’d answered too quickly. Apparently the process that had rerouted his blood supply from his brain to behind his fly prevented him from thinking clea
rly. But he couldn’t very well rescind the offer now without having to explain why being alone with her wasn’t such a hot idea.

  When he failed to move, Erica stared down at him. “Since you’ve exercised enough to last a year, do I need to help you up?”

  “No.” He came to his feet to prove he didn’t need her assistance. “And I’ve worked harder before.” He was working hard now not to touch her.

  “I’m sure you have.” She took a fast glance around the room. “Where exactly is your apartment?”

  “Right this way.” He grabbed a towel en route to the door at the rear of the area. A towel might come in handy later, something he could stuff in his mouth when the temptation to kiss her stole his common sense.

  After pounding out the code and releasing the lock, Kieran opened the door and gestured toward the staircase. “Up there, two flights.”

  Erica faced him and smiled. “What? No elevator?”

  “Elevators are for people who either can’t walk the stairs, or for those who won’t walk. I don’t qualify in either instance.”

  She held up her hands. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to be so cranky.”

  He hadn’t meant to be cranky, but his bad mood centered on his anger at himself, not at her. “I’ll try to be nicer.” But not too nice.

  She followed him up the stairs and remained silent until he keyed in the code that unlocked the apartment. “I feel like we’re about to enter the headquarters of the secret fitness police,” she said. “No wonder you admire my alarm system.”

  Unable to hold back a smile, he opened the door and gestured her inside. “It’s just your average, two-bedroom, two-bath apartment.”

  Erica strolled through the foyer and once in the great room, she turned a full circle before facing him again. “Average apartment? This is incredible. I love the contemporary look and I really love the spiral staircase.”

  Kieran tossed the towel on the back of the leather sofa. “It’s okay, but not very practical when it comes to moving furniture.” Maybe he should try moving some furniture up the stairs. Maybe then he could get his libido reined in. He opted instead to visit the built-in wet bar, intent on having a drink in an attempt to relax, and to put some distance between them. “Want a glass of wine?”