KRISTI GOLD - The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire - The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire

Funny, Lisa’s mom hadn’t seemed all that interested in his fitness skills. “Look, Stormy, personal training is expensive and—”

“I know that.” She unzipped her backpack, pulled out a fistful of crumpled bills and held them out to him. “I saved up all my allowance. It’s almost eighty dollars. That should pay for a month, right?”

That would seem like a lot of money to a ten-year-old kid, but that amount didn’t even cover an hour of Kieran’s standard fee. “Tell you what. I’ll give your mom a three-month membership for free. How’s that?”

Now she looked completely dejected. “After school I go to the spa where she works, and I heard her tell the ladies that someday she wanted to hire a personal trainer, when she had some extra money. That’s why I have to do this for her.”

Kieran wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the situation without totally crushing her. But before he could come up with a strategy, she added, “I just want her be happy again, like before.”

The abject sadness in her voice had the impact of a punch in the chest, right around the area of Kieran’s heart. “Before what?”

He saw the first hint of tears in Stormy’s eyes. “Before my dad died six years ago. She still misses him. I miss him, too.”

Her tears didn’t fall, but something deep inside Kieran did. If he had even a scrap of common sense left after her heartfelt pleas, he’d turn her down gently and turn her away. But despite the shrewdness he’d developed over ten years as a business owner, regardless that he’d grown cynical when it came to people’s intentions, along came a child to remind him that not everyone had questionable motives. Not everyone had been blessed with an easy life, either.

She sent him another pleading look. “If you need more money, I can give you what my grandparents send me for my birthday and Christmas. I can save more lunch money, too. I could sell my bike if I have to.”

Even though he might regret it later, Kieran couldn’t refuse her now. He also couldn’t have her giving up everything, either. Not when it seemed she’d already given up too much.

After he took the bills she still clutched in her hand—money he planned to return to her later—he said, “This should be enough for a month.”

Finally, she smiled. A smile that was bound to break more than a few teenage boys’ hearts in a few years. “Since I can’t get her to come to the gym, you can come by our house tonight and surprise her.”

Apparently she was intent on running the show, and his schedule. He still couldn’t help admiring her resolve. “What about tomorrow night?”

She took another drink of the juice. “She works late on Friday, but she comes home early on Thursdays because it’s pizza night.”

Unfortunately he’d already agreed to have dinner with his family at his sister’s place this evening. But so what if he was a little late. His mother, a living monument of compassion, wouldn’t only understand; she’d congratulate him. He’d just stop by Stormy’s house first, which led to another question: “Where exactly do you live?”

She pulled out a piece of folded paper and handed it to him. “This is my address and my phone number, but don’t call first. I want it to be—”

“A surprise.” One he hoped didn’t earn him a boot on his butt delivered by a mom who might not take too kindly to her kid “buying” her a fitness program—unless Candice had cooked up some scheme with one of her wealthy friends, using a child as a pawn in an effort to bring him back into her life again. He wouldn’t put it past her to stoop that low. Only one way to find out.

Kieran studied the address and found that the neighborhood wasn’t far from his parents’—an area that included strictly middle-class housing, not manicured mansions. Apparently his suspicions about Candice’s manipulation were unwarranted for a change.

After he tucked the paper away in his pocket, Kieran considered how he would react if his nieces approached someone they didn’t know, and opted to issue a mild caution. “I’ll be there, as long as you promise not to give out your personal information to strangers from now on.”

She grinned again. “I promise, but you’re not a stranger anymore.”

He came to his feet and pushed the chair beneath the table. “You probably should find Lisa’s mom now, in case she’s looking for you.” Before she came looking for Stormy and found him.

Stormy stood, rounded the table and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien.”

When he noted the gratitude in her expression, he recognized he was doing a good thing. “You’re welcome, and you can call me Kieran.”

“My mom’s name is Erica.” Her smile faded into a frown. “You are going to come, aren’t you?”

No way would he let her down now. If he could give this little girl and her mother some peace of mind, he saw no real reason not to make an attempt. “I’ll be there around six, if that’s okay.”

“That works great.” She turned and began to walk backward, another bright smile plastered on her face. “This is going to be the best pizza night ever!”

Erica Stevens had never seen such a pretty pizza delivery boy. Pizza deliveryman, she corrected. A buff, patently gorgeous man with longish wavy dark hair and near-black eyes. Over six feet of pleasantly disreputable-looking, prime male flesh standing on her doorstep, wearing a pair of jeans and a black polo covered by a beige jacket—and not a pizza box in sight.

Of course not. The pizza never arrived in less than an hour, let alone five minutes after she placed the order. And generally speaking, pizza delivery guys were lanky high school students, not action heroes come to life.

For the sake of caution, she kept the screen door latched securely, at least until she knew exactly who he was and why he was there. “May I help you?”

“Are you Erica?”

Okay, maybe he was a new hire at the restaurant, they had prepared her order in advance and the box was still in his car because he wasn’t sure he had the right address. “Yes, I’m Erica. Are you the pizza deliveryman?”

He leaned a shoulder against the white column supporting the porch and slid his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “No. I’m your birthday present.”

Erica’s gaze immediately drifted to his jacket’s pocket etched with the words Bodies By O’Brien. Surely not. Then again, she wouldn’t put anything past her coworkers down at the day spa. “Please tell me you’re not a stripper.”

He cracked a dazzling grin, his teeth flashing white against the shadow of stubble surrounding his mouth. “I’m a personal trainer. My name’s Kieran O’Brien, owner of Bodies By O’Brien, which is a health club, not a strip club. Or a pizza joint.”

None of this made any sense to Erica. Not the circumstance or her slightly warm reaction to his smile. She had the strongest urge to step onto the porch, strip off his jacket and see if his physique lived up to her expectations. Instead, she tugged her oversize sweatshirt down to conceal her obvious physical flaws. “First of all, my birthday is a couple of weeks away.” Her thirty-first birthday, which she’d just as soon forget. “Secondly, I don’t want a personal trainer.”

He shifted his weight slightly, showing the first signs of discomfort. “Not according to the party who hired me. In fact, she said you’ve mentioned you’d like to have a trainer. That’s why she’s giving my services to you as a birthday gift.”

Erica should’ve known she would rue the day she’d admitted that to Bette, the self-appointed salon matriarch. “I truly appreciate the gesture, but honestly, I’m a massage therapist at a busy day spa and I work crazy hours. I don’t have a lot of extra time on my hands.”