you feel like you can’t give Stormy what she needs.”
She raised her hands, palms forward, before dropping them to her sides. “Okay, I understand what you’re saying.” She studied him for a long moment. “I may be making another wrong assumption, but it doesn’t sound like you care too much for Candy.”
A definite understatement. “She’s not my favorite person.”
“But didn’t you used to be her personal trainer?”
“Yeah, for a few months. It didn’t work out.”
She crossed her arms once more. “Let me guess. She didn’t like you telling her what to do.”
According to Candice Conrad, no one told her what to do to any extreme, something he’d discovered five minutes into their first training session. “We had different goals. I wanted to get her into shape, she wanted to get me into bed.” And that was way too much information to hand to Erica, someone who had a social relationship with his former client. Normally he’d never be that open with a current client, but something about her made him want to confess his sins.
“Did either of you reach your goals?” she asked. “Not even close.” And not for Candice’s lack of trying. “I’m sorry for being blunt. I forgot she’s your friend.”
She released a caustic laugh. “She isn’t my friend. She’s Stormy’s friend’s mother, and that’s the extent of our relationship. I appreciate the fact that she’s willing to watch Stormy while I’m at work, but we’re not close enough to have afternoon tea or go out for happy hour together. We don’t run in the same circles, and that’s fine by me.”
He found Erica’s attitude very welcome. Many of the women he’d trained before cared more about scaling the social ladder than mastering the stair climber. “She doesn’t strike me as the kind who’d get along with many women.”
“Or men,” she added. “Stormy told me yesterday that she’s getting divorced.”
That was news to Kieran, not that he cared aside from the fact that it would only feed her determination to worm her way back into his life. “Great. Now she can live happily ever after with her husband’s money.”
They shared in a laugh before Erica checked the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I need to—”
“Wash your hair.” He smiled and she smiled back. “I’ll get out of your hair then, pun intended. But first, one more question.” One that had piqued his curiosity as well as his concern. “Why are you so set against Stormy playing sports?”
“It’s complicated,” she said as her gaze wandered away.
He roosted on the arm of the sofa. “I’m a fairly smart guy, so I can do complicated.”
Kieran could tell Erica wasn’t too keen on explaining, but after a few seconds she said, “Stormy was born with a heart defect. She’s had four corrective surgeries in the past ten years.”
Damn. He hadn’t expected that. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because Stormy doesn’t want anyone to know she’s anything but normal, so please don’t mention it to her.”
He could certainly understand why a child would feel that way, but he couldn’t fathom why someone as nice as Erica Stevens had had more than her share of problems. It damn sure wasn’t fair, not that life always was. “What’s Stormy’s health status now?”
“According to her doctor, she’s cleared for normal activity,” she said. “This is the first year she’s participated fulltime in P.E. since she started school.”
“If that’s the case, sounds to me like softball would fall into that category.”
“Yes, that’s probably right. But I still worry about her.” The concern in her tone made that very apparent to Kieran.
He came to his feet again. “Look, softball is one of the safer sports as long as the proper equipment is used. My sister played for years and never suffered more than a few scrapes from sliding into second base. And I can help Stormy practice, maybe play some catch with her to see how she does.”
“I’m sure you’re much too busy to worry about that.”
In a way, she was right. But for some reason, he felt he had to do this for her daughter, especially now that he knew what she’d been through. “I can schedule some time for her. I could pick her up from school, take her to the batting cages and then meet you at the club.”
She sighed. “Kieran, I honestly do appreciate it, but I can’t afford to pay you anything right now. I still owe you for the sneakers.”
“You can pay me with a massage.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re serious about that?”
Oh, yeah. “I told you yesterday I could use a good one. Is a hundred dollars for an hour of your time about right?”
“That’s what I charge, but that’s not what I make. The spa takes forty percent of my earnings as commission.”
That royally sucked for her. Something occurred to Kieran—an alternative plan that would save them both time. “You wouldn’t have to pay the commission if we didn’t do it at the spa, correct?”
She frowned. “Where do you propose we do it?”
“I have a place at the club you can use. Just bring your oil and your candles and your magic hands.”
“You mean we’ll do it under the table?” Her smile and dimples came out of hiding. “No pun intended.”
“Under the table, on the table, it doesn’t matter to me.”
The innuendo suspended the conversation for a few seconds before Kieran turned the topic back to business, something he should’ve never strayed from in the first place. “Meet me at the club around six-thirty tonight and be prepared to work your butt off. We’ll work out the massage details sometime next week.”
She braced her hands on the back of the chair, her cheeks slightly red from the blush that he’d obviously put there. “That’s my plan, to work my butt off. Literally.”
Kieran’s plan entailed keeping his hands to himself unless it involved personal fitness, not personal pleasure. He worried those plans could go awry.
No denying it—something about Erica had him not only wanting to confess his sins, but wanting to engage in a few with her. Maybe it was her sense of humor, her vulnerability. Her killer red hair, innocent dimples and big blue eyes. Maybe it was more about her concern for her daughter’s health, the burden she’d borne since the loss of her husband. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t deny the attraction was stronger than it should be.
After ten years as a personal trainer, Kieran O’Brien could count on one hand the female clients that had interested him enough to forget his code of ethics—one. Erica Stevens. And he’d be damned if he let that happen.
Chapter Four
Erica
