I wasn’t sure quite what woke me. Before I opened my eyes, though, I heard breathy singing somewhere to my left. Luke.

We’d had scrambled eggs—dry, not runny, and I liked them—and I’d taken a couple painkillers. Feeling childishly exhausted the whole time, I’d let Luke guide me to the couch so I could lay down without going back to bed. He’d wrapped me in a quilt, gave me a companionable pat on the shoulder, and told me to go to sleep.

Now my lap felt like it was on fire and, for a moment, I wondered if something else was wrong with me. Then I realized my hand rested on a big ball of fur. I idly stroked it. A cat’s rumbling purr thanked me. Evidently, Luke wasn’t alone up here.

Cracking one eyelid open, I encountered more pale yellow sunlight and moved enough to rest my head farther back on the arm of the couch so I could see behind it. Blinking to clear the cobwebs from my brain, I focused on Luke.

Wearing jeans and a blue plaid shirt now, Luke sat atop a high stool with his back ramrod straight. In his right hand he held an artist’s palette covered in all kinds of colors. I followed his left hand as he dabbed his brush in a pale spot of yellow and carried it to the canvas in front of him. That paint became a ray of soft sunlight streaming in through a window identical to the one he faced. The whole painting was utterly amazing, like looking at a life-sized photograph of the front window and the snow outside it.

I looked back to Luke. His movements were quick but precise. I could only see part of his profile from behind like this, but his face was animated concentration. The golden eye I could see darted back and forth from canvas to subject so quickly I couldn’t imagine how he saw anything clearly. Every now and then the tip of his tongue peeked between his lips as he did some tiny detail.

I liked his hair. I imagined he was a person with too many things on his mind to fuss with something like hair. It was a short cut with little ducktail curls all over. No product. That’s what made him so cute and boyish.

I sighed contentedly, and he looked back at me. Smiling sleepily at him, he gave me a grin back, white teeth flashing.

“That’s Mickey, by the way.” He pointed to my stomach, and I carefully looked down at the brown tabby contentedly stretched out on me. I flexed my fingers in soft fur and got another purr.

My head didn’t ache as much anymore.

Luke set his things down and came around to stand beside me. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice finally sounding clearer. “Was I asleep long?”

“About three hours.” He squatted down and joined me in petting his cat.

“I feel so lazy and I don’t care.” As if to emphasize that statement, I gave a jaw-popping yawn.

“That must just be from everything that’s happened to you because you’re amazingly fit otherwise.”

I grinned at the blush that stole over his cheeks.

“I mean, you’re really… Your body is, um…” He blinked, grinned like he was trying to think of an escape plan, and then sat down on the floor cross-legged. “While you were sleeping,” he began, making me snort, “I thought about your name. What I should call you, that is.”

He was attracted to me. I felt a little giddy and couldn’t stop my smile. I had to maintain my decision to keep this friendly and not too flirty, though, so I suggested, “How about Fido? Rover?”

He chuckled. “Spot suits you better. What with your shiner and all.”

I smiled, remembering the man in the mirror. “What was the name of that dog the Little Rascals had?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Petey? How do you remember him, but not yourself?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. I even know Mickey’s a mouse, not a cat.” Said cat turned to look at me with neon green eyes. I scratched his chin to his apparent satisfaction.

“Weird,” Luke said and scratched at his own cleanly shaved chin. “Well, you almost said your name. It starts with a ‘J’ anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “That narrows it down.”

“Come on, let’s think about this. If we get close, it might trigger a memory.” He leaned back on his hands. “Jeff.”

He seemed to want a reaction, so I shook my head since it didn’t sound familiar.

“Jason. John. Jamie. Juan.”

I kept shaking my head between them, but laughed at that last one since he waggled his burnt orange eyebrows.

“Joseph. What about just Joe?”

“Nope. Really, Luke, you can call me—”

He looked mutinous, so I stopped.

“You can’t have Justin because my sister’s Justine. And I have an ex named James, so that’s out.”

I wanted to ask about him, what he’d liked about this James, but I kept that thought to myself. I didn’t know who the hell I was, so had no business hitting on him. Honestly, if he responded to that, took advantage of that, it would make him a real bastard, and I didn’t want him to be less than the godsend he already was.

Instead, I asked, “Do you have a big family?”

“Oh, not so big. My dad had a lot of siblings, so I have cousins scattered all across America. A lot of them live in the area, but most of us are in and around Chicago. Which is where I live when I’m not here.” He pointed at me with a mock scowl. “We can discuss my lineage later, chick. Right now, I want you to have a name. So. What about Jack? I don’t know anyone—”

“Yes.” Something about the name sent a shiver down my spine. “Call me Jack.”

“All right.” He smiled brightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”