Baby furniture.

Not something an amateur should have assembled.

I had the instructions and loaded a how-to YouTube video, but I wasn’t feeling particularly lucky these days, even if the furniture, clothing, and apartment had all been donated for me.

I had the good sense to test out the baby swing with a teddy bear before plunking the kid into the seat. This wasn’t mother’s intuition. Just common sense after two bruises, a scrape, and a screw to the eye just taking the damn thing out of the box.

“It’s up to you now Teddy Von Fuzzybritches.” I clutched the stuffed animal close. “One small step for parenthood…one giant leap towards naptime.”

I lowered the plush martyr into the Fizzy Wizzy Puffy Glider—a contraption complete with magical merry mobile, programed with fifteen lullabies. The teddy bear didn’t complain, and the swing didn’t whine. So far so good. I stepped back and admired my achievement.

At least I retained a bit of coordination, dexterity, and handiness after the accident.

Or maybe all I had left was a grand sense of delusion.

The teddy bear snuggled into the swing’s egg-shaped seat. Not comfortably. The material stretched a little too taut.

Was it supposed to do that?

I had no idea. Those instructions seemed awfully blurry with only an hour and a half of sleep. Fortunately, my first afternoon outside of the hospital gave me one hell of a terror-induced adrenaline rush.

I was only alone with a newborn baby, depending on me for food, clothing, shelter, general newborn shenanigans, and furniture assembly even though I didn’t have a clue as to what I was supposed to do. How bad could it be?

Bad.

I must have installed the seat incorrectly. The cover pulled tight, and the entire basket strained under the pressure.

It creaked with a warning shudder, leaving me little time to seek cover with a pillow from the couch.

The contraption was a swing, but it wasn’t gliding like the advertised gentle, cloud-like hammock. It jerked, squealed, shuddered, and grinded. Not exactly restful, but Clue had bounced out of me after the truck accident. She was no stranger to a rough ride.

Moment of truth. I poised myself behind the couch and turned the swing on with the electronic keypad.

Mistake.

The rocker whined.

Groaned.

Then, with a chastising pop, the equipment exploded.

The seat snapped first—the buttons flinging away from the cushions like a pin ripping from a grenade. I hit the deck, cowering under couch cushions as the material cracked from the glider and sling-shotted Teddy Von Fuzzybritches across the room.

“Teddy, no!”

The bear rocketed to the ceiling, catching in the ceiling fan, and barraged—bearaged?—the light bulb. It shattered, tearing through Teddy’s arm as he got trapped within the fan’s blades. The fan’s motor hissed, and it hurtled Teddy deeper into the apartment. The bear spiraled into a vase of flowers sent by the hospital’s nurses. The vase crashed against the wall. Rose petals fluttered across the living room. The baby woke up, entirely inconvenienced.

Teddy tap-tap-tapped to a stop on the hardwood floor, his plastic nose clipping the boards.

The disrupted flowers scattered pollen over the apartment.

Clue sneezed. She disapproved of this newfound bodily function, sucked in a breath, and wailed. This too was interrupted by a sneeze. It surprised her, and I cautiously approached the stroller, glad I kept the cover up during my experiment.

“And that…” I gestured to the chaos, kicking Teddy’s ceiling-fan amputated arm under the coffee table. “Is why you will wear a seat belt while enjoying the Fuzzy Wuzzer Puffy Pretty…” I read the box. “Momma-rific Rocker. At least we won’t need a step-stool if we ever have to change a light bulb.”

Clue ceased her crying and curled her lips into a snarl. At first, I’d believed that particular expression was a declaration of my poor maternal instincts. Now that she was five days old, I realized that face was something else. She expressed her displeasure through her diaper.

Frown and furrowed brow—anger. Add a grunt, and she was pooping.

At least I knew this baby thing wouldn’t be that hard. As long as I had sufficient warning, I could handle most of what she tossed at me.

Until she learned to throw her diaper, of course. This apartment was too nice to turn into a zoo or college frat house, even if teddy bear stuffing floated in the air, glass sprinkled from the ceiling fan, and the pretty flower arrangement hacked into a layer of thorns on the carpet.

“This isn’t even our place, Clue.” I leaned over the stroller. “You can’t keep making messes.”

She gave me a fussy mumble that crossed wily disapproval with a timid burp.

“Fair enough. I won’t blame you this time. But I might need you to take the fall one of these days. You’re gonna have to help me out.”

I left Clue to do her business as I cleaned up the mess. Of course, that meant I had to find the cleaning supplies. At least I couldn’t complain about the ample space where my broom might have been hidden.

Clue was cute enough—or I was damaged enough—to afford us a bit of temporary charity while I recovered. The apartment was only part of the Rivets’ generosity. The beautiful, two-bedroom penthouse came with a working fireplace and sprawling balcony. It felt like a castle, and it was probably more than I deserved.

First, I was lucky to be alive. Now I was fortunate enough to earn the kindness of others. If I could just get my memories back, we’d be set.

Teddy had survived the slingshot save for a grotesquely severed arm which leaked stuffing. It was fixable. I didn’t know my name, but, for whatever reason, I could imagine a running-stitch.

Pieces of swing littered the living room floor. I attempted to rebuild the oversized mouse trap, but I didn’t get a chance to reseat Teddy for a final test. The swing’s arm creaked and popped off the base. I leapt back as the seat collapsed onto the coffee table. The arm crashed over the side, dragging the glider with it.

Forget this.

“Clue, what do you think about sleeping in a box?” I kicked the glider’s pieces towards the box. “We can put blankets inside…or we can go full-rabbit hutch and layer it with saw dust.”

Clue whimpered.

I leaned over the stroller to soothe her. “Okay. I can bargain. Cedar chips.”

She gave a whine.

“We’ll pad it with newspaper,” I promised. “I’ll even get you a water bottle and one of those metal wheels that will let you crawl in place all you want.”

She still wasn’t impressed. And I knew why. She needed to be changed and snuggled. The ache in my chest was a not-so-subtle reminder that it was time to chubby her up.

I could do this. One of us had to be brave. But the nerves returned as I reached into the hand-me-down stroller and wrapped my hands around her.

No. This wasn’t a good angle.

She was too tiny, and I was too big, and I didn’t want to hurt the poor thing.

I stood and leaned a little closer. No. Her head didn’t seem like it’d get enough support that way.

Clue clucked. The little Houdini had a remarkable ability to escape her swaddle. The blanket kicked away, and the donated onesie had come unsnapped. The kid was a one-girl wrecking crew. And her own actions had pissed her off. All she needed was a cuddle.

And I was too terrified to lift my own child.

At this point, I didn’t care if I ever remembered my name or figured out where her daddy was. All I wanted was to regain just an ounce of instinct. A little confidence might have made this a lot easier.

I didn’t trust myself to lift her out. Screw it. I’d dismantle the damn stroller.

I pushed back the stroller’s screen and knelt on the floor beside the base. The front panel could swing open like a door. This way, I was on her level. I slid a hand under her butt and wrapped the other behind her head.

She tensed. I tensed.

“I swear, Clue.” I sighed. “I’ll get used to this.”

Hopefully.

I lifted her close, holding her against my shoulder and wrapping her into a tight, can’t-drop-the-baby hold. I grimaced as I pushed myself up.

“Oh, that tugs on the stitches...”

Those had surprised me more than the kiddo…as did the need for the little squirt bottle the nurses sent home with me.

I steadied myself with a breath and kept the baby on my shoulder. Her little swirl of dark hair was close enough to kiss. I gave her one. She seemed to like that.

“I suppose you’re hungry.” I patted her back. “This should be…interesting.”

The furnished apartment had come with everything I needed—a place to sleep, furniture, a kitchen loaded with healthy mommy snacks. The charity had also stacked it with the right amount of literature—lots and lots of breastfeeding pamphlets with so many illustrated tips and tricks that my coffee table looked like a Playboy centerfold spread.

I wished I had a Nipples for Dummies book though.

“Step one. Have breasts.” I tip-toed to the couch. “We’re good there. Thanks to you, Clue, I’m ninety percent boob.”

She enjoyed this fact. And I had to agree—the lovelies were rather convenient so far. Unfortunately, a knock at the door interrupted me before I could tame the ta-tas.

Maybe I was a far more optimistic person than I thought. The knock might have been my husband or family coming to get me.

That hope gave me the courage to shuffle with the baby toward the door.

But I wasn’t coordinated or confident enough to figure out how to hold her one handed. I leaned back, balancing her on my chest with a cautious and steadying arm under her butt.

“Just a minute!” I called.

Moment of truth.

In a blazing rush, I unlocked the door and swung it wide, returning both hands to the baby with a squeal. Doctor Owens watched the circus from the hall. She frowned, shrugged, and offered her help.

She’d exchanged her white coat for a diaper bag and box of onesies. Her smile grew as she got a good look at Clue.

“Howdy, neighbor.” She glanced around the apartment. “Are you enjoying your new home?”

I welcomed her inside, relieved that she shut the door for me. “Doctor Owens—”

“Call me Rory.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Rory.”

Rory dropped the box of hand-me-down baby clothes on my dining room table and surveyed the apartment. “I hope you like this place. It was the best we could do on short notice.”

“Only two bedrooms…” I teased her. “If I spontaneously birth another baby, we might be a little cramped.”

“I’ll buy you a house just for the chance to publish that medical case,” Rory said. “Though believe me—your amnesia? That’s a career-maker there.”

“I’m glad to be of service.”

“That brain of yours will definitely score me a trip to the Hawaiian conference this year.” Rory grinned. “If you let me present it, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy.”

Clue hiccupped. I mentally set a timer. Ten minutes until she had a hunger meltdown.

“Well, this apartment is amazing,” I said. “I…can’t even begin to express how grateful I am.”

“You popped into the hospital at the right time. The Ironfield Rivets are pushing Lachlan Reed’s Family First charity. He founded it specifically to help single-parent families. When the team heard about you? Well, let’s just say…we were all invested.” She gave me a wink. “And since your doctor just happens to be married to a coach and sits on the foundation’s board…”

“If it’s any help, I do think I was a Rivets’ fan before the accident.”

“Really?”

“Lots of good looking guys on the team.”

“You have no idea.” She set the diaper bag down. “I just wanted to check in and make sure the charity got you settled. You and the baby should have everything you need. We signed you up for a cell phone, and you should be getting a prepaid debit card within a day or so. The charity will refill it every month with a stipend, plus we have an administrator who will help you set up some additional programs for you and the baby. We’ll have diapers delivered to you—”

“Rory, this is too much—”

She held a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. You will have enough to worry about with the baby and your health and finding your family. Let us handle this part.”

“I don’t know much about myself,” I said. “But I don’t like feeling helpless.”

“You’re a new mother now—that’s how it feels all the time. Panicky and exhausting.” Rory smiled. “My daughter is six months old. Believe me. It’s hard, but there’s no love like it.”

I had plenty of confusion, fear, and hesitance. I needed a little love.

“At least the baby’s with you,” Rory said. “You won’t be alone through this.”

“Yeah, she’s good company. A regular party animal. She said she’ll make sangria a little later while we assemble her bedroom furniture.”

Rory groaned. “They didn’t build it for you?”

The boxes were stacked on the far side of the living room. I hadn’t had time to look through it all.

“I’m just glad to have it,” I said.

Rory checked her phone. “My husband can help. He’ll be back from practice in an hour or so. I’ll have him bring some of the guys with him.”

“No, really. I don’t need an entire offensive line to put together some furniture. Besides…” I would have shown her my shaking hands, but they were clutching the baby. “I can’t just sit around waiting to be healed. I have to do something.”

“Sleep.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Rory laughed—a maniacal, maternal, knowing laugh. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I just got hit by a truck. How hard can a baby be?”

“I put my number in your phone already. Call me the instant you regret that statement.” She checked her watch. “I expect to hear from you in two hours.”

“That soon?”

She merely chuckled. “And I want you to call me if you develop any complications from the concussion. Dizziness or nausea or headaches.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Now feed that baby. She’s rooting.”

“Rooting for who?”

“Better be the Rivets.”

Rory wished me luck—a supportive sort of encouragement that seemed to double as a warning. She sounded just like the nurses at the hospital. Oddly enough, they hadn’t worried about a woman with no memory taking her baby home. They sympathized with the single mother raising the child alone.

Good thing it’d only be a matter of days—maybe hours—before we found my family.

Rory promised to check in on me, and I locked the door behind her.

The next stage of my master amnesia plan: Feeding the baby so I could settle her butt down just so I could build her a place to set said butt.

I had just managed to untangle my bra from my shirt when another knock rattled the door.

Clue whined.

Me too.

This knock was more forceful than before. Or confident? Either way, Clue was now hungry, wet, and in no mood for entertaining more strangers.

Or maybe I was projecting my own displeasure.

I patted her bottom. “Give me another minute, kiddo. Then you can toss a bell around my neck and call me Bessie.”

I peeked through the peep hole.

My stomach dropped.

“Might be longer than a minute, Clue.”

Sirens again.

I turned in the bed, pitching the pillow over my head. It didn’t block the noise. People shouting in the street. The squeal of tires.

Gunshots.

The flashing lights dazzled my room with reds and blues. I knew better than to go to the window, but I checked the time. Three in the morning.

I rolled over and plugged my fingers in my ears. No matter how many sirens and arrests, the neighborhood never seemed to get any safer.

Just a lot more tired.

Of everything.

The twist in my gut wasn’t a good reaction to the flash of the badge. The officer dressed in civilian clothes, but he pushed aside his suit jacket to keep the badge clear.

Like that would convince me to open the door.

My first forgotten instinct wasn’t how to hold my baby or soothe her cries.

It was a hesitance.

“Who is it?”

The rumbling, melting caramel voice answered with a confident warmth.

“Ironfield police. May I come in?”

The last thing I needed was for the neighbors in the fancy-pants penthouse to resent the lady with the screaming newborn and cops banging her door down. That’d make them circle the welcome wagons.

Besides—the flutter of hope returned.

Maybe he had good news? Maybe they figured out who I was.

Maybe they found Clue’s father?

I opened the door. My breath hitched.

If only amnesia struck twice so I could again fall in love at first sight.

The moment rushed past us too quickly, and I regretted the single heartbeat that stole the perfect infinity from me.

The police officer stood tall, proud, and with such confidence it was as if he bore the world on his broad shoulders and balanced it all with poise and strength. The crisp, immaculate suit stretched taut over his muscles. The button-down shirt and pressed slacks weren’t a patrolman’s uniform, but it still radiated authority.

He stared at me—his eyes a brighter blue than any uniform. They weren’t soft or inquisitive, but intelligent. He got all the answers he needed with a single glance, but the arch of his eyebrow could spill anyone’s secrets.

I swallowed hard, staring at this beautiful man. He wore his hair longer than I expected for an officer, just a tease of blonde he could run through his fingertips. He didn’t smile, but his lips naturally upturned. Far too friendly for a cop. He wore a thin beard—neatly trimmed and close to his jaw. The rough, dust color framed his fair complexion but strengthened an already strong jaw and angled cheekbones.

This wasn’t fair.

I was two days from a shower, holding a fussing baby. My hair had burst from the weak ponytail holder, and my shirt stained with a variety of fluids—most not mine.

At least Clue wasn’t the only one drooling at the moment.

“Hello.” It was all he said.

All he needed to say.

If he was the type of first responder to save me after an accident, I’d jump in front of anything. Ambulances. Fire trucks. Sports cars. I’d even leap into the road before other types of food trucks to chance encounter a sexy foreign guy. Tacos for the Latino. Pizza for an Italian.

“Hi…” I swallowed. Nearly took my tongue with it.

The moment went on for too long. Embarrassingly long.

At least I’d learned something about myself. I wasn’t a blabbering idiot. Just a silent one.

“How can I do you?” I fumbled over the words. Damn it. “I mean. What can I do for you?”

He hesitated, just staring at me. Did I seem that exhausted? Overwhelmed? Astounded by how gorgeous he was?

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“Is there ever a good time with a newborn?” I allowed him inside. “Might as well talk now. I’m…”

Under his gaze, I forgot the name the nurses gave me. Was it irony, brain damage, or sleep deprivation that humiliated me?

I forced a smile. “Maybe that’s why you’re here. Hopefully you know who I am…I could use another hint.”

The officer chuckled. His words went soft as he stared at the bundle in my arms. “Is that…her?”

I gave Clue a bounce before she started to fuss. “Nope. This is a loaner baby. They let me have my pick before I left the hospital. She was the cutest.”

“You picked good.”

I held my breath as he approached, leaning over to get a better look at her. “Well, I thought about taking two…but that felt greedy.”

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Then this might not be a social call.”

“Ah. So I’m not in trouble?”

“You were just discharged from the hospital. What sort of trouble could you have found?”

“Well, trouble landed me in the hospital, so you tell me, Officer…”

He stared at me, almost forcing me to hold his gaze.

That wasn’t a problem. It was a good gaze.

“Do you remember me?” His voice warmed. “At all?”

Uh-oh. I’d expected an interrogation. Instead I got a pop quiz.

“Believe me…” I was too tired to lie. “I’d remember someone who looked like you.”

Ah, embarassment. Now that was a familiar feeling. It heaped on me in the hospital with all the poking, prodding, and after-birthing I did.

I attempted a recovery. He permitted it with a grace I envied.

“I mean, I’d remember a police officer,” I said. “I know my doctors and nurses, but you…”

I searched his face, concentrating on anything that might have connected me to the past.

And I found it.

Something.

A flutter. A skipped heartbeat. A rush of heat and awkwardness and…panic?

I had met him before. The memory wasn’t vivid, but it was real. The first honest-to-God flash from before I woke in the hospital.

I seized that flicker and wrapped every bit of willpower around it, fighting to keep it in the forefront of my mind like a dream fading after the alarm rang.

“You…” The excitement built in me. “Yes! I remember you!”

The news wasn’t as thrilling to him. “You do?”

“Yes! You were the officer who helped me after the accident. You were there!”

He nodded, though he was slow to answer. “I responded, yes.”

Oh. And now I understood his hesitation. “My water broke on your shoes.”

He chuckled and examined his feet. “Don’t worry. I got a new pair.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Miracle of childbirth, right?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember that part.”

“Probably for the best. From my angle, it didn’t seem very pleasant.”

“Pixies and rainbows,” I said. “The nurses told me I birthed pure sunshine.”

On cue, Clue gave her interpretation of rising and shining. She crowed like a pissed off rooster, and I had no doubt she’d be waking up everyone in the building at all hours of the night.

“I’m sorry, Officer…” I shook my head. “I can’t remember your name.”

“Do you remember yours?”

“Got a warrant?”

He smirked. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in that? I have no memory—I need to get my kicks somewhere.”

“You can’t remember anything?”

I shrugged. It soothed the baby, and I gave her a bit of a shimmy to quiet her down. “Is this the first time someone hasn’t remembered you, Officer?”

“Might be. I should make sure that pigs aren’t flying.”

“Flap your wings?”

He laughed. “Ouch.”

“Sorry. I…must get a little sassy when I’m nervous.”

“And I get a little arresty when I’m irritated.” He winked. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“Never say never.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.” He extended a hand. I couldn’t shake it without jostling the crying baby. “I’m Detective Shepard Novak.”

He waited as if that would be enough to trigger my memory.

It probably should have been. He was a hero—an officer helping a pregnant woman who went into labor. Apparently, I couldn’t stop insulting him.

“Detective Novak,” I said. “I won’t forget that now. Promise.”

“I hope you’re right.”

It wasn’t right to stare at those stunning blue eyes, and I’d have done anything to rid myself of that fuzzy tingle that teased over my spine. The baby gave a little whimper, and I distracted myself with her blanket. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve been assigned to your case, Evie. I’m here to ask a couple questions. I want to see if there’s any information you can offer that will help my investigation.”

I swallowed hard, nearly choking on hope. “Have you found my family yet?”

The pause lasted just long enough to answer for him. “No one has called the department yet. But it’s only been a few days.”

“Five.” I corrected him. “It’s been five days.”

“That’s a short time.”

“I was pregnant. Someone has to be looking for me.”

“I’ll do everything I can to reunite you with your loved ones.” He focused on the baby. “I know no man would want to be away from his woman and child.”

“Well, he better get his butt in gear.” I grimaced as Clue fussed harder, her displeasure edging from a whimper into full-throated cry. “I don’t remember anyone or anything, so it’s kinda up to him.”

“You remember nothing?”

“Sorry. That should answer all your questions.”

“Not in the least.”

The baby was nearing breakdown, and every cry rattled in my head. “I’m sorry. I should take care of her. I need to change and feed her, and—”

“I’ll wait.”

“What?”

Shepard nodded to the baby. “Take care of her. I’ll wait.”

Easier said than done. I was still referencing packets, books, notes, and YouTube videos to figure out how to tend to her most basic needs.

“Can we do this some other time?” I asked. “I’m not sure I can help you today…or at all.”

“But I might be able to help you. Take your time with her. I need to make a call to the station anyway.”

Was he tenacious or an asshole? It didn’t matter—I couldn’t concentrate on questions while the baby cried. I left him in the living room and gathered my supplies, most of them still parked on the boxes and furniture crammed in the corner.

Including my changing table.

It was fine. I had the diaper and blanket, wipes and ointments, towels and water. I even grabbed a spare roll of scotch tape, just in case. I made a little area on my bedroom floor and gingerly set Clue down.

She liked this part less than me.

First came the unswaddling. She treated it as if I were removing her skin instead of the blanket.

Then the unbuttoning of her onesie. Surely a torture worse than dunking stools and thumb tacks.

Finally came the dirty diaper. For whatever reason, Clue decided she was irreparably attached to the diaper. She screamed as I removed it, even though I was pretty sure I got the worst end of the deal.

“Is she okay?” Shepard called from the living room.

She was five days old and already getting me in trouble. I shouted back. “Changing a diaper must be in violation of the Geneva Convention. Just petition the UN on my behalf while I grab a wipe.”

Fortunately, the baby was no longer passing the contents of the Lorena tar pits through her diaper. That stage of her infancy was now over, thank God. I never thought I’d be so pleased to find the new present awaiting me—one that resembled spilled Dijon mustard.

Unfortunately, that meant I’d never again eat the condiment. Motherhood changed us all, and that included deli orders.

Clue wasn’t as impressed about her digestive developments. Despite the books and internet insisting that her newfound poo meant that I was doing a bang-up job, the diaper change was a betrayal of trust that drew the battle lines right through the Pampers.

I became the enemy. The unknown. Everything wrong with a world that was just as cold, unfamiliar, and distressing to the baby as it was to me.

I mean, the wipes were cold, but Clue waxed melodramatic about getting a clean butt.

I double checked my work—following the instructions from the nurses and the printed directions on the diaper package. Within minutes, Clue was clean, dry, and even more agitated.

But something looked wrong. I lifted her up and compared the diaper to the picture on the package.

Backwards. Fantastic. Still, it covered the more volatile areas. What was the worst that could happen? She was hungry and it was past dinnertime. No time to redo it. I battled her kicking legs, tossed the onesie back on, and wrapped the blanket around her in a picture-perfect swaddle.

Too little, too late, but at least now I was the only one who needed to undress.

“Five-minute diaper change!” I grinned at the baby. “Not quick enough yet, but you’re giving me plenty of practice.”

Clue didn’t share my optimism.

I booped her nose. “Okay. Let’s get you fed so you can fill the diaper again.”

I triple checked that I was carrying her safely and cleared my path of any obstacles. Clothes. Boxes. I even cautiously picked my way through the doorway in case the air-conditioning caused a pressure differential and the door swung shut. Insane? Yes, but at least I was prepared.

Unfortunately, this particular dinner theater was not a three-person show. I prepared my apology to Shepard, but I stopped in place as he extended a hand toward the coffee table to present my newly assembled baby glider.

“Did you…” I asked.

He didn’t let me finish. “Looked like you needed help.”

“That wasn’t necessary. I could have done it.”

He smiled. Warm. “I don’t mind. Is everything okay with the baby?”

“So far.”

He nodded, studying the boxes stacked in the corner of the room. His eyes narrowed on the crib.

“Let me build that for you.”

I sighed. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to build my baby furniture.”

“And I’m sure you’d like to put her in the crib tonight,” he said. “Take a seat.”

“Really, I can manage on my own. This isn’t exactly in your job description.”

“All part of the protect and serve package.”

Yeah, I did not need to be thinking about his package—not while Shepard heaved the giant, hundred-pound box into the center of the living room, muscles flexing. His slacks tugged as he knelt, and I imagined enough of Detective Novak that it felt wrong to look without a search warrant.

And I lived the consequences of admiring a handsome man. A bundle of cuteness in my arms spoke to my experience. Too bad I didn’t remember any of it.

“I should feed her.”

He waved a plastic baggie filled with nuts, bolts, and screws. “Go ahead. I’m not in any hurry.”

“Should you be out saving lives or stopping the evil doers? What if there’s a car parked at an expired meter?”

“I was off the clock at 4:00.” He spread the contents of the crib over the living room floor. “I told the station I was finishing here today.”

“Don’t you want to get home?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to feed your baby?”

“It’s an involved process.”

“Evie…is it okay if I call you Evie?”

“Got a lead on any other name?”

“Evie, I’m sorry. I have no information to give you. No one has called. There’s no easy way to track where you came from before the accident. We’re waiting now for something to break. So, I thought I’d help you out here. Make sure you were okay.”

“Are you feeling that guilty?”

“More than you realize,” he said. “It’s not every day I escort a speeding ice cream truck carrying a woman in labor to the hospital. You’re definitely my most interesting case.”

Interesting didn’t mean solvable. “Are you sure you haven’t heard from anyone? Someone out there has to know who I am.”

Shepard pulled the plastic from the wooden slats and exhaled. He didn’t look at me. “No. Sorry.”

Fantastic.

I couldn’t let myself get upset. God only knew if it would sour the milk, and I certainly didn’t like the thought of curds anywhere near my lovelies.

Besides, I couldn’t do much to find my family now. My best course of action was to take life one breast-feed at a time. That would keep me on track, and I could stay focused on what was important.

The baby.

And me.

The only way I’d managed to feed her was on the couch surrounded with a geometrically optimal arrangement of pillows, blankets, baby, and boob. I wiggled into the corner and angled myself between the back and arm.

“Um…” I cleared my throat. “Could you…turn? Please?”

Shepard glanced up from the instructions, eyebrows raised. “Oh. Not a problem.”

“I don’t know if I’m doing it right yet, and a cover just makes the whole operation a mystery.” I laughed. “So, I’m sorry, I have to let it all out there. Hell, I’m not even sure the kid wants a front row seat to this circus.”

“Well, she is sitting in the splash zone.”

“If only. You have no idea how much more confident I’d feel if that were the case.”

“I’m sure you’re doing fine.”

“As long as I find my way to the barn once we’re done…” I soothed Clue with a soft hush. “Though you can imagine my disappointment when I realized I didn’t produce chocolate milk.”

“It’s still early in the process.” He grinned. “Maybe that’s an advanced technique.”

“Something to strive for. Olympic expressing. Gold medal ducts.”

He adjusted the various pieces of crib, packaging, and components before him. Like a gentleman, he kept his back to me.

“So…what’s her name?” he asked.

A valid question, especially when I was about to stuff a boob in her mouth. She seemed eager, but I had no idea if I was doing well or not. I only hoped my let down would come in milk form and not perpetual disappointment.

“I gave the nurses a name—but I don’t know if it’s right,” I said. “This is hard. What if I gave her the wrong name? Like, what if I called her Sarah, but the real me—the one with memories and instincts—wanted to call her Sasha? I don’t know. I don’t want to be mad at myself once I’m healed.”

“You could always change it.”

“Believe me, the kid’s gonna get screwed up enough. The last thing I want to do is call her one name for a couple days and then confuse her with a completely new identity.” I watched as her breathing shifted into tiny little gulps. That must have meant I did something right. “For now, I’m calling her Clue.”

“Clue, huh?”

“I figured you’d like that, Detective. She’s my only clue about who I am and where I come from.”

“I like it.”

“I don’t.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“I’d rather her have a real name. A real home. A real family.” I shrugged. “A mother who knows who she is and where they’re from.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting disheartened already?”

“I never back down from a challenge.”

“How can you be sure?” He grinned. “You don’t know who you are.”

Smart-ass. I hummed. “Well, I’m one-for-one on impossible challenges now. Setting a good precedent.”

“True. Still, it would help me if you could remember anything at all.”

The crib started to take shape. He bolted three of the four legs together and rested the crib against the wall.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I should remember building her a crib. Painting the nursery walls. Buying clothes. But it’s all a fog.”

“Well, at least you’re settled here. This is a great apartment.”

“I don’t feel right taking it.”

“Why not?”

I studied the living room—the tall ceilings and hardwood, fireplace and huge windows overlooking the city. The kitchen was made of granite, the bathrooms the same, and my bed a fluff of king-sized softness.

“I don’t know much about myself, but I have a feeling this place is better than where I came from.”

“What makes you say that?”

Aside from my panicked gut-churning reaction around even the most helpful of police officers? “Let’s just say, I thought the bidet was a water feature in the bathroom.”

“Dancing fountain?”

“Oh, I was the only one dancing.” I stroked Clue as she settled against me, her eyes getting heavy. “I don’t think I came from a place as ritzy as this.”

“Think you lived in the city?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about types of people you might have known? Places where you liked to eat?”

“I might have to try the fanciest French restaurant in Ironfield—see if I recognize it.”

“Not the cheapest science experiment.” He laughed. It was a nice laugh. That was the sort of laugh I wished I recognized. “What about family? Do you have anything? Flashes. Names? Even a feeling?”

“You’ll be the first I tell.”

He nodded, wrench in hand. The crib stood on its own—three panels attached. He aimed for the springs next, plopping them into place and lying beneath the furniture to secure all the screws.

“There’s no pressure,” Shepard said. “I’m sure the doctors told you—stress won’t help you remember.”

I laughed. “Do you have experience with amnesiacs?”

“You’d be surprised what people choose not to remember during my interrogations.”

“Maybe they’d be more cooperative if you built their furniture too.”

“We can try it…but I don’t do dishes.”

“Laundry?”

“Only if you like your clothes shrunk and tinted pink.”

I winked. “What luck. Most of the clothes we have are tiny and pink. Can’t do any more damage here.”

He flipped the wrench in his hand and steadied the springs. “I doubt there’s that much damage.”

“Just brain.”

“It seems temporary.” He snuck a peek at me from under the crib. “You’re doing good now.”

“I’m sitting still.”

“You’re feeding her.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. From my perspective, it looks like she’s feeding herself.”

“But you know how to change her. How to soothe her if she cries. How to put her down for a nap.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you convincing me or yourself?”

“Busted?” he asked.

“You’re interrogating me…but you’re also putting together my furniture. I’ll permit it.”

“You got me,” he said. “This happens to an investigation into your case…and I’m here for a welfare check.”

“So what do you think, Officer?”

He tapped the crib. “I think Clue’s going to sleep like a baby in this thing.”

“That’s the plan.”

“But I have to know…” His voice turned serious. “Do you need anything other than this crib?”

“If you’re offering, you could move her dresser into the nursery. That’d be a big help.”

“Of course. But that wasn’t what I meant. Do you think you’re capable of handling this alone?”

“The hospital discharged me,” I said. “The nurses and doctors seemed confident.”

“I know.”

“And I’m taking care of her.” I didn’t dare gesture to the baby, not when she finally had a perfect latch.

“Good. I’m just doing my job. Trying to make sure this doesn’t become…a situation.”

I had a dry, happy baby munching down her dinner. For the first time in days, things were working in my favor. “We’re in one hell of a situation, but I can do this.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to harden my voice with the baby in my arms, so I scowled instead.

“I might not know where I am, where I came from, or who made this kid with me, but if someone hands me a baby, I’m going to raise her. And I’m going to do it right. That’s the kind of woman I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m doing it now, aren’t I? I’m keeping this baby fed, safe, and warm.”

Shepard stood, but he kept his eyes on the assembled crib. “Your baby.”

“What?”

“You’re keeping your baby fed, safe, and warm.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No. It isn’t.” He turned to me. “You said this baby.”

Damn it. “I’ve had an hour and a half of sleep in the last twenty-four. Cut me some slack on the adjectives.” I adjusted Clue closer to me. “She’s my baby.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I don’t remember being pregnant or giving birth. It’s a shock.” I huffed. “Do you want me to show you the stitches? What about the mobile dairy? That’s dynamite proof to me.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you?”

“I’m just here to listen. And I’m hearing uncertainty. That’s all.”

He had to be a detective. I clenched my jaw, but I wouldn’t let him win this one. “You want to know the truth? I’ll tell you, but it changes nothing. I’m still her mother.”

Shepard nodded. “I’m trying to help, Evie.”

“Then help me,” I said. “You’re right. This is very strange. And I am out of my element. I look at this baby…” Absolutely innocent and nuzzled to my breast. “And it feels like babysitting. Like I’m trying to keep her happy and healthy so that she’d be ready for her real mom.”

“Real mom?”

I tapped my head. “Me. But me with all my memories and preparation. Both of us are waiting for her to come back.” I met his gaze, those blue eyes not nearly as sharp now, just compassionate. “And we’re both waiting for her daddy.”

He focused again on the crib, tucking the mattress into the frame. His words softened.

“Evie, I think you’re going to do great.”

“Do I meet your expectations?”

“You’ve exceeded them. I thought you’d be…”

I answered for him. “I’m too tired to panic.”

“Good.”

“Someone will come for us.” I had to be optimistic. “I know he’s out there. Waiting. Worrying. Trying to find us. It’s only a matter of time.”

“You’re right,” Shepard said. “And, in the meantime, Clue should have a nice place to sleep.”

“Speedy build too. If I had to guess, I’d say you built one of these before.”

His expression darkened. He said nothing and looked away, kicking the packaging into the box.

Uh-oh. I’d treaded a little too deep into his own secrets, and neither of us liked the implication.

“Can I help with anything else?” He changed the subject.

“I don’t need help. I need a memory.”

“The offer stands.”

I chuckled. “You want to take a shift feeding her?”

“No, that’s definitely…your department.”

“Then you’ve done more than enough, Detective Novak.”

“Call me Shepard.”

“First name basis now?”

“We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m working your case.” He pulled a card from his pocket and set it on the coffee table, careful to avoid the copious amounts of bare breasts and illustrations from my hospital packets. “I want you to call me the instant you think of anything—even the smallest memory. A feeling. A name. Day or night, at any hour, you call me.”

“Really?”

“The most insignificant detail to you is valuable to me. Got it?”

“Okay.” I’d have stood, but Clue wasn’t quite finished yet. “I appreciate the help.”

He nodded. “You can trust me. If you need anything, I’m here.”

I believed him. “Thanks, but we probably won’t even be on our own for long. I know my memory will return any minute now.”

“In that case…” He winked. “Call me to celebrate.”

“Absolutely.”

And I would be sure to only speak to him over the phone.

That man was too handsome, and my hormones too unpredictable, to let myself get trapped in his blue-eyed possession once again. I had enough problems to wrestle without sorting through an attraction to the handsome cop in charge of my case.

I was exhausted, but that didn’t excuse such thoughts. I had a newborn in my lap. A life I couldn’t remember. A future to protect.

I couldn’t depend on a gorgeous detective to help me. I knew what I had to do.

First, I had to find my family.

Then I had to find myself.