Nothing good ever came in clusters…unless it was made of chocolate and peanuts.

Cluster feedings? More like cluster fuck.

I was tapped out. Empty. Running on fumes. The well had dried.

But, for the moment, Clue seemed satisfied.

I didn’t know if I could believe her.

Was a baby capable of deception? She certainly rocked sleep deprivation. Loaded diapers. Unfathomable fussiness.

A ham sandwich. That was all I needed in life. But I only had a spoon to spread the mustard, and getting the knife from the dishwasher felt like an inhuman feat of strength. Then again, the mustard also reminded me that I hadn’t checked Clue’s diaper before putting her down for the nap.

It was not worth waking her up.

The only thing in the world better than a quiet apartment was a sandwich made of soft bread, cheese, ham, with just a touch of something tangy.

Of course, I could have used a glass of wine to wash it down, but that wasn’t happening. I traded that fantasy for a goblet of whole milk.

The sandwich made it halfway to my mouth before the baby cried.

The miracle of life. Diapers. Crying. Nursing. Sleeping?

Ha. No.

More crying.

I had it good though. Other mothers probably got discouraged when they hit this point. They remembered a life pre-baby. The food. The sleep. The balm made for lips, not nipples. But I didn’t remember much of anything before Clue. We worked through the insanity together, one fussy feed at a time.

I took her from the crib and plopped onto the couch. Now was the best time to try out a new position to feed her. Most women attempted yoga during their life, but no humping-dog, forward plank, inverted elbow pose compared to trying to make a baby latch while on my side, eating a sandwich.

She’d have to deal with the bread on her head. I needed energy. A handful of pretzels wouldn’t cut it for Clue’s milk extravaganza tonight. I longed for meat. Protein. Something hearty.

Clue got her dinner for the fortieth time today. I aimed the sandwich for my mouth.

The first bite was delicious. The second slid out of the bread.

Splat.

Clue flinched and gave a squawk.

Damn it. A glob of mustard smooshed on her pretty little head.

But she was eating. She wasn’t fussing. And I was so damn tired.

“Here we go…” The sing-song rhythm in my voice wasn’t exactly maternal, more a break of sanity. I ripped off a slice of bread and used the clean side to mop up the blob of mustard rolling off my kid’s forehead. “Now you’re clean. Kinda.”

Clue furrowed her nose. So did I.

My kid smelled like a street-side hot dog vendor.

I sighed. She needed a bath. Maybe that would stop the fussing?

I shoveled the last bit of the sandwich into my face as Clue gnawed away, gobbling up what remained of my self-esteem. Without a name, family, or past, my milk production was pretty much the only source of my pride. These cluster feedings were causing a bit of mental strife.

I sat up, giving her back a little pat. Clue gave me a warning whine—a light gasp that signaled she was warming up for a full-fledged wail. Still hungry?

I poked at the dairy. “Come on, girls. Only eleven more months of this to go.”

Surprisingly, the boobs weren’t entirely titillated by the prospect.

I stood. My button-up shirt fell open. I didn’t care anymore. I’d have stripped off the damn thing if I wasn’t so sure the room’s chill wouldn’t twist the nips and turn the sprayer into a direct stream. Poor kid, gargling at the tap like she was drinking from a fire hose.

One of us needed a bath. As I was only moderately covered in mustard, I decided to let her have it.

“Remember this when I’m old and you’re changing my diapers,” I said. “I gave up showers for you.”

Clue didn’t appreciate the sacrifice. Then again, she had to cuddle next to me. And after eight solid hours of nursing, she hadn’t given me much of a chance to duck into the shower.

However, I had a moment of milk-drunk silence. And I took advantage of it.

I filled the tub and tested the water twice, but the instant her toes touched the bath, our rub-a-dub-fun was interrupted by a knock.

“You wanna get it or me?” I asked her.

Clue smacked her lips. Fair enough.

I wrapped her in a towel and headed to the door.

Shepard.

I hadn’t forgotten about him coming over tonight. Just the opposite.

I’d distracted myself in every way possible to not think about him. But checking the time was about all I could do while I camped on the couch with Clue. And that led to some dangerous thoughts.

Counting the minutes until a handsome, kind, hero of a man arrived to tease me with a smile and offer any help he could give.

And that was wonderful. And lovely.

And so…terrible.

The things I felt for him were not good to feel—especially while I waited for someone, anyone, out in the world to contact the police and find me.

Clue’s father waited out there. Somewhere. Even if it was three weeks since she’d been born.

I opened the door. My shirt fluttered open.

Shepard hesitated, crock pot in his hands. His eyebrows rose.

“I can’t tell if this greeting is an improvement or a surrender.”

“Oh, this is not a surrender.” I let him inside and buttoned my shirt. Fatigue made toddlers of us all, and I accidentally skipped two holes and popped a button before I’d finished. “This isn’t a physical challenge—its psychological. Clue is cluster feeding, and the books say it’s a growth spurt. She’s training me to increase my milk supply.”

“Oh?”

I pointed to my chest. “So Daisy and Buttercup are working overtime right now. I’m fed. Hydrated. As rested as I can be. If this is the most challenging part of the newborn phase, then I’ve got it. I’ve studied. I’ve conquered. I’m surviving. I can do it!”

“You’ve buttoned your nipple into your shirt.”

Damn it.

That little peeper went numb on me sometime in the afternoon. I untangled the ta-ta and vowed to stay positive.

“But it didn’t leak!” I grinned. “The point is…I’m getting used to this. I’ve even been experimenting.”

He took the crock pot to the kitchen. “Experimenting?”

“I had a few things to figure out in the shower. Flow rate. Volume. Distance.”

“And your findings?”

“Surprisingly entertaining if not thoroughly wasteful.”

Shepard’s smirk wasn’t condescending. The little upturn of his lip hid within his trimmed beard, but it wasn’t a tease.

He was proud.

And I had no idea why that felt so wonderful to me.

Or familiar.

“What did you bring us?” I rocked Clue in my arms. “And can I sleep in it?”

“I made us dinner. Mind if I use your kitchen?”

“You brought me food. At this point, you could ask any favor of me and I’d deliver.”

“It’s a good thing I’m a gentleman.”

Was it? “Not sure I’d have anything to offer that’d please you right now.”

“Just talking to you pleases me, Evie.”

I stilled. So did he.

And the rush of warmth tingling head to toe wasn’t just the milk letting down.

This was every hope and dream, fantasy and thought, wish and loneliness I’d endured for the past three weeks whipping my emotions. If my heart didn’t stop beating in my chest, it’d churn everything into butter.

And then I’d melt just like it.

I took a breath. “Well, if you can excuse this excellent conversationalist for a moment…there’s a mustard stain the size of Texas on Clue’s forehead. I should scrub her clean.”

“How did that happen?”

“Kids these days. They read about some new facial cleanser on the internet, and they’ll try anything. I told her she was too young for wrinkle cream…she’s still pruned from the womb.”

Shepard didn’t look at me, just stirred the dinner. “What would you do without sarcasm?”

“Please. I don’t have a memory. This is my best entertainment.”

I shouldn’t have given him that smile as I backed away. The I-know-my-shirt-is-wrinkled-my-hair-is-in-a-pony-tail-and-I-look-like-I-haven’t-slept-in-a-month-but-you’re-gonna-look-at-my-butt-when-I-leave-so-enjoy-it smirk.

I glanced over my shoulder in the hall.

I loved being right.

But I hated what it meant.

Flirting with another man while I held a newborn?

Surely there was a circle in hell reserved for mothers with this sort of terrible judgment—the ones who named their kids after cardinal directions or took their newborn to a movie theater.

I flirted.

I should’ve dunked my head in Clue’s bath. At least then I’d have woken up and crashed back to reality.

Instead, I gently set her chubby butt in the water. She crinkled her face and gave a warning cry until I did as she liked, placing a warm washcloth over her chest and belly so she could relax and spa-day her troubles away.

Oh, to be a baby with her worries. While Momma panicked about grocery shopping and missing persons’ reports, Clue contemplated the important matters. When to next cry. Dine from the right boob tonight…or the left? How to take the next bath in a Jacuzzi tub?

One of the good things about my little Clue? She was an enterprising sort of baby.

If she wanted a bubble bath…she’d make it herself.

“Oh no, Clue!”

The books said Clue was too young to smile yet, but they said nothing about her developing a sense of smug superiority and ironic timing.

I lifted her out of the water. More than soap splattered into the tub, and I regretted pulling her close to me in lieu of wrapping her into a towel.

I thought eight hours trapped nursing on the couch was my reward for creating her life. Nope. Clue’s gratitude splattered down my leg, on my arms, and into the water.

“Clue, why?”

Shepard knocked at the door. “Is everything…okay?”

I turned. Fortunately, Clue’s eruption had ceased. Unfortunately, she sent the rains as a peace offering.

I gave up, letting her do her thing on me because I had nowhere else to tuck her.

Shepard stared in horror. I buzzed my lips and sighed.

“Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m the milk-maid or the diaper.”

“Right now…you’re pretty much gross.”

“Better me than the baby.”

Shepard offered me a towel. It wouldn’t do a lot of good. I wrapped Clue up and surveyed the damage. She’d wrecked her tub and herself, coating us both in a layer of pure misfortune.

This was breast-fed Karma. I’d flirted and hoped to earn more of Shepard’s sexy smiles, and the baby bomb was my punishment.

Very effective.

“I need to rinse her off,” I said. “But now I have to bleach the tub.”

Shepard did smile now. His lips parted.

And his rolling caramel laugh was well-deserved.

“Let’s get her in the kitchen sink,” he said. “Maybe you’ll fit in there too.”

I shuddered. “At this point, just take a match to me.”

Shepard left a wide birth between me and the baby. “You just need a long shower. Good thing I plan to help.”

“You want to help me shower?”

Shepard winked. “If you’re desperate, but I planned to watch the kid instead.”

“Right.” I nervously laughed. “That’d be nice.”

The sink was clean, but Shepard scrubbed the bottom and sides before I let my baby steep in the water. I detoured to the counter, peeking into the dinner he’d prepared.

Soup.

Chicken soup.

“You didn’t…”

Shepard rinsed the suds away. “You mentioned that your grandmother made chicken soup. I thought I’d give it a shot, see if it didn’t jar any more memories.”

I stared at the golden broth. The crock pot didn’t do much, but the savory salty scent was enough to dent the cement vault capturing my memories.

Or maybe it sealed me inside.

I didn’t know.

I didn’t care.

“Rice?” I asked. “It’s chicken and wild rice. That’s what she made. How did you know?”

Shepard tested the water with his forearm before plugging the sink. “I grabbed whatever was in my pantry.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this for me.”

A lock of playful blonde hair teased over his eyes. “I told you, Evie. I’m here to help. Let’s wash up the kid so we can eat. I think this dinner might be the trigger.”

“Really?”

“Somewhere, locked away in your head, is every secret I’m dying to learn.”

“And you think I’d share them with you?”

“Why would you want to hide them from me?”

I hummed. “Isn’t that why they’re called secrets?”

“Only because you don’t trust me yet.” He approached, standing so tall I had to look up to see the honesty in his eyes. “But I’m going to prove to you that you can depend on me. For more than just soup.”

I exhaled, chasing away a shudder of warmth that never should have been.

But it wasn’t because Shepard had whispered such wonderful words to me. It was because I had heard those promises spoken to me before.

Somewhere.

Long ago.

And it was my fault they were gone.

He frowned. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed. “Yeah. Can you put a couple towels in the sink too? Gotta keep the queen comfortable.”

“Sure thing.” Shepard padded the sides and made space for the baby. “What is Her Highness’s name today?”

“I’ve tried a couple. Abby. Tasha. Martha.”

“And?”

“Still Clue.” I smiled as she rested on my arm. The water soothed her, and Clue closed her eyes. “She doesn’t mind the nickname.”

“You’re doing a good job.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You aren’t covered in the unmentionable.”

“That…stain? That’s just her residual cuteness.”

“Her cuteness has one hell of a range.”

He handed me her soap and watched as I massaged the suds into her dark hair. “Once you’re done, I’ll put her down for you. You go hop in the shower.”

“I can do it.”

“I’m starving.” He helped to trickle water over Clue’s toes. “Let me wrangle the kid. You relax in the shower. Then we’ll eat.”

Was it that easy? That comforting? He promised me a shower, and it was like a gift I never knew I wanted.

“I wonder if this is how it would feel.” I instantly regretted speaking.

“How what would feel?”

I sighed. “If I had…no. Never mind. It’s dumb.”

Shepard didn’t look away. “Tell me.”

“If Clue and I had our family.”

I squirted a healthy amount of soap on my hands and aimed for her pudgy little cheeks and fingers, toes and rolls. Too bad I couldn’t scrub those dark thoughts out of my head.

“It’d be like this…” I said. “Dinner would be ready. Someone could tuck her in. I’d have a chance to get a shower. We’d be a family.”

Shepard held out Clue’s bath towel—grey, fuzzy, and with a hood that gave her bunny ears. He spoke with a confidence I envied.

“You are her family, Evie. And she’s yours. You two will never be alone.”

“Okay.” I pulled her out of the water and bundled her up. “You say that now. But tell me? Did you find anything? Someone who reported their wife missing. Someone who wondered about a lost pregnant girlfriend?” I quieted. “Tell me someone is out there searching.”

Shepard was quiet. I arched an eyebrow.

“You’re a bad fairy godmother, Detective Novak.”

“Good. I’m trying to be Prince Charming.”

“I don’t need a dragon slayed. I just want to know if someone is missing me.”

“A man would have to be crazy if he didn’t miss you.” Shepard tugged on Clue’s towel, wrapping her tighter before taking her from my arms. “And he’d do crazy things to find you.”

“This is where you ask me to be patient.”

“And this is where you refuse to listen.”

“What would you do?” I asked.

He studied the baby—her little pudgy cheeks and closed eyes, snuggled so tiny and safe in his arms.

“I’d turn over every rock, search every street, call in every favor. I wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t give up until I found you.”

My words quieted, soft and tentative. “I meant…if you were me.”

“Oh.” Shepard sheepishly smiled. “I’d get a shower and enjoy a couple minutes of peace before dinner.”

“You have a way with the ladies, don’t you?”

“I can give ‘em what they need.”

“A shower and a nap?”

“A quiet house.”

“You’ll watch the baby?”

“Absolutely. And as a bonus…” He lowered his voice and licked his bottom lip. “I also do dishes.”

“I love it when you talk clean to me.” I edged towards the bathroom, but I pointed to Clue. “You know how to diaper and dress a baby?”

“I’m also certified in infant CPR if you’re worried.”

“I wasn’t until you said it.”

I squeezed Clue’s hand and hurried to the bedroom, picking out a new pair of clothes without bothering to ensure the socks matched. Why waste time when I had a freebie shower beckoning me?

The water steamed, hot and perfect. I didn’t wait for it to adjust before jumping into the stream. Cold or scalding, it didn’t matter. My arms freed from the baby, aching the new mommy muscles of my biceps and triceps. I cleansed my body of everything sticky and listened only to the quiet pitter-padder of the water.

It was Heaven.

But the quiet wasn’t as comforting as I imagined it. Sure, Clue had settled, and Shepard wasn’t shouting for me. Everything seemed okay.

But anyone could put a diaper on a baby—even I had learned how. Dressing one was a little harder. She tended to flop around a lot, and sneaking the shirt over her head could be tricky. But Shepard was a detective. He could deduce his way into a solution.

But putting her down? In the crib?

My heart nearly shattered.

I pulled the shower curtain aside and called for him. “Shepard!”

The memory nearly cracked my head off the tile.

The shower curtain tugged back. A brush of cold air teased over my hips.

I dropped the washcloth into a puddle of suds at my feet.

“Go on…” He whispered with a wolfish growl. “Pick it up.”

“You get it for me.”

“With pleasure.”

I squealed as his suit jacket struck the floor. He didn’t bother with the rest of clothes. I backed into the wall, soapy and overheated, panting with a waiting breath as he knelt at my feet. The washcloth teased over my feet, my ankle, along the delicate curve of my calf, and finally to the supple swell of my thigh. He passed it near the crest of my legs, chuckling as it teased a part of me aching for more than the warmth of the water.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” I whispered.

“It never felt like home until you came.” His words muffled against my skin. “Promise me you’ll never leave.”

“Only if you never stop.”

His tongue flicked out. I gasped.

“Deal.”

“Evie?”

The door cracked open, and the memory vanished.

Not into a fog this time.

No.

Into a pool. A puddle. A wash of heat that raced from my toes to my lips, parting them in a quiet breath, tingling ache, and ravishing delight.

I exhaled. It didn’t help. My head dizzied in the memory. I gripped the wall.

“Everything okay?” Shepard called.

“Y—yeah.” Did my voice sound as husky as I thought? My mind blanked, and the only images that remained were wicked, immoral moments of pleasure. “Make sure you put the baby to sleep on her back.”

He sounded amused. “I know.”

“No blankets near her face.”

“I know.”

“You might have to rock her a bit.”

“She’s already out, Evie.”

I sighed. So was I. I flipped off the water. “Good. I’ll be done in a second.”

“You can take a little longer if you want.”

And melt? No way. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll set some bowls out.”

The door closed. The memories swirled in the steam.

That settled it.

Someone had to be out there searching for me. The memory was too vivid, too layered in pleasure, desire, and affection for me to be completely alone.

He was real.

So why hadn’t he found me yet?

I dried off and dressed, checking on Clue before heading to the kitchen. Shepard made a good swaddle, and he’d tucked her into the crib without a single wrinkle to her onesie. I snuck out of the nursery and let her sleep. It wouldn’t last long, maybe only two hours, but it was enough.

The steaming soup beckoned me. He served it with a hunk of bread and a glass of iced tea.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he said. “Just something quick. But we have to start somewhere, right?”

We.

“I suppose so.”

“Take a bite.”

The soup smelled strongly of pepper, but the first sip warmed me in liquid comfort. I’d needed a hearty and soothing meal. The broth was strong, and the rice hadn’t congealed into a total lump of mush.

He did well.

“So?” He watched me eat, studying my every reaction. “Any memories?”

Oh, I had remembered something quite vivid. Nothing polite for dinner conversation.

I shrugged. “It’s very good soup.”

“Nothing coming to you?” He sat back, picking at his bread but not eating. “Damn. I hoped that’d work. There’s nothing you remember?”

“Well…I’m getting bits and pieces here and there.”

That interested him. “Like what?”

“Nothing that would help the investigation.”

“You don’t know that.” Shepard’s eyes flashed with a quick determination. “Tell me what you remembered. All of it.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

I bit my lip. “Why?”

“Anything you offer can help me narrow down where I should be looking for your past. A street. A person. A car. The smallest detail tells a hundred stories.”

“Yeah…not this one.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I tapped the spoon on the rim of the bowl. “It had to do with me in the shower.”

“That’s fine. Where was the shower? At your house? What did it look like?”

“Like a shower.”

“Work with me.”

“This is a memory, Shepard. Not a letter to Penthouse.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Oh, now I see.”

I threatened him with my bread. “No comments.”

“So it was a good memory.”

I nodded towards Clue’s bedroom. “I have a newborn. I suspect I’ve had many good memories.”

“Well, she is good evidence for an…exciting past.”

Maybe. That remained to be seen. “Know what my psychologist says?”

“Please stop berating me, I’m just doing my job?”

“Doctor Clark says that I’m trying to hide my past. That I don’t want to remember.”

“Even the good parts?”

“Especially the good parts.”

Shepard’s eyebrows rose. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

I stirred the soup. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s a reason I don’t want to remember. Maybe I did something in my past that isn’t worth remembering.”

Shepard grinned. “Like what? What do you think you’re capable of doing?”

“Who knows? Maybe…I was some sort of secret agent.”

“Oh, yes.” Shepard slurped his soup. “Code Name: Placenta.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was part of some sort of governmental cover-up. I did my job, and then they just—whoop. Wiped my brain.”

“And left you pregnant?”

“Poor Clue can never know she’s actually part Martian.”

“Martian?”

“Explains why she’s paler than me.”

Shepard laughed. “I would love it if you told the psychologist this hypothetical past.”

“Oh really?” I feigned insult. “Fine. Maybe I wasn’t part of the government. Maybe I was a…runaway.”

“And why would you run away?”

“To join the circus.”

“You know, I never checked the carnies in the area for any information.”

“If you had, you’d have learned that I lost my memory in a tragic trapeze related incident.”

“Trapeze?”

“Would you prefer lion tamer?”

“Let me get you a whip.” He smirked. “See if it sparks a memory.”

“You joke, but I just might be the best contortionist in the world. I bet I could have fit my legs behind my head and did fancy splits and settled into all sorts of entertaining positions before the baby.” I bit the spoon. “Doubt me, and you might never get to see them.”

“I’d hate to miss that show.” He leaned against the chair. “And where’s Clue fit into this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked. “World’s smallest person.”

“Of course.”

I pushed the rice around the bowl. “Maybe I was a flight attendant, and I’m stuck in a completely different city.”

“I bet they would have complained if you didn’t show up for the return trip.”

“Didn’t say I was a good flight attendant.” I laughed. “Hell, three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to fit down the aisle.”

“Good point.”

“Maybe I was visiting college friends.” I shook my head. “No. They should have reported me gone. Maybe it was my own little spiritual journey—see the entire United States before the baby came. A mini-vacation, and I got stuck?”

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe I had no one.”

“Evie.”

“Maybe I ruined things with my baby’s father. Maybe I didn’t have friends or family. Maybe I am completely and totally alone.” I swallowed. “And that’s why I don’t want to remember—I have nothing to remember.”

The baby started to cry. I sighed and stood, taking my half-eaten bowl of soup with me to the kitchen. Shepard followed, calling my name.

“Evie, stop. I’m going to help you remember. We’ll work through this. Don’t get worried—”

“I’m trying to stay positive—”

I spun, not realizing how close he was. The bowl pitched from my hands and the soup splattered onto his shirt. I apologized as a spoonful of rice plopped onto his shoe.

“I’m sorry!” I reached for the dish rag at the same time as he did, bumping into his chest and knocking the top of my head into his chin.

Shepard hissed, launched back, and held his hands out.

“Assaulting a police officer…” He wagged a finger. “I could haul you in for that.”

I held my wrists out. “Handcuff me then.”

“I would…” He grinned. “I should. But knowing you? A slap on the wrist would bring out more of those good memories.”

“You think you know me that well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well…at least one of us does.” I handed him a dish towel. “Sorry about the soup.”

“Check on Clue. I’ll wring my dinner out.”

I hurried to her crib, but she only needed a bit of reassurance. A pat on the belly and a reswaddled blanket soothed her, and she was out just as quickly as she woke.

What perfect timing to save her momma from those dark thoughts.

“Thank you, Clue.” I whispered. “You’re very helpful.”

If she were awake, I think she might have appreciated the compliment.

She deserved better than a momma freaking out about being alone. We had each other. I’d be strong for the both of us. I’d promised her the day I brought her to our home-away-from-our-real-home that I’d take care of her.

But it was nice to have someone else there.

Someone making dinner. Putting her to bed.

Actually responding to me when I made sing-song noises.

Was it possible to miss something I didn’t remember having?

Was it possible not to want more of that…comfort?

I tip-toed from her room and returned to the kitchen. I once thought the nurse handing me a baby would be the greatest shock of my current existence.

Nope.

It was Shepard, rinsing his shirt out in the sink.

His broad back lined with lean muscle, and his arms bulged as he wrung out the moisture from the material. His skin was tanned, but he was pale, especially compared to me.

A woman should have been prepared with a fainting couch to catch her unsuspecting, exhausted, and overwhelmed butt when she fell back to watch the show.

Shepard turned, casting the wet shirt over his shoulder with sigh. “I think it's ruined.”

Now it was ruined? How the hell had he slid the shirt over his thick shoulders and pecs without stretching the material? His abs should have shredded the cloth.

I blamed the fatigue on my staring, the hunger on not speaking, and my own idiocy for not turning away. Instead, my gaze tracked down, over his tight abs and to the hint of a V peeking from the waistband of his pants.

The soup had splotched him in a very unfortunate spot. “I spilled a little on your slacks too.”

“Don’t try to get me out of my pants for some soup.” Shepard winked. “Wait until I buy you a steak dinner at least.”

“You’re very funny.” I moistened a paper towel and offered it to him, pointing to the spot on his knee. “But I’ll require a lobster dinner for that, thank you very much.”

“Can’t.” Shepard dabbed his leg. “You’re allergic to shellfish.”

“What?”

“What if you’re allergic to shellfish? You don’t know if that’s safe. Hell, just having peanut butter in the house could be a death trap.”

I tossed a towel at him. “Way to scare me.”

“It’s safer if you have me over anytime you want to try a new meal. Just to keep an eye on you.”

I crossed my arms. “Right. Wouldn’t want to go into shock if I suck on a shrimp.”

“Protect and serve, Evie.”

“Well, I’m glad I have you in case I trip over the blue line and fall face-first into a pile of tree nuts.”

“I hope I’m there if you fall face-first into any type of nut.”

I whacked him with an opened palm. My fingers tickled over the hardened muscles of his arm. “You think you’re clever, Detective.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You think you’re just a walking, talking hero.”

“I’ve been called worse things.”

“And you think you’re cute.”

“No.” He was quick to correct me. “You think I’m cute.”

And I wasn’t going to admit it. “I’ve seen better.”

He edged closer. “Any you remember?”

“I thought you were supposed to help me with that.”

“What about that good memory you had today? Remember any faces there?”

My heart thudded a little too hard. I shouldn’t have stepped closer to him, shouldn’t have taken his challenge. “I didn’t actually see his…face.”

“Why?”

I licked my lip. “Let’s just say the angle wasn’t right.”

“Concentrate a little harder. Maybe you’ll remember something else you liked.”

My breathing shallowed. “I really wasn’t focusing on anything during that moment.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Nothing…” I whispered. “And it was wonderful.”

“How can nothing be wonderful?”

“No worries. No guilt. No distractions.” When did his arm loop around my back? I rested my hands on his arms, but my fingers drifted in, caressing the hardened skin over his pecs. “Just nothing but that moment. Living right then. Without a care about the past or future.”

“Like right now?”

“I can’t stop thinking about the future right now.”

“Maybe I can help…”

I didn’t let him finish. I bolted up, standing on tip-toes and rushing to meet his parted lips.

The amnesia was a curse and a blessing. I couldn’t remember my first kiss, but now I relived it.

His quick nibble teased me into a furious warmth. My body tensed. My mind swirled.

My core tightened.

This was what it was like to be taken, caressed, and kissed with absolute devotion. Just the way a first kiss should have been. A curious, timid graze of the lips. A feast of the senses as I sunk into his spicy scent. The softness. The tenderness.

The quiet, gasping breath shared when our bodies touched, and the world fell to peace.

Then pieces.

What were we doing?

I pushed away, but Shepard moved first. He cleared the kitchen in a few determined steps and breathed a frustrated profanity.

He couldn’t look at me.

That was fine. The shame was already too much.

“I’m sorry.” His voice deepened. Rough. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No—”

“I took advantage of you.”

Oh God. “Shepard, it was my fault…”

He interrupted me with a harsh word. “No. Evie. You don’t understand. You don’t remember. I can’t…I can’t do this to you. You’re vulnerable…”

“I said it was my fault.”

He didn’t listen. “I should go. I’ll call you if I hear anything tomorrow.”

“Shepard.”

He turned, but the absolute disgust staining his expression stole my voice. He swore and kept me away with a ravenous breath.

“I won’t put you in that position again,” he said. “It’s not fair.”

“But I kissed you.”

“And I hope one day you can forgive me for letting that happen.” His jaw clenched. “Even though I know I won’t deserve it.”

The door closed behind him.

The baby started to cry.

I sunk onto the couch, still tasting him, feeling his warmth on my lips.

Oh, God. I’d kissed him. Another man.

A man who wasn’t my lost lover.

He wasn’t the one searching for me, and he wasn’t the man who had helped to create the beautiful baby awake in the nursery.

What had I done?

Why was I so worried about remembering my past?

If I wasn’t careful, I’d destroy my future.