Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

K yle lifted Mia off her feet and carried her into his bedroom, carefully setting her down on the mattress before climbing in after her. For as much as he knew this might be the mistake of his lifetime, there was no way he could stop himself now. He'd been fighting his attraction to this mystery woman for the last few weeks, but once she gave him the green light out in the hallway, he knew that there was no turning back. He wanted her, he craved her touch, and he was willing to risk the consequences of their actions. He leaned over her body and kissed her on the lips, softly at first but more fervently as she responded to his tongue as it swept through her warm mouth. He could have stayed in this moment forever, but his body was starting to need more. The zipper on his jeans was feeling extremely uncomfortable, the available space between him and the fabric of his pants disappearing completely.

There was no need for words between them; their hands expressed everything they were trying to tell one another. He swept his fingers lightly over her shirt and felt her tremble beneath it. He grazed one nipple against the soft fabric and watched in awe as a wet spot began to spread outward, soaking through both her bra and blouse. He had no idea that her body would react this way and he was momentarily stunned by his own ignorance, but suddenly had the overwhelming desire to taste the milk that was leaking through her clothing.

"Kyle," she huskily whispered his name, and he felt a fire ignite deep in his belly.

He almost didn't know what to do first, undress her or himself, but in the end, it didn't matter. As he reached for the top button of her shirt, they both heard Sarah cry out from the room down the hall. She had woken up from her nap and her sharp wail snapped them both out of the sensory overload that they'd been experiencing, a tangle of limbs and tongues. Kyle looked down at her face, her eyes wide. Then, unexpectedly, she started to giggle, which quickly turned into a fit of laughter.

"Oh my God, Kyle," she said, wiping away tears, still laughing. "Talk about timing." She shimmied away from underneath him and stood up, almost running out of the room to comfort her daughter.

A moment later he could hear her talking to the baby. Then he heard the door to Sarah's bedroom click shut. Whatever was going to happen between them faded away and he was left feeling more frustrated than he could remember. What the hell? he thought to himself. And what now? Damn it! Keep your hands to yourself, asshole! You can't do this. She's compromised and you're just supposed to be trying to help her find her way back to herself. Don't let that happen again, no matter what. If you're going to help her, stealing her heart and then sending her on her way is not the way to do it!

But then again, he had no idea of how to get this particular genie back in its bottle…

Mia realized that she would need a shower after that episode with Kyle. She recognized the nervous laughter that she couldn't control as she fled from his room. Now, she was hot, bothered, and soaked with breast milk. Luckily, she produced more than enough of the stuff, so the baby didn't miss her meal. What had just happened between them, though, she realized, was too close a call.

Mia knew that she was attracted to Kyle. She just hadn't been sure if he felt anywhere near the same about her. Now she no longer had to wonder. In the brief time she'd been in his bed she'd felt more comfortable than she had in a very long time. She still couldn't remember much about what her life was like before the accident, but she was sure that the unsettled feeling she walked around with most of the time wasn't new. Laying under him, his weight pressing on her felt like a warm blanket made her feel safe. She didn't want to take advantage of his kindness or his generosity, but she did want him to know that she was starting to have feelings for him. More than anything else, she wanted to crawl back into his bed, but this time, she wanted to be naked when she did.

She wished she knew who she really was, where she was from, and if there was someone out there looking for her. There was the nagging sense that she was in trouble somehow, that she was running from something, but none of her memories had resurfaced. She was beginning to think they never would. Could she honestly get involved with this man if she had no recall of her past? Was it fair to enter a relationship with someone not truly knowing if there was another man out there who had already claimed her as his own? And who was Sarah's father? Even if that man wasn't looking for her, wouldn't he be searching for his precious baby daughter? None of this made any sense to her.

Mia closed her eyes. She did her best to conjure up an image of where she was right before that car accident. Try as she might, all she could see was Kyle. She saw him helping her out of her vehicle. She saw him in his apartment in Boston, those low-slung sweatpants sitting right below his hips in an oh-so sexy way. Cooking together in his small kitchen, him holding her baby with ease. It would be so much easier if she could just stay here with him forever, but she knew that wasn't going to be an option. She had to reclaim her life before the accident, whatever it was, so that she could start over somewhere else -- with someone else. She felt like she was caught in a vise and all the air was being squeezed from her lungs.

Mia looked down at her daughter drinking at her breast. What should I do, Sarah? Should I tell him how I feel?

The little girl looked up at her with such trust in her eyes that it almost made Mia cry. But then again, if she shed a tear, would it be for her daughter, or for the simple fact that the man in the other room wasn't hers? She had no real claim on him, and until she could remember the truth of who she was, she could not climb into his bed again, no matter what else happened. Then she looked up at the ceiling as if to bargain with the heavens . Give me strength. I'm going to need it…

Dinner that night was strained. The baby was asleep for the night, giving them no outside distraction to focus on. They gave one another a wider berth in the kitchen than they previously did; it was almost as if they were each afraid to graze against the other and chance igniting the fire that still simmered for them both underneath their polite exteriors. They ate in relative silence as well, only requesting that one pass along a bowl or a saltshaker when necessary.

When they'd each finished the spaghetti Bolognese that he'd effortlessly pulled together, she offered to clean up. "You cooked," she said to Kyle. "My turn to do the dishes."

"Okay, thanks," he said. "I'm going to try and do some research for a bit, see what I come up with."

She nodded, feeling the loss as soon as he left the room. As she was in the pantry, putting away the half-used, open box of pasta they'd cooked for their meal, Mia felt herself drawn to the shelves that held the bakeware. There were muffin tins, cake and pie pans, a stand mixer as well as measuring cups of all sizes. She ran a finger along a silicone baking sheet, reveling in its smooth texture. For the first time since the accident, she felt like this was something familiar, something she knew a little bit about. And while she could barely remember how to tie her own shoes, somehow this equipment seemed like an extension of herself. She felt comfortable around it and for some strange reason, it was now calling her name. It was almost like when she saw the chicken in the freezer case of the grocery store and knew that she could successfully roast it for dinner, or when she found the oatmeal and innately knew how to make a bowl of it for breakfast. Something in the back of her mind told her that she knew how to bake a cake, and the next thing she knew, Mia was testing that theory.

She grabbed the mixer and three round cake pans and brought them out to the counter. Then she went over to one of the wall ovens and turned it on. The default setting was 350 degrees. She wasn't sure if that was right or not, because the number felt unfamiliar, but if it wasn't, she figured, she'd know soon enough. She went back into the pantry and found the sugars, both white and brown, a bottle of vanilla, both baking soda and baking powder, and a large bag of flour. Scouring the shelves, pushing aside the almond extract and raisins, she found cocoa powder and a sack of multi-colored sprinkles. Once she had everything out and ready to go, she reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two eggs and a stick of butter. Then she stepped back for a moment and looked over what she had out on the counter, thinking about these components for a long while. When she had a plan outlined in her mind, she got to work.

Kyle was in the large office in the front of the house staring at the computer screen. He was waiting for a contact of his in the department to come up with the IP address of the computer that was paying Mia's credit card bill each month. His point person – Shelby -- had traced the card back to the bank where it had been issued. The paperless bill was sent to an email address attached to Mia's name, even though she had no recollection it or its password and login information. The bill had been promptly paid just two days ago. Kyle knew that Mia hadn't paid it. She didn't remember having a credit card until they searched her wallet together back in Boston and found it tucked neatly into one of the leather slits designed to hold it. Then she had used it at the Trader Joe's the day they'd shopped together and made no other purchases since. The only other charge was for coffee in the Heathrow airport on the day she had traveled to New York City. Kyle felt that if they could trace back to the IP address, they'd find a link to someone who knew Mia. Hopefully, that person would be looking for her.

He heard the ding that alerted him to a text message and glanced at the screen. No answer as to where the bill had been sent, but Shelby was promising a deeper dive in the morning. If anyone could crack this open, it was her; Kyle had worked with her before and knew what crazy computer skills she had. Her knowledge of the dark web was legendary in the department. He was sure she'd come up with something soon.

Kyle turned to look out the window. It was dark, but there were what looked like millions of stars shining over the ocean. The rain had stopped at some point and the sky had cleared, giving Kyle hope that tomorrow would be a bright and sunny day. He shut down the computer and was about to go upstairs when he smelled something sweet coming from the kitchen. Once he stepped inside, he saw Mia, flour covering her shirt, pulling the first of three cake pans out of the oven. He was stunned.

"Did you find my mother's cookbooks somewhere?" he asked as she slid the hot pan onto a cooling rack.

"Not exactly," she said, continuing with her task until all three pans were out and she shut down the oven.

"So did you improvise?"

"Something like that. I don't know. And I don't know if this will taste good or not, but I suddenly felt compelled to bake. Don't ask me how I know what to do, I just do. It's so weird."

He nodded slowly, not sure of how to respond to her statement. "Did you remember a recipe?"

"It wasn't like that. It was more like I recognized the equipment and immediately knew how to put it to good use."

"Okay…" he began. "Maybe this is a clue to your past. I guess we can try investigating bakers in the New York City area. Maybe somehow that's the link we've been missing."

"I think we're going to have to taste this before we decide if I'm a baker or not. And maybe it's a hobby and not a career choice. All I remembered was the ratio of butter to eggs to flour. The rest I improvised."

"If it was at all foreign to you, there would not be any improvising. You'd have no idea what to do."

"Maybe," she nodded, stepping over to the refrigerator and pulling out two more sticks of butter.

"What are you doing with those?" he asked.

"Leaving them out overnight to soften. This cake needs frosting. Or at least I think it does."

"And you know how to make frosting as well?"

She smiled. "I guess we'll find that out tomorrow, won't we?"

He couldn't stop the next thought that came into his head. He could think of a much worthier use for that frosting than to spread it on the cake. He imagined that it would taste even better slathered all over her naked body…