Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

T he next morning dawned bright and clear. Kyle could sense that it was cold but couldn't wait to get outside and walk on the beach. At least the frigid temperature would help him control his body's reaction to Mia. He'd spent the night tossing and turning alone in his bed, fantasizing about how it would feel to have her there with him. It was almost four in the morning before he fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of what he'd do if she allowed him to have his way with her. He pushed back the blankets and head into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower. Then he'd go down and make them breakfast. It was very early. The house felt still, and he wasn't sure if she wasn't up yet.

Once out of the shower, he toweled himself dry and dressed in layers. He knew that it would be windy on the beach, and he needed to insulate himself as best as he could. He'd have to tell Mia to do the same for herself and for Sarah. He pulled on thick socks and made his way downstairs. As he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of her at the counter, a bowl of frosting and a sack of sprinkles resting at one elbow. She was clearly concentrating on her task, and he stopped himself before he could startle her. He wanted to watch her for a moment before she knew he was there.

She was wearing a cardigan sweater over a thin camisole, a pair of loose sweatpants and a flour covered apron. She moved with a steady hand as she spooned the thick, dark chocolate frosting onto the cake. She smoothed it with a knife and took a handful of sprinkles and dusted them across the top, then added another layer of cake and repeated the movement again. She put the last round on top and scooped out some more frosting, spreading it evenly down the sides of the cake and across the surface. He watched in fascination as she picked up a Ziploc bag from the counter, trimmed off one corner with a knife and loaded the remaining frosting in it, twisting the plastic until she could control the stuff as it slowly dispensed, swirling the chocolate into a decorative pattern. She took handfuls of sprinkles and pressed them all along the sides of the cake and then stepped back to look at her sweet creation.

He cleared his throat to let her know that he was there. "Mia?" he questioned. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm frosting this cake, that's what." Her tone sounded somewhat frantic to his ears.

"I see that, but why are you frosting the cake now? It's not even seven o'clock yet. Unless, of course, you're planning to serve it for breakfast."

She sighed. "No. I can imagine how crazy this looks, but I couldn't sleep at all last night. I was trying to figure out why baking this cake felt so familiar to me."

"And?" he asked, wanting to confess that he'd been up for most of the night as well, just for a completely different reason.

"Nothing. Just the knowledge that I could do it. And muffins. I know how to make muffins. And scones, and cookies. I know all those recipes, they're in my head."

She looked up at him and he wanted to grab her and hold her in his arms. He took a step closer. "That's great, Mia. Pieces of your memory are coming back."

"Useless pieces. I mean, what good is knowing how to frost a cake when you can't remember who you are, or where you're from?"

"Stop being so hard on yourself. If you remembered this," he said, pointing to the cake, "the rest can't be so far behind."

"What if the rest isn't good?" she whispered.

"Did you remember something or are you making an assumption?" he asked.

She hung her head and sighed. He reached out and lifted her chin up. "I have an idea that will do us all some good. When Sarah wakes up, let's go outside and take a walk on the beach before breakfast. The cold air might help clear your mind some more."

"Do you think that's safe? Us walking exposed on the beach?"

"It's fine. No one else is up here. Season is over and we have the place to ourselves until the family comes up for Thanksgiving. Let's enjoy the quiet while we can."

What he wanted to say, but didn't, was let's enjoy each other while we're alone , because who knows how long we have before the truth was revealed , until they uncovered her identity. Now that she remembered the slightest bit of her past life, Kyle knew that they were on borrowed time.

They spent the day in quiet companionship, neither one wanting to admit to the other that they had feelings that had started to go beyond simple friendship. They had walked far down the beach, gloved hand in hand, bundled against the cold, with Sarah wrapped warmly in the cashmere carrier that Kyle had worn tightly against his chest. A thin layer of ice coating the sand gave way under the weight of their boots, crackling as they walked. The sunshine felt good against her skin and the sound of the ocean was like a meditation, calming and more serene now that the storm had passed. A large part of her wished that this was her life, with this man, in this peaceful place. She wanted to shut out the world on the other side of the Bourne Bridge and never return to it, to find comfort in his arms and in his bed. Kyle made her feel this way, safe and cared for. They were starting to finish each other's sentences, to know what one or the other wanted before either asked for something ordinary, like milk for her coffee or another waffle for him at breakfast. Yet always lurking in the corner of her thoughts was what was to happen when she remembered her past? Would they ever see each other again after that?

She looked out at the ocean, its deep expanse almost calling to her, beckoning her far away from here. It was all so confusing that she pushed the thoughts out of her mind, looked over at the tall, gorgeous man carrying her baby on the beach and willed herself to live in the moment while she still could, because when her memory returned and she once again knew exactly who she was, there was no telling if he'd still want to help her.

Mia was finishing loading the dishwasher after dinner, and now that her daughter was asleep, she was thinking about having a little more wine. She cut two slices of the cake she'd made the night before and frosted this morning. She put a piece of the deeply chocolate dessert on plates, grabbed forks from the silverware drawer and balanced it all in one hand while she carried her refilled wine glass in the other. She brought everything into the living room where Kyle was adding two more logs to the fire, making it blaze, orange and red flames shooting high into the chimney. Placing everything down on the coffee table, she said, "It's do or die time, I suppose. Let's taste this cake and see if I have any skill as a baker, or if this was all just a bad idea."

"If it tastes as good as it looks than you might be on to something," he said smiling, pulling the decorative grate across the opening of the fireplace, and sitting down on the couch. He reached for his plate, cut off a corner of his dessert with a fork and put the bite into his mouth.

Mia watched as he closed his eyes, clearly savoring the cake he was eating. His tongue swept against his upper lip to catch a stray crumb, and she thought she might faint. To cover her reaction to his simple motion she asked, "Is it edible?"

"May I?" he reached for her wine glass.

"That bad?" she inquired.

"No. That good. I love dark chocolate and red wine, don't you?"

"So, it's good?"

"Mia, this cake tastes like it comes from a French patisserie. It has a remarkable depth of flavor. It's delicious."

"It's the strong coffee I added to the batter. Don't ask me why I added it, I just had a feeling that it belonged." She stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To get the wine bottle and your glass. I'll be right back."

She walked into the kitchen and took a moment to rest both hands on the countertop. There was something so sensual about the way his tongue had found that crumb. She could feel her insides quiver with the thought of his tongue in her own mouth. She wanted him, there was no denying that. Taking in a deep settling breath, she grabbed his glass and the bottle of Cabernet she'd come in here for and went back to sit next to him on the couch.

"Please tell me there's more of this cake," he said. "It's addicting."

Mia smiled. "Yes, lots more. I have a few more ideas of things I'd like to try and bake as well. It's like a small dam burst inside my mind and it's filled with recipes."

"Not a bad way to start to come back to yourself," he teased.

"I suppose. I feel like I'm walking on a frozen river that's beginning to melt in places. I wish it was more familiar and less scary, though."

He moved closer to her, his leg pressing against her own. "Mia, I'm right here with you. I know you're frightened, but you don't need to be. We're getting closer to the truth; I can feel it."

She lifted her wine glass and took a deep sip. "Maybe," she replied in barely a whisper. "But perhaps when we find out who I really am you won't want to know me anymore."

He looked directly into her eyes, and she could see the sincerity in his own. "Listen to me, Mia. No matter what we discover, you and I are friends now. I'm not letting go of that."

Friends, she thought wistfully. If I lean in and kiss him now, will he still see us as just friends? Will that be the signal that I want something more? He was the one who kissed me first, after all, yesterday in his bedroom. Was that a one-time thing?

In the end, it didn't matter. Kyle drained the rest of the wine from his glass and stood up. "I'm going to bed before I eat more of that cake tonight, Mia. Thanks. It's beyond delicious. Are you coming upstairs too?"

She heard his words and realized that it wasn't an invitation to join him, but rather an admission that he'd be going to his room alone.

"No. I'm going to enjoy this fire a little bit more. I'll be up in a bit."

"Okay. See you in the morning." He turned and walked into the kitchen. She could hear him put his dirty plate in the dishwasher and head up the long staircase. Once the house was quiet, she lifted her own piece of cake and put a small forkful in her mouth. The frosting was velvety smooth and the sprinkles along the edge added a nice crunch. Oooh, this is good, she thought to herself after one bite. She leaned her head back and allowed the sweet, rich chocolate to coat her tastebuds. It triggered a far-off memory of a cute bake shop on a smart street in a busy city. Was it a place she shopped in or was it… wait. It was her bake shop. She owned it. But where was it, and why couldn't she remember more?