She’d always loved to dance and sing while she cooked.
Stunned, the certainty of that knowledge made her freeze. An actual memory? What else could it have been?
Desperate, she tried to see if she could recall anything else. Evidently, she tried too hard, because all she came up with was a blank slate.
Meanwhile, the kitchen filled up with the fragrant smell of the apple crisp. It might have been the wrong thing to make in August, but for whatever reason it seemed like comfort food to her.
A quick glance at the clock showed noon had come and gone, and she needed to eat something for lunch. She fixed herself a salad, enjoying the selection of fresh greens she found in the refrigerator crisper. Dr. Eric Colton might be a busy man, but he sure knew how to stock a kitchen.
While she ate, she flipped through the second cookbook, wondering if she should make him something for dinner. Though she didn’t have any idea what time he actually came home, she guessed she could always keep warm whatever she prepared.
The idea energized her. She checked to see what kind of proteins he had. Once again, his freezer was well stocked. She took out a pork roast and put it in the fridge to thaw for tomorrow, and took out a packet of hamburger meat. She’d thaw it in the microwave, and whip up some kind of pasta casserole. That would be easy to reheat.
Grinning—listen to her, thinking she could just whip up a casserole—she started assembling the necessary components.
To her surprise, once she’d followed all the steps in the cookbook, again she found herself intuitively adding a pinch here and there of different seasonings. Just like with the crisp, it felt like she somehow instinctively knew they’d enhance the dish. Humming happily, she conceded the fact that since she had no idea of her past, she just might be a very good cook indeed.
Once she’d put the casserole in the oven, she decided to keep herself busy by concocting another dessert. A cake? Pie? In the end, she realized Eric had enough ingredients for her to make a delicious cheesecake. Since it would need an hour baking time, plus time to cool, she needed to get it going. What on earth they were going to do with two desserts, she didn’t know, but surely the sweet treats wouldn’t go to waste.
Quickly, she pulverized graham crackers, melted the butter, located a pie plate and made a crust. She put that in the oven for a few minutes, then got busy making the cheesecake itself.
Whipping the cream cheese and other components felt strangely satisfying. She again found herself performing steps by rote, as if from the memory of doing this before so many times the actions had become habit.
Since the oven temperature for the casserole was 350, she slid the casserole over and placed the cheesecake next to it. She set the microwave timer for that.
And then she sat back and waited while everything cooked.
By the time she removed the ground beef, pasta and mushrooms, all in a creamy cheese sauce, from the oven, she knew she’d made a winner. First, the fragrant smell made her mouth water, and secondly, the dish looked fit for a photographic spread in a cooking magazine—it was that beautiful.
A quick glance at the clock showed several hours had passed. She couldn’t believe the time—six-fifteen. She had no idea when Eric got off work at the hospital, but since he’d gone in over twelve hours ago, surely it would be soon.
Her stomach growled. Should she eat? Or wait? She decided to let the casserole cool slightly and if Eric wasn’t home, go ahead and have her meal. She knew he’d understand, especially if he didn’t return until much later.
Thirty minutes later she pulled out the cheesecake, pleased with the way it looked. She placed it on a rack to cool and opened a bottle of red wine. After pouring herself a glass, she walked to the window, gazing out at the busy city streets below.
The sound of the key in the front door lock made her jump. When Eric came inside, her heart skipped a beat.
“Wow.” He stopped, sniffing appreciatively. “Whatever that is, it smells great.”
His comment made her beam. Glad she’d waited, she hurried to set the table. “I made dinner.”
His green eyes twinkled. “You know you didn’t have to, but you wouldn’t believe how glad I am that you did. I barely had time to eat an apple today, so I’m starving.”
Happiness and pride hummed inside her as she placed the casserole in the center of the table. She poured him a glass of wine and took her seat across from him, watching as Eric dished up a large serving on his plate. Though her own helping was a third of the size of his, she felt a jolt of alarm as she realized she should have tasted it before serving it. Every good chef knew that.
Every good chef? What did she know about that? Shrugging off the thought, she watched as Eric raised his fork to his mouth.
He rolled his eyes, making appreciative sounds. “I didn’t know you were a gourmet chef,” he said, once he’d swallowed.
Delighted, she managed a casual shrug. “Neither did I,” she teased. “I simply followed a recipe I found in one of your cookbooks.”
One silver brow raised. “Taste it.”
After she complied, she made a pleased noise. “It is pretty good,” she admitted, having another bite.
Too busy devouring his meal to comment, Eric merely shook his head. When he’d cleaned his plate, he had seconds, which gave MW a serious case of the warm fuzzies.
“Try and leave room for dessert,” she told him, unable to keep from smiling.
“Dessert?” He followed her gaze to where the cheesecake sat cooling next to the apple crisp. “Be still my heart.”
This time, she laughed out loud. “You have a choice. I hope they’re as good as they look and smell.”
Eric opted for the cheesecake, promising to try the crisp in the morning. “Mmm. It’s even better.” Eric devoured his slice, then gave her a sheepish look as he got a second. “I’ll gain weight if I keep eating like this,” he said, sounding not the least bit repentant.
She laughed again. With surprise, she noted that despite everything, she was happy. She liked him. Not for the first time, she wondered if losing her memory gave her a much-needed opportunity to start over. A blank slate.
But that would only be needed if it turned out she had an awful past.
With that, she gave herself a mental shake. Until she knew the truth, why waste her time speculating?
When the meal was finished, she began clearing off the table. Rising, Eric helped. “We can eat these leftovers again,” he told her, smiling. “I’ll cover them and put them in the fridge for later.”
The tableau felt so cozy and domestic, she blinked. Swaying, she felt as if she watched them both from a distance, as though viewing a show on television. “Is disassociation part of amnesia?” she asked, trying not to worry.
Eric went still, eyeing her carefully. “Why do you ask?”
His stillness scared her more than anything. “Nothing,” she lied. “Just curious.”
She didn’t know him well enough to know if he believed her or not. “Do you get to take a lunch break during the day?” she asked, changing the subject while she carried the dishes to the sink.
“It depends.” She couldn’t help but notice he still watched her closely. “If there’s a lot going on, then no. Today was one of those days. We had a shooting, a stabbing, a battered woman and two car crashes. And that was all before noon.”
Stunned, she stacked the plates in the dishwasher, trying to imagine. She couldn’t. “Were you able to help them all?” She prayed he’d spare her the gory details. Apparently, she had a squeamish nature.
“Of course.” His casual assurance verged on arrogance. “I’m damn good at what I do.”
Blinking, she realized she found his confidence attractive. Maybe because right now she had none of her own.
A bit flustered, she closed the dishwasher a
nd changed the subject. “I know I keep asking this, but how long do you think it will take before I remember something about my identity?”
“I don’t know. It might be a day or two. Has anything come to you?”
“Not really.” She began covering the leftovers so she could put them in the fridge. “Small flashes of little things, here and there. Apparently I seem to have an affinity for cooking.”
“Lucky for me.” Crossing the room, he took the casserole dish from her. “I really appreciate the meal. But you don’t have to do this every day.”
When she looked up at him, her heart lurched. “What else am I going to do?”
He frowned. “Going a bit stir-crazy?”
Though she hadn’t been, she could see where the sheer blankness of her days could turn into boredom. “Even if I cook every day, there’s no way to fill that many hours.”
Again he flashed that überconfident, sexy smile. “I’m sure a switch will flick on in your brain soon. Until then, just rest and relax. I have a ton of books if you like to read, plus there’s always the good ol’ television. Oh, and this building has a wonderful gym, if you feel like exercising. I can show you where it’s located.”
She nodded, curbing an impatience that had come out of nowhere. “I can’t help but feel like I’m supposed to do something, something really important.”
Her own words shocked her. “I mean,” she stammered, “I hadn’t felt like that until I said it. I guess that’s another piece of my memory coming back.”
“Don’t try to force it. Just relax and if something comes to you, let it. If not, don’t worry. I promise, you’ll be back to normal in no time.”
Since he was a doctor, she chose to believe he was right. “Still, I don’t know what to do with myself all day. Not complaining,” she said, though she sort of was.
“There’s a desktop computer in my office.” He pointed toward the hallway. “Third door on the left. It’s not password protected. Feel free to use it for anything you like.”
She tilted her head. “How do you know I won’t go shopping and use your credit card info?”
His short bark of laughter made her smile. “Because I don’t store any of my credit card info on my computer. So knock yourself out.”
At least she could check out Facebook. The instant the thought occurred to her, she realized she didn’t know her real name, so she couldn’t access her account. Though for once, that information seemed to hover just out of reach at the edge of her consciousness. Which felt like a minor breakthrough.
“Thank you,” she told him. “I might even use your computer to find new recipes.”
He only shook his head and chuckled.
After dinner, they watched TV together, which made her feel like they were a couple in a long-term relationship. When she took a seat on the couch, he went for the chair, almost as if he didn’t want to get too close to her. She told herself her thoughts were foolish and waited to see what shows he’d put on.
He chose two related dramas that ran back-to-back. As she watched them, again she felt a nagging sense of familiarity, as if she might have seen the programs before. Or maybe because the self she’d forgotten had been in a relationship, maybe even married or living with someone.
This idea caused her so much anxiety she had to push it away. Instead, she struggled to focus on the story unfolding on the television.
Yet it seemed she couldn’t. When she wasn’t obsessing over her past, she studied Eric. One thing she wished she could turn off was her hyperawareness of him. While he watched the show, she found herself sneaking glances at him. Everything about him fascinated her, from his close-cropped brown hair, to the wide span of his shoulders and his strong and sensual features. Even his hands with his long, elegant fingers—a surgeon’s fingers. Knowing they were capable of saving lives made her wonder how they’d feel caressing her skin.
No. She brought herself up sharply, trying to disguise the restless agitation that took hold of her when she got too comfortable with him. This could only mean one thing as far as she was concerned. Something or someone in her past gave her a reason why she shouldn’t get close to Eric Colton, no matter how sexy he might be.
After the evening news, Eric turned off the TV. His guileless green-eyed gaze met hers, sending another bolt of heat to her belly. “Good night,” he said, covering a yawn with his hand, obviously not similarly affected by her.
She rose, still unable to shake the strange combination of desire and unease. When she had taken a few steps to head toward her room, Eric switched off the lights.
As she watched him, the one thing she did know—how much she owed him—made gratitude well up inside her. Her chest ached over how much he’d done for her. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to repay him for the kindness he’d shown her, but she sure as heck intended to try.
Resolve straightened her spine as she got ready for bed.
* * *
The next morning, she began. Since she now had an idea of what time he got up, by the time he came into the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee she’d made him breakfast. Scrambled eggs, toast and two sausage links. Nothing fancy, and part of her knew she could do more, but for now it would have to do.
Eric stopped short when he saw she’d set two places at the kitchen bar. “What’s this?”
“You need to eat, right? Making you something hot and nutritious before you head in to work is the least I can do.” She gave a mental wince. She sounded as if she wanted to mother him or something.
For an instant, she thought he might protest. He opened his mouth to speak, then apparently thought better of it. “Thank you,” he finally said, pulling out his chair and eyeing his full plate with obvious appreciation before digging in. “You know this is going to ruin me, though.”
She didn’t understand. Filling her own plate, she took a seat next to him. “How so?”
“I never have time to make this kind of breakfast.” He made a sound of pleasure as he tasted the eggs. “Cheese and garlic?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t keep from frowning. “I would have liked to have added some spinach and mushrooms, but you’re all out.”
“This is just perfect.” When he rolled his eyes, she laughed. “Really.”
Since he cleared his plate in record time, she had no choice but to believe him. “Thank you.”
Before she could help herself, she wondered if he made love with the same enthusiasm. Quickly, she banished the thought, trying to focus on eating her own breakfast instead.
She’d barely taken her second bite when he pushed to his feet. “Sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got a busy day ahead.”
Her heart skipped a beat as she thought—for just a moment—he was about to lean in and kiss her cheek. But he had only reached for his orange juice, which he downed in two gulps.
“Thank you.” Again the megawatt, impersonal smile. She watched as he poured a second cup of coffee, his thoughts already a million miles away. More proof her clearly unfounded infatuation with him could only lead to trouble for them both.
After he left, she showered and dressed. With a sense of excitement mingled with trepidation, she turned on the computer. She read the news stories that came up on the home page, and did a search for her own story, but she could find nothing. Apparently a woman getting run down by a car that didn’t stop wasn’t newsworthy since she’d lived.
Next, she did a search for recipes. Amazingly, she remembered how to use the Google search page. She lost herself poring over various recipes, delighted with the sheer variety of them.
She finally settled on what she wanted to make that evening for dinner, and she decided to go ahead and prepare the dessert ahead of time. While that baked, she began assembling a sandwich for her lunch. Part of her wished Eric got to come home for a quick bite, but she underst
ood why he couldn’t.
Meanwhile, she had a lot to think about. Such as, who was Walter? Eric had told her she’d said that name after she’d been hit. Obviously, Walter was someone very important to her.
But she wore no ring. No one had come looking for her or reported her missing. Eric’s brother the detective would have notified them if someone had.
What did that mean? Again she wondered what kind of life she had led that no one even cared if she disappeared. What if—the thought horrified her, but she knew she needed to face it head-on—she’d been an awful person? Maybe even some kind of criminal? The idea that had seemed so outlandish at first became more and more probable with each passing day.
Chapter 5
Right after MW finished her sandwich, she stood up, trying to decide if she wanted to eat something sweet. She just taken the newest dessert—a gorgeous flourless cake—out of the oven when a sound made her freeze. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was a little past noon. An intruder? Or had Eric decided to come home for lunch?
Heart pounding, she hurried out into the living room, unsure whether she should hide or not.
When the door opened and Eric came inside, the relief that flooded her felt so strong, she had to restrain herself from launching herself at him and hugging him.
She let her gaze drink him in. Full of a kind of virile grace, he moved into the room. When he saw her, he smiled, devilishly handsome and unintentionally seductive. How one man could be so attractive and sexy, she didn’t know.
Though her knees went weak, she managed to act unaffected. “Has something happened? Is that why you’re here?”
He frowned. “MW, you need to stop assuming the worst. Today was fairly quiet so I took your suggestion from yesterday and came home for lunch. I couldn’t stop thinking about that casserole you made yesterday.”
The Temptation of Dr. Colton Page 6
