While They Watch

by Sosie Frost

  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 bab
y 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.

  7

  “Clue…this better be the last time either one of us ends up in a police station.”

  My child pleaded the fifth. I should have too. Something told me we’d be here again. Or…

  That I had already been in one.

  Well, facing the police station with an ingrained hesitance wasn’t mother’s intuition. More like…instinct. And I had a lot of those lately. I just knew when Clue needed to be fed or changed or cuddled. I had an uncanny ability to cook pasta al dente without a timer. And, somehow, I’d learned to juggle.

  But my biggest instinct?

  Staying clear of the police.

  Not the greatest value to instill in my kid.

  Then again, I blamed my past for a mistake committed in the near present. I wasn’t afraid of the detective…I was humiliated by my actions around him.

  Two weeks of radio silence served as penance enough for inappropriate behavior. My time apart from Shepard gave me ample opportunity to read the next chapter of my life—Two-Bit Slut: A Guide To Navigating The Back Alley Streets Of Your Pride.

  The last thing I wanted to do was face Shepard after what I had done, but I couldn’t sit around and wait anymore, hoping to hear news. I had to do something.

  If not for me…then for Clue.

  I cautiously entered the police station and took a breath. No pepper spray in the air. That was good. And I wasn’t tased on the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?