Kissing the Dr (Healing Love)

“Good. Bask in it, babe, you deserve it.” He squeezed me back and that little tremble in his voice, the one that told me this meant as much to him—a surgeon—as it did to me, cracked open something in my heart.

I felt good but, just as quickly, sadness settled over me as I looked up into his clear blue eyes, so filled with love and pride. He was proud that I could remember my job and dance moves, but that was it so far.

“Why can’t I remember us, Casey? Why can I remember dancing and baking, but not you? Not us?”

Casey sighed, his eyes as sympathetic as ever. “This stuff is muscle memory and every little thing you recover, brings you closer to recovering us.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted with a gentle smile. “You kiss and you taste like the Megan I’ve always known and always loved. The rest of your memories are in there, waiting to get out. I know it.”

Damn, that kiss was burned into my memory. As was another memory. “Casey, that kiss.”

“I won’t apologize, Megs. That kiss was incredible.”

“It was,” I agreed. “And I don’t need an apology. When you were kissing me, I saw something. It was just a flash, but it was a flash of us laughing together on a blanket on some grass.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Really.”

He pulled me close and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe you need another kiss to knock another memory loose.”

I laughed and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no.”

The smile dropped from Casey’s face and he put his hands on my waist, yanking me flush against his body with a slow, seductive smile that was just a hint of the kiss to come.

And the kiss, good god, it was so hot I thought the whole damn building would go up in flames. But it wasn’t Sweet Treats, it was me. My heart thudded against my chest, and my pulse raced so fast it was all I could hear. And Casey, his smiling face was all I saw as it closed in on me until, finally, our lips collided. The kiss was slow and sensual, as if we were getting reacquainted with each other after a long absence, and it slowly heated up, degree by degree, like preheating oven.

It was everything a kiss should be, the exact way every woman wanted to be kissed.

It was perfect.

Except it was too damn short. “Wow. Can we go home and make out on the sofa?”

Casey blinked in surprise. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? You said we used to do that all the time, didn’t you?”

“I did, but I didn’t want to push you.”

“You’re not pushing. I am.”

The doctor said I needed to stroll down memory lane and maybe this was what he meant. At least, I hoped it was, because all I could think about was spending the afternoon kissing this beautiful, patient man of mine.

Casey gave a short nod, grabbing my hand, and pulled me out of the bakery’s back door, to our car, and then home. He said nothing the entire way, jaws clenched with unspent desire, eyes filled with a happiness I hadn’t seen from him yet.

And we totally spent the afternoon making out like the horny teenagers I imagined we once were.

Imagined, because I couldn’t remember.

Not yet.

But I would.

Casey

I sat in the car and stared at the house, wondering what Megan was up to on the other side of the door. Today was our wedding anniversary and instead of a big getaway, or a grand party, I’d opted to go low-key. Megan loved low-key, she was just that type of girl.

But that was Megan before the accident. This Megan was low-key, too, but she had no problem showing off her gorgeous cleavage, she had a potty mouth, and she didn’t just show me how she felt, she told me. I wasn’t sure what she would like.

But the day was here.

I sent flowers earlier in the day and instead of a simple text of love and gratitude, she sent a photo of herself in a sexy top that showed off mounds of cleavage, holding one flower in her teeth with a caption that just said, “Thanks.”

It was hot. It was also strange.

“This is our anniversary, not a contest. I can do this.” That was what I told my reflection, anyway. After a few more moments of doubt, I pushed the door open with a sigh and made my way to the door.

I don’t know what I expected when I walked in, but it wasn’t to hear Megan singing off-key at the top of her lungs to some country-rock song I’d never heard before, and it certainly wasn’t the incredible smells that filled the whole house. “Megs?”

There was more singing, possibly louder, but no answer.

I smiled and shook my head as I made my way to the kitchen. “Smells good in here.”