First Real Kiss

Chapter 3

Luke

The sun seared my closed eyelids, and I lifted a hand to block its heat. My pillow was extra soft this morning. After so many weeks of back-to-back surgeries, I didn’t want sleep to end. I turned on my side. These sheets were holding me captive. And they were silkier than usual, the higher thread count of my dreams.

Something rustled beside me. Then, it groaned—in a decidedly feminine voice. “Mrrr. I’m not ready for morning.”

Every muscle in my body tightened. My eyes flew open. I whipped my head to the right and there, beside me in a cascade of auburn locks lay …

I gulped. Ms. Chandler?

“You make me so happy, do you know that?” She smiled at me, her spring-green eyes almost glittering in that errant ray of morning sunlight. “What would I do without you?” She reached out, and with a delicate fingertip traced my eyebrows, my cheekbones, the cupid’s bow of my upper lip.

Sensations rippled over me. This can’t be a dream. I feel her touch. I smell her—the early-morning scent of a female body. A smile tugged at my mouth, as if in muscle memory, not because of my true emotions—which were a jumble of confusion and longing and horror.

“You’re sure relaxed this morning.” When her lips curved upward, they revealed a set of straight, white teeth and a hint of pink tongue between them. I blinked violently.

What was happening? The last thing I remembered was …

Then, I remembered nothing. Not even my own name, because the woman in all her glorious curves, kissed me for a luscious, luxuriant moment. I went limp under her mesmerizing skill. Then, she exited the bed and padded softly toward the open door of the bath, humming something I didn’t recognize mentally but which made my soul both leap and melt at the same time. I couldn’t peel my eyes from her gait, the back and forth of her generous hips, of her narrow waist.

A giant wave of some powerful emotion enveloped me. Whether it was for that incredible view of her walk that held me captive or whether it was for the woman herself, I had no idea. But it wasn’t lust. I knew all about lust. It was love. I’d loved once or twice in my life—nothing permanent, but enough to know what it felt like, at least how it felt before the heartbreak inevitably set in.

Love. Deep, incredible, love. For a moment, I bristled at the word, but then, I couldn’t resist it and succumbed. It was too velvet, too blanketing, too warm and familiar—and I was desperate to keep it wrapped around me.

“Don’t forget, babe.” Her sweet voice carried over the rush of water from the shower, as steam billowed out the door. “We’ve got the party tonight. Don’t make me come down to the hospital and extract you.”

Party? Hospital? Babe?

That’s right. I’m a doctor. A surgeon. And …

“Dust off some old surgery anecdotes, would you? You know how my dad is. And he remembers every single one of your war stories, so repeats aren’t going to fly. He’s going to want to show you off to his old friends like a prize pony. But, of course, you know all that.”

No, I didn’t. None of it. My mouth was suddenly dry as a desert bone. Panicky flashes filled me. I felt around on the floor for some jeans and a t-shirt. I yanked them on. She broke into a classic rock ballad in the shower with a voice that was so off-key I could have recorded it for a mean-spirited viral video, but in alarm, I headed out into the hallway.

We were on an upstairs level, and I headed down a curving stairway. The wall was lined with paintings by that one artist. I couldn’t recall the name, but the details made all the paintings clearly his—bold lines, soft pastels. What was the guy’s name? Started with a T, but I wasn’t thinking well.

The bottom of the steps opened up into a kitchen and dining room. Water! I dashed for the sink. I rummaged in the cupboards without luck. Finally, I found a drinking glass in the least-intuitive spot, a cupboard in the corner behind a potted plant, and filled it to the brim. Ahh. So cold. Perfect. Maybe my head would clear and I’d figure out what was wrong with me.

And where I was.

The countertops were littered with appliances, including a stainless steel toaster with a big yellow smiley-face sticker on the side. Tacky. Beside a rice cooker sat a stack of papers. An envelope might have a clue to where I was—an address or something.

You’re Invited to the 40th Anniversary Celebration for Kingston and Kennedy.

The anniversary party she’d mentioned.

Please come Saturday night from 7-9 p.m. The pleasure of your company is our present. No gifts, please. 5656 Stony Brook Lane, Torrey Junction.

Torrey Junction. That meant I was at least somewhere near where I lived.

Which … made no sense.

No telltale envelopes with addresses lay about, unfortunately.

The fridge was covered with magnets featuring tourist destinations like Niagara Falls and Carlsbad Caverns. Under the Yellowstone magnet was a handwritten shopping list in purple pen.

Milk, eggs, yogurt (the Greek kind, Key Lime flavor). Hey, my favorite. Hand lotion, food for Jasper, brown rice, Bluebird Chocolates—that had a star next to it and a heart—big bouquet peonies—white and pink. Next to that line there was a hand-drawn smiley face.