He was the perfect fiancé. And she had no memory of him.
Oh, she understood how she’d been attracted to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a motorcycle jacket open over a blue T-shirt and jeans, he looked as at home standing on the deck of the boat as he had reading a book at her bedside or driving a Jeep to the airport and then a rental car to the dock. His blond hair blew across his forehead in the wind, covering his ears in a style just long enough to be rebellious.
The beard stubble across his face, a shade darker than his hair, added to his air of danger and mystery. Her stomach dipped whenever she considered what sort of dangerous things he might want to do with her, making her half-afraid, half-hopeful an infatuation had started blossoming again.