Tucker stood among them. As much as she’d come to depend on him over the past couple of days, she was relieved to have him more than an arm’s length away, his attention elsewhere. Since she’d awoken in the hospital, he’d been at her side nearly every moment—always solicitous, generous, and kind. He was the perfect fiancé. And she had no memory of him. Nothing. 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.
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