It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t sound like...me.”

He released her and she took a step back, and then another, not because she wanted to be apart from him but because she couldn’t think when she was close to him and this conversation was important. “Your memory is returning.”

“It must be.”

“What sounds like you? Could you describe yourself? Who do you think you might be?”

“European. Wealthy.” He grimaced. “Mediterranean, most likely. I think I run a company, or own my own company, and I’m good at it. I feel like I have quite a few employees, so my company can’t be small. And I have a nagging suspicion that I’m a perfectionist, and, quite possibly, not easily pleased.” He looked chagrined. “And if that is all true, I’ve just described a man that sounds like a pompous ass, which makes me despise myself, even though I don’t yet know myself.”

She laughed. “Considering that you don’t know yourself, I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. After spending the past few days with you, I think you’re a better person than you described. My gut says you’re a very good person, as well as something of a loner, because even when you were with your friends, you were still a bit distant, and rather alone.”

“Probably because I’m an unlikable prat—”

“No!” She interrupted with a throaty gurgle of laughter, and the sheer joy in the sound stopped her. Was that really her giggling? Sounding so impossibly girlish and happy? Josephine went through life very seriously. She was committed to facts, not feelings, and her life revolved around work and being useful and practical.

“What are you thinking now?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious I have a tendency to overthink everything?”

“I like it. I like you. Don’t ever apologize for being you, Josephine.”

The commanding gruffness in his voice made her throat swell closed. She felt a ridiculous need to cry. It had been such a strange and wonderful few days with him here, and everything inside her felt full and tender and new.

“We should head back to the house so I can focus on dinner,” she said.

He caught her by the wrist to stop her from escaping. “You never answered my question. What were you thinking just a moment ago?”

She suppressed a shiver as he stroked the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb, setting her alight. “That I’m happy,” she said unsteadily, trying not to look at his mouth, trying not to remember their kiss earlier, because it had been perfect, and he made her feel beautiful and perfect, and standing close to him made her shockingly aware of how much she wanted to feel more. “And...” She gulped a breath and then lifted her chin, determined to finish her thought. “I’m happy you’re here.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE SKY WAS putting on a show tonight, the sunset a stunning orange on top of red, while waves crashed onto the beach—but the beauty was lost on him. Tension rolled through him. He didn’t yet know himself, but he sensed parts of himself. It was strange and disorienting as well as infuriating. He didn’t like not knowing himself, and he didn’t want to be called by a name that wasn’t his.

He wanted his name, and his identity.

He wanted to be himself, whoever that was, good or bad. He’d take the good and bad, fully embracing both because it was beyond frustrating to feel and think without a foundation of self, never mind self-knowledge.

Every time he heard himself say I think...a little voice inside him stopped him, questioning him. Are you sure? How do you know?

So, hurrah, his memory was returning, but it wasn’t fast enough.