Page 7 of Reset

“I wouldn’t have noticed, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Right. Coma.” She nodded.

“Anyway, there would have been no way to contact you to tell you what happened. My phone was destroyed in the attack. Otherwise my friends would have found your details and told you about the injury.” His beautiful eyes, although filled with understanding, showed no recognition at all when he looked at her.

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” A deep sadness welled within her at the realization.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I wish I did.” It sounded like he meant it. “How well did we know each other, exactly?”

Sarah took a shaky breath. “We met on Tinder. We messaged and talked for weeks before we went on a date—we were taking things slow.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.” He looked so bewildered that a chuckle erupted from her, surprising both of them.

“You told me you’d made mistakes in the past and didn’t want to rush in again. We spent weeks talking about everything, being really open with each other.” Now that the last vestiges of anger had dissipated, she felt like a deflated balloon. A guilt-ridden piece of useless rubber. “At least, I thought we were. I guess that wasn’t the case if I didn’t even have your real name. It does explain why I couldn’t find you though.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I have a vague memory of thinking I needed a different name for dating because my dates kept ripping me off. It’s harder to clear out somebody’s bank account, or their house, if you don’t know their name and address.”

Um, what? “Your dates stole from you?”

“All the time. I was cursed.” He held up a hand before she could ask any more questions. “Don’t worry, it broke before I met you.”

“You remember that but don’t remember me?”

“I remember the night the curse broke. I was having a talk with a friend about making the effort to get to know someone before jumping into bed with them. Then…nothing. You must have been the woman I was planning on getting to know before we took the next step.”

“We slept together on our first date, Ryan.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like we talked a lot beforehand.”

The man was impossible. “We obviously have a different idea of what taking it slow means. Anyway, our second date was scheduled for the following Saturday, but you texted me to tell me that you were up to your ears in work and would contact me when it was over. I never heard from you again. I tried texting and messaging, but there was no reply. When I called, your number had been disconnected. You disappeared from Tinder too. I thought…”

“You thought I’d manipulated you into bed and then moved on to my next mark.”

She winced. “Do I have to apologize again?”

“No.” His smile was devastating, especially as there was no recognition in his eyes. As far as Ryan was concerned, they were meeting for the first time. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I would never have done something like that to you. I’m not that kind of guy. And, for the record, it doesn’t take me a month to get a woman into bed.” His sparkling eyes made it clear he was mocking himself. Something he’d often done. Before.

“Got it. Big stud. Little effort. Honestly, I didn’t think you that kind of player either, but then I couldn’t think of another reason why you’d just disappear.” She gave him a wry smile. “Coma and amnesia never even entered into my thinking. I mean, statistically, they weren’t even worth considering.”

His lip quirked. “Statistically?”

“It’s my thing.” Pretty much her only thing. Although, she couldn’t complain. Knowing the data, and making decisions based on it, had kept her out of a lot of trouble over the years.

“Were we close?” he asked.

“We slept together, Ryan.”

“Yeah, but were we close?”

“For someone like me, that means we were close. We were…friends. We laughed and talked. We’d started reading the same books, just so we could discuss them. I felt like I really knew you.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said softly.

She cleared her throat. “How about we stop apologizing to each other and concentrate on getting out of here?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You know, the chances of this happening are almost as low as you having amnesia. Only about one in eighty-four thousand women are kidnapped in the UK each year, most by people they know. I don’t know the numbers for stranger abductions, but I’m going to say those are even rarer. Which means, my chances of finding a pearl in an oyster are eight times higher than the likelihood I’d get abducted.”