Page 44 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee

She wondered how his face would look filled with joy, or the sheer wonder of life’s little miracles. Surely there were many. Maybe she couldn’t remember them, but Quinn firmly believed in small,important miracles. Her own survival was one.

West hadn’t known her for long, perhaps a month or a few weeks. And yet in that time, they’d fallen in love. Or so he said.

He’d shared her bed, pledged his devotion and wanted to share his life with her. West seemed devoted to his job, his duty as an FBI agent. Tucking the photo back into the drawer, she sighed.

Quinn burned the imageof his handsome face into her mind. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall anything about him. There, a flicker of memory.

Lying in bed with West’s arms around her, watching the television mounted to the wall. He had argued with her, playfully, not really protesting, about her choice of program.

Drawing in a deep breath, she smelled the tang of masculine aftershave, a slight floral scentof women’s perfume and the musk of sex. A smile touched her face. This memory made her feel cherished and safe and sated. For a minute she wanted to linger inside it, for it was a square on a cold, impartial blank slate.

They must have made love and then, too restless for sleep, watched television. Quinn picked up the remote on the nightstand, turned on the wide screen.

A cooking showcame on. The hostess droned on about mixing spices.

She laughed. Perhaps she couldn’t remember what programs she enjoyed, but she’d stayed true to form.

She switched off the remote.

Next she explored the closet. Dresses, all colorful, some polka-dot, some floral. Pretty, not one of them in dull, dreary colors. Shoes... She bent down and examined the shoe rack. A few heels, nothingquite expensive, but smart. Two pairs of flats. Quinn lifted one shoe and looked at the well-worn bottom.

I must wear these while I’m working.

Sinking to the floor, she tossed the leather flat into the closet. Looking at shoes and clothing did nothing to stir dormant memories. Her stomach grumbled with hunger. Quinn pressed a finger against her right temple.

Hot tears burned behindher eyelids. Sitting on the floor, she let them come, surrendering to the sense of utter loss.

She might have survived the explosion, but she’d lost herself.

And Quinn didn’t know when she would ever find herself again.