When I picked up Ryker in that bar, I had an endgame in mind. I'd use him to get out of the colossal mistake I'd made getting mixed up in the con at the mansion. The sex was just a spectacular perk. I got him as far as my car, heading for the border and freedom. A crash. Then blackness. I've woken with a stiff of a husband, a surly, sexy bodyguard--Ryker--and no memory of either of them. I wouldn't say I'm the type to sleep with the help, but Ryker can't keep his hands off me--and the feeling is deliciously mutual. When everything in my life feels wrong, Ryker's touch is my reality. Apparently my name is Tiffany Peterson....