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than this one.  “It was just a dare,” I say, my voice soft.  “We don’t have to –“
    He cuts me off before I can speak another word, his arm sliding across my lower back and drawing me to him in one swift, hard movement.  When he brings his mouth down on mine, the world stops.  Everything in the universe pauses.
    I’ve never been kissed the way he kisses me.  He kisses me with an intensity that takes my breath away, his tongue finding mine hungrily, and I melt against him.
    It’s the kind of kiss that demands more.
    It’s the kind of kiss that demands everything.
    I think I let out a moan that is completely inappropriate for a wedding chapel, even one in Vegas with an Elvis impersonator.  The fact that I’m so swept away by Albie sends a pang of fear through me, and I break away.  I look at him, my fingers touching my lips, still swollen from his kiss.
    “Just a dare,” I repeat.
    But the way my hands tremble, the way this kiss has shaken me to my core, says it’s not as simple as just a dare.
    I shake off the memory.  I try to shake off the feeling it leaves with me, the goose bumps that dot my arms at the thought of his lips pressed against mine, his tongue finding my tongue.  I try to forget the thrill that rushed through me at his touch.
    He was deceptive.  He could have told me he was a prince.
    He’s a playboy.
    He’s definitely no good.
    And he’s my new stepbrother.  That fact alone makes him off-limits.
    I can still feel his lips against mine.  How fucked up is that?
    It’s even more reason for me to leave.
    The knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts and I jump, immediately feeling guilty for sitting here thinking of Albie the way I’ve been thinking about him.  I clear my throat.  “Yes?”
    I swear to all that is holy, if it’s Albie at the door, I’ll kill him.  He seems to have a way of turning up at the most inopportune times, and an uncanny knack for being able to read my thoughts.
    And the thoughts I’ve been having about him are certainly not ones I want read.
    “Are you going to hide out in here all summer, or what?” Alexandra stands just inside the doorway, her hand on her hip, glaring at me.  She’s still dressed in her t-shirt and jeans, and she twirls a piece of jet-black hair, laced with colored strands – pink and lime green – around her fingers as she surveys me.
    “I was thinking that might be nice,” I say.  “At least until I find my passport.”
    “You’re going to leave?” she asks.  She sounds simultaneously accusing and disappointed, and I don’t know what to make of her.  I’m not sure if she wants to be friends with me, or if she hates me on sight.
    I cross the room to sit on the bed.  “You can come inside, you know,” I say.  “If you want, I mean.”
    Walking inside the room, she looks around.  “I haven’t been in here in a while,” she says.  “I forgot how stuffy these guest residences are.  You’re not the stuffy type, the kind of girl that goes for all of this.”
    “Thanks,” I say.  I think it’s a compliment, although I’m not quite sure about her, especially considering her reaction to my broken engagement earlier.  To describe her reaction as gleeful would be an understatement.
    She has her back turned to me, looking at one of the paintings on the wall.  “All this shit,” she says.  “You know this painting is worth like a million dollars.  It’s practically a museum in here.  You should definitely redo it, if you stay.”
    A million dollars. I’m afraid to touch anything.
    Alexandra turns around, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and I notice a lip piercing I didn’t see before.  Maybe she takes it out for special events -- like engagement announcements sprung on her new stepsister.  “I’m sorry I was a bitch before,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.  “About you not getting married, I mean.”
    I shrug.  “It’s pretty scandalous, I guess.”
    “I’m usually