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dodging cars and ignoring horns. Alex and Chris followed her into the fray, and somehow they all emerged unscathed on the other side.
    “Kennie, if you’d just listen....” Alex pleaded.
    “How can I avoid it? You’ve been chasing me for three blocks,” she snapped desperately.
    “Please, Alex, get my ring and let her go!” Chris begged as he huffed at Alex’s side. “That woman’s been nothing but trouble ever since you married her!”
    Kennie noticed that a half dozen heads swiveled toward Chris, or she would have slugged him again, harder. Instead, she clenched her fist, knuckles still aching from their earlier collision with his jaw, tilted her nose higher in the air and stalked on. Her destination dominated her thoughts: Cannon International Airport.
    “Couldn’t you slow down a little?” Alex called, catching up to her.
    She picked up her pace.
    “Don’t you remember anything?” he asked from behind her.
    Nothing after the casino, she thought. Vague memories of bells clanging, of lights flashing...a flamingo-pink building...wonderful, wonderful laughter.
    “Kennie.” His voice taunted her gently. “Don’t you even remember our kiss?”
    Kiss? Of course she remembered the kiss, right there on the street in front of Harrah’s—or was it Harold’s?—with flashbulbs popping, half blinding her....
    She stopped short, and Alex and Chris collided behind her.
    “For crying out loud, will you make up your mind?” Chris complained. “Are you running a marathon or holding up traffic?”
    Several thoughts assaulted her at once. For the camera, Kennie Sue. For posterity. For our grandchildren.
    The pink building...champagne...the veil caught between their lips, then brushed away...the scent of roses, the swell of music.... Another kiss.
    She remembered.
    Cheeks burning, Kennie stared up at Alex. She remembered, and he knew it. She remembered his strong hands on her waist, his lips moving against hers with tantalizing delicacy, then harder, deeper, until a sweet lethargy oozed through her body.
    She remembered because it was happening to her again as she stood right here on a busy sidewalk, basking in the warmth of his eyes. The tiniest twinkle danced in their brown depths. He knew it, too, darn him!
    Setting her jaw, she spun away, then, abruptly, spun back. “What camera?”
    “Huh?” Alex looked puzzled.
    She shoved a strand of blond curls brusquely out of her face. “When we kissed—what camera?”
    Now she could read his mind. Suddenly he was cocky, confident again, flashing that devastating smile. “Why, Kennie Sue, you really don’t remember, do you? The camera at the wedding chapel, of course.”
    She cringed. The flamingo-pink building was a wedding chapel. The events of the previous night were coming back in alarming, disturbing snatches, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to remember any more. “You mean, there are pictures of this disaster?”
    Alex produced the album and opened it. He flipped past the blank guest page, past the blank page for gifts received, to the back, where a dozen Polaroid pictures were haphazardly stuck beneath the crinkled clear plastic.
    “Give them to me!” she said urgently.
    But Alex snatched the album away, grinning. “Why do you want them?”
    “I’m going to destroy them,” Kennie ground out through clenched teeth.
    “Oh, no, you’re not.” He smiled smugly. “I paid for them. They’re mine.”
    “Ooh....” she fairly growled, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. She breathed deeply as too many scathing, snarling words fought to tumble out of her mouth.
    Hands tucked in his wrinkled tuxedo pockets, the bouquet tucked securely under one arm, and the wedding album under the other, Alex managed to look charmingly rumpled, like a little kid who’d slept in his clothes.
    She tried to harden herself against that charm, fought against an unreasonable urge to forgive him.
    Mercy, it was difficult to stay angry at him. His hangdog expression