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was still unsettled.
    “I should, uh, clear this up,” she said.
    He carried the plates into the kitchen for her, and pulled out the waste basket to scrape them before loading the dishwasher. But he paused when he saw what was in the receptacle.
    “I’m guessing this is the eleven-by-fourteen,” he said.
    “What?” She turned around, saw that he’d found the broken picture frame. “Oh. Yeah. It is.”
    “It’s a good picture of you,” he said. “You look happy.”
    She shrugged. “I was.”
    And the man in the photo with her looked happy, too. Of course, he had Ashley in his arms, so he had reason to be happy. Which made Cam realize her former fiancé wasn’t just a bastard, he was an idiot. He’d been poised to start a life with this beautiful, vibrant woman, and he’d thrown it away.
    Okay, so maybe he was being a little bit hypocritical. Because twelve years earlier, Ashley had wanted to talk about their future and he’d let her go. But he’d barely been nineteen years old, too young to be thinking in terms of “till death do us part” and too stupid to know what he was giving up.
    Cam picked up his beer, took a long swallow. “Are you still in love with him?”
    Ashley returned the unused napkins to the holder then leaned back against the counter. “How is that any of your business?”
    “When a man kisses a woman it’s important to his ego—crucial, in fact—to know that she’s thinking of him and not anyone else.”
    She eyed him warily. “If a man doesn’t know that about a woman, then he has no business kissing her.”
    “That’s why I asked the question.” He set the now empty bottle on the counter and stepped closer to her, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter so that she was boxed between them. “Are you still in love with him?”
     
    Ashley didn’t dare answer his question with the truth.
    The truth was, she was no longer convinced she’d ever been in love with Trevor. Certainly she hadn’t loved him as she should have loved the man she was planning to marry. But if she admitted that to Cam now, he would interpret it as an invitation and, as desperately as she wanted to feel his mouth on hers, she couldn’t let that happen.
    Because she knew that one kiss would lead to more, and she didn’t want more. She’d meant what she said when she told Megan and Paige that she didn’t want a man or a relationship. She didn’t want to risk her heart again.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Yes what?”
    “Yes, I still love…” Oh Lord, she couldn’t even remember his name. She could only think of Cam. She only wanted Cam. “…I still love him.”
    “Liar.”
    The word was a husky whisper against her lips before he captured them with his own.
    She couldn’t stop herself from responding to his kiss any more than she could stop her heart from pounding or her body from yearning. His tongue traced over the seam of her lips, and they parted willingly, eagerly.
    It seemed to her that they’d grown too far apart to fit together easily. The moment he slipped his arms around her and drew her against him, she knew she’d been wrong.
    Cam had always been a fabulous kisser. When they’d first started dating, back in the early days of their relationship when they hadn’t gone any further than kissing, he would hold her and kiss her forever. This kiss reminded her of that—as if it would go on forever, as if he could be content to just kiss her forever.
    Ashley wasn’t feeling content. She pressed against him, wanting to be closer, wanting more.
    His hands slid up her back, his fingers tangled in her hair, and he drew her head back. His mouth trailed from hers to trace along her jaw, down her throat. His tongue stroked, his teeth scraped, his lips soothed.
    He shifted, drew her nearer, so that she was nestled intimately between his legs, so that she could tell he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Desire—hot and reckless—churned in her veins, rushed through her body, making her