“If we go now, there's no coming back. You're mine all night."Her eyes flashed. "Promise?"That was it.Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor, toward the main entrance of the tent.”

“If you think it means I'm asking you to move in with me, you'd be right." Her expression turned more serious. "If you also think it means that I wake up every morning wondering what I did to deserve having you back in my life, well, you'd be right about that, too."Jack just sat there for a moment, just... stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to him."Come here," he said huskily. He grabbed her chair and pulled it toward his. He kissed her, softly at first, then his hand moved to her back and pushed her close as his emotions got the better of him. He pulled back to hold her gaze. "I love you, Cameron. You know that, right?"She kissed him back, whispering the words in his ear. "I love you, too.”

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Taylor taunted, lacing her fingers through his hair and pulling him between her legs. “Although you do seem to have a lot of energy for a thirty-nine-year-old.”Jason grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her mouth to his. “Thirty-eight, smart-ass. I have a December birthday.”

“Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He whispered in her ear. “He’s not getting near you again, baby, I promise. No one’s laying a finger on you ever again.”

“Cameron looked over her shoulder just as Jack stalked into the tent. He got his first glimpse of the back of her dress. Or lack thereof.He stopped dead in his tracks."Wow."His eyes lingered on her for another moment before he turned to Amy, gesturing. "This place looks great, Amy. You did one hell of a job."Amy grinned. "Nice recovery, Jack.”

“Come with me to the Pacific Design Center.”“Why?”“Because I need help picking out a new couch,” he said, peering up at her uncertainly. “Isn’t that what friends do?”“Okay.”“Okay.” “Should we go?”Taylor went back inside her apartment and grabbed her keys. As she followed Jason out to his car, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey—can I drive the Aston Martin?”“No.”“But isn’t that what friends do?”“No.”“My, my, you’re awfully grumpy today . . . Is something wrong?”“Buckle up, sweetheart,” he told her. “This ain’t no PT Cruiser.”

“In answer, she took his hand and placed it on her chest. Right over her heart. 'You're in, Cade Morgan. Only you.”