“Or life altering.”

“Don’t be silly.” She shrugged. “It was just a kiss, not unlike any other kiss.”

“Not something you will remember for the rest of your days?”

“Not the first or the second.”

He studied her for a long moment; then he blew a relieved breath. She wasn’t the only good actor here. “That is a relief.”

“ ‘A relief’?” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I would feel dreadful if you had been pining for me all these years because of a mere kiss.”

“ ‘Pining’?” Camille scoffed. “I have certainly not pined. I haven’t given your kiss or you a second thought.”

“You did pale a bit when you first saw me.”

“Only because, as I had not heard from you for eleven years—eleven years—I thought surely you were dead. Understandably, I thought I was seeing a ghost.” Her eyes narrowed. “After all, when a man kisses you and makes the kind of declaration you made, then vanishes from your life without another word, one assumes he must be dead. Or perhaps”—her jaw tightened—“one simply hopes he is.”

He stared. “You wished me dead?”

“Oh, if you had been standing before me and I had a pistol in my hand, I probably wouldn’t have shot you.” She thought for a moment. “Although there were moments when I would not have guaranteed your safety.”

“I left because I didn’t think there was anything more to say.”

She stared in disbelief. “There was a great deal more to say.”

“Well, I am here now. Perhaps we can talk—”

“Now is entirely too late.” She glared at him. “Eleven years too late.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about the past.”

“I don’t,” she snapped. “It’s over and done with, and as it was not significant enough to discuss then, it’s certainly not the least bit important now.” She turned on her heel, stepped back into her room, and then turned back. “I assume, now that you have kissed me again, not that this kiss was any more memorable than the last—”

“Certainly not for me.”

She ignored him. “Your curiosity has been satisfied.”

“Completely.”

“Then there shall not be a repeat of it.”

“You needn’t worry on that score. I have no intention of kissing you ever again.”

“See that you don’t.” She nodded, moved into her room and snapped the door sharply behind her.

Who did he think he was fooling? He had every intention of kissing her again. Over and over again, until she melted into a puddle at his feet. Or he melted into a puddle at hers.

It was past time to admit the truth, if only to himself. Gray had known from the moment he looked once more into her blue eyes that he wanted her as much now as he had eleven years ago. Nothing had changed.