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did. Jo knew this because she was the same.
    Even though Jo, with her trained eye, recognized the fine Italian leather of the boots hiding under Cam’s weathered jeans, she knew Cam didn’t carry wealth the way she and Walsh did. He never seemed uneasy with it. More like he’d simply added it to all the other baggage he was carting around.
    “The Chevalier, huh?” Jo turned down the corners of her mouth and offered a ladylike grunt. “I’m impressed.”
    “Don’t be. A…uh…friend has a suite there, and she’s letting me crash.”
    That was more like it. The sizzling moment she had imagined with Cam moments before fizzled into nothing. She’d watched a parade of women march through Cam’s life for more than a decade. Not shocking that some woman was so enamored she’d offer him a suite at one of the most luxurious hotels in the world.
    “You sure it’s okay for me to stay?”
    “Yeah, of course. She’s in Paris.” Cam pushed away from the glass, linked his arm through Jo’s, and started toward the elevators. “She’s not coming to the States until next week, and she wouldn’t mind anyway. There’s two bedrooms in the suite.”
    “I’ll just call Pierce, Uncle Martin’s driver.” Jo pulled her phone from her bag. “He picked me up and has my things. We can bum a ride to the hotel if you want.”
    “Sounds great.” Cam glanced once more over his shoulder at the infants behind the glass. “I need a drink. I didn’t see my day turning out like this.”
    Seeing Cam after he’d ignored her for the last six months. Witnessing Walsh’s twin girls come into the world. The day had held more than one surprise. And she couldn’t prove it, but she felt like there might be more to come.

Chapter Four
    C am followed Jo down the silk-wallpapered passageway toward the Chevalier suite he’d occupied the last few days. How could he not notice the way her ass corrupted the straight and narrow line of the dress so beautifully, her body firm and cursive beneath the clinging fabric? Jo had never been a small woman. Five feet ten shoeless, and looking him right in the eye in her four-inch heels. Her breasts, just enough to overflow his palms. Her legs, infinite and sleekly muscled. Everything was tight and lean. But her ass? A lush anomaly. An exaggerated curve from the trim line of her back. You couldn’t help but marvel at it. You would have thought it was Stonehenge the way his cock responded. Hard and ready and in awe.
    It was torture and it was foolishness to ask her to stay with him tonight.
    Not with him. In the suite. The two-bedroom suite.
    He’d known this thing was stirring in him at Christmas. This compulsion to look and to wonder how things would be with Jo wasn’t a new fight. He’d fought it at fifteen when Jo invited him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. When she’d suggested they attend senior prom together. When with every look she told him he had a chance. He wasn’t oblivious to what Jo felt. He just knew better. Would it be good with her? Probably addictively good, but Jo had always been, besides Ms. Kris, the stalwart supporter in his life. The one he could count on to think the best of him, even at his worst.
    Cam had a special talent for ruining beautiful things. Like the dark, beautiful images he painted on the sides of condemned buildings, destined for the wrecking ball. He was the wrecking ball. He had wrecked his marriage to Kerris. He had killed Amalie.
    And so much more. So much more. Things he’d never confessed but couldn’t forget.
    He wouldn’t destroy the person who had embodied unconditional love to him. Jo was the one beautiful thing he’d spare.
    “Which one is it?” Jo looked over her shoulder, just in time to see his eyes trained on that glorious derriere. Her raised brow asked the question she didn’t have to voice.
    “You have something right, um…” This was lame, but he dove deeper into the crap pile. “Right here on the back of your…dress.”
    Jo peered