Page 44 of Cross My Heart
“And you said you wanted a lighter topic,” Saint smirks.
I arch an eyebrow. “Well, now I’m intrigued. Go ahead, share your deep dark secrets.”
Saint grins. “Not exactly first date talk, is it?”
“I thought this was our third, by your counting.” I remind him, smiling.
“Ah, but only if you come.”
I flush at his brazen banter. I look around, but there’s nobody seated close enough to hear him, just a couple of families by the riverbanks, kids trying to chase the ducks.
“I’m just trying to find out who you are, outside of the most popular Professor in Oxford,” I say.
Saint grins. “I don’t know. Professor Montague gives me a run for my money.”
I think back to our welcome sessions, and vaguely recall a short, teddy bear of a man with wild Einstein-like gray hair. “He’s got to be eighty, at least!”
“Some girls like an older man,” Saint jokes, and I shudder.
“Eww, no thank you.”
“So you don’t have a taste for authority figures?” Saint gives me a smoldering look.
“I guess it depends on who’s giving me instruction,” I reply lightly, and take a bite of food, enjoying the brief flash of heat in his gaze. “But enough deflecting. You still haven’t told me anything about yourself. Libertine, rake, seducer… What they say about you can’tallbe true.”
Saint gives a wry smile. “It depends on who you ask. I’ve always been more of a sinner than a saint,” he says. “So if you have any ideas about reforming me…”
I snort with laughter. “You mean, trying to save you from your wayward, decadent ways? No thank you,” I say firmly. “That’s not a good use of either of our time. Besides, the women of Oxford would never forgive me,” I add, and he pauses.
“I’m not seeing anyone else right now. In case you were wondering.”
I was, but I’m not going to let him see the glow of satisfaction I feel at that news. I shrug, instead. “Seeing, or fucking?”
“Neither. You have my undivided attention.”
“Except when you have another woman on her knees,” I remind him, with a sultry look.
Saint’s mouth curls in a wicked smile. “You enjoyed that?” he asks, his voice dropping.
My pulse kicks. “You know I did,” I murmur, just as flirty. Our eyes lock, and the air turns charged between us, sizzling with promise and—
“Saint!”
A voice from across the beer garden breaks the heated moment. I look up to see a younger tow-haired man with a group of friends. He waves, then makes his way over to us, smiling broadly at Saint. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says, with the same cut-glass English accent that would put Colin Firth to shame. “I thought this place was too rustic for your sophisticated tastes.”
“I contain multitudes, little brother.” Saint gives him a smile, then gestures between us. “Tessa, meet the baby of the St. Clair family, Robert.”
“Hi,” I smile, surprised. Up close, I can see a few similarities in their features, but while Saint is all dark, brooding good looks, his younger brother has a hearty, athletic vibe and cheerful good looks.
Robert reaches to enthusiastically shake my hand. “Great to meet you, Tessa. Keeping this guy out of trouble, I hope?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply, and he chuckles.
“She’s got your number there, Saint.”
“What brings you to town?” Saint asks him, taking a gulp of beer. “I thought you’d be chained to your desk down at HQ.”
“Just up to oversee some things at the Oxford lab,” Robert explains. “Dad needs a steady hand on site, especially with the big launch coming up. You know, things would go a lot smoother if you could pitch in at the office,” he adds, looking hopeful.