9
“All of your secrets?” Kat approached Tristan grinning. “Dare I ask what sort of secrets you have to spill?”
“Only the best kind of secrets.” He sat down on the edge of her bed and she couldn’t resist coming a few steps closer.
“That’s not an answer. What kind of secrets? Don’t hold out on me, Kingsley,” she challenged, using his last name in the way she’d seen the local boys at Cambridge tease each other.
“Oh, Kingsley, is it? Call me Tristan, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“Anything?” She put her finger to her chin and pretended to contemplate that.
“Anything,” he promised, his eyes blazing with that intensity that sent showers of invisible sparks rippling beneath her skin.
“How about a request instead?” she asked.
“Very well, name it.” Again, he had that kingly air abou
